Bound to Succeed; or, Mail Order Frank's Chances

by Robert Sidney Bowen

  CHAPTER XXIV

  AN UNWELCOME VISITOR

  “If Markham were only here!”

  Frank Newton said this, with a sigh in a fervent way. His mother hadsome household duties to attend to, and had asked to be spared from theoffice for the rest of that afternoon. Frank had accompanied her as faras the neat, convenient cottage they now claimed as home.

  “Yes, Frank,” she said, in quite a sad tone, “it is a pity he is nothere to share our good fortune, just as he did your first hard effortsto establish business.”

  “That business is certainly a winner now,” said Frank. “Mother, I feelit my duty to take a day off, or even two, if necessary.”

  “To look for a trace of Markham?”

  “Yes.”

  “That would be only right, Frank.”

  “It shall be to-morrow,” said Frank. “Good-bye till supper time.”

  Frank walked slowly back to the office reviewing the immediate past ofthe mail order business, and speculating as to the demands and prospectsof the future.

  “Sense and system” had worked wonders in the past few days. With therecovery of the missing money Frank had been enabled to take up his oldplans afresh.

  The catalogues were rushed to a finish. He paid up all the smallaccumulated bills, and ordered fresh supplies from the city. He puthimself in touch with attractive novelty markets, and there was scarcelya mail that did not bring a proposal to have him advertise and sell somecatchy mail order specialty.

  Haven Brothers increased their advertising for him. Then Frank hadconceived a clever follow-up system for both prospective and oldcustomers. He took care to sell just what he had advertised, and therewere no complaints.

  The wire puzzle was still the leading seller of his list, but theapple-corer, strengthened by the special notices Markham had suggested,was beginning to take hold, too.

  Things looked very fair and prosperous for Frank that afternoon. Theonly depressing feature was the continued absence of Markham and themystery surrounding it.

  Frank had hurried up to get the day off he now promised himself. Therehad been so much to do. Even now he was due in the city to talk over aproposition with a big manufacturer there. This gentleman offered tofurnish Frank free an eight-page illustrated insert for his catalogueand special buying terms, if he would push the goods actively.

  The loss of the mailing lists had been severely felt at first. Mrs.Ismond’s bright wits, however, had quite solved that difficulty. Shecontinued to send out circulars from the country papers that wereexchanges on the Pleasantville _Herald_ list.

  “The business is growing fast,” reflected Frank. “Those who buy once,very often write for some article I haven’t got in stock. Why not run aspecial purchasing department? It looks very much as if this businesswill some day run into a great big mail order house, selling everythingand having a warehouse of its own. Hold on, son--what’s the hurry?”

  A bareheaded, wild-eyed youngster turning a corner had bolted into Frankwith considerable force. Frank grabbed him quickly and swung to arebound poise, or both might have measured their length on the walk.

  “The very--fellow I--was after!” panted the urchin in a gasp.

  “That so?” said Frank.

  “Yes. Say, the fellows all like you.”

  “I’m glad. Thanks,” smiled Frank.

  “And sent me--to hunt you--and come back.”

  “Back where, son?”

  “Office--mail order house. Riot!”

  “Why, what do you mean?” inquired Frank, quickening his steps.

  “Big fellow from the country. Been drinking. Smashed one of yourwindows. Went away. Came back and smashed in the door. Says he’ll wreckthe place.”

  “Why, what for?” demanded Frank, now walking still faster.

  “Says he’s a customer of yours. Says you swindled him. Says he’ll wipeyou out. That’s it--run.”

  Frank was not only puzzled, but quite startled. He broke into a run. Ashe turned into the street where the office was located, he heard amingled chorus of yells and cries.

  A crowd made up mostly of boys filled the lawn space in front of theoffice. A glance showed to Frank the lower sash of the big front windowin ruins.

  The showcase outside lay tipped over on the ground. The office door,with an upper panel slivered, hung on one hinge. From inside the placethere came slamming, crashing sounds.

  Frank realized that something serious was happening. He could notimagine what it could be. He was not the boy, however, to remaininactive while a wanton destruction of the little personal property heowned was going on.

  “Here he is!” cried an eager voice.

  “Say, Newton, don’t go in there. The man’s wild, crazy. He’ll half killyou.”

  “We shall see about that,” retorted Frank, grimly.

  He parted the excited crowd and sprang past the threshold of thedismantled door. His eyes flashed as he took a glance about the place.

  A waste basket had been kicked to the other side of the room, litteringthe place from end to end. A file cabinet had been upset against hisdesk. Packages of circulars ready for the mail had been hurled pell-mellagainst a partition.

  The author of all this reckless riot was just now pulling at sometemporary shelves crossing a corner of the room, holding boxes ofenvelopes. All came down with a crash as Frank shouted sternly:

  “Stop that--what are you doing?”

  “Huh!” growled the worker of all this mischief. “I’m cleaning out thisplace.”

  He was a husky, big-boned farmer-looking man of middle age.

  Frank saw that he had a wicked eye. He also discerned that the fellowhad been drinking heavily.

  The stranger put his foot across a wicker basket and crushed it tosplinters.

  “What--what you got to say about it,” he demanded, facing on Frank.

  The big mailing table stood between them. The fellow leaned upon it ashe stared insolently and savagely at Frank.

  “I happen to be the proprietor of this place,” remarked Frank.

  “Whoop! you are?” yelled the man in a sort of frantic joy. “You’re themail order shark, are you? Here’s luck. Better than smashing your traps.Say, I’m going to eat you!”

  The man made a pounce around the table to catch Frank. His big fistswarned the latter. The fellow in his present condition was positivelydangerous, and was four times as big and strong as Frank.

  “Hold on,” cried Frank, seeking to temporize, but still keeping hisdistance by following the table and keeping its broad surface betweenthem. “What do you mean by this riot and destruction?”

  “Let me get you once, oh, let me just get my hands on you once,” gratedout the man, with a savage crunching of his teeth, “and I’ll tell youall about it. Won’t come to time, eh? Then--I’ll come to you!”

  Now excited, alarmed boyish faces peered in at the door and window.

  “Run for it, Newton,” advised a quick voice.

  “Call the police--there’ll be murder done here soon,” gasped anothervoice.

  The stranger had sprung to the top of the table, poised to next springupon Frank and put a stop to his retreating tactics.

  He staggered as he tried to hold his footing. Frank acted quickly.

  Jumping to the farther end of the table he seized its edge, gave it alift and sent the troublesome intruder sliding off his balance on asharp slant.

  Crash! the fellow struck the half-shattered front window and wentthrough it headlong.