The Erie Train Boy

CHAPTER XXIX.

FRED TAKES THE FIRST STEP

"And so you come from New York?" Sinclair repeated, for the want of something better to say.

"When did you leave the city, may I ask?"

"On Tuesday."

"Then you came directly here?"

"Yes, I came directly here."

"You must then have heard of St. Victor before starting."

"Yes."

"Yet I fancy it is so obscure that its existence can be known to very few in the great city."

"I presume you are right. I was recommended to come here by a friend."

"Ah!" commented James Sinclair, beginning to think he was right, though it seemed to him very strange that Mr. Wainwright should have selected so young a messenger. "I should like to see New York once more."

"Who wouldn't?" interposed Bowman impatiently. "In New York you canlive. Here in St. Victor one can only vegetate."

"Don't you expect to go back to New York some day, Mr. Sinclair?" asked Fred.

"I don't know; I hope so."

"When our business in Canada is completed," said Bowman, "we shall probably both go back."

"Are you going to sleep here to-night, Bowman?" asked Sinclair.

"No, I think not. I have taken a room in the hotel."

"You must do as you like, of course, but it is lonely for me. Besides I might need assistance."

"Let the girl stay here, then. I should make a miserable sick nurse. I will ask young Fenton, here, if it is reasonable to expect me to bury myself in such a cheerless place when it will do no good."

Fred was disgusted with the man's selfishness. "If I had a friend sick," he said, "I think I would be quite willing to keep him company."

"You say so now, but wait till the time comes."

"Your words, Mr. Fenton," said Sinclair, "embolden me to ask you a favor."

"Name it," said Fred, in a tone of kindly encouragement.

"I spend all my time alone, except when Claudine is ministering to my wants. Your time is hardly likely to be very much occupied in this dull place. Can't you spare me an hour or two at your convenience during the day?"

"You have promised to go hunting with me tomorrow," interrupted Bowman.

"That is true. I will go with you in the forenoon, and in the afternoon I will call on Mr. Sinclair."

Bowman shrugged his shoulders.

"It is a rash promise. You will be sorry for having made it."

"I will risk that," answered Fred.

Sinclair gave him a grateful glance. The promise cheered him, and kindled hopes in his breast. Now he would have a chance of learning, when alone with Fred, whether he came as a messenger from Mr. Wainwright. If so, and through his means he could make restitution and regain his place and lost character, he would still have something to live for. He execrated his folly in weakly submitting to the guidance of Paul Bowman, and for having taken that first step in crime, which is so difficult to retrace.

"Don't forget your promise," he said earnestly as Fred rose to go.

"I won't fail you," replied Fred quietly.

"You're in for it now," remarked Bowman, as they started to walk home.

"You might as well turn sick nurse at once as give up your time to Sinclair."

"I might be sick sometime myself," said Fred, "and in that case I should be sorry to be left alone."

"Oh, well, suit yourself," said Bowman carelessly. "I'd rather it would be you than me, for that matter. I shall expect you to go out to the woods with me in the forenoon."

"All right!"

"Well," thought Fred, as he slipped into bed at ten o'clock, "I've made a beginning. I have formed the acquaintance of both parties to the robbery. The next step will be more difficult."

CHAPTER XXX.

A HUNTING EXCURSION

Fred did not rise till eight o'clock the next morning. He was fatigued by his long journey, and slept late. When he descended, he found Bowman seated at the breakfast-table.

"I got ahead of you," said Bowman.

"How long have you been down-stairs?"

"About ten minutes."

"Are we likely to have a good day for hunting?"

"Good enough," answered Bowman, indifferently. "I am not an enthusiastic sportsman. I only take to it to fill up a part of my time. It is about the only thing I can do in this dull hole."

"You might read. I brought two or three novels in my valise, and will lend yon one if you care for it."

"I don't care for reading. Stories tire me. I used to read the daily papers in New York, but can't get hold of any here New York dailies, I mean. I don't care for Canadian papers unless they contain news from New York."

"I have with me the Tribune, World, and Sun, of day before yesterday."

"I should like to see them," said Bowman, eagerly. "If you will bring them down, I will look over them in the woods."

"All right! I am glad I saved them. I had a mind to throw them away, or leave them in the car."

The breakfast was plain, but Fred and Bowman, who were the only guests, were not difficult to suit.

Ten minutes later they were on their way to the woods. They went across the fields, taking a footpath trodden in the snow, which materially shortened the distance. But even tramping this far tired Bowman, and when they reached a small rock that cropped out from the expanse of white, he declared that he must rest awhile.

He took a seat on the bowlder and began to read one of the papers he had brought with him.

Five minutes later he uttered an exclamation of surprise. Fred looked at him inquiringly.

"Do you find news of any of your friends?" he asked.

"Yes, Teddy Donovan has escaped from Sing Sing."

"That's the bank burglar, isn't it?"

"Yes, and one of the smartest men in the profession."

"You know him, then?"

"Yes," answered Bowman. "I got acquainted with him some years ago. Of course," he added, feeling some explanation necessary, "I didn't know that he was a burglar till later. Poor fellow, it is his only fault."

Fred was privately of opinion that it was rather a serious fault.

"He's a smart fellow," Bowman continued, "and he led the police a long chase before they nabbed him. I've often urged him to turn over a new leaf and lead an honest life or he'd fetch up in prison, but he only laughed, and that was all the good it did. I wish Teddy would find his way up here."

"Do you think he will be able to elude recapture?"

"Well, he's sharp enough for almost anything."

"I suppose there are a good many men of his kind in Canada," said Fred innocently.

"Yes," replied Bowman, adding in a jocular tone. "I didn't know but that might have brought you here."

"Oh, no!" laughed Fred. "I'm as straight and honorable as you are."

"Good joke!" exclaimed Bowman, slapping his thigh. "Shake!"

Bowman extended his hand, and Fred shook it, though it was not clear to him what the joke was or why he should shake hands with his companion because they both happened to be straight and honorable.

The hunt was now begun, for Fred caught sight of a jack rabbit skimming across the snow. He lifted his gun, and was fortunate enough to bring his game down. This fired Bowman with the spirit of emulation, and putting the papers back in his pocket, he started off in search of a companion trophy to that of his young friend.

He did not find it until the ex-train boy had knocked over two more "bunnies" and as Fred continued to keep ahead of him in the amount of game bagged, Mr. Paul Bowman soon became disgusted and proposed a return to the hotel, where he would have an opportunity to finish his perusal of the New York papers by the reading-room stove.

As Fred's nose was being nipped by the frost, and he felt that he had wrought sufficient destruction among the rabbit tribe, he readily fell in with the suggestion.

Half an hour later he was thawing himself out when Bowman suddenly looked up from the World and asked abruptly:

"Did you ever hear of John Wainwright, the broker and banker?"

Fred was on his guard and answered cautiously:

"Yes, I believe I have heard of him. He has an office on Broadway, hasn't he?"

"No, on Wall Street."

"Did you ever work for him?"

"No; but an acquaintance of mine did," said Bowman carelessly. "He's got a pile of money, I expect."

"Very likely. Most bankers have, haven't they?"

"I suppose so, but they're not in my line. I used to be a dry goods clerk."

"In New York?"

"No, in Baltimore."

"I don't know anything about Baltimore."

If Bowman at any time entertained any suspicions about Fred they were dissipated by his next remark.

"I might like to go to Baltimore to work. Would you recommend me to the firm you used to work for?"

"I believe they have gone out of business, but you'd better stick to New York, youngster. There's better chances there than in Baltimore."

The gong for dinner now sounded, and as their tramp through the snow had given them both good appetites, they lost no time in answering its summons.

When dinner was over Bowman asked:

"What are you going to do with yourself this afternoon?"

"I promised to call on your friend in the cottage. Will you go with me?"

"Not I. I can fill up my time more agreeably. You will find it awfully stupid."

"Very likely; but I like to keep my promises."

"The landlord's going to ride to Hyacinth, about ten miles away, on business. He's invited me to ride with him. I wish there were room in the sleigh for you."

"I can put that off till another time. I hope you will have a pleasant ride."

"It will fill up the time, anyway."

"Have you any message to your partner?" asked Fred, as he stood ready to start on his walk.

"No. Tell him to get well as fast as he can, so that we can get away from this beastly place. That's all."

James Sinclair was lying on the bed with a look of weariness on his face when Fred pushed open the outer door and entered.

Sinclair's face brightened up.

"You didn't forget your promise, Mr. Fenton?" lie said.

"No, I always keep my promises when I can."

"You are very kind to a poor sick man. You have no idea how long the hours seem in this quiet cottage with no one to look at or speak to but Claudine."

"I can imagine it."

"And Claudine understands very little English. Most of the people in St. Victor, as I suppose you know, are French."

"I judged this from the signs over the shops."

"Very few English-speaking people find their way here. It is for this reason that I was somewhat surprised to see you here."

"I should not have come here," returned Fred pointedly, "if you had not been here."

"You came here to see me?" ejaculated Sinclair in excitement.

"Yes."

"Then you must come from Mr. Wainwright."

"Yes, I come from him in response to the letter which he received from you."

"Thank God!" said Sinclair, fervently.

CHAPTER XXXI.

FRED HAS AN UNDERSTANDING WITH SINCLAIR

"Mr. Wainwright showed me the letter you wrote to him," went on Fred.

"Excuse me," said Sinclair, looking puzzled, "but you seem very young to be taken into Mr. Wainwright's confidence."

"I am only seventeen."

"I don't understand it."

"Nor do I," answered Fred, smiling, "but Mr. Wainwright is right in supposing that I will do my best for him."

"Does he give you full powers in this matter?"

"Read this letter and you can judge for yourself."

The sick man eagerly held out his hand, and read carefully the letter which Fred placed in it. It ran thus:

JAMES SINCLAIR: The bearer of this letter has full powers to treat with you. I am glad you realize the wrong you have done me, and am prepared to consider your case in a generous spirit. The theft is known only to those who committed it, my young messenger and myself. On the return of the bonds I will take you back into my employment.

JOHN WAINWRIGHT.

Tears came to the eyes of Sinclair.

"How kind and considerate Mr. Wainwright is!" he said in a tone of emotion. "Read this letter."

"You are right, but I would do the same."

Sinclair extended his hand which Fred shook cordially.

"I am not as bad as you may suppose. It was Bowman who, by his artful hints and allurements, induced me to rob my employer. I have never ceased to repent it."

"Are you prepared to restore the bonds? That will set you right."

"When I wrote the letter I was prepared, but now I must depend on you to find them."

"You don't know where they are?" asked Fred in dismay.

"No. You see that trunk at the other end of the room?"

"Yes."

"They were there until three days ago. Then Bowman, who kept the key, opened the trunk in my presence, and took out the package of bonds, locking the trunk after him."

"'What are you doing?' I asked.

"'Going to put these bonds into a place of security,' he answered.

"'Are they not safe in the trunk?' I asked.

"'No;' he replied, 'suppose, during my absence, a thief should enter the house? You are confined to the bed by rheumatism. What resistance could you make?'

"'But that is very improbable,' I persisted.

"'I don't know about that. This is a lonely cottage, and might be entered at any time,' he rejoined.

"'Where are you going to put the bonds?' I asked uneasily,

"He evaded a reply, but promised to tell me when I recovered my health. I protested, for we were jointly concerned in the robbery, and half the proceeds belonged to me. At any rate, I had as much title to them as he. But the contest was not an equal one. Had I been a well man I would have forcibly prevented his carrying out his purpose, but what could I do, racked with pain as I was, and unable to sit up in bed? I was worse off then than I am now."

"So he carried off the bonds?"

"Yes, and I don't know where he carried them. You see, that complicates matters."

"I do see," answered Fred, perplexed, "and I don't see the way out of the difficulty. Have you any idea where he can have concealed the securities?"

"No."

"Do you think he would keep them in his room at the hotel? It is just across the hall from mine, on the second floor."

"No, I don't. A hotel room would be a much less secure place than this cottage, and Bowman is a shrewd man."

"That is true."

"He has probably found some outside place of concealment. Where, of course, I can give you no hint. But I would advise you to follow him, watch his movements, and learn what you can. He will be sure to visit the place where the bonds are hidden from time to time, if only to make sure that they are still safe."

"Then I shall have to do some detective work?"

"Precisely."

"I have read a good many detective stories, but I don't know that any of them will help me in this matter. There is one thing I am afraid of."

"What is that?"

"You say Bowman is a shrewd man. He will be likely to find out that I am following him and become suspicions."

"He would if you were a man, but as you are a boy he won't be likely to think that you are interested in the matter."

"Mr. Wainwright was of opinion that I should be less likely to excite suspicion than a grown man."

"The old man is smarter than I gave him credit for."

"I see no other way than to follow your directions. Are you in much pain to-day?"

"No, less than for some time. I think it is my mental trouble that aggravates my physical malady. Now that you are here, and something is to be done to right the wrong I have committed. I am sure I shall rapidly recover. Were you with Bowman this morning?"

"Yes, we went out in the woods together. I had a few New York papers which he read with interest."

"Have you them with you?" asked Sinclair eagerly. "You don't know how I hunger for home news."

"Yes, I brought them along, as I thought you might like to read them."

"I will read them after you are gone. Now we will converse."

"Have you a family?" asked Fred.

"I am not a married man but I have a mother," answered Sinclair, his eyes filling.

"Does she know – "

"Of my disgrace? No, I was obliged to tell a falsehood and represent that I was going to Canada on business. I have been in constant dread that my crime would get into the papers and she would hear it. Poor mother! I believe that it would kill her!"

"You didn't think of that when you took the bonds?"

"I thought of nothing. Bowman gave me no time to think. What I did was done on the impulse of the moment without consideration. Oh, if I had only stopped to think!" he concluded with a sigh.

For Fred it was a great moral lesson. He was honest by nature, but there is no one who cannot be strengthened against temptation. The sum taken by Sinclair was large, but it had not made him happy. Probably he had never been more miserable than in the interval that had elapsed since his theft. Judging between him and Bowman. Fred felt sure that it was Sinclair who had been weak, and Bowman who had been wicked. Now his only hope was to recover his lost position, to get back to where he stood when he yielded to temptation and robbed a kind and considerate employer.

"Where is Bowman this afternoon?" asked Sinclair.

"He told me he was going to ride to Hyacinth with the landlord. He seems to find time hanging heavy on his hands."

"He is much better off than I am. It is bad enough to be sick but when to this is added a burden of remorse, you can imagine that my position is not enviable."

At five o'clock Fred rose from his chair and took his hat.

"I must be going," he said. "We have supper at the hotel at six, and I may as well be punctual."

"Will you call again?" asked Sinclair, eagerly.

"Yes, but perhaps I had better not spend too much time with you. It may give rise to suspicions on the part of your partner."

"Don't call him my partner! I don't want to admit any connection between us. There has been a connection, it is true, but as soon as I can bring it about it will be closed, and then I hope never to see or hear of Paul Bowman as long as I live."

"I shall get to work to-morrow," said Fred. "I think it will be best for me not to call here till the day after. We must not appear to be too intimate."

When Fred returned to the hotel he found Bowman just arrived.

"Where have you been all the afternoon?" asked Bowman.

"Part of the time I spent with your friend, Mr. Sinclair."

"What did he find to talk about?" asked Bowman, eying Fred sharply.

"Chiefly about New York and his health. He doesn't seem contented here."

"No wonder. It's the dullest hole I was ever in. Is he any better?"

"He thinks so."

"I wish he'd get well quick. I want to go to some larger place."

"I suppose Montreal is a more interesting town."

"Yes, there is something going on there. We were fools to leave it."

After supper Fred played a few games of billiards with Bowman.

Evidently he was not suspected as yet.

CHAPTER XXXII.

FINDING A CLEW

The object which Fred had in view now, was to ascertain where Bowman had hidden the securities taken from the trunk in Sinclair's cottage. Precisely how to set about it he did not know. He had never had any experience in detective work, and had only his native shrewdness to depend upon.

It occurred to him, however, that Bowman would be likely from time to time to visit the place where he had secreted the bonds in order to make sure that they were safe. This he was hardly likely to do when in Fred's company, but only when alone. When, therefore, he should see Bowman starting off on a solitary expedition he decided if possible to follow him.

"Do you feel like going out on the river this morning?" asked Bowman, as they rose from breakfast.

"I don't mind. It will help to fill up the time."

For many years such an open winter had not been known. The unusual warmth had left the lake as free from ice as in the early fall. But for a slight covering of snow there would have been nothing to indicate that it was winter.

"Your vacation is likely to be a slow one here," suggested Bowman.

"Yes; St. Victor isn't a very lively place."

"I wonder you are willing to stay here," said Bowman, with momentary suspicion.

"I have so much excitement in New York and in my daily rides on the Erie road, that I don't mind the dulness as much as many would. Still if you and Mr. Sinclair were not here, I should cut short my visit at once."

Bowman did not understand the hidden meaning of this speech, and naturally interpreted it in a sense complimentary to himself.

"Sinclair isn't much company," he said. "He is down in the dumps on account of his rheumatism. I suppose he thinks I ought to stay in the cottage with him, but I couldn't stand it."

"I suppose you are in business together," observed Fred, innocently.

"Did he say so?"

"Not exactly, but I inferred from what he did say that you had some business connection."

"Yes," answered Bowman, hesitatingly. "We have a joint investment. I don't think, however, that we shall remain connected long. He doesn't suit me. He is too slow and cautious."

Fred did not think it necessary to comment on this statement.

They went down to the lake, and were soon rowing to the middle of it. Here they tried fishing, but did not meet with much success. They gave it up and rowed across to the opposite side.

"Will you take charge of the boat for half an hour?" asked Bowman, turning to Fred. "I am going on shore."

"Certainly, if you wish it."

"I have a fancy for exploring these woods. I would invite you to go with me, but the boat might be taken, and that would subject us to some inconvenience."

"I would just as soon stay here," said Fred carelessly.

"Then it's all right."

Fred watched Bowman as he made his way in among the trees, and it struck him at once that ha had secreted the bonds somewhere in the neighborhood and was about to visit the hiding-place.

"If I could only leave the boat and follow him," he said to himself eagerly. But he decided at once that this would never do. It would inevitably excite Bowman's suspicion, and then his chance of success would be wholly gone. He must be cautious at all hazards.

He did not return to the middle of the lake, but rowed lazily along the shore, from time to time directing a glance toward the woods.

"To-morrow I will make an excuse for not going with Bowman, and will come out here and do a little exploring myself," he resolved.

At one point his attention was drawn to a boy who was sitting under a tree near the edge of the water.

"May I get into your boat?" he asked.

"For a short time. A gentleman is with me who has gone on shore for a little while."

"I know. I've seen him here often."

"Have you?" asked Fred with interest. "So he comes here a good deal, does he?"

"Yes, he comes here mostly alone, and goes into the woods. Once me and another boy got into the boat and rowed while he was gone."

"I suppose he enjoys walking in the woods."

"It ain't that," said the boy significantly.

"What is it, then?" asked Fred, trying to repress his excitement.

"I think he's got business in the woods."

"What business can he have there?"

"I think he's got something hidden there."

"What makes you think so?"

"You won't tell him what I say, will you?"

"I saw him when he first came here. He had a bundle done up in paper. He left the boat and went into the woods, and when he came back he didn't have the paper."

"He may have had it in his pocket."

"No, he didn't. It was a big package, and if it had been in his pocket it would have made it bulge out."

"I see you are quite an observing boy. I dare say you are right. What do you think there was in the package?"

"I guess it was money. If I had a lot of money I wouldn't hide it in the woods."

"Nor I," answered Fred, laughing.

"I'd buy a trunk and keep it inside."

"Somebody might open the trunk."

"Any way it would be safer than hiding it in the woods."

"I don't know but you are right. I hope the time will come when you and I will have a lot of money to conceal."

"Is the man a friend of yours?" asked the boy.

"We are boarding at the same hotel. I have only known Mr. Bowman two days."

"Is he from the States?"

"Yes. I believe he came from New York."