THE MYSTERY OF CLEVERLY

THE MYSTERY OF
CLEVERLY

A STORY FOR BOYS

BY
GEORGE BARTON

New York, Cincinnati, Chicago
BENZIGER BROTHERS
PUBLISHERS OF BENZIGER’S MAGAZINE

Copyright, 1907, by Benziger Brothers

CONTENTS

THE MYSTERY OF
CLEVERLY

CHAPTER I
IN WHICH A BULLY COMES TO GRIEF

“If you fellows don’t open that door and let me in, there’ll be trouble in this town before long.”

The only answer was a mocking laugh from the group of boys to whom this threat was addressed.

Herbert Harkins, his face red with rage, pounded his fist on the panels of the schoolhouse without making the slightest impression upon his fellow schoolboys.

“Open the door,” he cried again, in a loud voice.

Once more a peal of laughter sounded from within. The scene of this incident was the Cleverly District School. The time was the second of January, and the occasion was the annual frolic of the boys, known as “barring out day.”

It was a custom which, originating down east, had spread to the little town in New Jersey. The method was quite simple. After the Christmas holidays the big boys put their heads together and decided on a plan of campaign. When all of the details had been arranged, it was decided to put them into execution at the first regular session of the new year. The forenoon passed off as quietly as any other day, the boys looking very sober and extremely attentive to their studies, and keeping unusual order. The moment the schoolmaster left the house for his dinner and the smaller children were started homeward, the doors and windows were suddenly and securely locked, and the older pupils proceeded to spend the afternoon in play and hilarity.

When Mr. Anderson, the teacher, returned about one o’clock, he was surprised to find the schoolhouse in a state of siege. He made an attempt to enter, but failed. It so happened that Herbert Harkins was the only one of the larger boys who had been locked out. Under ordinary circumstances he would have taken the incident good-naturedly; but in this case he knew that the teacher was frail and delicate, and Herbert’s regard and sympathy for Mr. Anderson aroused all his manly instincts and brought his fighting blood to the boiling pitch. The teacher who had been employed in this district only a few weeks, was evidently of a sickly disposition. It was a cold day. He was insufficiently clad, and the prospect of taking some sickness which might perhaps lead to pneumonia and death made the poor man quite miserable. His face was beginning to get blue with the intense cold; but he was too weak to resort to any physical methods for opening the door.

Herbert knocked again; but his appeal was received only with jeers and shouts of derision. Mr. Anderson turned to him with a kindly smile, and said:

“There is no need of doing anything more, Herbert. I thank you for your good intentions; but I think the only thing left for me to do is to go home for the day.”

As Herbert was about to reply he happened to glance upward and noticed the smoke coming from the chimney on the top of the schoolhouse. He remembered that the room was heated by means of an old-fashioned wood fire, which was constantly replenished during the day. Whenever a fresh or green log was placed on the fire, more or less smoke went up the chimney. As Herbert gazed at the little curls of smoke making their way skyward, he suddenly conceived a means of breaking up the siege in the schoolhouse and procuring entrance for himself and the teacher. To think was to act. A small pile of lumber lay in the roadway nearby. Herbert walked over to it and picked out a wide, square board. It was quite heavy; but by dint of much energy and persistence he managed to get it under his arm and carry it to the schoolhouse. Mr. Anderson wondered what he was about to do. The boys on the inside, too, gazed at this unexpected activity with much interest. Herbert’s next move was to secure a large ladder, which he put up against the side of the house. Then reaching for the board, he made his way to the top of the schoolhouse and in less than two minutes had placed it over the top of the chimney. Then he hurried down the ladder again, and rejoining Mr. Anderson, said calmly:

“I am willing to wager that we will be inside of that schoolroom before you have time to count a hundred.”

And so it proved. The smoke, unable to find its way out of the chimney, was thrown back into the schoolroom, and in a minute’s time the boys were choking from the effects of the fumes. Some were in favor of holding out, but when their eyes began to run water and they were filled with a stifling sensation, they quickly decided to surrender. The bars were taken down and the doors and windows thrown open.

Herbert, delighted with the success of his little scheme, remounted the ladder, and going to the roof, took the board from the chimney. The boys made no further attempts at disturbance; within fifteen minutes order had been entirely restored, and the afternoon session went on as if nothing had happened.

Most of the boys were filled with admiration at Herbert’s cleverness; but a few of them murmured against him and threatened to punish him for breaking up their fun. The largest of these boys was Arthur Black, who was a year older than Herbert, and had the reputation of being the bully of the school. After the children had been dismissed for the afternoon, they gathered in groups outside the schoolhouse and talked about the unusual event. Arthur Black raised his voice above the others, declaring that he had a great notion to thrash the boy who had dared to interfere with their sport. Some of the more timid pupils approached Herbert and advised him to hurry home in order to escape punishment. He smiled at their fears, however, and said he had no reason for running away. Just then Arthur Black approached.

“What’s that you say?” he asked in an insulting voice.

“I said that I had no reason for running away,” replied Herbert quietly.

“Well, that’s because you haven’t got any sense,” was the ugly rejoinder. “You’re a sneak and a busybody and ought to be thrown out of the school.”

“Why?” asked Herbert.

“Because you spoiled our fun,” was the reply.

“I don’t think it’s much fun to keep a sick teacher out in the cold and make him run the risk of losing his life. I—”

“Oh, we’ve had enough of your talk,” said Arthur, interrupting Herbert.

“But you will listen to what I have to say,” persisted Herbert manfully.

“No I won’t,” was the rejoinder, “and if you say another word I’ll thrash you within an inch of your life.”

“Two can play at that game,” said Herbert coolly.

The other made no reply, but began to take off his coat, and flinging it on the ground, started to roll up his shirt sleeves. Instantly the other boys formed a ring about them. There was nothing left for Herbert but to accept the invitation that was thrown down to him in such a noisy way. He took off his coat, and in a trice the two boys were engaged in a rough and tumble fight. It looked for a time as if Arthur Black, who was the older and heavier of the two, would get the better of Herbert. The boys crowded around the two fighters and urged them on with yells and shouts of approval. Herbert kept comparatively cool, and at a critical stage in the fight he pummeled Arthur so vigorously that he cried for mercy. Indeed his nose was bleeding and one of his eyes was beginning to show evidence of the contest. Picking up his hat and coat, and hardly able to repress his tears, he hurried off towards his home. Herbert was immediately proclaimed the hero of the hour. He had thrashed the bully of the school, and from that moment he was the idol of his schoolmates and the most popular boy in Cleverly.

CHAPTER II
HERBERT FINDS HIMSELF THE INNOCENT CAUSE OF MUCH TROUBLE

When Herbert Harkins reached home he found that the story of his battle with Arthur Black had preceded him. His mother was at the doorway awaiting his arrival. She scanned his face anxiously.

“Are you hurt, Herbert?” she asked.

“Not a great deal, mother,” he said, with a trace of conscious pride in his voice; “but I can’t say as much for the other fellow.”

“I was sorry to hear that you were quarreling,” she remarked gravely; “it’s not gentlemanly.”

“But I could not let the other boys think I was a coward,” he cried quickly.

His mother made no reply to this, but pointing toward the sitting room, said simply:

“Your father is waiting to see you.”

Herbert started up the stairway, filled with misgivings. It was a rare thing for his father to send for him, and the serious manner in which his mother had delivered the message convinced him that it must be a matter of importance. David Harkins was above everything else a just man. He had started out in life with bright prospects, but through a series of misfortunes over which he had no control, his little fortune had been very much reduced and his health greatly impaired.

His doctor advised him to go into the country and engage in open air work as much as possible. He cautioned him above all else to avoid the occasions of excitement. The medical man assured him that his heart was weak, and that it would not stand any severe or unusual strain. Mr. Harkins examined various properties in the vicinity of the city, and finally decided upon the neat little place at Cleverly. It contained a garden and was within a reasonable distance of the city whence Mr. Harkins’ employment called him several times a week. In the meantime he cultivated the garden, and by dint of close economy managed to make both ends meet. Mr. Harkins was engaged in looking over some papers when Herbert entered the room. He laid them down immediately and turned to the boy with a look in which affection and reproach were mingled.

“Herbert, I hear bad reports about you.”

“I’m sorry for that, father,” was the response, “because I don’t believe I deserve them.”

Mr. Harkins glanced at Herbert keenly, and the look which he received in return seemed to satisfy him, for he said:

“Tell me in your own way all about this quarrel—give me all the details, and do not attempt to hide anything.”

Herbert told everything clearly and quickly. As he concluded his father nodded his head as if to indicate that he understood and then sighed deeply. Herbert noticed this, and said with trembling voice:

“You believe me, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Don’t you think I did right?”

“I do.”

“But why are you so sad?”

“Because I regret this thing very much—because I am sorry you quarreled with Arthur Black.”

“But you said I was justified.”

“I did; but unfortunately you have offended a powerful man. I suppose you are old enough to understand these things. John Black, Arthur’s father, is not only the richest man in Cleverly, but he is the president of the bank, and I—I owe him money.”

David Harkins put his head in his hands as he spoke, and leaning on his desk, sat there for some time buried in thought. Herbert was silent for awhile, then rushing up to his father, cried out impulsively:

“I’m awfully sorry, father; I didn’t intend to do anything wrong. I never thought of injuring you. If I can repair the damage in any way I’ll be only too glad to do so. Tell me what to do.”

“Do,” cried his father, with a sudden return of his natural dignity; “why do nothing; you are guilty of no wrong and have nothing to regret. However,” with a sigh which he could not conceal, “I’m sure we will hear more about this before the evening is over.”

And so they did. About eight o’clock that night there was a loud rapping at the door, and a stout, pompous man was ushered into the parlor. He had iron gray hair, heavy bristling eyebrows and scowled in the most severe manner. He looked about the little room in a disdainful manner, and then dropped abruptly into the easiest chair at hand. His manner was aggressive. He carried a heavy cane and pounded it on the floor impatiently while awaiting the arrival of Mr. Harkins.

Such was John Black, bank president, capitalist and the most unpopular man in Cleverly.

“See here, Harkins,” he cried out abruptly as Herbert’s father entered the room, “I came to see you about that boy of yours.”

“What about him?” asked Mr. Harkins quietly.

“A great deal about him,” spluttered the banker, “he’s a young rowdy; that’s what he is. He set on my boy Arthur at school to-day and beat him in the most brutal manner.”

“A boys’ fight?” queried Herbert’s father lifting his eyebrows.

“You may call it a boys’ fight,” thundered the other; “I call it an outrage. Why that child of mine came home with his nose bleeding—do you understand sir—with his nose bleeding.”

“That child as you call him,” ventured Mr. Harkins, a note of amusement in his voice, “is, I believe, nearly seventeen years old.”

“What’s that got to do with it?” shouted the other.

“Nothing, except that he’s nearly two years older than my boy.”

“Age is not the only thing—”

“No,” interrupted Mr. Harkins, “weight should be considered. Arthur is not only older, but he is much heavier than Herbert.”

“Do you mean to say,” exclaimed the banker in amazement, “that you are taking up for that boy?”

“Oh, no,” said Mr. Harkins pleasantly, “that’s not necessary. Herbert seems to be fully capable of taking up for himself.”

“Take care, Harkins,” said the rich man, banging his cane angrily on the floor; “take care; don’t attempt to trifle with me!”

David Harkins paid no attention to this outburst, but sat silent wondering what would come next. His curiosity was soon satisfied.

John Black arose with a gesture of impatience.

“There is no need of my wasting any more time here,” he exclaimed. “I came over to give you a chance to set yourself straight.”

“To set myself straight?” queried Harkins.

“Yes; if you have that boy of yours apologize to Arthur at school to-morrow, we’ll call it quits.”

David Harkins stood looking at the banker as if he had taken leave of his senses. The silence lasted so long that it became embarrassing.

“Come, come, what do you say to my proposal?” asked John Black. “I don’t want to be too hard on your young one. Do as I say and the matter will drop. Your answer.”

“No!” shouted Harkins. “No; a hundred times no! Herbert did perfectly right in thrashing that bully of a son of yours. I’m proud of him for doing it. And if he would dare to apologize for it I’d disown him as a son.”

John Black grew almost livid with rage. He hurried to the door. When he reached it he looked back and shook his cane at Harkins.

“You will regret this insult; blast you, I’ll make you sorry for what you said.”

Mrs. Harkins entered the room just as the banker retired. She hurried over to her husband.

“I heard loud voices, David,” she said. “I am sorry you quarreled with Mr. Black.”

Her husband looked at her fondly. His face was pale, although he was smiling.

“I’m sorry, too,” he said; “but he irritated me beyond endurance. Besides I told him the truth. Between ourselves,” he added, “I’m really proud of Herbert.”

“But you must not tell that to Herbert,” she said anxiously; “it might be the means of spoiling him.”

“Oh, never fear, I won’t tell him; but I won’t be unjust to the boy either. I’ll deal fairly with him.”

Indeed, as has already been indicated, a love of justice was one of the most striking traits of David Harkins’ character, and unconsciously he was doing all in his power to plant the same virtue in the mind and heart of his only son.

“In spite of what you say, David,” remarked Mrs. Harkins, “I regret this incident. I do not believe in signs or any nonsense of that sort, but some strange voice within me says that this thing will have a fatal ending.”

“Oh, cheer up,” was the bright response of the husband. “It’s folly to look on the dark side of life. Anyhow, what will be, must be. All that we can do in this life is to try and live decently. A friend of mine used to say that it was a good thing always to hope for the best and prepare for the worst.”

With this bit of philosophy Mr. Harkins turned to his desk and resumed his work. As his wife closed the door, however, the cheerful look left his face, and lines of care and worry began to appear. Despite his protests to the contrary, he regretted his encounter with John Black. But his sense of right and justice was too acute to permit him to make peace at the price of truth.

While he was thinking over the events of the day, there was a ring of the door-bell, and in a moment Mrs. Harkins appeared to present Mr. Horace Coke, the lawyer of Cleverly and one of the good friends of the family. Mr. Coke was one of the old fashioned attorneys at law. He wore a suit of black broadcloth and carried a cane and a high silk hat in his hand. He had a smooth, round face, was always in a good humor, loved children and dogs, and lived in constant peace and harmony with his friends and neighbors.

Mr. Harkins hastened to give him the most comfortable chair in the room, and Mrs. Harkins, who had remained, waited expectantly to hear the occasion of the visit. The visitor stroked his chin in an absent-minded way and seemed ill at ease. He was not smiling either, which was a strange thing for Horace Coke. Presently he said abruptly:

“It’s a lovely evening Dave, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” replied Mr. Harkins, “it is a lovely evening.”

But he knew in his heart that the lawyer had not called to make this useless comment on the weather. He knew that something more important was to come, so he sat silent and waited.

“Dave,” said the lawyer, clearing his throat, “I’m here on a very, very unpleasant errand. It was in the line of my professional duty though, and I couldn’t get out of it.”

“Indeed,” was the non-committal reply.

“No,” pursued Mr. Coke, “you see I am here representing a client.”

“Might I ask the name of your client?”

“Yes; it is John Black.”

Mr. Harkins started as he heard this name. It was not altogether unexpected, yet the sound gave him an uncomfortable feeling. Mrs. Harkins, too, was very much depressed by the announcement. Herbert had entered the room quietly during the conversation; but when he heard what Mr. Coke had said, he paused at the threshold.

“Well,” said Mr. Harkins finally, “what about Mr. Black?”

“It seems,” replied the lawyer, “that you have had a financial transaction with Mr. Black.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That he has your note for one thousand dollars.”

“That is correct.”

“Well, Mr. Black sends me here to collect it.”

“Mr. Coke, isn’t this a rather unusual method of doing business? I borrowed this money from Mr. Black at the bank to pay off the mortgage on my house. I understood that it was to run for several years, although we had no written agreement regarding the time. But I never heard of a banker sending a lawyer to collect a note.”

“It is unusual,” confessed the lawyer, “but Mr. Black has the legal right to do it if he sees fit. He says the endorsers of the note are no good and he instructs me, if payment is not made within twenty-four hours, to proceed against you.”

He arose to go. As he reached the door he turned and said:

“Dave, I don’t think this is a square deal; but I’m only acting as a lawyer for a client. If I had the money to spare, I’d give it to you myself.”

He said good-night and departed. Mrs. Harkins turned to her husband.

“Can you meet this demand, Dave?”

He looked at her in a strained sort of way. It was a half minute before he spoke. He said simply:

“I haven’t the faintest idea where I am going to get the money.”

CHAPTER III
PROVING THAT BIRDS OF A FEATHER FLOCK TOGETHER

Herbert was deeply impressed with the scene that had taken place between his father and Mr. Coke. It was quite early in the evening, and putting on his hat and coat, he quietly left the house for the purpose of taking a walk around the town and thinking over the meaning of the events which were following each other so quickly. He was filled with remorse at the thought of having been the innocent cause of bringing disaster on their modest household; but deep down in his heart he felt that he had done the right thing in spite of the unexpected results that had followed. Herbert had always been a sturdy and resolute boy.

He had regard for the feelings and rights of others, but was always quick to resent any attempt to impose upon his own good nature. When he first entered the school at Cleverly he did not give promise of being a very bright pupil. In fact there were times when the teacher was disposed to consider him a very dull boy; but little by little the ability that slumbered with him was awakened, and by degrees he began to show evidences of more than ordinary talent. He was not quick to learn; but was always numbered among the plodders at the school. In spite of his apparent slowness, he began to advance in his classes, and when he had reached his sixteenth year was near the head of the boys in his grade. For one thing he retained the knowledge that he acquired with so much labor. He had what the teacher called bull-dog tenacity. In other words, when he started out to accomplish a certain task he never rested till it was entirely completed.

Mr. Harkins, who was a man of very unusual ability, was extremely anxious to give his son the very best education in his power. His ambition was to develop Herbert both morally and mentally, and he looked forward with great hope to the time when he would finish his tuition at the Cleverly district school. After that it was his wish that he should enter St. Joseph’s College in the adjoining city, in order to obtain a higher education. The Jesuits who were in charge of that institution, had offered four free scholarships to the boys who obtained the highest average in a competitive examination that was to be held in the spring of the year. The father and son had frequently discussed this subject.

“Herbert,” said Mr. Harkins, “this is no child’s play. If you make up your mind to go into this thing, it will mean hard work. There will be very little time for sports.”

“I appreciate that, father,” Herbert would say soberly. “And when the time comes I intend to pin myself down to the hardest kind of work. I know what it means, and I have no fear of the result.”

So it was that the boy trudged along in his somewhat heavy way, doing the routine that fell to all the pupils of the Cleverly School. While he did not display any special flashes of brilliancy, his averages were always good, and sometimes unusually large.

Arthur Black was the opposite of Herbert in almost every way. For years he had been one of the favored pupils at the Cleverly School. The fact that his father was rich and influential made all those connected with the school disposed to treat him with more than ordinary consideration. He was a bright boy, but extremely indolent; and as a consequence was a source of constant trouble to his teachers. Arthur had the faculty of being able to recite his lessons without having given much time to their study; but as the weeks and months went by he became more and more indifferent and finally drifted down near the rear of his class where he bid fair to remain until the end of his school days. Arthur was very much annoyed at the progress made by Herbert Harkins, and publicly said that it was due to the fact that Herbert was one of the teacher’s favorites. No charge could be more unfair than this, but it was circulated through the town, much to the annoyance of Herbert and his parents.

Herbert thought of all these things as he made his way along the main street of the town. He was filled with an intense desire to assist his father, and in a vague sort of way wondered whether it would not be a good thing to leave school and go to work for that purpose. The thought was worth considering anyhow, and he made up his mind to speak to his father before he left home the next morning. Just as he reached the post office pavement, he noticed a small group of men and boys standing there engaged in an animated discussion. As he approached nearer, he saw Arthur Black and a friend of his named Harry Adler talking for the benefit of the crowd. Adler was many years the senior of both Herbert and Arthur. He had the reputation of being a very worthless boy, and although he was rapidly approaching manhood he gave no indication of changing his habits. He was a type of many other boys who can be described in a single sentence as cigarette smoking youths who will not work. He said on one occasion that he was too proud to do menial labor, but in spite of this he was not ashamed to live off the small earnings of a poor mother who was compelled to take in sewing in order to feed and clothe the members of her family. Adler had persistently refused to go to school, and only two years before had run away from home and made his way by degrees to New York City. He remained there for several weeks, and then wrote begging letters home asking for sufficient money to pay his carfare back to Cleverly. He did not even have the manliness to be ashamed of this incident, but looked upon it as one of the big achievements in his life. Ever after that he stood on the street corners and talked in a loud way about his adventures in the big city, much to the amazement and interest of the small boys who stood with open mouths and eagerly listened to all that he had to say.

As Herbert reached the group he heard Arthur Black detailing the story of the fight at the schoolhouse. He informed his hearers that Herbert was a sneaking busybody, and that after school was over he had given him the punishment he so richly deserved.

“But when my back was turned,” he said, “that rascal of a Herbert Harkins gave me a blow in the face that made my nose bleed. He wouldn’t dare to have done it if we had been standing face to face.”

This was too much for Herbert to stand, and turning toward the crowd with flashing eyes, he cried out:

“The story that Arthur Black has told you isn’t true. He was the one at fault, and as far as the fight was concerned I think his nose and the color of his eyes tell the story of the battle better than I can.”

Adler interrupted Herbert at this point to say in a sneering tone:

“See here, young man, if it comes to a question of truth between you and Arthur Black, the people of this town will believe Arthur.”

“I don’t know about that,” retorted Herbert angrily. “Anyhow I would be willing to leave it to the people that know us both.”

The minute Herbert had spoken he was sorry that his impulsive nature had led him into the conversation. In order to avoid any further trouble he hurried away; but Arthur Black and Harry Adler did not propose to let him off so easily.

“Hello there, little boy,” cried Adler in a taunting voice. “Are you going to run away again, just as you did this afternoon?”

Herbert made no reply, but kept on his way. Then Arthur Black joined in the conversation.

“He’d better run away,” he said, “if he knows which side his bread is buttered on. I want to tell you, Herbert Harkins, that you are going to suffer for daring to insult me. You say you won the fight this afternoon. Well, if you did, it will be the dearest victory you ever bought. Before another day goes by you will find that your whole family is likely to be thrown out into the street, and that you will be on your way to the poorhouse, where you belong. Perhaps you won’t be so ready to meddle next time.”

Herbert halted instantly. He hurried back to where the others were standing and made towards Arthur Black. Just as he passed by, Adler quietly slipped his right foot out on the sidewalk, and Herbert tripping over it, fell at full length on the pavement. He jumped up smarting with anger and the shock of the fall. He rushed toward Adler, but in the twinkling of an eye, before a blow had been struck, his mind reverted to the scene that had taken place at his home only a short while before. Instantly he was filled with remorse. He realized that it would be most unfortunate for him to get into a street brawl at a time like this. He felt confident of his ability to chastise both Arthur Black and Harry Adler; but he realized the scene that it would cause and the possibility of one or all of them being taken up by the town constable; so without any explanation whatever he lowered his arms and walked down the street again.

Adler turned to Arthur Black with a sneer on his lips.

“I guess you’ve got that fellow sized up all right,” he said. “He’s a coward; he’s afraid to fight.”

Herbert heard this with burning cheeks. He hurried on his way home, stopping to look neither to the right nor to the left. His mind was filled with conflicting emotions. He thought of the threat that hung over his father, and of the reflection that had been made upon his own personal courage; but try as he would he could not get the sound of that word “coward” out of his ears.

When he reached home the sense of shame had grown so strong that he could not stand the strain any longer. He halted on the doorstep irresolute. The next moment he turned on his heel and walked back to the corner where he had met Arthur Black and Harry Adler. Black had left, but Adler was still there entertaining some of the smaller boys with stories of his own greatness. Herbert walked up to him with flashing eyes:

“Adler, I’ve got a crow to pick with you.”

“Go ahead with the picking,” sneered the older boy, and Herbert flushed hotly at the contemptuous tone.

“A few minutes ago you referred to me as a coward.”

“Well, what of it?”

“I want you to take that word back; I won’t stand for it.”

Adler broke out into a coarse laugh.

“Why, the little fellow is feeling his oats,” he cried; “he looks like a bantam rooster.”

“Never mind what I look like,” retorted Herbert hotly. “I want to know whether you’ll take that word back.”

“Don’t get excited, little chap.”

“Will you take it back? Say yes or no!” demanded Herbert.

“I say no,” drawled Adler.

“Then I say take that!”

As he spoke, Herbert reached up and gave the fellow a resounding slap on the cheek. Adler was so dazed at the unexpected assault that he stood still gazing stupidly at his assailant. The small boys in the group were secretly delighted at the indignity put upon their worthless companion, but were discreetly silent. Herbert walked off tingling with delight at having satisfied his outraged feelings.

CHAPTER IV
IN WHICH FORTUNE UNEXPECTEDLY FAVORS DAVID HARKINS

Herbert Harkins prepared to go to bed that night with a very heavy heart. He could not rid himself of the notion that he was the cause of the troubles that were gathering so rapidly about their home. Sleep is said to be the best medicine for a troubled mind; but unfortunately Herbert was not able to go to sleep. Usually he was in the land of dreams as soon as his head touched the pillow, but this night he was afflicted with a peculiar nervousness that could not be overcome. More than this he was greatly disturbed over the agitated condition of his father. He knew that he was sitting at his desk in the front room downstairs. He had spoken to him when he came home, and now from the light that was shining up the stairway he knew that his father was still awake. Presently he heard the movement of a chair, and then the steady tramping of feet indicating that Mr. Harkins was walking up and down the room.

Suddenly this monotonous sound was broken by a sharp rap on the front door. Herbert heard his father respond to the summons. The bolt was drawn back, the door opened, and then came a sound like the cry of recognition from two men. The door was softly closed again, and then came the steady mumbling of voices. This continued so long that Herbert became frightened. He got out of bed in the dark, and going into the hallway crept downstairs silently, step by step, until he had reached the doorway leading into the parlor. The light was turned down and the room was quite dim; but he could see his father and another man seated at a table engaged in earnest conversation. The stranger wore a full beard, and his head was covered with a great shock of red hair, in much disorder. The two men were so much engaged that they did not notice the half frightened boy standing near the doorway. Herbert on his part was so much interested in what he saw that for the time being he forgot the situation in which he had placed himself.

At times the two men were so close together that it would hardly have been possible to have drawn a sheet of paper between them. The stranger, in order to illustrate some point that he was making in his talk, threw his arm violently in the air, and in doing so overturned a little China ornament that was on the table, sending it crashing to the floor. Both men started violently at this unexpected happening, and then glanced nervously around the room as if to see whether anyone were listening. At the first sound of the falling ornament, Herbert started to run upstairs; but when the conversation was resumed some strange power seemed to draw him back to the doorway again. His intention was to take one last look and go away. He knew that he had no right there, and that his father might be very angry if he thought that he was out of bed and listening to the conversation; but some strange will over which he appeared to be powerless, kept him rooted to the spot. The two men talked in such a low tone at first that all he could hear was the mumbling of voices. Presently, however, his father becoming more earnest, said excitedly to the other man in a louder voice:

“I won’t do it. I tell you I can’t do it. It’s not right to you.”

“Don’t be a fool,” responded the red-haired man in a deep bass voice. “This will save you, and it cannot do me any harm. I’ll never miss it, I can assure you.”

“But it seems so unjust,” urged his father; “it doesn’t seem quite square to act with you in this way. After all these years I should not be placed in the position of taking this from you.”

“I am the best judge of that,” growled the other man in his heavy voice; “take it and say no more about it.”

As he spoke he pushed a package in the direction of Mr. Harkins, who still with reluctance, picked it up and placed it in his pocket. This act seemed to relieve his feelings, because he said right away in a voice that sounded lighter and more contented:

“Well, I guess it is all for the best. I’ll take it, and you can rest assured that you’ll lose nothing by your kindness.”

Their voices became lower again at this point, and Herbert, sorry for having remained so long, hurried back to bed and was soon in the land of slumber. Father, mother and son met at the breakfast table the next morning, and all seemed to be in a more cheerful frame of mind than they had been for some days. Mr. Harkins was bubbling over with good spirits. He turned to his wife in a laughing manner, and said:

“I’ve got a surprise for you this morning—a bit of good news that will make you feel good.”

“What is it?” asked the wife curiously.

“Simply that I have the money and I am going to pay off that obligation to John Black before the clock strikes another hour.”

The poor woman was so overjoyed at this unexpected news that she ran over and gave her husband a hearty kiss.

“This is good news, David,” she said. “How on earth did you manage to raise the money in such a short time?”

“Oh ho!” he replied merrily; “it’s news you are after, is it? Well you can’t have it just now. This money came from a gentleman who is a very good friend of mine. His name will have to remain a secret for the present at least.”

Herbert sat and listened to this conversation with a feeling of dismay. He felt like crying out and telling his father that he had been present at the mysterious midnight interview and had heard things that were not intended for his ears; but his lips refused to frame the words, and he sat there feeling very mean and very guilty. Finally both conscience and curiosity got the better of him. He made up his mind to confess his little indiscretion—for it was not anything more serious than an indiscretion—and then to ask his father to tell him the name of the strange man who had appeared at such an unusual hour and under such unusual circumstances. Mr. Harkins had his hat and coat on preparing to leave the house when Herbert arose from the table and said to him in a voice that quivered with nervousness:

“Father, I could not sleep last night.”

“I am very sorry to hear that, my son,” was the kindly reply. “Probably you are not feeling well. You had better stop in and see Dr. Smith on your way from school this afternoon.”

“No, no; it’s not that,” stammered Herbert; “it’s something I want to tell you. When I found that I could not sleep I got out of bed—”

“I am in a hurry now, Herbert,” exclaimed his father, talking very rapidly and moving towards the door. “I must get down and see Mr. Coke. You can tell me this story when you come home from school this afternoon.”

And the next moment the street door closed with a bang and Mr. Harkness was on his way to the bank. Herbert sat down in a chair feeling very much disappointed. He felt somehow or other that his father had become involved, and if he had been able to speak, that much mystery might have been dissipated.

CHAPTER V
IN WHICH DAVID HARKINS BECOMES THE VICTIM OF PECULIAR CIRCUMSTANCES

David Harkins left his home that morning, walking rapidly and gaily humming a tune to himself. He felt better and happier than he had for many weeks before. The thought of canceling the note and freeing himself from the obligation which he was under to John Black lifted an immense weight from his mind and enabled him to take a cheerful view of life. As he walked along he mentally matured plans for increasing his income during the year to come and placing his family in a position where they would not be compelled to feel concerned regarding the future.

In a few minutes he reached the office of Horace Coke, the lawyer, who was installed in a little second story room of a modest house on the main street. The apartment was very much like the lawyer—simple and old-fashioned, but entirely adequate for the needs of the law. There was a plain, flat-top desk, littered with legal papers. An office boy who hoped eventually to become a member of the bar, sat copying a deed; and the silence in the room was broken by the steady scratching of his pen. The shelves about the room were filled with law books covered with calfskin and bearing their titles in little gold letters on a slip of black over what might be called their backbones. Mr. Coke himself was puffing away at a big black cigar—which, by the way, was his only dissipation. He was looking over some papers when David Harkins entered the room, but jumped from his chair immediately and greeted the newcomer with a hearty:

“Hello there, Dave! What’s bringing you out so early in the morning?”

“Some legal business, Horace,” replied the other laughingly.

“I am sorry to hear that,” said the venerable attorney, shaking his head in a doubtful manner. “I always advise my friends to keep out of the law. It’s a bad business. It takes up all your money, and rarely gives you any good results.”

“That sounds like queer talk for a man who depends on the law for his livelihood.”

Horace Coke laughed heartily at this retort, and said:

“It does sound queer, doesn’t it? But I don’t talk that way to everybody. Of course, if people will get into trouble and will invoke the law, I might as well take their money and attend to their business as the next one; but I satisfy my conscience by advising all of my friends to keep out of the law, because as I said before, it’s a mighty bad business.”

Then the good-natured counsellor dropped into his chair and indulged in another hearty laugh. It was one of the oddities of his nature that he should be continually berating the profession of which he was such an ornament and for which he really had a deep reverence.

“But not to get off the subject,” added Mr. Harkins, “I would like to inform you that I have come here to pay off that note to John Black. Under ordinary circumstances I would go to the bank to transact this business; but as long as Mr. Black has found it necessary to employ a lawyer to secure his money, I felt that it was proper to come here and pay you.”

The lawyer looked at David Harkins searchingly through his eye-glasses. He was silent for a moment, and then said in a low voice, in marked contrast with his jolly manner of a few minutes before:

“See here, Dave, can you spare this money? I don’t believe you can, and I hate to see a man pressed. If you say the word, I’ll go over to old Black and try to get an extension on the note.”

“Not at all,” was the cheerful rejoinder. “I do not desire an extension; I want to pay it and get it off my mind forever.”

Mr. Coke walked over to Harkins and taking him by the hand, exclaimed in his cheery voice:

“Congratulations, old man! I am glad to hear you talk in that way, and I am mighty glad to know that you were able to raise the money in such a short time. It will not only be a good thing to pay off the note, but it will be the means of establishing your credit in Cleverly. There’s nothing like a reputation for a man, and if you can get a good one it is liable to stick to you just as well as a bad one.”

The two men sat down at the desk together, and after the necessary papers had been prepared and signed, Mr. Harkins handed over one thousand dollars in fresh banknotes.

Half an hour later the lawyer put his hat and coat on and started towards the bank where he had an appointment with John Black. The door was closed when he arrived; but following his usual custom he entered without knocking. The banker’s back was turned to him at the time, and when he heard the door open and close, Mr. Black cried out in a harsh voice:

“Who’s that? What are you doing there?”

“It is only I, John,” said the lawyer. “I came here to attend to a little matter of business.”

“Oh!” exclaimed the banker, changing his tone slightly at the sight of the lawyer. “I thought it was one of those impudent clerks coming in here without being civil enough to knock at the door.”

After this he started to walk up and down the office, stamping his feet and frowning in a very ugly manner. His expression was forbidding, and Mr. Coke looked at him in astonishment.

“What’s the matter, Black?” asked the lawyer. “You don’t seem to be in a very good humor this morning.”

“Good humor? I should say not. I’ve got a good notion to leave this town. A man’s property isn’t safe over night. You get no protection. You pay big taxes and put up with all sorts of inconveniences, and what do you get in return? That’s what I would like to know; what do you get in return?”

“Why what in the world are you driving at?” asked the lawyer; “what has happened?”

“Happened? Why everything’s happened. Some thief entered my house last night, got into the library, broke open my desk and stole a package of money that I had put there for safe keeping over night. What do you think of that? Wouldn’t you say that something had happened if your house had been broken into and your desk had been rifled? Wouldn’t you, I say? Wouldn’t you?”

“Why, yes,” said the lawyer, staring at his client. “I suppose I should say that something had happened under those circumstances. But have you any clue to the robbery?”

“Clue! Clue!” retorted the banker, with his habit of repeating words. “Certainly not. How could you expect me to have a clue in a town like this? The police officials are no good, never were any good, and never will be any good.”

“But have you any hope of recovering your money?”

“Hope? Certainly I have hope. I am going to recover that money if it costs every other cent that I have in the world. I don’t propose to sit down like a lamb and be fleeced. Do you think that I am that kind of a man? Do you?”

“No,” said the lawyer, “I do not. I am very sorry to hear about your loss; but I don’t suppose there is any use crying over spilt milk.”

“Spilt milk! What do you mean by that? How can you talk about a large amount of money as if it were spilt milk? What do you mean anyhow?”

“Oh,” said the lawyer, “that was simply a little illustration of mine. You see the moral is a good one.”

“Hump! I don’t think it’s good at all, and I don’t like to hear you talk in that way.” Then after a momentary pause, “But what is it you want? Why did you come here?”

“I came with some good news,” said the lawyer. “David Harkins called on me this morning and paid off that note of a thousand dollars, and I have brought the money to you.”

The crafty face of the banker lighted up with surprise at this announcement. It was so unexpected that he hardly knew what to say in reply. Finally he managed to remark:

“Paid you? Paid you this morning, did he? I wonder where he got the money.”

“I am sure I do not know,” said the lawyer, “and really I don’t think it makes much difference as long as you get the amount of your note.”

The two men sat down at the desk together, and the lawyer, after some preliminary remarks, handed over the money to the banker. The minute it was laid before him he jumped with a start.

“Why, this is all new money,” he exclaimed. “That’s just the kind of money that was taken from me last night. I don’t believe Dave Harkins came by that money honestly. It makes him look like a thief. It was probably done by that smart boy of his.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” cried the lawyer, trying to pacify the banker.

“But I will say it. Both father and son have a grudge against me, and I don’t believe they would hesitate at anything to get even.”

“But my dear sir,” remarked the lawyer in a soothing tone, “you have made a very rash assertion, and you have absolutely nothing to base it upon.”

John Black was silent for a moment, and then suddenly turning around, he said in a harsh tone:

“Did you get that money direct from David Harkins?”

“I did,” was the response.

“Then,” exclaimed the banker in a tone of triumph, “that proves my suspicion. The money that was taken out of my desk consisted of ten $100 bills, and the money you have just given me is made up exactly of ten $100 bills. That satisfies me.”

“It is a coincidence,” admitted the lawyer.

“Coincidence,” snorted the banker, “it’s sufficient to convict the man. It satisfies me, and it ought to be enough to satisfy any other man with brains.”

“I wouldn’t be too hasty,” suggested the lawyer. “There is nothing to be gained by acting in that manner.”

“Hasty? Don’t talk about being hasty. I am going to have justice no matter who is injured; and I don’t want to be soft-soaped out of doing the right thing. I am going to act, and I am going to act quickly.”

“But, my dear sir,” said the lawyer, persisting in his objections, “you must have proof; don’t you understand that? You must have proof before you can accuse a man.”

John Black was in a terrible rage by this time. He paced up and down the office rapidly, and then standing in front of the lawyer and raising his finger in a threatening way, exclaimed:

“I’ll have proof all right. The proof will be a warrant for the arrest of David Harkins on the charge of stealing my money.”

“I am sorry to hear you talk that way,” said the lawyer, “I think you are making a mistake. But, however, you are master of your own actions. When do you propose to do this?”

“Within twenty-four hours,” replied the other solemnly. “If you want to, you can serve a warning on Dave Harkins, and if he will restore my money at once I may be merciful to him; but if not, he must take the consequences. In any event he will have to make up his mind within the next twenty-four hours.”

CHAPTER VI
IN WHICH DAVID HARKINS QUITS THIS LIFE AND TAKES HIS SECRET WITH HIM

News travels quickly in a small town. Before breakfast the following morning it was very generally reported that John Black had been robbed, and that he was going to issue a warrant for the arrest of David Harkins. The report shocked most of those who heard it. John Black was a hard man, and more than one of the citizens of Cleverly had felt the force of his iron hand.

He worked incessantly, and never spent a penny unless it was absolutely necessary. Such a man may be considered just; but he is bound to be unpopular. David Harkins, on the contrary, was well liked by all who knew him. He was on the best of terms with his neighbors, and always had time for a kind word to everyone he met—man, woman and child.

The people therefore were disposed to suspend judgment until they had heard both sides of the story. While David Harkins was at the table Horace Coke drove up, and asked to have a minute’s conversation. As soon as they were alone he said hastily:

“Have you heard the rumors?”

“I have,” responded Harkins, “and I consider them scandalous. I wonder where such malicious stories could originate?”

“That’s easily told,” replied the lawyer. “They come from no less a person than John Black.”

“How dare he say such things!” exclaimed Harkins with passion.

For answer the lawyer told him the details of his interview with the banker and the singular likeness between the banknotes that had been stolen and the money which had been used to pay off the note.

David Harkins listened in astonishment, and when Coke had concluded, said:

“But even that doesn’t justify Black in slandering me.”

“Certainly not; but you must agree that the coincidence is not only remarkable, but could be construed as suspicious.”

“But my part of the transaction was perfectly straight.”

“I’m sure of that,” responded Coke with fervor, “and that’s why I’m here this morning. Let me state the case in a nutshell. You have been foolish enough to make an enemy of a powerful and wealthy man. You have borrowed money of him. He demands the payment of the money from you in the belief that you are penniless and cannot comply with his demand. His house is entered and robbed of a thousand dollars. The next morning you pay him a thousand dollars in bills identical to those stolen from him.”

“But there are thousands of such bills in circulation.”

“True; but the thing for you to do is to shut the mouth of gossip at once. That can be done in a very simple manner. All you have to do is to prove what is known in the law as an alibi. Tell where you got the money and produce the man who gave it to you.”

Harkins shook his head sadly at this.

“Your suggestion seems simple enough; but I fear I cannot comply with it.”

“Why not?” in manifest astonishment.

“Because it was given to me in confidence and with the understanding that the name of the donor should not be divulged.”

“But it came from a friend?”

“One of the best I have in the world.”

“Well, he would surely not permit you to rest under a shadow for the sake of a foolish promise. Go to him at once and get a release from your pledge to silence.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late,” said Harkins gravely. “He was to start for England this very day. However, your advice is good. I’ll hire a team and try to reach him. If I succeed I will report to you this afternoon.”

As soon as Mr. Coke departed, Herbert made an effort to tell his father the story of his indiscretion in listening at the doorway on the occasion of the midnight visit of the mysterious stranger. But once again Mr. Harkins was too busy to stop and listen, and father and son parted without that exchange of confidence which would have done so much to clear up an embarrassing situation. Mr. Harkins went to the nearest livery stable and soon had a one-horse buggy harnessed and ready for the road. He told no one his destination, but whipping up the horse, passed down the main streets, out into the outskirts of the town and was soon lost to view.

It was late in the afternoon when he returned, and then the wheels of the carriage were covered with mud and the horse was covered with lather as if he had traveled far and fast that day. There was a careworn look about David Harkins’ eyes and a drooping of the lips that betokened disappointment. He drove back over the same streets whence he had taken his departure in the morning, nodding pleasantly to several acquaintances he passed on the way.

Just when he was in sight of the livery stable, a sudden gust of wind raised a cloud of dust that blinded animals and pedestrians alike. This was followed by another, and the second squall carried in its wake a batch of old newspapers and sent them eddying about in the air like some strange craft in a whirlpool. One of the papers struck the horse square in the eye. The animal, already frightened by the wind and dust, raised up on its haunches and gave a shrill neigh. Harkins grasping the reins tightly, pulled it down to earth again. But the moment the horse’s feet struck the ground it darted off like a flash and went tearing down the street at an insane gait. The driver kept cool and self contained. Standing on the floor of the carriage and leaning over the dashboard he pulled at the lines with all his strength.

Just when he felt that the animal was being brought into subjection, the lines gave a snap and broke, leaving him thrown back on the seat with two useless bits of leather in his hand. He was as helpless as a seaman without a rudder, or more so. The horse released from the grasp of the driver, redoubled its speed and kept on its way like mad. Harkins, now alarmed, considered the advisability of jumping out of the vehicle in order to avert a worse fate. But while he was debating the situation the horse solved it for him. Coming to a cross street it swerved in its furious career and turned the corner. The suddenness of the move swung the buggy from one side of the street to the other, and on its rebound it struck an iron lamp-post, smashing the frail vehicle to pieces and throwing David Harkins head first on to the sidewalk.

A crowd collected immediately and several men hurried to the assistance of the stricken man. He was insensible, and his breath came in short, sharp gasps. A stretcher was procured, and he was carried to his home. A physician was telephoned for, and he arrived at the home simultaneously with the men who were carrying the prostrate form. The doctor worked unceasingly for nearly an hour, and at the end of that time announced that his patient must have absolute quiet and that no one must attempt to speak to him for the present.

Horace Coke, who had arrived at the house, was very much distressed over the accident and showed especial pain over the doctor’s order.

“Doctor,” he said, “couldn’t I ask him one question?”

“My dear sir,” answered the physician pityingly, “you can do as you please; but the instant you or anyone else disobeys my orders I will give this case up and will not answer for the consequences.”

“Is it that bad?” asked the lawyer.

“It couldn’t be worse,” replied the doctor; “he only regained consciousness a few minutes ago. I succeeded in putting him into a light slumber. If he rests undisturbed for an hour I may save his life.”

Herbert slipped quietly out of the room while the two men were speaking.

“He is still sleeping,” he said to the doctor.

The doctor shot a sharp glance at the boy.

“I hope you didn’t attempt to speak to him,” rather sternly.

“Certainly not,” replied Herbert, flushing up at this reflection upon his good sense. Slowly, slowly, the minutes ticked by.

A few of the neighbors remained in the parlor. The doctor and Mrs. Harkins alone remained in the sick room. A half hour elapsed. It began to look as if the life might be saved.

Presently the door opened and a young girl attired in a dark suit entered the room. Although youthful, she had the air of restfulness usually found only in persons of more mature years. She had great black eyes now full of sympathy with those in the room. Her dark, glossy hair parted in the middle, emphasized the extreme whiteness of her broad forehead. This was Mary Black, daughter of the banker, and sister of Arthur Black. She glanced about the apartment until her glance rested upon Herbert, and going up to him, put her hand in his with such frankness and tenderness as to bring tears to his eyes. He stepped to one side of the room. She was the first to speak.

“Herbert, I feel for you very, very much,” she said in a low, melodious voice. “Mother would not rest until I had come over here to inquire how your father was getting on. Indeed we all feel for you and your mother very much. Father was anxious also.”

She was quick to see that Herbert’s face clouded up at the mention of her father, and hastened to add:

“That is what I wished to speak about particularly. I know that your father and my father had words; but I can assure you that there is no ill feeling on father’s part now. I talked with him long and earnestly, and he finally consented to permit me to come over here and say this to your father. The moment he is able to see anyone, I want to tell him this.”

“You are an angel,” murmured Herbert. “I don’t thank your father for this visit, but I am very, very grateful to you.”

Just then Mrs. Harkins stepped out of the room, and Mary made haste to repeat to her what she had already told Herbert. The face of the older woman softened at the kind words that were poured into her ears, and in a moment the girl and the mother were in each other’s arms, indulging in one of those crys which do so much to relieve the tension of grief and sorrow.

But Mary Black did not waste much time in useless tears. She quickly dried her eyes, and turning to Mrs. Harkins, said with energy:

“Now, I’m going to make myself useful; tell me what to do first.”

Mrs. Harkins smiled through her tears at this manifestation of industry. But she felt relieved to know that feminine hands and feminine eyes would be in charge of her house while she remained at the bedside of her stricken husband. Mary Black, during that hour of anxiety and for many days afterward, proved herself a genuine angel of mercy. Those who gazed at her knew that while her nature was kind and gentle she was yet resolute and determined.

The minutes went by and those who were assembled in the outer room kept anxious watch on the door leading to the sick chamber. All instinctively realized that a crisis was at hand, and that it was to be decided very shortly. Presently there was a movement within and the doctor came out, supporting Mrs. Harkins on his shoulder. A hush went over the little circle.

“What is it, doctor?” asked Mr. Coke, voicing the question that hung unspoken on the lips of all the others.

The doctor looked at his questioner in silence for a moment, and then said impressively:

“He is dead!”

A convulsive sob from the newly made widow brought Mary Black and some of the neighbors to her side in an instant. While they were leading the weeping woman up to her room, the doctor noted the questioning look in Mr. Coke’s eyes.

“It came very suddenly,” he said; “all was over in an instant. He died without opening his lips.”

Herbert, who was standing in the rear of the room unobserved, heard this with blanched face and parched throat. He realized that the death of his father marked an epoch in his life. He felt that he had lost his dearest friend. Yet the tears would not come to his strained, glassy eyes. He was amazed that his heart beat on as before. All that he was conscious of was a strange, unnatural feeling of numbness.

CHAPTER VII
IN WHICH HERBERT MEETS ADVERSITY AND LEARNS THE MEANING OF HARD WORK

The Harkins home was a very desolate place for many days after the funeral. Mary Black remained with the family for several days, moving about noiselessly and attending to the multitude of details which would otherwise go neglected at such a sad period. After the first sharp grief had worn away, Herbert and his mother sat down and talked over their prospects for the future. Mr. Harkins had been prudent enough to leave a small insurance policy, made out to the order of Mrs. Harkins, and this money proved to be of immediate assistance to the widow.

Mrs. Harkins was a firm believer in the value of education, and felt that it was her duty to give Herbert all the schooling that was possible even if it was necessary to make a personal sacrifice to do so. She insisted upon his going to school for at least a year after the death of his father. He did so and made gratifying progress; but he was now old enough to appreciate the responsibility that rested upon him as an only son, so just before the close of the school term he went to his mother and said:

“See here, mother, I’ve got to help you. There is no possible way out of it. If I can do so and continue going to school, all right; if not, I will never return to the school.”