Meanwhile Luke, to satisfy a doubt in his mind, entered the hotel,and, going up to the office, looked over the list of arrivals. He hadto turn back a couple of pages and found this entry:
"THOMAS BROWNING, Milwaukee."
"His name is Browning, and he does come from Milwaukee," he said tohimself. "I thought, perhaps, he might have given me a false name,though he could have no reason for doing so."
Luke felt that he must look farther for the man who had betrayed hisfather's confidence.
"I didn't think there could be two men of such a peculiar appearance,"he reflected. "Surely there can't be three. If I meet another whoanswers the description I shall be convinced that he is the man I amafter."
In the afternoon the same man approached Luke, as he stood on hisaccustomed corner.
"You may give me the _Mail_ and _Journal_," he said.
"Yes, sir; here they are. Three cents."
"I believe you are the boy who recognized me, or thought you did, thismorning."
"Yes, sir."
"If you ever run across this Mr. Thomas, of St. Louis, present him mycompliments, will you?"
"Yes, sir," answered Luke, with a smile.
"By the way, what is your name?"
"Luke Walton."
The gentleman started.
"Luke Walton!" he repeated, slowly, eying the newsboy with a stillcloser scrutiny.
"Yes, sir."
"It's a new name to me. Can't your father find a better business foryou than selling papers?"
"My father is dead, sir."
"Dead!" repeated Browning, slowly. "That is un fortunate for you. Howlong has he been dead?"
"About two years."
"What did he die of?"
"I don't know, sir, exactly. He died away from home--in California."
There was a strange look, difficult to read, on the gentleman's face.
"That is a long way off," he said. "I have always thought I shouldlike to visit California. When my business will permit I will take atrip out that way."
Here was another difference between Mr. Browning and the man of whomLuke's father had written. The stranger had never been in California.
Browning handed Luke a silver quarter in payment for the papers.
"Never mind about the change," he said, with a wave of his hand.
"Thank you, sir. You are very kind."
"This must be the son of my old California friend," Browning said tohimself. "Can he have heard of the money intrusted to me? I don'tthink it possible, for I left Walton on the verge of death. That moneyhas made my fortune. I invested it in land which has more thanquadrupled in value. Old women say that honesty pays," he added, witha sneer; "but it is nonsense. In this case dishonesty has paid merichly. If the boy has heard anything, it is lucky that I changed myname to Browning out of deference to my wife's aunt, in return for abeggarly three thousand dollars. I have made it up to ten thousanddollars by judicious investment. My young newsboy acquaintance willfind it hard to identify me with the Thomas Butler who took charge ofhis father's money."
If Browning had been possessed of a conscience it might have troubledhim when he was brought face to face with one of the sufferers fromhis crime; but he was a hard, selfish man, to whom his own interestswere of supreme importance.
But something happened within an hour which gave him a feeling ofanxiety.
He was just coming out of the Chicago post-office, at the corner ofAdams and Clark Streets, when a hand was laid upon his shoulder.
"How are you, Butler?" said a tall man, wearing a Mexican sombrero. "Ihaven't set eyes upon you since we were together at Gold Gulch, inCalifornia."
Browning looked about him apprehensively. Fortunately he was somedistance from the corner where Luke Walton was selling papers.
"I am well, thank you," he said.
"Are you living in Chicago?"
"No; I live in Wisconsin."
"Have you seen anything of the man you used to be with somuch--Walton?"
"No; he died."
"Did he, indeed? Well, I am sorry to hear that. He was a good fellow.Did he leave anything?"
"I am afraid not."
"I thought he struck it rich."
"So he did; but he lost all he made."
"How was that?"
"Poor investments, I fancy."
"I remember he told me one day that he had scraped together seven oreight thousand dollars."
Browning shrugged his shoulders. "I think that was a mistake," hesaid. "Walton liked to put his best foot foremost."
"You think, then, he misrepresented?"
"I think he would have found it hard to find the sum you mention."
"You surprise me, Butler. I always looked upon Walton as a singularlyreliable man."
"So he was--in most things. But let me correct you on one point. Youcall me Butler?"
"Isn't that your name?"
"It was, but I had a reason--a good, substantial, pecuniaryreason--for changing it. I am now Thomas Browning."
"Say you so? Are you engaged this evening?"
"Yes, unfortunately."
"I was about to invite you to some theater."
"Another time--thanks."
"I must steer clear of that man," thought Browning. "I won't meet himagain, if I can help it."
CHAPTER IX
STEPHEN WEBB
The more Browning thought of the newsboy in whom he had so strangelyrecognized the son of the man whom he had so cruelly wronged, the moreuneasy he felt.
"He has evidently heard of me," he soliloquized. "His father could nothave been so near death as I supposed. He must have sent the boy orhis mother a message about that money. If it should come to hisknowledge that I am the Thomas Butler to whom his father confided tenthousand dollars which I have failed to hand over to the family, hemay make it very disagreeable for me."
The fact that so many persons were able to identify him as ThomasButler made the danger more imminent.
"I must take some steps--but what?" Browning asked himself.
He kept on walking till he found himself passing the entrance of a lowpoolroom. He never played pool, nor would it have suited a man of hissocial position to enter such a place, but that he caught sight of ayoung man, whose face and figure were familiar to him, in the act ofgoing into it. He quickened his pace, and laid a hand on the youngman's shoulder.
The latter turned quickly, revealing a face bearing the unmistakablemarks of dissipation.
"Uncle Thomas!" he exclaimed, apparently ill at ease.
"Yes, Stephen, it is I. Where are you going?" The young manhesitated.
"You need not answer. I see you are wedded to your old amusements. Areyou still in the place I got for you?"
Stephen Webb looked uneasy and shamefaced.
"I have lost my place," he answered, after a pause.
"How does it happen that you lost it?"
"I don't know. Some one must have prejudiced my employer against me."
"It is your own habits that have prejudiced him, I make no doubt."
This was true. One morning Stephen, whose besetting sin wasintemperance, appeared at the office where he was employed in such astate of intoxication that he was summarily discharged. It may beexplained that he was a son of Mr. Browning's only sister.
"When were you discharged?" asked his uncle.
"Last week."
"And have you tried to get another situation?"
"Yes."
"What are your prospects of success?"
"There seem to be very few openings just now, Uncle Thomas."
"The greater reason why you should have kept the place I obtained foryou. Were you going to play pool in this low place?"
"I was going to look on. A man must have some amusement," saidStephen, sullenly.
"Amusement is all you think of. However, it so happens that I havesomething that I wish you to do."
Stephen regarded his uncle in surprise.
"Are you going to open an office
in Chicago?" he asked.
"No; the service is of a different nature. It is--secret andconfidential. It is, I may say, something in the detective line."
"Then I'm your man," said his nephew, brightening up.
"The service is simple, so that you will probably be qualified to dowhat I require."
"I've read lots of detective stories," said Stephen, eagerly. "It'sjust the work I should like."
"Humph! I don't think much is to be learned from detective stories.You will understand, of course, that you are not to let anyone knowyou are acting for me."
"Certainly. You will find that I can keep a secret."
"I leave Chicago to-morrow morning, and will give you directionsbefore I go. Where can we have a private conference?"
"Here is an oyster house. We shall be quiet here."
"Very well! We will go in."
They entered a small room, with a sanded floor, provided with a fewunpainted tables.
Stephen and his uncle went to the back of the room, and seatedthemselves at the rear table.
"We must order something," suggested Stephen.
"Get what you please," said Browning, indifferently.
"Two stews!" ordered Stephen. "We can talk while they are getting themready."
"Very well! Now, for my instructions. At the corner of Clark andRandolph Streets every morning and evening you will find a newsboyselling papers."
"A dozen, you mean."
"True, but I am going to describe this boy so that you may know him.He is about fifteen, I should judge, neatly dressed, and would beconsidered good-looking."
"Do you know his name?"
"Yes, it is Luke Walton."
"Is he the one I am to watch?"
"You are to make his acquaintance, and find out all you can about hiscircumstances."
"Do you know where he lives?"
"No; that is one of the things you are to find out for me."
"What else do you want me to find out?"
"Find out how many there are in family, also how they live; whetherthey have anything to live on except what this newsboy earns."
"All right, Uncle Thomas. You seem to have a great deal of interest inthis boy."
"That is my business," said Browning, curtly. "If you wish to work forme, you must not show too much curiosity. Never mind what my motivesare. Do you understand?"
"Certainly, Uncle Thomas. It shall be as you say. I suppose I am to bepaid?"
"Yes. How much salary did you receive where you were last employed?"
"Ten dollars a week."
"You shall receive this sum for the present. It is very good pay forthe small service required of you."
"All right, uncle."
The stews were ready by this time. They were brought and set beforeStephen and his uncle. The latter toyed with his spoon, only taking ataste or two, but Stephen showed much more appreciation of the dish,not being accustomed, like his uncle, to dining at first-classhotels.
"How am I to let you know what I find out?" asked Stephen.
"Write me at Milwaukee. I will send you further instructions fromthere."
"Very well, sir."
"Oh, by the way, you are never to mention me to this Luke Walton. Ihave my reasons."
"I will do just as you say."
"How is your mother, Stephen?"
"About the same. She isn't a very cheerful party, you know. She isalways fretting."
"Has she any lodgers?"
"Yes, three, but one is a little irregular with his rent."
"Of course, I expect that you will hand your mother half the weeklysum I pay you. She has a right to expect that much help from herson."
Stephen assented, but not with alacrity, and as he had now disposed ofthe stew, the two rose from their seats and went outside. A few wordsof final instructions, and they parted.
"I wonder why Uncle Thomas takes such an interest in that newsboy,"thought Stephen. "I will make it my business to find out."
CHAPTER X
STEPHEN WEBB OBTAINS SOME INFORMATION
Luke was at his post the following morning, and had disposed of halfhis papers when Stephen Webb strolled by. He walked past Luke, andthen, as if it was an after thought, turned back, and addressed him.
"Have you a morning _Tribune?_" he asked.
Luke produced it.
"How's business to-day?" asked Stephen in an offhand manner.
"Pretty fair," answered Luke, for the first time taking notice of theinquirer, who did not impress him very favorably.
"I have often wondered how you newsboys make it pay," said Stephen, ina sociable tone.
"We don't make our fortunes, as a rule," answered Luke, smiling, "so Ican't recommend you to go into it."
"I don't think it would suit me. I don't mind owning up that I amlazy. But, then, I am not obliged to work for the present, at least."
"I should like to be able to live without work," said the newsboy."But even then I would find something to do. I should not be happy ifI were idle."
"I am not wholly without work," said Stephen. "My uncle, who lives ata distance, occasionally sends to me to do something for him. I haveto hold myself subject to his orders. In the meantime I get an incomefrom him. How long have you been a newsboy?"
"Nearly two years."
"Do you like it? Why don't you get a place in a store or an office?"
"I should like to, if I could make enough; but boys get very smallsalaries."
"I was about to offer to look for a place for you. I know some men inbusiness."
"Thank you! You are very kind, considering that we are strangers."
"Oh, well, I can judge of you by your looks. I shouldn't be afraid torecommend you."
"Thank you!" he replied; "but unless you can offer me as much as fivedollars a week, I should feel obliged to keep on selling papers. I notonly have myself to look out for, but a mother and little brother."
Stephen nodded to himself complacently. It was the very information ofwhich he was in search.
"Then your father isn't living?" he said.
"No. He died in California."
"Uncle Thomas made his money in California," Stephen said to himself."I wonder if he knew this newsboy's father."
"Five dollars is little enough for three persons to live upon," hewent on, in a sympathetic manner.
"Mother earns something by sewing," Luke answered, unsuspiciously;"but it takes all we can make to support us."
"Then they can't have any other resources," thought Stephen. "I amgetting on famously."
"Well, good-morning, Luke!" he said. "I'll see you later."
"How do you know my name?" asked Luke, in surprise.
"I'm an idiot!" thought Stephen. "I ought to have appeared ignorant ofhis name. I have seen you before to-day," he replied, taking a littletime to think. "I heard one of the other newsboys calling you by name.I don't pretend to be a magician."
This explanation satisfied Luke. It appeared very natural.
"I have a great memory for names," proceeded Stephen. "That reminds methat I have not told you mine--I am Stephen Webb, at your service."
"I will remember it."
"Have a cigarette, Luke?" added Stephen, producing a packet from hispocket."
"Thank you; I don't smoke."
"Don't smoke, and you a newsboy! I thought all of you smoked."
"Most of us do, but I promised my mother I wouldn't smoke till I wastwenty-one."
"Then I'm old enough to smoke. I've smoked ever since I was twelveyears old--well, good morning!"
"That'll do for one day," thought Stephen Webb.
It was three days before Stephen Webb called again on his newacquaintance. He did not wish Luke to suspect anything, he said tohimself. Really, however, he found other things to take up hisattention. At the rate his money was going it seemed very doubtfulwhether he would be able to give his mother any part of his salary, assuggested by his uncle.
"Hang it all!" he said to himself, as he noted his
rapidly diminishinghoard. "Why can't my uncle open his heart and give me more than tendollars a week? Fifteen dollars wouldn't be any too much, and to himit would be nothing--positively nothing."
On the second evening Luke went home late. It had been a poor day forhim, and his receipts were less than usual, though he had been outmore hours.
When he entered the house, however, he assumed a cheerful look, for henever wished to depress his mother's spirits.
"You are late, Luke," said Mrs. Walton; "but I have kept your supperwarm."
"What makes you so late, Luke?" asked Bennie.
"The papers went slow, Bennie. They will, sometimes. There's no veryimportant news just now. I suppose that explains it."
After a while Luke thought he noticed that his mother looked moreserious than usual.
"What's the matter, mother?" he asked. "Have you a headache?"
"No, Luke. I am perfectly well, but I am feeling a little anxious."
"About what, mother?"
"I went around this afternoon to take half a dozen shirts that I hadcompleted, and asked for more. They told me they had no more for me atpresent, and they didn't know when I could have any more."
This was bad news, for Luke knew that he alone did not earn enough tosupport the family. However, he answered cheerfully: "Don't beanxious, mother! There are plenty of other establishments in Chicagobesides the one you have been working for."
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