Charlie Codmans Cruise 4

Charlie Codmans Cruise 4

"There, Peter," said the stranger, "I knew you'd like it after it was

fairly done. Isn't it worth while to have a good warm fire?"

 

"If it didn't cost so much," groaned Peter, the one thought intruding.

 

"Hush, Peter; if what people say be true, and as I am inclined to

believe, there's no one better able to afford a good fire than you."

 

"No one better able!" repeated Peter, at once taking alarm, and lifting

up both hands in earnest deprecation, "when I can hardly get enough

together to keep from absolute starvation. Oh, it's a strange world,

it's a strange world!"

 

"Well, Peter, some strange people do live in it, to be sure. But people

do say, Peter, that you have a power of money hidden away in this old

house somewhere."

 

Peter started to his feet in affright, then feeling that his movement

might lead to suspicion, sank back into his seat, saying, uneasily, "I

only wish it were true. People say such strange things. But it's only

idle talk, idle talk. They know better."

 

"You'd be very grateful, I have no doubt, to anybody that would show

you where all these treasures are that people talk about, wouldn't you,

hey?"

 

"Ye--Yes," answered Peter Manson, who did not know quite how to

understand his companion, whose tone seemed to have a hidden meaning

which made him uneasy.

 

"And will you give me leave to search the house, if I will promise to

give you half the gold I find?"

 

"But you wouldn't find any," answered the miser, hastily.

 

"Then there would be no harm done. Suppose now I should remove the

flooring, just here for instance, don't you think I might possibly find

something underneath that would repay me for my search?"

 

Unconsciously the speaker had hit upon one of Peter's places of

deposit. Directly under where he was seated there was a box of gold

coins. Accordingly this remark, which seemed to indicate to Peter some

knowledge of his hiding-place, filled him with fearful apprehensions.

 

"No, no," said he, vehemently; "go away, there isn't any there. If that

is all you have got to say, go away and leave me to my rest. I ought to

be in bed; it is getting late."

 

"I _have_ something more to say, Peter Manson," returned his companion.

"If I had not, I should not have sought you to-night. What I have to

say is of great importance to you as you will find. Will you hear it?"

 

"Go on," muttered Peter, his attention arrested, in spite of his fears,

by the stranger's peculiar tone.

 

"First, then, let me tell you a story. It may be real, it may be only

fancy. I won't say anything about that. By the way, Peter, were you

ever in the West Indies?"

 

This question produced a singular effect upon Peter, considering

its apparently unimportant character. He started, turned as pale as

his ghastly complexion permitted, fixed an anxious glance upon the

stranger, who looked as if nothing particular had happened, and said

hastily, "No, I was never there. What made you ask?"

 

"Nothing particular," said the other, carelessly; "if you were never

there, no matter. Only it is there that what I am going to tell you

happened. But to my story.

 

"Some twenty years ago there lived in the city of Havana an American

gentleman, no matter about his name, who had established himself in

business in the city. He had married before he went there, and had a

daughter about sixteen years of age. Well, his business flourished.

Good luck seemed to attend him in all his ventures, and he seemed

likely to accumulate enough to retire upon before many years."

 

Peter started, and as the story progressed seemed to be internally

agitated. A keen glance satisfied his visitor of this; without

appearing to notice it, however, he went on,--

 

"But things don't always turn out as well as we expect. Just when

things looked brightest there came a sudden blow, for which the

merchant was unprepared. On going to his counting-room one morning, he

discovered that his book-keeper had disappeared, and what was worse,

had carried off with him the sum of twenty thousand dollars--a large

sum, was it not?"

 

"What is all this to me?" demanded Peter, with sudden fierceness.

 

"I will tell you by and by," said the stranger, coolly.

 

"I will take the liberty to put a little more wood into the stove, and

then go on with my story."

 

"I--I'll put some in," said Peter.

 

He took a small stick about half as large round as his wrist, and

opening the stove-door, put it in.

 

"That'll do to begin with," said the stranger, following it, to Peter's

dismay, with half a dozen larger ones. "Now we'll be comfortable."

 

 

 

 

IV.

 

A STARTLING QUESTION.

 

 

While Peter's uneasiness became every moment more marked, his visitor

continued,--

 

"This sad defalcation was the more unfortunate because, on that very

day notes to a heavy amount became due. Of course the merchant was

unable to pay them. Do you know what was the result?"

 

"How should I know?" asked Peter, testily, avoiding the gaze of the

stranger, and fixing his eyes uneasily upon the fire.

 

"Of course you couldn't know, I was foolish to think such a thing."

 

"Then what made you think it?" said Peter, in a petulant tone. "I don't

care to hear your story. What has it got to do with me?"

 

"Don't be in too much of a hurry, and perhaps you will learn quite as

soon as you care to. The same result followed, which always does follow

when a business man cannot meet his engagements. He failed."

 

Peter stirred uneasily, but said nothing.

 

"His character for integrity was such that there were many who would

have lent him a helping hand, and carried him safely through his

troubles; but he was overwhelmed by the blow, and sank under it.

Refusing all offers of assistance, he took to his bed, and some six

months after died."

 

"And what became of his daughter?" asked Peter, showing a little

curiosity for the first time.

 

"Ha! you seem to be getting interested," exclaimed the other, fixing

his keen eyes upon Peter, who seemed confused. "His daughter was

beautiful and had already won the heart of a young American, who had

little money but a handsome figure and good business habits."

 

"Did she marry this young Codman?"

 

"Who told you his name was Codman?" asked Peter's visitor, watching him

keenly.

 

"I--I thought you did," stammered the miser, disconcerted.

 

"You are mistaken. I have mentioned no name."

 

"Then I--I must have misunderstood you."

 

"I dare say," said the other, ironically. "However, we won't dispute

that point. Well, this young Codman,--for singularly enough you hit

upon the right name, not knowing anything of the circumstances of

course,--this young Codman married Isabel."

 

"Isabel!" repeated the old man. "Her name was----"

 

Here he paused in sudden confusion, feeling that he was betraying

himself by his incautious correction.

 

"Yes, Peter," said the other with a shrewd smile, "you are right. Her

name was not Isabel, but Eleanor. I acknowledge that I was wrong; but

it seems to me that, for one who is entirely a stranger to the events I

have been describing, you show a wonderful shrewdness in detecting my

mistakes."

 

Peter maintained a confused silence, and wriggled about uneasily, as if

the stranger's fixed and watchful gaze disturbed him.

 

"Humph! well they say that some people have the gift of second sight,

and others can see through millstones, and various other wonderful

things."

 

"What has all this to do with me?" asked Peter, crossly, for he felt it

necessary to make some demonstration. "It's getting late, and I want to

go to bed. Go away, and--and come again to-morrow, if you want to."

 

"A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, Peter, which means that I

am sure of you now, and perhaps you wouldn't let me in if I should call

to-morrow. If you are sleepy I have no objection to your going to bed.

I can talk to you as well as if you were sitting up. I will stay here

and keep the fire going."

 

Peter looked at the small pile of wood with a groan, and muttered

something about "its being awful extravagant to keep such a fire."

 

"I believe," said the stranger, "I have not yet told you the name of

the defaulted clerk."

 

Peter said nothing.

 

"It was Thornton, but his first name was Peter, the same as yours.

Singular, isn't it, Peter?"

 

"I suppose there are a good many Peters in the world," muttered the old

man.

 

"Very likely; though I hope most of them are better than this Peter

Thornton. He got off without being taken, with the twenty thousand