CHAPTER XXXV.
THOMAS HASTINGS.
Two weeks later Gerald found himself in the town of Brentwood, Minnesota. It was too small for him to expect to do much business there, but he had a special message to bear to a sister of Mr. Sandford, who had her home in the place. He put up at the Commercial Hotel, a small inn capable of accommodating about thirty travelers.
Brentwood did not seem an attractive place to Gerald, and he felt that he should be glad to take the morning train to St. Paul. Yet he was destined to meet here a man who could aid him materially in the object to which he had consecrated his energies—that of clearing his father’s reputation and punishing his enemy.
He was sitting in the office of the hotel when a man apparently fifty years of age entered and had a whispered conference with the clerk. He appeared to prefer some request which the latter denied. The man was thin and haggard, and his face bore a look of settled despondency. His clothing was shabby, yet he looked as if he had seen better days and had at some time occupied a better position. Without knowing why, Gerald’s curiosity and interest were excited. As he left the room Gerald said: “That fellow looks as if the world had gone wrong with him.”
“Yes,” answered the clerk, “he has been going down hill the last three years, and now is near the foot.”
“Does he drink?”
“Yes, when he gets the chance, but he has not had money enough to gratify his appetite lately. I don’t pity him so much as I do his wife and child, for he has a daughter of twelve, a sweet, innocent child, whose lot in such a home as he can supply is far from being a happy one.”
“How long has he lived in Brentwood?”
“Five years. When he first came here he kept a small store, and seemed to do tolerably well. He appeared to receive some help from outside, for he sometimes brought checks to the hotel to be cashed. They all came from the same party, a certain Bradley Wentworth.”