Luck and Pluck 56

Luck and Pluck 56

He put the roll of bills into his pocket-book, carefully deposited the

will in his side-pocket, and, shutting and locking the bureau-drawer,

placed the keys in the same position upon the table in which he had

found them, and then left the room.

 

"A pretty good day's work!" thought Ben to himself. "I think I'll go

and pay Winchester what money I have, and get him to wait a few days

for the rest."

 

Ben left the house, and wended his way to the tavern. He found

Winchester in the bar-room, smoking a cigar. He looked up inquiringly

as Ben entered.

 

"How are you, Winchester?" said Ben.

 

"All right," said the latter, noticing Ben's changed demeanor, and

auguring favorably from it. "Have a cigar?"

 

"I don't care if I do," said Ben.

 

Winchester handed him one, and the two sat down together.

 

"Oh, about that money," said Ben, after a little pause. "I can let you

have a part of it now, but I shall have to make you wait a few days for

the rest."

 

"How much can you pay me now?"

 

"One hundred and twenty dollars," said Ben.

 

"That's good," said Winchester, with satisfaction. "The fact is, I'm

deuced hard up, and need it."

 

"I don't want to pay you here," said Ben. "Come out a little way, and

I'll hand it to you."

 

"All right. I'd like a walk."

 

The two sauntered forth together, and Ben paid over the money.

 

"You'll oblige me by not mentioning to anybody that I have paid you any

money," said Ben. "I have a reason for it."

 

"Of course."

 

"I can't tell you the reason."

 

"That's your affair."

 

"Now about the rest."

 

"Yes, about the rest."

 

"I think I can get it for you in a few days."

 

"I can wait a few days to oblige you, but I must go to the city as soon

as I can get away. So please hurry up."

 

"I'll do the best I can. This morning," he added, "I didn't see how

I was going to get the money. My mother wouldn't look upon it as we

do, as a debt of honor; but since then I've been lucky enough to get

possession of one of her secrets, and I think it will help me."

 

"Glad of it," said Winchester, "for your sake. I don't care, of course,

how you get the money, as long as you do get it. That's the main thing,

you know."

 

"Yes, I see."

 

"Now what do you say to another little game of billiards?"

 

"I can't stake any more money. I've lost enough," said Ben, sensibly.

 

"Then let it be a friendly game--just a little trial of skill, that's

all."

 

To this Ben was not averse, and the two made their way as so often

before to the billiard saloon.

 

In the mean time Mrs. Oakley returned home from her afternoon visit.

She had not yet missed her keys, but on going up to her chamber,

discovered them lying upon the table.

 

"How terribly careless I have been!" she said. "I hope they have not

been seen."

 

Tolerably sure of this, she opened the upper bureau-drawer, and looked

for the portemonnaie. It was in the same place. She opened it, and

found it empty. Her eyes flashed with indignation.

 

"Some one has been to the drawer," she said.

 

She next thought of the will, and felt for it. _It was not there!_

She turned pale, and with nervous fingers took everything out of the

drawer, hoping to find it misplaced. But her search was vain. The will

was not to be found.

 

She sank back into a chair, and exclaimed with passionate regret:--

 

"Fool that I was! Why did I not make all sure by burning it?"

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXXII.

 

MRS. OAKLEY'S SUSPICIONS.

 

 

The sudden disappearance of the will struck Mrs. Oakley with dismay. It

threatened her with the loss of two-thirds of her estate. But she was

not a woman to bear it in silence. She possessed a fund of energy, and

lost no time in seeking to determine the important question, "Who had

taken it?"

 

She descended at once to the kitchen, where she found Hannah setting

the table for supper.

 

"Hannah," she said, abruptly, "have you been upstairs to my chamber

this afternoon?"

 

"No, ma'am," said Hannah.

 

"Think a moment," said her mistress, sternly; "have you not been up?"

 

"No, ma'am, I haven't. I told you so once," said Hannah, not altogether

pleased with the doubt implied by the second question.

 

"Has any one called here since I went away?" asked Mrs. Oakley.

 

"No, ma'am."

 

"Then there has been no one in the house excepting yourself?"

 

"No one except Master Ben."

 

"Ben!" repeated Mrs. Oakley, in a changed voice. "When did Ben come

home?"

 

"About an hour ago,--maybe an hour and a half," said Hannah.

 

"He is not here now."

 

"Isn't he, ma'am? I suppose he went out, but I didn't hear him."

 

"You are quite sure no one else has been in the house?" inquired her

mistress.

 

"Certain sure, ma'am."

 

Mrs. Oakley went upstairs slowly. A new idea had forced its way into

her mind. It must be that Ben had taken both the money and the will.

That he should have taken the first didn't surprise her, for with all

her love for her son, she had small confidence in his honesty. No doubt

he had got into debt, and so was tempted to appropriate the bills. But

why should he have taken the will? That was something she could not

understand. For the money she cared little comparatively. But the loss

of the will was ruin, if John or his friends found it, or, if not, she

would live in perpetual fear of their discovering it.

 

"If I once get hold of it again," she said to herself, "I will take

care that all danger from that source shall end and forever. Ben will

never divulge its existence, of course. He will understand that it

affects his interests too nearly."

 

She waited in nervous excitement for Ben's reappearance.

 

At length his step was heard--never more welcome than now.

 

Ben entered, feeling rather nervous also.

 

"Has mother found out?" he thought.

 

"Good-afternoon, mother," he said, with apparent unconcern. "Is supper

most ready? I'm awful hungry."

 

"I want to speak to you a moment, Benjamin," said his mother. "Will you

come upstairs?"

 

"Now for it," thought Ben.

 

"Can't you speak here just as well?" he said. "I'm tired."

 

"I would rather have you come upstairs," said Mrs. Oakley.

 

"Just as you say," said Ben; "but I don't see why you can't talk just

as well down here."

 

Mrs. Oakley led the way to her own chamber. Ben followed, feeling, it

must be confessed, not altogether comfortable. This feeling was not

diminished when his mother closed the door carefully. She turned and

confronted him.

 

"You have been to my bureau-drawer, Ben," she said, eying him fixedly.