Plane and Plank; or, The Mishaps of a Mechanic

by Oliver Optic

"Did you let the room to any other person?"

"I did; but Lynch may occupy it with him, for aught I know. These fellows all run together, and I don't know who are in the rooms. We let them for a dollar a night, and don't care who sleeps in them."

The officer knocked at the door, and was promptly answered by a person whose voice did not sound at all like Lynch's. My hopes were failing, and I would have taken half my money, and given a receipt in full for the whole, if I could have made such a trade.

"Open the door," said the officer.

Even this request was promptly complied with, and we found the bed occupied by only one person. Glynn protested that he had not seen Lynch since he gave him the key and the light early in the evening; and, whether we believed him or not, we were forced to accept his explanation. We saw Redwood afterwards, and he appeared to be as innocent as his immaculate assistant. Both of them apologized to me for the rude treatment to which I had been subjected, and declared that they had made a bad mistake in taking me for a house-breaker, since I was now vouched for by no excellent a person as Captain Davis, of the steamer Fawn. If they ever saw Lynch again, they would hand him over to the officers of the law. It was for their interest to do so, because the reputation of the house was greatly injured by having a person robbed within it. They would do what they could to recover my money; and if they succeeded, where should they send it?

Captain Davis could not help laughing at this speech, and told me I need not trouble myself to leave any address. Both protested that they were in earnest; and certainty their logic was correct, whether they were sincere or not. If the local newspaper stated that a person had been robbed of a hundred dollars at Redwood's lodging-house, the fact would deter others from going there, for even gamblers and other fast men would object to having their money stolen. We left the house, and I gave up my money as lost; but I was willing to believe that I had purchased a hundred dollars' worth of wisdom and experience with it, and so I had a fair equivalent.

In the street I found the officer was not disposed to abandon the case. He had a reputation to make in that new land; and perhaps it was worth more to him than to me to find the money. I was entirely willing that he should increase his credit as a thief-taker by restoring my property, and I warmly seconded his endeavors. We watched the lodging-house till dinner time, but without seeing any one who looked like Lynch. In short, the officer made no progress in establishing a title to the position of chief of police when the office should be created in the new and growing city.

I returned to the steamer at the landing, and of course my first inquiries were for Mr. Gracewood and his family. To my astonishment and grief, not a word had been heard of them. Captain Davis had caused a thorough search to be made in the town, without obtaining the slightest clew to them. I was amazed, and so were others who were interested in the fate of the absent ones. It was incredible that any calamity had overtaken them by which the whole party had been lost. If the boat had been upset, the deck hands at least could have saved themselves.

I forgot all about my money in my anxiety for my friends. I could not believe that they had been lost; it was too sad and too improbable to be considered, and I rejected the supposition. But the mystery weighed heavily upon me. The steamer was ready to proceed on her voyage, and the passengers were grumbling at the delay; but Captain Davis was unwilling to proceed without the absentees. In the middle of the afternoon he cast off his fasts, when a portion of his passengers, who had not paid their fare, threatened to leave the boat, and take another which was in sight above the town. But, instead of continuing on his way down the river, he headed her up the stream, in order to examine the shores for any signs of the lost family.

I was deeply interested in the fate of Mr. Gracewood, his wife and daughter, for they were really the only friends I had in the world. I had been saved from a burning steamer by old Matt Rockwood, and was brought up by him in his cabin. I knew nothing of my parents, but old Matt had been a father to me, and the coming of Mr. Gracewood furnished me with a competent instructor in manners, morals, and the various branches of learning. After the death of old Matt, my good friend had been strangely joined by his wife and daughter, and I had lived one season with the family. As the winter approached, we had left our home in the wilds of the far west, and were now on our way to St. Louis. These events all passed in review through my mind, as I thought of the Gracewoods who had so strangely disappeared.