Digging for Gold 21

Digging for Gold 21

“Yes; I can’t understand it. Has the trade fallen off any, do you

think?”

 

“Really, I can’t say. It seemed about the same as usual—that is, the

number of customers did.”

 

“So it seemed to me.”

 

“Perhaps they ordered less. Now I think of it, I feel sure that they

did.”

 

“That might explain it partially, but not so large a falling off.”

 

“I suppose you haven’t thought of any other solution of the question?”

said Benton, slowly scrutinizing the face of his employer.

 

“Have you?”

 

“Well, sir, I have, but I don’t like to mention it.”

 

“Out with it!”

 

“I don’t _know_ anything, sir.”

 

“If you suspect anything, it’s your duty to tell me.”

 

“Well, perhaps it is, but I might be doing injustice to Grant.”

 

“Ha! what has Grant to do with it?”

 

“Nothing that I _know_ of.”

 

“Good Heavens, man, don’t tantalize me in this way. What do you

suspect?”

 

“Well, sir, the boy always appears to have money.”

 

“He seems to be economical, and I pay him well. That counts for

nothing.”

 

“No, sir, but—some one told me that he had seen him entering a

gambling-house on the street.”

 

“Ha! that would account for his needing a good deal of money. By the

way, do you ever enter such places?”

 

“I have entered out of curiosity, sir,” answered Benton, with a burst of

candor. “I wanted to see what they were like.”

 

“Better keep out of them altogether.”

 

“No doubt you are right, sir.”

 

“But about the boy—have you ever _seen_ him take anything from the

drawer?”

 

“I couldn’t be sure of it, but once when he was alone I entered

suddenly, and saw him near the drawer. He flushed up and came away in a

hurry. I couldn’t _swear_ that he took anything.”

 

However, Benton’s tone implied that he felt sure of it all the same, and

so it impressed Mr. Smithson.

 

“Did you have any recommendations with Grant?” inquired Benton, in an

insinuating tone.

 

“No; but, then, I had none with you, either.”

 

“That is true. Still, I hope you have confidence in me.”

 

“I know of no reason why I should not. Do you know if Grant drinks?”

 

“I don’t think he drinks _much_.”

 

“Does he drink at all?” asked Smithson curtly.

 

“One evening I saw him coming out of a drinking saloon pretty well

loaded. That is the only time, however.”

 

“It was once too often. Benton, I have been greatly deceived in that

fellow. I thought him a model boy.”

 

“So did I, sir, and I don’t think he is _very_ bad now. Perhaps he has

been a little indiscreet.”

 

“It is very kind of you to excuse him; but if what you say is true, I

shall not be able to retain him in my employment.”

 

“Give him a little more time. Remember that I _know_ nothing positive to

his discredit. He _may_ not have taken the money.”

 

This half-hearted defence of Grant led Mr. Smithson to think that Benton

was his friend and spoke against him unwillingly. It never occurred to

him that his senior waiter was only seeking to divert suspicion from

himself.

 

“Very well,” he said. “I’ll keep him on a week longer. Perhaps something

may occur in that time to confirm my suspicions or discredit them.”

 

The result of this conversation was that the restaurant keeper was all

but convinced that Grant was a sly young villain and was secretly

robbing him. He had a friend, however, who had once been a detective in

St. Louis, though now engaged in a different business in Sacramento.

 

He sought him out and told him the story.

 

Vincent listened attentively.

 

“It looks bad for the boy; don’t you think so?” Smithson asked.

 

“Yes, if all is true that is said against him. But who says it?”

 

“Albert Benton.”

 

“The old waiter?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You have never yourself seen the boy drunk, or coming out of a

gambling-house?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then all the testimony to that effect is that of the man Benton?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“May not Benton have an object in slandering the boy?”

 

“He seemed very reluctant to say anything against him.”

 

“That may be all artfulness, and to divert suspicion from himself.”

 

“You surely don’t think _he_ would rob me?”

 

“Why not?”

 

“He has been in my employ for a year.”

 

“Then he ought by this time to have a good deal of money saved up—that

is, if his habits are good.”

 

“I am sure he has not.”

 

“What evidence have you on the subject?”

 

“At one time, three months since, I thought of selling out the

restaurant, and asked Benton if he didn’t want to buy it.”

 

“Well, what did he say?”

 

“That he hadn’t got fifty dollars in the world.”

 

“How much do you pay him?”

 

“Five dollars a day and his board.”

 

“Whew! and he spends all that?”

 

“He seems to.”

 

“Look here, Smithson, you are on the wrong tack. _He_ is the thief, and

not the boy.”

 

“I can’t believe it.”

 

“Leave the matter in my hands, and I will prove it to you.”

 

“How!”

 

“I shall follow Benton in the evening, and see how he spends his time

and money. But you must be careful not to let him know that he is

suspected. If anything is said of the disappearance of money, tell him

that you attribute it to decrease in trade.”

 

“All right; I will do as you suggest.”

 

“He doesn’t know me, and will not imagine that I am watching him.”

 

Two days later Albert Benton, a little anxious to know whether he had

himself eluded suspicion, asked his employer: “Have you found out

anything about the lost money?”

 

“I am not sure that any has been lost,” answered Smithson carelessly.

 

“Have you watched the boy?”

 

“Yes, but he doesn’t look to me like a thief. It may be, after all, that

we are doing less business.”