CHAPTER XXIII
A RIVAL CONCERN
“I call that extraordinary,” declared Bob Haven.
“Certainly a sensational and a puzzling piece of business,” echoed hisbrother, Darry.
“It is the best news I have had for a long time,” said Frank, buoyantly.“I tell you, fellows, you don’t know what a load it has lifted from mymind.”
“I should think so,” nodded Darry--“to get back all that two hundreddollars, when you had given it up as lost.”
It was ten o’clock in the morning. Frank’s clothing was covered withdust. His eyes looked tired and sleepy. Upon the receipt of the telegramat Essex, he had hitched up the horse promptly and started forPleasantville.
Darry welcomed him with effusion, and he and Bob at once led Frank intotheir little editorial sanctum.
There were some quick developments, and now Frank sat, a queerlydecorated sheet of paper in his hand. On the table before him was thewallet which had disappeared four days previous with Markham.
“Tell your story all over again, slowly and carefully,” said Frank toDarry. “It’s something to get back that money, but it’s a good deal moreto find out what has become of Markham.”
“Well,” said Darry, “it’s just as I told you. Yesterday noon in our mailwe found that letter you have. As you see, it has an envelope bearingour name and address printed. We send these out when we solicitbusiness, and I supposed it was some new customer asking an estimate ona printing job. Judge of my surprise, when I found enclosed thatletter.”
“Yes,” murmured Frank, “it’s a queer-looking affair.”
“You can see how it was put together. It must have taken hours for itssender to cut all kinds of letters from a printed newspaper, and slowlyand patiently paste them onto that blank sheet. Letter by letter hebuilt up those words and sentences.”
Frank once more read over the letter in his hands, which ran:
“tell frAnk newTon Money is beHind coAl BoX, thiRd flooR, YoUr buiLDiNg--mARkHAm.”
“Well,” resumed Darry, “Bob and I went up stairs here at once. None ofthe offices on the third floor has been occupied for a long time. In thehall is a big box with a slanting cover, to hold fuel for tenants inwinter time. Everything was dirty, and plainly across the dusty boxcover it showed where someone had recently rested, or been pushed overagainst the wall. We pulled out the box. Sure enough, in the four-inchspace behind the box was your money.”
“Then a hot wire, and here you are,” observed Bob briskly.
“See here, fellows,” said Frank, “I think I can figure this thing out.”
“Go ahead,” encouraged Darry.
“Markham sent that letter. He didn’t write, because he had no pencil. Apencil is usually an easy thing to get, so he must have been shut upsomewhere. He found in his pocket a sheet of paper--”
“Oh, by the way,” here interrupted Darry, “I forgot to explainsomething. I recognize the sheet of paper as a blank sample I gaveMarkham, enclosed in that same envelope, stamped, to give to Mr. Dawesup at the novelty works when he went there again. Mr. Dawes asked for asample of one linen letter paper. If he wanted a lot, he was to writethe amount on the sheet, and mail to us.”
“Well,” continued Frank, “somehow Markham made paste--probably out of apiece of bread. He compiled that letter.”
“But how did he get it mailed?” suggested Bob.
“Suppose he was a prisoner, and threw it from a window into the road,chancing its discovery and mailing by some passer-by.”
“That’s so,” nodded Darry. “I believe you are correct in yourconclusions, Frank. As to the mailing lists, which Markham also had withhim, that’s a later mystery to develop.”
“Now then,” spoke Frank, “I think I can also figure out something else.I believe that Dale Wacker followed Markham. He was probably right onhis heels when Markham entered this building. Markham saw him, gotscared, and, to evade him, ran up to the third floor. There he found norooms open to hide in. He was cornered, intimidated, maybe attacked byWacker. He thought of that two hundred dollars, and dropped it behindthe fuel box. Then--”
Frank paused here, and shook his head in doubt and perplexity.
“Poor Markham,” commented Bob. “It looks likely that he is held aprisoner somewhere. Maybe because his captor knows he threw away thatpackage of money, and won’t let him go free till he tells where. Anyhow,he’s a good one, surmounting all the difficulties of his situation andgetting that letter to you.”
“I suppose you will take up the mail order business actively again, nowyou are in funds?” suggested Darry.
“Surely,” said Frank. “Here, take the money and hurry up the catalogue.”
Frank felt immensely relieved as he proceeded to his office. His mind,however, was full of plans looking to the discovery of Markham’s placeof captivity.
The letter had been mailed at Hazelhurst, a mining town about thirtymiles distant. Frank noted this fact, determining to make that town thestarting point of his investigations, as soon as he got present pressingbusiness in such a shape that he might leave the office in charge ofhis mother for a day or two.
Mrs. Ismond was very happy over Frank’s return, and greatly pleased overthe recovery of the missing money. She had quite an encouraging reportto make concerning orders received during that day and the onepreceding.
“Oh, by the way, Frank,” she said, suddenly recollecting something,“here is a letter addressed to you marked ‘personal.’ I found it pushedunder the office door this morning.”
“It’s from Stet,” said Frank, glancing at the enclosure, whichinterested him very much.
“On account of our strained relations,” wrote Stet, “being ordered from your premises and kicked out of Haven Bros., I have wormed myself into the confidence of Dale Wacker. He has rented a room in the Main Street Block, and started into the mail order business. An old fellow is sending out circulars for him, and they have got a bunch of printed matter from the _Eagle_ Job Print, and he ordered one thousand watches from the city last night.”
Bound to Succeed; or, Mail Order Frank's Chances Page 23