Luck and Pluck 57

Luck and Pluck 57

"I don't know what you mean," said Ben.

 

"You came home about two hours ago, didn't you?"

 

"Yes, I came home then," said Ben, knowing that it would be of no use

to deny what could be proved by Hannah's testimony.

 

"You came up to this chamber, found my keys on the table, and opened

the upper drawer of my bureau."

 

"Did you see me do it?" asked Ben, feeling confident that he was

accused on suspicion merely.

 

"No, but--"

 

"Doesn't Hannah pretend that she saw me?"

 

"No."

 

"Lucky for her she doesn't. If she did she'd lie," said Ben, glad to

find out so much.

 

"Do you mean to deny that you came up here?" asked Mrs. Oakley.

 

"Yes, I do. It seems to me you're mighty quick in suspecting me,"

continued Ben, with an air of injured innocence. "But what's all the

fuss about? Have you missed anything?"

 

"Yes," said his mother, "I have met with a serious loss. But, Benjamin,

it is very important that I should clearly understand who did or did

not take it. Will you assure me upon your honor that you did not take

anything from my bureau?"

 

"Of course I will," said Ben, who felt that he was in for it, and must

stick stoutly to the lie at all hazards. "But you haven't told me what

you lost."

 

Mrs. Oakley turned pale with consternation. She had depended upon Ben's

proving the real culprit, in which case she could require restitution,

at any rate, of the will.

 

"I lost a sum of money," she said,--"a hundred and twenty dollars."

 

"Whew!" said Ben. "That _was_ a loss."

 

"But that was not all. There was besides a--a document of importance,

for which I cared more than the money."

 

"I've no doubt of it," thought Ben.

 

"What was it?" he said aloud.

 

"What it was is quite immaterial," said Mrs. Oakley. "It is sufficient

to say that it was a document of very great importance. I care little

for the money compared with that. If you took it, Ben," she said, with

a sudden final appeal, "I will forgive you, and let you keep the

money, if you will restore the--the document."

 

There was a look of entreaty in the proud woman's eyes, as she made

this appeal to her son. She waited anxiously for the answer.

 

But the inducement was not sufficient. The one hundred and twenty

dollars were already paid away, and Ben owed one hundred and eighty

dollars besides. He knew that Winchester would not remit the debt.

There was no chance whatever of that. So Ben determined to keep the

_rôle_ of injured innocence which he had assumed in the beginning. His

mother would not be able to find him out. It may be thought that this

was inconsistent with his plan of raising money out of his mother's

fears by withholding the will. But he had arranged that already. _He

might find the will_,--perhaps in Hannah's chamber, perhaps elsewhere,

he could decide that hereafter; but he resolved not to own up to the

theft. In fact, after denying it stoutly, it would have been difficult

to do that.

 

"Look here, mother," he said, "I am not a thief, and I wish you would

not try to make me out one. You're ready enough to suspect me. Why

don't you suspect Hannah? She was here all the time."

 

"I have already spoken to Hannah," said Mrs. Oakley.

 

"What did she say?"

 

"She said she had not been upstairs during my absence."

 

"And you believed her," said Ben, reproachfully. "Do you believe her

before me?"

 

"Yes, I believed her," said Mrs. Oakley; "and I will tell you why. She

might take the money, but she wouldn't be likely to take the paper."

 

"I don't know about that. She might think it was of importance. She

might think you would pay her money to get it back."

 

Just then it flashed across Mrs. Oakley's mind that Hannah had seen

the will in her hand on the day that she undertook to burn it. Why

had she not thought of that before? It might be that Hannah was more

artful than she gave her credit for, and, suspecting the value of the

document, had taken it as well as the money.

 

"I will question Hannah again," she said. "Come with me, Benjamin."

 

They went downstairs together, and Hannah was summoned from the kitchen.

 

"Hannah," said Mrs. Oakley, "listen attentively to me."

 

"Certainly, ma'am," said Hannah, wondering what was coming.

 

"Something was taken from my drawer this afternoon, Hannah,--some money

and something else. Do you know anything about it?"

 

"Sure I don't, ma'am. I told you once before."

 

"If you took it, and will tell me, and restore everything, I will

forgive you, and let you keep ten dollars of the money besides."

 

"But I didn't take it, ma'am," said poor Hannah, earnestly.

 

"If you don't," said Mrs. Oakley, sternly, "I will send for the

constable, and have you arrested at once and carried to prison."

 

Hannah burst into a piteous howl, and declared that she never stole so

much as a pin, and called the Virgin and all the saints to witness that

she was innocent.

 

"Give up the paper you took," said Mrs. Oakley, "and you may keep

twenty dollars of the money."

 

But Hannah again declared that she took nothing.

 

"Stop a minute," said Ben; "maybe we're all wrong. When I went out of

the house I saw a very suspicious-looking man coming this way."

 

"What was his appearance?"

 

"He had black hair and whiskers," said Ben, glibly, "and was meanly

dressed."

 

"Was he coming towards the house?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Did such a person come to the house, Hannah?"

 

"I didn't see him; but he might have come to the wing door without me

knowing it."

 

"I'll bet ten dollars he was the thief," said Ben.

 

Mrs. Oakley did not know what to say or think. Both Ben and Hannah

stoutly denied the theft, and resisted the most liberal overtures to a

confession. It might be the ill-looking man spoken of.

 

"What'll you give me if I find the paper, mother?" asked Ben. "I'll get

on the track of the scamp, and get it if I can."

 

"I'll give fifty dollars," said his mother.

 

"But you offered a hundred a little while ago."

 

"I'll give you a hundred and twenty then."

 

"Promise me two hundred cash down, and I'll do my best."

 

"I'll give you two hundred dollars when you place the paper in my

hands."

 

"All right," said Ben. "If I can find the man, I'll offer him a little

something to begin with. It won't be of any use to him, you know."

 

They sat down to supper. Ben partook heartily, feeling that he had as

good as got the two hundred dollars, while Mrs. Oakley was pale and

nervous, and had no appetite. How differently she would have felt if

she had only known that the lost will was all the while laid snugly

away in Ben's coat-pocket!

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXXIII.

 

A STRANGE METAMORPHOSIS.

 

 

Ben decided not to produce the will too soon. It would look suspicious.

Besides, the longer it remained missing, the more rejoiced his mother

would be to recover it, and so naturally the more ready to pay the

reward she had promised. The afternoon of the next day he thought would

be quite soon enough to "find" it.

 

Meanwhile the next morning Ben strolled over to the tavern, thinking

he might find Winchester. But that young man had gone out on a fishing

excursion, and had left word to that effect with the landlord.

 

So Ben strolled down to the river. It was a delightful day, and the

desire seized him to "go in swimming." Though he cared little for other

athletic exercises, he was fond of swimming, and was quite a fair

swimmer.

 

Now, as Ben's ill luck would have it, Sam Selwyn chanced to be in the

woods quite near by, and saw Ben undress and go into the water. He

was not fond of Ben, and he was fond of a practical joke. Besides, he

had been for some time wanting to pay off Ben for the share he had in

making John's life uncomfortable. A plan suggested itself to him.

 

"I'll do it!" he exclaimed, his eyes twinkling with merriment.

 

He ran home,--it was but a few steps across lots,--dashed upstairs,

and from an upper room took a faded calico dress and hoop-skirt, and,

rolling them up, made his way swiftly back to the river. The river's

edge was heavily wooded, and running vines and thick underbrush almost