Andy Grant's Pluck 12
Nothing was found on John, but thrusting his hand into the upper pocket
of Andy's vest, Simon Rich drew out a folded paper.
"What is this?" he cried. "A pawn ticket for a gold watch? What does
this mean?"
"Let me see it," said Andy, dumfounded.
It was a ticket issued by a Third Avenue pawnbroker for a gold watch, on
which ten dollars appeared to have been loaned. The name of the borrower
appeared as A. Grant.
"Miserable boy!" said the salesman, severely; "so you have turned thief.
What a hypocrite you must be!"
"I don't know what it means," faltered Andy, quite overwhelmed.
CHAPTER XIX.
ANDY IS DISCHARGED.
"You don't know what it means!" repeated Simon Rich in a sarcastic tone.
"Probably not. I understand it."
"Do you think I stole a watch and pawned it, Mr. Rich?" demanded Andy,
with spirit.
"There seems to be absolute proof of your dishonesty. Will you explain
how, otherwise, this pawn ticket is found in your pocket?"
"I can't explain it, nor can I understand it. All I can say is, that I
never saw it before."
"You must think I am a fool to be deceived by such a story."
"I can't believe that Andy pawned a watch," said John Crandall,
hypocritically.
"Will you be kind enough to inform me who did, then?" asked his uncle,
with pretended severity.
"I can't guess."
"Nor any one else, I fancy. Of course, Andrew, after this proof of your
dishonesty, I cannot retain you in my, or rather in Mr. Flint's
employment."
"Mr. Rich, will you do me a favor?"
"What is it?"
"Will you go with me to the pawnbroker who issued the ticket and ask him
if he ever saw me before?"
"I have no time to go on such a foolish errand. Can you give me the ten
dollars you obtained for the watch?"
"I didn't obtain a dollar nor a cent for the watch. I know nothing
about it."
"Probably you have laid it away somewhere, or spent it."
"That is not true, and I am sure you don't believe it yourself."
"No impudence, young man! I am forced to believe it. I have treated you
kindly since Mr. Flint went away, and that is sufficient to show that I
wish to do you no injustice. Is this true or not?"
"I have no fault to find with your treatment, except now."
"I shall continue to act as your friend. I might have you arrested, and
your conviction would be certain with the evidence I have in my
possession. But I will not do it. I will redeem the watch at my own
expense and be content with discharging you."
"I believe there is a plot against me," said Andy, pale but firm. "It
will come out some time. When do you wish me to go?"
"At once. I will pay you to the end of the week, but I could not feel
safe in retaining your services any longer. John, will you oblige me by
taking Andrew's place till I have a chance to secure another boy?"
"Yes, Uncle Simon, but I don't want to feel that I have had anything to
do with Andy's discharge."
"You have not. No one is responsible for it but himself."
"Then I will stay while you need me. I don't want to leave you in a
hole."
Simon Rich went to the money drawer and drew out a five-dollar bill.
"Here is your pay to the end of the week," he said.
"I prefer to accept pay only to to-day," replied Andy.
"As you please."
Andy walked out of the store feeling crushed and overwhelmed. He was all
at sea concerning the pawn ticket. He could not understand how it got
into his pocket.
He formed a resolution. He would go around to the pawnbroker's and see
if he could obtain any information.
He found the pawn shop without difficulty. It was a small apartment, but
seemed quite full of goods of all varieties.
A small man of perhaps sixty was behind the counter. Seated in a
rocking-chair, sewing, an old lady was to be seen in the rear of the
shop.
Andy had never before been in a pawn shop, and would have been
interested in examining it if his errand had not been so serious.
He walked up to the counter.
"Well, young man, what is your business?" asked the old man.
"Do you remember lending some money on a new gold watch last Monday?"
"Was the watch stolen?" asked the pawnbroker, with shade of anxiety.
"You will have no difficulty about it. It will be redeemed."
"How much did I lend on it?"
"Ten dollars."
"Yes, I remember."
"Can you remember who brought it in?"
"No, except that it was a boy about your size."
"Did he look like me?"
"I can't remember. You see, I have so many customers."
"I remember," said the old lady, speaking up. "He was about your size."
"It was not I?"
"No; he was thinner than you, and he was dark complexioned."
A light began to dawn upon Andy. This description fitted John Crandall.
"Do you remember what kind of an overcoat he wore?"
"It was a light overcoat."
"Thank you. Will you please remember this if you are asked?"
"Did the young gentleman own the watch?"
"He was employed by another party, but I cannot tell you any more at
present. The watch will probably be redeemed by a man about thirty-five.
Don't mention to him that any one has asked you questions about it."
"All right. I shall be glad to oblige you. You are sure it was not
stolen?"
"The man who sent the boy was not dishonest. You will have no trouble."
"It was a new watch, and I thought it might be stolen. We poor
pawnbrokers have a hard time. If we take stolen property we get into
trouble, but how can we tell if the rings and watches they bring in are
stolen?"
"Very true. I can see that you must sometimes be puzzled. Do those who
pawn articles generally give their own names?"
"Very seldom. They almost always give wrong names. That sometimes leads
to trouble. I remember a gentleman who mislaid his ticket, and he could
not remember what name he gave. If he had we might have overlooked the
loss of the pawn ticket. As it was, we did not know but he might be a
fraud, though I think it was all right, and the watch he pawned was his
own."
"Thank you for answering my questions. I am sorry to have troubled you,"
said Andy, politely.
"Oh, it is no matter," rejoined the old man, who felt very favorably
impressed by Andy's good looks, and frank, open manner.
As Andy went out of the shop he experienced a feeling of relief. He saw
that he would be able to prove his innocence through the testimony of
the pawnbroker and his wife. He was in no hurry. It would do when Mr.
Flint returned. He did not want the friendly jeweler to think that he
had been dishonest.
It was clear that he was the victim of a conspiracy, and that the plot
had been engineered by Simon Rich and carried out by his nephew.
As Andy's board was paid by Walter Gale, he would not be distressed by
want of employment, but would be able to remain in New York. He might
obtain another position, though he foresaw that it would be useless to
apply to Simon Rich for a letter of recommendation.
He had not gone more than a hundred feet when he met a boy whom he knew,
named James Callahan.
"How do you happen to be here, Andy?" he asked. "Are you on an errand
for the firm?"
"I have left them."
"Why is that?"
"They--or rather the clerk--charged me with stealing a gold watch and
pawning it."
"Where?" asked the boy, in some excitement.
Andy pointed out the pawnbroker's shop from which he had just come.
"I saw John Crandall coming out of there yesterday."
"You did?"
"Yes."
"I am not surprised. The pawnbroker described to me the boy who pawned
the watch, and I recognized John from the description."
"What does it all mean?"
"Mr. Flint has gone out West, and Mr. Rich and John have conspired to
get me into trouble."
"When were you discharged?"
"Less than an hour since."
"Who has taken your place?"
"John Crandall."
James Callahan whistled.
"I see," he said. "It was thundering mean. What are you going to do
about it?"
"Wait till Mr. Flint comes home. Give me your address. I may want to
call you as a witness."
Callahan gave his number on Ninth Avenue.
"I will note it down."
"How are you going to get along while you are without a place?" asked
James, with friendly solicitude.
"I have a friend who will pay my board."
"Good! I am glad to hear it."
"Now," thought Andy, "I have a chain of proof that will clear me with
Mr. Flint. That is what I care most about."
CHAPTER XX.
AN INVITATION TO DINNER
Andy reached his boarding house at four o'clock.
"What brings you home so early, Mr. Grant?" asked Warren, whose door was
open. "Is business poor?"
"It is with me," answered Andy; "I am discharged."
"You don't tell me so! How did it happen?"
"My employer is out West, and the head salesman has discharged me and
engaged his nephew in my place."
"It's a shame. What shall you do about it?"
"Wait till Mr. Flint gets home."
"I hope you won't leave us."
"No, I think not."
"Of course you will miss your salary. I wish I could lend you some
money, but I have not heard from the article I sent to the _Century_. If
accepted, they will send me a large check."
"Thank you, Mr. Warren. I shall be able to get along for the present."
Soon Sam Perkins arrived, with a new and gorgeous necktie.
"Glad to see you, Andy," he said. "Won't you go with me to the Star
Theater this evening?"
"I can't, Sam; I have no money to spare."
"I thought you got a good salary?"
"Just at present I have none at all. I have been discharged."
"I am sorry for that. I wish there was a vacancy in our place; I should
like to get you in there."
"Thank you. That is quite friendly."
Andy was about to go down to supper when Eva, the servant, came
upstairs.
"There's a messenger boy downstairs wants to see you, Mr. Grant," she
said.
In some surprise Andy went downstairs to see the messenger. He was a
short boy of fourteen, Tom Keegan by name.
"I have a letter for Andrew Grant," he said.
"Give it to me; I am Andrew Grant. Here's a dime."
"Thank you," said the boy in a tone of satisfaction, for his weekly
income was small.
Andy opened the letter. It was written on fashionable note paper. At the
top of the paper was a monogram formed of the letters H and M.
Here is the letter:
"MY DEAR MR. GRANT: I shall be glad to have you take dinner with me
at seven o'clock. I should have given you earlier notice, but
supposed you would not be back from the store till six o'clock. You
will meet my son Roy, who is a year or two younger than yourself,
and my brother, John Crawford. Both will be glad to see you. Yours
sincerely,
"HENRIETTA MASON."
"What is it, Andy?" asked Sam.
"You can read the note."
"By George, Andy, you are getting into fashionable society! Couldn't you
take me along, too?"
"I am afraid I am not well enough acquainted to take such a liberty."
"I'll tell you what I'll do for you. I'll lend you my best necktie."
Sam produced a gorgeous red tie, which he held up admiringly.
"Thank you, Sam," said Andy, "but I think that won't suit me as well as
you."
"What are you going to wear?"
Andy took from the bureau drawer a plain black tie.
"That!" exclaimed Sam, disgusted. "That is awfully plain."
"It suits my taste."
"Excuse me, Andy, but I don't think you've got any taste."
Andy laughed good-naturedly.
"Certainly my taste differs from yours," he said.
"I suppose you'll have a fine layout. I'd like to go to a fashionable
dinner myself."
"I'll tell you all about it when I get back."
"Just mention that you've got a friend--a stylish young man whom they'd
like to meet. That may bring me an invitation next time."
Andy laughed.
"So far as I am concerned, Sam," he said, "I wish you were going. But
you have an engagement at the Star Theater."
"So I have. I almost forgot."
Andy had very little time for preparation, but made what haste he could,
and just as the public clocks struck seven he rang the bell of Mrs.
Mason's house.
"I am glad you received my invitation in time," said the lady.
"So am I," returned Andy; "nothing could have been more welcome."
Just then Roy and her brother, Mr. Crawford, entered.
Roy was a very pleasant-looking boy, with dark-brown hair and a dark
complexion. He was perhaps two inches shorter than Andy.
"This is Roy," said Mrs. Mason.
"I am glad to see you," said Roy, offering his hand.
Andy felt that he should like his new boy friend.
Next he was introduced to Mr. Crawford, a stout gentleman of perhaps forty, looking very much like his sister.
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