“Did you put it there?” questioned Sam.
“I did.”
“Well, why in the world did you do that?” asked Tom, and made no effort to conceal his wonder.
“Why did I do it?” mumbled the man, unsteadily. “I did it to git Miss Harrow into trouble. I knowed she was responsible for the ring.”
“Then you were in the office,” declared Sam.
“Sure, I was there! If I wasn’t, how would I a-seen that ring? I was told that Miss Harrow wanted to see me, an’ I went to the office just at the same time when she came down to the stables where me and two of the other men had had a quarrel. It wasn’t my fault, that quarrel wasn’t, but them other fellers put it off on me and said ‘twas because I had been drinkin’,” continued Andy Royce, with a whine. “When I got to the office there wasn’t nobuddy around. I saw that diamond ring layin’ on the desk, and I picked it up—”
“You were going to steal it?” broke in Tom.
“No, I wasn’t, Mr. Rover. I may drink a little now an’ then, but I ain’t no thief,” went on Andy Royce. “I never stole anything in my life. I knowed that ring, because I saw Miss Parsons wear it more than once. I was mad at Miss Harrow for the way she treated me, an’ just out of mischief I took the ring an’ opened the inkwell an’ dropped it in. It was in the inkwell that had red ink in it, an’ the ring went plumb out o’ sight.”
“And you left the ring in the inkwell?” queried Tom.
“Sure I did! Then, not to be seen in the office, I slipped out in a hurry, an’ left the seminary by the back door an’ ran to the stables. Miss Harrow was there. She had told me that she was goin’ to discharge me if there was any more trouble, so I knowed wot was comin’. Then I quit, an’ come away,” concluded Andy Royce.
“Well, of all the things I ever heard of, this takes the cake!” was Sam’s comment.
“If this fellow’s story is true, the ring ought to be in the inkwell yet,” said Tom. “That is, unless the well was washed out and put away for the summer. In that case the person who cleaned the well ought to have found the ring.”
“Sounds almost like a fairy tale,” went on Sam. “I don’t know whether to believe it or, not.”
“It’s the truth!” cried Andy Royce.
“We’ll believe it when we see the ring,” returned Tom, grimly. “I guess the best thing you can do, Royce, is to come with us.”
“Please don’t have me arrested! I’ve told you the truth, sure!”
“If you’ll come with us and behave yourself, we won’t have you arrested,” answered Tom. “But we are not going to let you get away until we have found out if your story is true.”
“We might telegraph to the seminary at once,” suggested Sam. “Do you know who is in charge there during the summer?”
“Why, I heard Nellie say that Miss Parsons took charge—the teacher who left the ring with Miss Harrow.”
“Then why not telegraph to her?”
“We’ll do it! But this fellow has got to come with us until we are sure his story is true.”
Andy Royce demurred, but the boys would not listen to him. They accompanied him to his room upstairs, and made him pack up his belongings and pay his bill. Then, somewhat sobered by what was taking place, the gardener accompanied them downstairs and to the street. Here the boys hailed a passing taxicab that was empty, and ordered the driver to take them as quickly as possible to the Outlook Hotel.
“It certainly is a queer story,” said Dick, who had just arrived from the office, “but it may be true. People do queer things sometimes, especially when they are under the influence of liquor. He probably had a grudge against Miss Harrow, and thought the disappearance of the ring would get her into trouble, just as he said.”
“Oh, I hope they do find the ring!” cried Tom. “It will be great news for Nellie.”
It was arranged that Andy Royce should accompany Dick and Sam to the smoking room of the hotel, and remain there until Tom had telegraphed to Hope Seminary and received a reply.
“You had better run upstairs and see Dora first,” suggested Dick, “and make sure as to who is in charge at the seminary. If there are two persons there, you had better telegraph to both of them so that they can unite in looking for the ring.”
Dora was in a flutter of excitement when told of what had occurred. She remembered about Miss Parsons, and said that there was also a housekeeper named Mrs. Lacy in charge. Armed with this information Tom sent off two telegrams, each reading as follows:
“Look for missing diamond ring in Miss Harrow’s red-ink inkwell. If found, answer at once.
“Thomas Rover,
“Outlook Hotel,
“New York City.”
“They were mighty funny telegrams to send,” said Tom, when he rejoined his brothers in the hotel smoking room. “Perhaps they won’t know what to make of them.”
“I am afraid we’ll have to wait quite a while for an answer,” returned Dick.
“Oh, I don’t know. They can telephone the messages up to the seminary from the telegraph office.”
“They’ll find the ring just as I said unless somebuddy cleaned out the inkwell and took it,” declared Andy Royce, who was rapidly sobering up because of the turn of affairs.
As it was getting late, it was decided that Dick should go to dinner with Dora as usual, while Tom and Sam took the former gardener to a corner of the restaurant for something to eat.
“I don’t feel much like filling up,” said Sam. “I’m on pins and needles about an answer to those messages you sent, Tom.”
“Exactly the way I feel, Sam. But we’ll have to have patience, I suppose.”
The meal at an end, Dora went upstairs, and Dick rejoined his brothers and Andy Royce in the smoking room. Tom had left word at the hotel telegraph office that any message which might come in for hire must be delivered at once.
“Here comes a bellboy now!” cried Dick, presently.
“Mr. Rover! Mr. Rover!” cried the boy, walking from one group of persons to another.
“Here you are! here you are, boy!” cried Tom, leaping up; and in another moment he had a telegram in his hand and was tearing it open to see what it contained.
CHAPTER XXV
MORE TELEGRAMS
“Who is it from, Tom?”
“Read it out loud!”
Such were the exclamations from Sam and Dick as their brother scanned the telegram in haste.
“Hurrah! they’ve found it!” broke out Tom. “This is the best yet!”
“Good!”
“Fine!”
“This is from Miss Clara Parsons,” went on Tom, “the teacher who owned the ring. Here, you can read the telegram if you want to,” and he passed the sheet over. The message ran as follows:
“Ring found in inkwell. Perfect condition. Did Miss Laning put it there?
“Clara Parsons.”
“Short and sweet, but it tells the story,” was Dick’s comment. “Say, I’m mighty glad of this,” he added, and his face showed his pleasure. “That clears Nellie, Tom. You’ll have to let her know at once.”
“I sure will!” exclaimed the brother. “But say, did you notice what Miss Parsons wants to know—if Nellie put the ring in the inkwell? Talk about nerve!”
“You can’t exactly blame her, Tom, because she knew nothing of Royce’s visit to the office; and as you sent the message, and you and Nellie are so intimate.”
“Oh, I understand, Dick; and I shan’t blame her. I’m too happy to blame anybody,” and Tom’s face broke into a broad smile. “I’m going to send a telegram to Cedarville this minute.”
“Didn’t I tell you gents the ring was there?” broke in Andy Royce. “I told you the truth, didn’t I?”
“You did, Royce,” answered Dick.
“A’n’ wot about it, are you goin’ to
lemme go?” questioned the former gardener, eagerly.
“Not just yet,” broke in Tom.
“Why not? You can’t hold me for stealin’ when there wasn’t nuthin’ taken.”
“That is true, Royce, but we want you to sign a confession as to just how that ring got in the inkwell. If you don’t do that, the seminary authorities may still think it was placed there by Miss Laning.”
“Oh, I don’t want to put nuthin’ off on Miss Laning’s shoulders,” answered the former gardener. “If you want a confession from me so as you can clear her, go ahead!”
“Wait here until I’ve sent that telegram,” Tom said, hastily; and rushed off once more to the telegraph office, where he sent the following to Nellie:
“Ring recovered. Was hidden in inkwell by Royce. We have gardener’s confession. Hurrah! Will write particulars.
“Tom.”
“I hope she gets that before she goes to bed tonight,” mused the youth. “If she does it will make her sleep so much better.”
There was a stenographer’s office attached to the Outlook Hotel, and late as it was, the young lady was found at her typewriter, pounding out a letter for a commercial traveler. As soon as this was finished, the stenographer was asked to take down whatever Andy Royce might have to tell. The former gardener was brought in, and repeated the confession he had previously made. This was typewritten as speedily as possible, and then Andy Royce signed the confession in the presence of one of the hotel clerks and a notary who lived at the hotel.
“Now I think that fixes it,” said Tom. “Miss Parsons won’t be able to go behind that confession.”
“Are you goin’ to let me go now?” asked the former gardener of Hope.
“Yes, you can go, Royce,” answered Tom. “But wait a minute. How much money have you left of that ten dollars my brother’s wife let you have?”
For reply the man dove down in his pocket, and brought out some change.
“Eighty-five cents.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes.”
“See here, if I stake you with another ten dollars, will you give me your word not to drink it up?”
“I will, Mr. Rover, I will!” exclaimed Andy Royce, earnestly.
“All right, then, here’s the money;” and Tom brought out two five-dollar bills and placed them in the man’s hands. “Now look here, unless you can find something to do, you come here and see me again in a few days.”
“But see here, Tom,” interposed Dick, in a low voice, “I don’t think we can use Royce in anyway. Why not let him go? As a gardener he is out of place in a big city like New York.”
“I want him to stay here for two reasons,” answered Tom. “In the first place I want him on hand in case the authorities at the seminary need him. In the second place, I am going to put the matter squarely up to Miss Harrow. She thought Nellie guilty, and she may have thought Royce worse than he really was. Perhaps I can get her to give Royce another chance. I think he would be all right if he would only let drink alone.”
“The same old warm-hearted Tom as of old!” responded Dick. “All right, have your own way about it.”
After the former gardener had departed the boys went upstairs to join Dora, and then Tom and Sam sat down to write letters of explanation to Nellie and Grace; and these epistles were posted before the youths retired for the night.
“Oh, how glad Nellie must be to have this weight off her shoulders!” exclaimed Dora. “It must have been awful to be suspected of taking a ring.”
“I guess Miss Harrow will be relieved, too,” answered Tom. “I wonder where she is stopping in Asbury Park.”
“I think I know,” returned Dick’s wife. “She and some of the other teachers usually go to the Claravale House.”
“I’ll take a chance and telegraph to her,” went on Tom. “It won’t cost much and it may relieve her mind. Those folks up at the seminary may wait to send a letter.” And going downstairs once more, Tom wrote out another brief telegram, and asked that it be sent off immediately.
“If only we could clear up this mystery of the missing bonds as easily as we did this ring business!” came from Sam, when he and Tom had said good-night to Dick and his wife.
“I’m afraid that’s not going to be so easy, Sam. Sometimes I think that we’ll never hear a word more about those bonds;” and Tom heaved a deep sigh.
“Oh, but, Tom, if we don’t get those bonds back we’ll be in a hole!” cried the youngest Rover, in dismay.
“We may not be in a hole exactly, Sam; but we’ll have a tough job of it pulling through,” was the grim response.
Tom had worried more about the missing ring than he had been willing to admit to his brothers, and now that this was off his mind, he, on the following morning, pitched into business with renewed vigor. He and Dick had their hands full, going over a great mass of figures and calculations, and in deciding the important question of how to take care of certain investments. Sam did what he could to help them, although, as he frankly admitted, he did not take to bookkeeping or anything that smacked of high finances.
“I was not cut out for it, and that is all there is to it,” he declared. “But I am willing to help you all I can.”
Sam had gone off on an errand, leaving his brothers deep in their figures, when the office boy announced a visitor.
“Mr. Mallin Aronson,” said Dick, glancing at the visitor’s card. “Oh, yes, I’ve heard of him before. He and father had some stock dealings a year or so ago. Bring him in.”
Mr. Aronson proved to be a small, dark-complexioned man, with heavy eyebrows and a heavily-bearded face. He bowed profoundly as he entered.
“Mr. Richard Rover, I believe?” he said, extending his hand.
“Yes, Mr. Aronson. And this is my brother Tom,” returned Dick.
“Very glad to know you;” and the visitor bowed again. “I presume you know what brought me here,” he went on, with a bland smile.
“I can’t say that I do,” returned Dick.
“Your father—is he not here?”
“No, he is at home sick.”
“Is that so? I am very sorry to hear it. Then you are transacting his business for him?”
“Yes, my brother and I are running this business now.”
“And yet you said you did not know why I had called,” continued Mr. Aronson, in apparent astonishment. “That is strange. Did not your father tell you about his investment in the Sharon Valley Land Company?”
“I never heard of the company before,” returned Dick, promptly.
“I heard my father mention it,” put in Tom, “but I never knew that he had made any investment in it.”
“What? How surprising!” ejaculated the visitor. “He has something like fifteen thousand dollars invested in that concern, for which I have the honor to be the agent. He has another payment to make on the investment, and that payment falls due just a week from today. Some time ago he asked me if that payment might not be deferred. I put it up to the managers of the company, and they have now sent me word that the payment will have to be made on the day that it falls due.”
“And how much is that payment?” faltered Dick.
“Twenty thousand dollars.”
CHAPTER XXVI
IN WHICH THE GIRLS ARRIVE
Both of the Rover boys stared blankly at the visitor. His announcement had come very much like a clap of thunder out of a clear sky. For the moment neither of them knew what to say.
“I am sorry you did not know about this,” pursued Mallin Aronson, when he saw by their looks how much they were disturbed. “Perhaps your dear father was taken sick so quickly that he did not have a chance to explain the situation.”
“He hasn’t been well for a long while, but I thought he had turned over all his business affairs to us,” answered Dick. “It is queer that we have no
record of this Sharon Valley Land Company investment,” he added, turning to Tom.
“Have you gone over all the papers, Dick?” questioned the brother, quickly.
“The most of them. That is, all that I thought were of any importance. There are a great number that I haven’t had time to look at yet. You know how numerous father’s investments are.”
“If you have no record of the transaction here, can you not ask your father about it?” questioned Mr. Aronson, smoothly.
“He is too sick to be disturbed, Mr. Aronson,” answered Dick.
“Well, if you care to do so, you can stop at my office and look over the account there,” went on the visitor.
“And you say this twenty thousand dollars has got to be paid a week from today?” asked Tom.
“Yes, Mr. Rover. The management will grant no extension of time.”
“Supposing it isn’t paid?” questioned Dick.
At this suggestion Mallin Aronson shrugged his shoulders and put up his hands.
“I am sorry, but you know how some of these land company people are,” he returned. “This money must be paid in order to clear the land. If it is not cleared the company has the right to sell your father’s interest to others. As I said before, he has paid fifteen thousand dollars. What his interest would bring if sold to somebody else, I do not know.”
“Probably not very much,” returned Dick, quickly. “Probably some of the land company people would buy it in for a song,” he added, bitterly.
“Well, Mr. Rover, that is not my affair,” and Mr. Aronson shrugged his shoulders. “I came in only to serve you notice that the twenty thousand dollars will have to be paid one week from today.”
“Where are your offices, Mr. Aronson?”
“You will find my address on the card,” was the answer. “If you wish any more information, I shall be pleased to give it to you;” and then the visitor bowed himself out.
It was a great blow, and the two youths felt it keenly. Ever since the loss of the sixty-four thousand dollars in bonds they had been struggling with might and main to cover one obligation after another. To do this had taxed about every resource that Dick could think of aside from borrowing from friends without putting up any security—something the youth shrank from doing.
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