“I asked Mr. Maslin and his wife a number of times, but they never would give me any satisfaction. About two months ago I was up in the garret one rainy Sunday afternoon, and I found an old diary in which Mr. Maslin kept a record of important matters in which he was interested when we lived up in New Hampshire some twelve years ago. I’ve a faint recollection myself of the farm he owned in the neighborhood of a place called Franconia. In this diary I found a long entry relating to myself.”
“You must have been surprised,” said Fletcher, who was listening eagerly.
“Well, I guess I was. Of course I knew I was no relation of the Maslins, for they had long since taken care to impress that fact on me. The diary states that a gentleman named George Armstrong, whom Mr. Maslin wrote down as being tall and fine-looking, but with a melancholy face, as though he was in trouble or had lately been subject to some misfortune, boarded at the farm with his little son, Richard, at that time aged five years, for several months. That one day he received a letter which Mr. Maslin noticed bore the Boston postmark, and that its contents disturbed him very much. He immediately started off without mentioning his destination, leaving the little boy in Mr. Maslin’s care, with a small sum of money to pay his board for about the time he expected to be away. He did not return within the time he set, and from subsequent entries on the same page it would seem that Mr. Maslin never saw him again.”
“It’s a good thing you learned that much about yourself. I suppose something must have happened to your father or he would have come back after you,” said Joe.
“I suppose so,” replied Dick, soberly.
“What did you do with the diary?”
“I’ve got it in the box where I keep my clothes.”
“You’d better hold on to it. Might possibly be of value to you one of these days.”
“It has a value for me, as it shows to some extent who I am,” replied Dick. “Luke called me a charity boy, and that taunt caused the scrap. I’ve worked like a slave for the Maslins without pay, but I’ve received any amount of abuse. Some morning Mr. Maslin will get up and find me missing.”
“What’s that you say, you young villain?” yelled the strident tones of the storekeeper, behind them.