A Young Inventor's Pluck: or, The Mystery of the Willington Legacy

"There is a big fire over on the hill," she continued, "just look out of the window."

But Jack was already up.

"You're right!" he replied. "It's a whopper, too!" he continued, as the flames shot skyward, making all as bright as day. "I'll have to go," he added.

"Must you?"

"Certainly, it's my duty to serve."

For Jack was a duly enlisted member of the Corney Volunteer Fire Department.

He hurried into his clothing as rapidly as possible, and jumped down the stairs three at a time.

"Don't get hurt!" called Deb after him.

The engine house was but a few blocks away. When Jack arrived there, he found that the machine had been dragged out into the street but no further.

"Why don't you catch hold?" he called to a crowd of men who stood on the sidewalk.

"It's old Gray's house!" exclaimed one man, "and it can burn to the ground for all I care."

"He don't help us; now let him help himself," put in another.

"Oh, pshaw! It won't do any good to act that way!" said Jack. "Come, catch hold like men."

Jack was naturally a leader, and when he grasped the rope three other young fellows followed, and in a moment the engine was on its way.

"It's too bad it's Mr. Gray's house," thought the machinist. "It will make him harder-hearted than ever."

He gave no thought as to how the conflagration had originated, and did his best to get the engine to the spot.

But, as has been stated, the place was up hill, and by the time they had made their way along the unpaved road, the fire had gained such headway that it was useless to pour water on the burning building, and all attention was directed to saving the adjoining property.

The heat was intense, and Jack, who was often at the nozzle of the hose, suffered greatly from this and the smoke.

In an hour the fire was declared under control, and a little later the order came to take up the hose and go home.

Jack worked with a will. He had done his duty, and now he was anxious to return, tell Deb all about it, and get to bed again.

While helping to wind the hose upon its carriage, he was suddenly approached by Mr. Gray, accompanied by a stranger.

"There he is!" were Mr. Gray's first words, addressed to the stranger.

The man laid his hand upon Jack's shoulder.

"I want you," he said, quietly.

"What for?" asked Jack.

"I arrest you for setting fire to Mr. Gray's house," was the startling reply.

"Arrest me!" exclaimed the young machinist. "What do you mean? I never set fire to any one's house."

"Oh, yes, you did," put in the manufacturer. "Only you didn't expect to be caught."

"It's false, I-"

"It's true. You shall suffer heavily for this night's work," went on Mr. Gray, bitterly. "We'll see if the law allows tenants who won't pay their rents to set their landlords' houses on fire! Watch him Parker, don't let him escape you!"

"Mr. Gray, I never-" began Jack.

"Come along," broke in the officer, roughly. "You can do your talking in the morning."

And without further words Jack was marched off to the Corney jail.

CHAPTER IV

BAD NEWS FOR DEB

After her brother Jack had gone, Deb stood by the window a long time, watching the progress of the fire. She beheld the flames shoot up, heard the shrill whistle of the engines, and the shouts of the firemen, and finally saw the light subside.

She opened the window, and from the conversation of the passers-by she learned that it was Mr. Felix Gray's mansion that had been burned.

The little bronze clock upon the kitchen shelf struck four.

"Jack will be returning soon," she thought, "and he'll be awfully tired, too."

An hour passed. She had put on a loose wrapper and sat in the rocker, moving gently forward and backward. Presently the curly head began to nod, and after one or two feeble attempts to rouse up, Deb sank calmly into the land of dreams.

When she awoke, she found it was broad daylight, and the tread of many feet upon the pavement outside told that work had already begun.

"Eight o'clock!" exclaimed the girl. "What can keep Jack so long?"

Then the thought struck her that her brother had returned and retired without waking her, but a glance revealed the empty bed.

Deb's face blanched a trifle as the idea crossed her mind that maybe something had happened, after all. Fires were such dreadful things, with falling chimneys and half-burned staircases, and Jack was so daring, and so ready to risk his life for the benefit of others.

"I'll go down to Mrs. Snitzer's and find out about it," was her conclusion, and locking the door she descended the stairs.

Mrs. Snitzer was a German woman, who, with her husband and three stalwart sons, occupied the floor below. She was a stout, kindly-faced woman of about fifty, had been Deb's neighbor for a year, and took a genuine interest in the girl and her brother.

"Your brudder no got home yet from der fire?" she said, after Deb had stated the object of her morning call; "I thought der fire vas out long ago. Mine boys come home, and vent to ped again, aput five o'clock. Da don't work now, so da say: 'Mudder, ve take a goot sleep for vonce in our lifes;'" she added, with a broad smile.

"Jack's out of work, too," said Deb, soberly.

"Yah? Vat a shame! Nefer mind, it don't last forefer. Come, have some coffee mit me. My man ist gone out for the baber. He come back soon."

The good woman set out one of her low chairs, and knowing that Mrs. Snitzer's invitations were genuine, the girl sat down, and allowed herself to be helped to a bowl of the steaming beverage, accompanied by several slices of sugared zweibach.

Just as the two were finishing Mr. Snitzer came in, paper in hand.

His face grew troubled upon seeing Deb.

"I vas sorry for you," he said, approaching her.

"Sorry for me?" repeated the girl, with a puzzled look. "Why, Mr. Snitzer?"

"Gracious! Didn't you hear?" returned the man, dropping his paper in astonishment.

"Hear what?" faltered Deb.

Mr. Snitzer spoke in German to his wife, who jumped to her feet.

"Nein! nein!" exclaimed the woman, vehemently. "He nefer done dot-nefer in his whole life!"

And then as gently as possible Mrs. Snitzer related how Jack had been accused by Mr. Felix Gray of setting fire to the mansion, and was now languishing in the town jail.

Deb's outburst was dreadful to behold. She threw herself upon the old German woman's breast and sobbed as if her heart would break. Her Jack-her own dear brother, in prison! The only one she had in the wide world taken away from her, and sent to a criminal's cell! It was too horrible to realize.

"How cruel of them to do it!" she moaned. "And he is innocent, too. He was home when the fire broke out;" and she shook her head in despair.

"Of course he didn't do it," said Mr. Snitzer. "All der men say so. Jack vas as steady as anypody. I dink it vas some of der hot-headed men vas guilty."

"So don't cry, my dear girl," added Mrs. Snitzer, sympathetically. "It vill come out all right by der end;" and she took one corner of her clean gingham apron and wiped the tear-stained cheeks.

"Where is the-the jail?" asked Deb presently, in a low voice.

Mr. Snitzer described its location.

"You don't vas going there!" exclaimed the German woman.

"Yes, I am," declared the girl, resolutely, with a sudden, strong look in her beautiful eyes.

"But it vas a terrible bad blace," Mrs. Snitzer ventured to remark.

"I don't care," replied Deb. "I won't mind going where Jack is. I must see if I can't do something for him."

Deb ran up stairs. Her heart was full of fear, and beat wildly.

She exchanged her wrapper for a suitable dress, and arranged her hair. As she was adjusting her hat, there was a knock on the door, and thinking Mrs. Snitzer had come up, she bid the person enter.

"Ah, just in time, I see!" was the exclamation, made in Mr. Hammerby's voice.

Deb's face clouded even more than before.

"Oh, dear, you here?" she ejaculated in vexed tones.

"Yes; on hand, as I always am," replied the agent, removing his hat. "I suppose you are ready with the rent?"

"No, I haven't the money," replied Deb. Somehow it was all she could manage to say.

"Your brother was unable to raise the amount?"

"He hasn't had time to try."

"I'm sorry, but as I said before 'business is business,' and I'll have to serve the notice," and drawing a paper from his pocket, Mr. Hammerby handed it over.

It was a regular notice drawn up in due form, demanding that in three days they quit the place.

Deb read it, but in her excitement did not notice that the avaricious agent had dated it one day back.

"And must we leave in three days?" she faltered.

"Most assuredly-unless you raise the cash."

"But where will we go?" continued the girl hopelessly.

"That's for you to decide," was the answer. Mr. Hammerby had gone through so many "scenes," as he termed them, that the evident suffering of the person he addressed did not affect him.

"But we haven't got anywhere to go," burst out Deb.

"Well, that's not my fault, is it?"

"No, but-"

"Then it's pay or leave," was the cold reply.

"What's up now, Mr. Hammerby?" asked a quiet voice from the hallway.

It was the nephew of the tool manufacturer who had come. His name was Monteray Gray-the Monteray being generally shortened to Mont. He was a young man of twenty, and kept the books for the shipping department of the tool works.

"What, Mr. Gray, is that you?" exclaimed the agent, taken back at the sudden interruption. "Oh, it's only the same old story of no money for the landlord," he added.

Mont looked at Deb. He knew both her and Jack very well.

"I am sorry to hear it," he said, with a pained face.

"It's all because of the shut-down at the factory," explained Deb, who, for a purely womanly reason wanted to set herself right with the young man.

In a few short words she made him acquainted with the situation. Involuntarily Mont's hand went down in his pocket, and then he suddenly remembered that he had no money with him.

"See here, Mr. Hammerby," he said, "you had better take this notice back. There is no doubt that you will get your money."

"Can't do it," replied the agent, with a decided shake of the head.

"But my uncle would never consent to having them put out," persisted the young man.

"Mr. Gray's orders are to give notice to any one who doesn't pay," returned Mr. Hammerby, grimly; "I'm only doing as directed."

"But this is an outrage!" exclaimed Mont. "My uncle virtually owes Mr. Willington twenty odd dollars, and here you intend to put him out for a few dollars rent."

"You can see your uncle about it, if you wish. I shall stick to my orders."

"Then you won't stop this notice?"

"No."

"Very well," replied Mont, quietly.

"I'm hired to do certain things, and I'm going to do them," continued the agent. "Besides, I just heard this morning that this fellow is locked up for setting fire to your uncle's house. I should not think that you would care to stick up for him," he went on.

"But I do care," returned the young man, with a sudden show of spirit. "He is a friend of mine, and I don't believe him guilty."

"Humph! Well, maybe. It's none of my business; all I want is the rent, and if they can't pay they must leave," said Mr. Hammerby, bluntly. "Good morning," he continued to Deb, and without waiting for more words, turned and left the apartment.

"I am sorry that my uncle has such a hard-hearted man for his agent," observed Mont to Deb with a look of chagrin on his face.

"So am I," she replied, and then suddenly; "Oh, Mont, Jack is-"

"I know all about it," he interrupted. "I've just been down to see him. He gave me this note for you," and Mont handed the note to Deb.

CHAPTER V

FINDING BAIL

Jack hardly realized what arrest meant until he heard the iron door clang shut, and found himself in a stone cell, scarcely six feet square, with nothing but a rough board upon which to rest.

He sat down with a heart that was heavier than ever before. The various misfortunes of the day had piled themselves up until he thought they had surely reached the end, and now, as if to cap the climax, here he was arrested for the burning of a place that he had worked like a beaver for two hours to save.

He wondered how Mr. Felix Gray had come to make the charge against him. He could think of no reason that could excite suspicion, saving, perhaps, his rather hasty words in the tool manufacturer's library the afternoon previous.

"I suppose he thinks I did it out of revenge," thought the young machinist; "but then there are men-like Andy Mosey, for instance-who have threatened far more than I. Guess I can clear myself-by an alibi, or some such evidence."

Nevertheless, he chafed under the thought of being a prisoner, and felt decidedly blue when Deb entered his mind. What would his sister think of his absence, and what would she say when told what had happened?

"Maybe I can send her word," he said to himself, and knocked loudly upon the door.

The watchman was just asleep on a sofa in an adjoining room and did not hear him.

Failing to attract attention in this way, Jack began to kick, and so vigorously did he apply his heels that he awoke the sleeper with such a start that he came running to the spot instantly.

"Can I send a message home?" asked the young machinist.

"Not till morning," was the surly reply; "is that all you want?"

"Yes. Isn't there any way at all?" persisted Jack. "I have a sister who will worry over my absence."

The man gaped and opened his eyes meditatively.

"You might if you was willing to pay for it," he replied, slowly.

"I have no money with me," replied Jack, feeling in his pockets to make sure.

"Have to wait till morning then," was the short reply, and the young machinist was once more left alone.

He was utterly tired out, and in the course of half an hour fell into a troubled slumber, from which he did not awaken until called.

"Some one to see you," were the watchman's words, and the door opened to admit Mont Gray.

Mont was a tall, thin young man. He had a large brow, deep, dark eyes, and a strangely earnest face. He was quiet in his way, attended punctually to his office duties, and was on much better terms with the hands at the tool works than his uncle had ever been. He was the only son of Mr. Felix Gray's youngest brother, who had died a widower some twelve years before-died, some said, and put out of the way, others whispered. That there was some mystery connected with those times was certain. Rumor had it that Felix Gray had crowded his brother out of the business in which he originally owned a half share. This transaction was followed by Monterey Gray's sudden disappearance. Felix Gray gave it as his opinion that his brother had departed for Australia, a place of which he had often spoken.

Young Mont-he was named after his father-had been taken to live with his uncle, who kept bachelor's hall in fine style.

The boy got along as best he could under the sharp guardianship of Mr. Felix Gray, who, as soon as he could, placed Mont at one of the desks, where he was now allowed to earn his board and four dollars a week.

His position at the tool works brought him into daily contact with Jack; and, during the past two years, a warm friendship had sprung up between them. He knew all about the young machinist's ambition, and had spent many an evening at the Willingtons' apartments watching Jack work, and chatting to Deb, with whom, as is known, he was on good terms.

"Hello, Mont!" exclaimed Jack, "what brings you here? Did your uncle send you?"

"Send me!" said the young man. "No, indeed! he doesn't even suspect I'm here; if he did he would raise a row, sure."

"Then you don't believe I'm guilty?" began Jack, somewhat relieved.

"Humph! Nonsense! I only wonder uncle Felix thinks so," returned Mont. "It seems to me that the evidence of a match safe is a mighty slim one."

This was news to the young machinist.

"Why, what about a match safe?" he asked.

"Didn't you hear?" was Mont's question, in surprise. "They found a match safe with your last name on it, in the basement."

Jack sprang up in astonishment.

"Was it a small silver safe, with a bear's head on one side, and a lion's on the other?" he asked.

"Yes; then it is yours?"

"Yes, it's mine. But I haven't seen it for nearly a month," burst out the young machinist. "I missed it out of my pocket, and suspected Andy Mosey of having taken it, though I could not prove it. But I see it all now. Mosey was speaking of revenge up at the bank yesterday morning, and he has done the deed, and used my property to throw suspicion on me."

"But he wouldn't do such a mean thing unless he had a grudge against you," remarked Mont.

"He has several of them. More than once, when he was drunk, and came interfering around my work, I threatened to report him. Besides, I have the job he always thought his son Mike should have."

"I see. But can you prove that he had the safe?"

"I don't think I can. But I believe I can prove that I lost it, and was home when the fire started?"

"Does Deb know you are here?" asked Mont, suddenly.

"Not unless some one else has let her know. Will you take her a note?"

"Certainly; I was going to suggest that very thing. I intended to call on her."

Jack took the sheet of paper that Mont supplied and wrote a few words of cheer to his sister.

"I'll tell her the particulars," said the young man, as he pocketed the letter. "Is there anything else you want done?"

"Nothing now. Maybe there will be later on."

"I'll do what I can for you," continued Mont, "even if my uncle doesn't like it;" and he stepped out of the cell.

Half an hour later Jack was brought out for examination. The court room was crowded with the now idle men, and many were the expressions of sympathy for the young machinist, and denunciation for Mr. Felix Gray's hasty action.

The tool manufacturer himself did not appear. The officer who made the arrest said that the excitement of the past two days had made the plaintiff quite ill.

The hearing was a brief one. The match safe was the only evidence produced against Jack, and as he had no means of proving his innocence then and there, it was decided to hold him to wait the action of the grand jury, three weeks later. Bail was fixed at one thousand dollars-a sum that was thought amply sufficient to keep any one from becoming his bondsman.

Meanwhile, Mont had delivered the note, as already recorded, and while being led out of the court room, Jack recognized the young man in the crowd, and an instant later found Deb at his side.

"Oh, Jack!" was all the poor girl could say, and clinging to his arms, she began to sob outright.

To see Deb cry made the young machinist feel worse than did his incarceration. He drew his sister to one side-away from the public gaze, and comforted her the best he could.

But the thought of going to prison was too terrifying to be subdued.

"Three weeks before they will hear what you have to say!" she exclaimed. "If you could only find that Mosey!"

"But he has left," put in Mont; "I tried everywhere to find him. Maybe you can get bail."

"I can't get it while I'm in prison," returned Jack, gloomily.

"I'll take you anywhere you wish to go," said the under-sheriff, who had him in charge. He was a married man, had daughters of his own, and Deb's anguish went straight to his heart.

Jack thought a moment. "Perhaps I might get Mr. Benton to go on my bond," he said.

The man he referred to was the wealthy speculator who had examined the model and praised the invention.

"But he would want security. Perhaps I'd have to sign over my rights to him," he continued with a sigh.

"It would be a shame to do that," said Mont. "You expect so much from the patent."

"But you wouldn't lose it unless you ran away," put in Deb; "and of course you're not going to do that."

Jack gave another sigh.

"I'll go and see him anyway," he said.

CHAPTER VI

HOME ONCE MORE

A little later Jack and Mont separated, and in company with the constable, the young machinist called on Mr. Benton at the Coney House.

The speculator listened attentively to Jack's story. He was shrewd, a close reader of human nature, and thought he saw a chance of securing a bargain or of placing the embryo inventor under obligation to him.

"Tell you what I'll do," he said. "Give me a paper securing to me your invention if you don't turn up at the proper time, and I'll go your bond, providing-" and here Mr. Benton paused.

"What?" asked Jack eagerly.

"Providing you give me a half interest in it now."

Jack staggered back.

"A half interest?"

"That's what I said."

"But, sir-"

"You haven't got to accept my offer if you don't wish to," was the apparent indifferent reply.

Had he thought only of himself Jack would have refused. To give up that for which he had worked for years was terribly hard.

But Deb, dear Deb, what would become of her if he did not accept?

"I'll do it," he said, shortly. And then, with a sudden thought: "But you must give me a money consideration."

"How much?" asked the man of means.

"One hundred dollars." Jack knew Mr. Benton would offer less.

"Too much! I'll give you twenty-five."

"No; a hundred."

"Make it fifty. I can't spare a cent more. Besides, the thing may not be worth a dollar."

"Or several thousand," put in Jack. "But I accept the offer."

"Very well. I'll pay you the money to-morrow. I'm short to-day."

Knowing that with all his sharp business practice Mr. Benton was a man of his word, the young machinist did not object to waiting for his cash.

In his excitement he forgot all about Mr. Hammerby and the rent that must be paid.

It was fully an hour before the necessary papers were drawn up and signed, and then with hasty steps Jack made his way home.

Deb met him at the door, and at once he had to give her the particulars of what had been done.

"Never mind, anything is better than having you in prison," she said when he had finished. "And it may be just as well to have Mr. Benton for a partner now as to give him the chance of getting the whole thing later on."

Deb was delighted to learn that they were to receive fifty dollars in cash the next day.

"I'll be so glad to get rid of that horrid agent," she declared, and showed Jack the notice to quit.

In looking it over he discovered that it had been dated the day before.

"The mean fellow!" he exclaimed. "He thinks to get us out one day sooner than the law allows. Won't he be astonished when I pull out the roll of bills and pay him?"

In anticipation of the money soon to be received, and in honor of Jack's release, Deb prepared quite an elaborate dinner.

It nearly took her breath away when she discovered that the outlay footed up to nearly a dollar-a large sum for them. But then her brother did delight in cutlets, with potatoes and green corn, and somehow the table wouldn't have looked complete without some stewed prunes and a pudding-dessert-the latter just fixed to tickle Jack's palate.

During the meal Mont slipped in, and was compelled to sit down with them. He was delighted to see the young machinist free, but shook his head over the price that had been paid for liberty.

"What do you intend to do now?" he asked.

"Find Andy Mosey, if I can, and have him arrested," replied Jack. "It is the only way, I believe, that I can clear myself."

"It isn't likely you will find him," remarked the young man. "He will no doubt keep shady for a while."

"I shan't look for him to-day, excepting to strike a clue," was the young machinist's reply.

After the meal was finished, and Mont had gone, Jack announced his intention to do the repairs that he had promised Farmer Farrell.

"I might as well do them at once," he said to Deb, "it will be several dollars in pocket, and we need all the money we can get now. If this case goes to trial I'll have to hire a lawyer, and they charge heavily."

"So, I've heard," replied Deb, "but I wouldn't mind that if only you get free."