Luke Walton

"Yes; his name was Thomas Butler."

"Indeed! Have you ever met him?"

"I think so," answered Luke, slowly. "I will read his description from the letter: He has a wart on the upper part of his right cheek – a mark which disfigures and mortifies him exceedingly. He is about five feet ten inches in height, with a dark complexion and dark hair, a little tinged with gray.

"Let me see the letter," said Browning, hoarsely.

He took the letter in his hand, and, moving near the grate fire, began to read it. Suddenly the paper as if accidentally, slipped from his fingers, and fell upon the glowing coals – where it was instantly consumed.

"How careless I am!" ejaculated Browning, but there was exultation in the glance.

CHAPTER XLI

MR. BROWNING COMES TO TERMS

The destruction of the letter, and the open exultation of the man who had in intention at least doubly wronged him, did not appear to dismay Luke Walton. He sat quite cool and collected, facing Mr. Browning. "Really, I don't see how this letter happened to slip from my hand," continued the philanthropist. "I am afraid you consider it important."

"I should if it had been the genuine letter," said Luke.

"What!" gasped Browning.

"It was only a copy, as you will be glad to hear."

"Boy, I think you are deceiving me," said Browning, sharply.

"Not at all! I left the genuine letter in the hands of my lawyer."

"Your lawyer?"

"Yes. I have put this matter in the hands of Mr. Jordan, of this city."

Mr. Browning looked very much disturbed. Mr. Jordan was a well-known and eminent attorney. Moreover, he was opposed in politics to the would-be mayor. If his opponent should get hold of this discreditable chapter in his past history, his political aspirations might as well be given up. Again he asked himself, "How much of the story does this boy know?"

"If you are employing a lawyer," he said, after a pause, "I don't understand why you came to me for advice."

"I thought you might be interested in the matter," said Luke, significantly.

"Why should I be interested in your affairs? I have so many things to think of that really I can't take hold of anything new."

"I will tell you, sir. You are the man who received money in trust from my dying father. I look to you to restore it with interest."

"How dare you insinuate any such thing?" demanded Browning, furiously. "Do you mean to extort money by threats?"

"No, sir, I only ask for justice."

"There is nothing to connect me with the matter. According to your letter it was a Thomas Butler who received the money you refer to."

"True, and your name at that time was Thomas Butler."

Mr. Browning turned livid. The net seemed to be closing about him.

"What proof have you of this ridiculous assertion?" he demanded.

"The testimony of one who knew you then and now – Mr. King, who keeps a cigar stand at the Prairie Hotel."

"Ha! traitor!" ejaculated Browning, apostrophizing the absent King.

"This is a conspiracy!" he said. "King has put you up to this. He is a discreditable tramp whom I befriended when in dire need. This is my reward for it."

"I have nothing to do with that, Mr. Browning. Mr. King is ready to help me with his testimony. My lawyer has advised me to call upon you, and to say this: If you will pay over the ten thousand dollars with interest I will engage in my mother's name to keep the matter from getting before the public."

"And if I don't agree to this?"

"Mr. Jordan is instructed to bring suit against you."

Drops of perspiration gathered on the brow of Mr. Browning. This would never do. The suit, even if unsuccessful, would blast his reputation as a philanthropist, and his prospects as a politician.

"I will see Mr. Jordan," he said.

"Very well, sir. Then I wish you good-morning."

Within two days Thomas Browning had paid over to the lawyer for his young client the full sum demanded, and Luke left Milwaukee with the happy consciousness that his mother was now beyond the reach of poverty.

CHAPTER XLII

CONCLUSION

Felicie reflected over Harold's dishonest suggestion, and concluded to adopt it. She meant to charge Harold with the second robbery, and to brazen it out if necessary. Accordingly, one day she stole into Mrs. Merton's sitting room, and with the keys supplied by Harold succeeded in opening the drawer. Inside, greatly to her surprise, she saw the identical pocketbook which it had been understood was taken at the time of the first robbery. She was holding it in her hand, when a slight noise led her to look up swiftly.

To her dismay she saw the old lady, whom she had supposed out of the house, regarding her sternly.

"What does this mean, Felicie?" demanded Mrs. Merton.

"I – I found these keys and was trying them to see if any of them had been used at the time your money was stolen."

"Do you know who took my money on that occasion?" continued the old lady.

"Yes, I do," answered Felicie, swiftly deciding to tell the truth.

"Who was it?"

"Your nephew Harold," answered Felicie, glibly.

"You know this?"

"I saw him open the drawer. I was looking through a crack of the door."

"And you never told me of this?"

"I didn't want to expose him. He begged me not to do so."

"That is singular. He warned me yesterday that he suspected you of being the thief, and that he had reason to think you were planning a second robbery."

"He did?" said Felicie, with flashing eyes.

"Yes; what have you to say to it?"

"That he put me up to it, and gave me these keys to help me in doing it. Of course, he expected to share the money."

This last statement was untrue, but Felicie was determined to be revenged upon her treacherous ally.

"And you accepted?"

"Yes," said Felicie, seeing no way of escape. "I am poor, and thought you wouldn't miss the money."

"My nephew accused Luke Walton of being the thief."

"It is untrue. He wanted to divert suspicion from himself. Besides, he hates Luke."

"Do you?"

"No; I think him much better than Harold."

"So do I. Where did my nephew get his gold watch?"

"It was bought with the money he stole from the drawer."

"So I supposed. Well, Felicie, you can go, but I think you had better hand me that bunch of keys."

"Shall you report me to Mrs. Tracy?"

"I have not decided. For the present we will both keep this matter secret."

Luke's absence was, of course, noticed by Mrs. Tracy.

"Have you discharged Luke Walton?" she asked, hopefully. "I observe he has not come here for the last two or three days."

"He has gone out of the city – on business."

"I am surprised that you should trust that boy to such an extent."

At this moment a telegraph messenger rang the bell, and a telegram was brought up to Mrs. Merton.

It ran thus:

To MRS. MERTON, – Prairie Avenue, Chicago:

I have recovered all my mother's money with interest. Mr. Powell is also successful. Will return this evening.

LUKE WALTON,

"Read it if you like, Louisa," said the old lady, smiling with satisfaction.

"What does it mean?"

"That Luke has recovered over ten thousand dollars, of which his mother had been defrauded. It was Warner who put him on the track of the man who wrongfully held the money."

"Indeed!" said Mrs. Tracy, spitefully. "Then the least he can do is to return the money he took from you."

"He never took any, Louisa."

"Who did, then?"

"Your son, Harold."

"Who has been telling lies about my poor boy?" exclaimed Mrs. Tracy, angrily.

"A person who saw him unlocking the drawer."

"Has Luke Walton been telling falsehoods about my son?"

"No; it was quite another person. I have other proof also, and have known for some time who the real thief was. If Harold claims that I have done him injustice, send him to me."

After an interview with Harold, Mrs. Tracy was obliged to believe, much against her will, that he was the guilty one and not the boy she so much detested. This did not prepossess her any more in favor of Luke Walton, whom she regarded as the rival and enemy of her son.

It was a joyful coming home for Luke. He removed at once to a nice neighborhood, and ceased to be a Chicago newsboy. He did not lose the friendship of Mrs. Merton, who is understood to have put him down for a large legacy in her will, and still employs him to transact much of her business. Next year she proposes to establish her nephew, Warner Powell, and Luke in a commission business, under the style of

POWELL & WALTON

she furnishing the capital.

The house on Prairie Avenue is closed. Mrs. Tracy is married again, to a man whose intemperate habits promise her little happiness. Harold seems unwilling to settle down to business, but has developed a taste for dress and the amusements of a young man about town. He thinks he will eventually be provided for by Mrs. Merton, but in this he will be mistaken, as she has decided to leave much the larger part of her wealth to charitable institutions after remembering her nephew, Warner Powell, handsomely.

Ambrose Kean never repeated the mistake he had made. Still more, by diligent economy he saved up the sum advanced him by Mrs. Merton, and he offered it to her. She accepted it, but returned it many times over to his mother. Her patronage brought him another advantage; it led his employer to increase his salary, which is now double that which he formerly received.

Felicie lost her position, but speedily secured another, where it is to be hoped she will be more circumspect in her conduct.

Thomas Browning, after all, lost the nomination which he craved – and much of his wealth is gone. He dabbled in foolish speculation, and is now comparatively a poor man. Through the agency of Jack King, the story of his breach of trust was whispered about, and the sham philanthropist is better understood and less respected by his fellow-citizens.

His nephew, Stephen Webb, has been obliged to buckle down to hard work at ten dollars a week, and feels that his path is indeed thorny.

Luke Walton is not puffed up by his unexpected and remarkable success. He never fails to recognize kindly, and help, if there is need, the old associates of his humbler days, and never tries to conceal the fact that he was once a Chicago newsboy.

THE END