The Cleverdale Mystery: or, The Machine and Its Wheels: A Story of American Life

On his way to the bank, the Senator met many persons who inquired about the condition of Cashier Alden. To all inquiries he returned the same answer:

"Poor fellow, I am afraid he cannot live."

Entering the bank, Sargent said to him:

"By present indications our cashier will step out without our aid, eh?"

"It does look so, but he is a brave fellow after all. What is the latest, Sargent?"

"He awoke to consciousness at noon, complaining of his back, which Dr. Briar, upon examination, found seriously injured, and says his case is almost hopeless. He fears internal injuries, as Alden has a high fever – everything pointing to danger."

"It is sad, but may be for the best," was the reply, as Senator Hamblin entered his private office.

Greatly dejected and full of trouble, to him the future looked dark and portentous. Gladly would he have allowed his daughter to act from the dictation of her heart did he not think the fortune of Mannis would extricate him from the dilemma.

Poor, foolish man, he little knew Mannis was as "deep in the mire as he in the mud" of financial ruin.

When at first raising objections to Belle's forming an alliance with Alden, he fairly hated the innocent cause of his ire, but gradually his feelings underwent a change; his old affection for his child returning, and the brave feat of the cashier touching his heart, he longed for a way out of his trouble. Unable to entertain thoughts of bankruptcy, his pride and fear of disgrace made him plot against the cashier.

The full significance of his political victory lost sight of, he could not drive the one absorbing thought from his mind, namely, the marriage of his daughter with Mannis; beside saving him, it could be easily brought about were Alden disposed of.

For two days George Alden's life hung in the balance. Fannie and Belle remained constantly at his bedside. On the morning of the third day, Doctor Briar, after examining his patient, beckoned the two ladies to follow him to an adjoining room.

"Ladies," he said, "it is my duty to inform you, you have a very sick patient. Calm yourselves and do not give way to grief – but I fear he cannot recover. He should be told his danger, and I think I can trust you both to talk with him on this subject."

Belle drew a deep sigh, which found response in the heart of Fannie.

"Oh, save him, sir! if you can, for he is so dear to us. I cannot have him die. He is too noble and good," impulsively spoke Belle.

"Whatever can be done to save his life we shall do. All the good people of Cleverdale are praying for his recovery; let us hope their prayers may be answered, but as his physician I cannot speak encouragingly. He is a noble fellow, and I hope and pray it may be God's will to spare his life."

Bravely the two women repressed their grief, for both saw the necessity of great fortitude. The physician withdrew, and Belle and Fannie re-entered the sick-room, when Alden opened his eyes and in a low tone said:

"Belle, you look tired and anxious – are my injuries serious?"

"Yes, George, you are badly injured."

"Is there any possibility of my recovery?"

"We hope for the best, for oh! we could not spare you."

"By the anxiety on your faces, I feel my condition is very serious," he said feebly. "Oh, Belle, I wish you were my wife."

A shadow of deep pain crossed his features.

"Would you be happier were I your wife?" Belle asked.

"Happier! If I am to die I should be resigned to go and wait with outstretched arms for you to join me."

Belle, conversing with him a few moments longer, joined Fannie at the window, the two whispered together, when Belle, returning to the bedside, said:

"George, would you be entirely happy were I your wife?"

"Yes, I could even die happy, for I fear I am to live but a short time. Your faces tell me I am fatally injured. But it would be too much happiness to expect, to gaze upon you as my own wife."

Looking for a moment intently into his face, she gently raised his burned hand with her own, and said:

"George, I will be your wife, though myself is all I have to give."

Bending over the pillow, she touched the parched lips with her own, sealing her promise with a kiss.

"God bless you!" were all the words Alden uttered, as, closing his eyes, he fell back exhausted.

Belle joined Fannie in an adjoining room; the latter said:

"Dear Belle, you are a precious girl – but what will your parents say?"

"Mamma will not object, and for the present Papa must not know of it. It is all I can do for George."

She threw her arms about Fannie's neck, and a flood of tears followed. Mrs. Hamblin came later, and to her daughter's appeal for consent to the proposed marriage she yielded. She knew her husband would not approve the arrangement, but acting upon her own convictions she could not refuse.

None were present at the ceremony but Mrs. Hamblin, Fannie Alden, and the clergyman, besides the strangely joined pair.

The sufferer had been awake a long time, his eyes beaming with pleasure at the prospect of marriage with the girl he loved. The clergyman, approaching the bedside, commenced the ceremony. The mother trembled, and, turning to conceal her emotion, burst into tears at the moment the clergyman finished the ceremony.

The husband looking into the face of his wife, his eyes filled with joy, and he gasped:

"I – I – am so – so – happy!" and then lost consciousness.

Loving hands quickly applied restoratives, and in a few moments the sufferer opened his eyes, and said:

"I thought I was married – but it was only a dream."

"It is not a dream, for I am your wife," said Belle.

"Mine, all mine at last," he said, and the invisible angels hovering about his pillow recorded the nuptials in that book the entries in which can never be altered for earthly and dishonest purposes.

CHAPTER XXI.

SPOILS! SPOILS!

Christmas came, the day passing quiet and gloomy at the Alden home. The injured man grew worse and was delirious – living over the awful scenes of the fire many times during the day, and starting from his slumbers, crying out:

"Yes, they are saved, they are saved!" then he would moan, "Oh, how the fire burns my flesh! Take that big timber off my back! Must I perish? See, the iron door opens, the people are free – and I have saved them!"

For six days he was delirious, but just one week after the disaster he opened his eyes, looked about him, and in a weak voice said:

"Give me water."

His sister, standing near, raised a glass to his lips while he drank with a relish that he had not displayed since the disaster, his eye flashing with a little of its natural fire; and his sister felt there was really a change for the better. Full of hope, she could scarcely realize that the good symptoms were real.

"Where – where is Belle?" he asked.

"Watching over you constantly. She has gone home for a little rest, but will return in about two hours. Be quiet and go to sleep now; you are better, but must not exhaust yourself."

"Then she will certainly return?"

"Yes, but you must not talk more."

The patient closing his eyes, his sister seated herself at his bedside. Two hours later the young wife returned, and perceiving the happy look upon Fannie's face, said:

"What is it? Tell me quick: is he better?"

"Yes, he opened his eyes, asked for a glass of water, and then inquired for you; when told you would return in two hours, a look of joy crossed his face and he again closed his eyes. He has slept quietly ever since, and his fever has perceptibly gone down."

"Oh, that he may only live!" said Belle, while her eyes filled with tears of joy.

Both ladies entering the sick-room, a glance toward the bed assured them the patient was awake and awaiting their return. Belle, stooping over, kissed him, which greeting he returned with —

"You are so good, I am trying to get well for your sake," he whispered.

When Doctor Briar made his afternoon call he was greatly encouraged.

"He is better," he said, "and if kept quiet there is now strong hope of his recovery. Good nursing will do more for him than anything else."

From that day Alden gained slowly, and all Cleverdale was made happy by the good news that their hero was likely to recover. All? No; there was one exception.

Senator Hamblin, at his office, engaged in writing letters, looked troubled and dejected. He had just returned from the State Capitol, where he had attended the opening session of the Legislature. Before him lay many letters, some with seals unbroken. One in the well-known handwriting of Walter Mannis greatly interested him.

"He is anxious as ever to marry my daughter," he exclaimed. "He believes we will have a peaceful solution of the problem, but in that we have both reckoned wrong. When I left home a few days since, there was not the least possible hope of Alden's ever getting up again. It is a blind game, trying to discount fate. It seemed as if he would relieve us by going off in a regular and legitimate way, but he disappoints us and will remain. Why have I allowed Belle to attend him during his illness? She has not only compromised herself, but by this act I have sanctioned her course."

He lighted a cigar, and soon great clouds of smoke rose and circled over his head, while his pen lay idle beside him.

"Well," he whispered, "if he recovers it will be a bad go. If he could only look into the future, he would have no wish to live – but perhaps he may have a relapse."

Seeming to catch a gleam of hope, he resumed his cigar again, and continued to fill the room with clouds of smoke for at least ten minutes. Then suddenly rising, he said:

"There is no help for it: I must see that our programme is carried out. Sargent is ready to do his work, and I cannot let sentimentality make me lose sight of my own danger. Alden will no doubt recover, and there never will occur so good an opportunity as the present to make the necessary preparations to get rid of him. The hero-worship business is short, and by the time the good people of Cleverdale get through admiring the noble act of Cashier Alden, we will be ready with the trap."

Observing Sargent was alone, he said:

"I wish to speak with you for a few moments."

The teller entering the president's private office, the latter said:

"Have you thought over the matter we discussed the night before the fire?"

"Yes, sir, it has been on my mind a great deal."

"It is evident we must carry out our original intention, for I think Alden will recover."

"It looks that way now."

"Have you any plans to suggest?"

"Yes, I can alter his books – put worthless bonds among the securities, making it appear Alden has abstracted the currency they represent, and carry the transaction along on his books until discovered."

"How will you manage to clear yourself of any complicity?"

"That is easily accomplished. The figures can be altered to correspond with dates in September or August, when Alden was alone in the bank, and make it appear that the worthless bonds were placed among the collaterals at the time, and only discovered by the forced absence of the cashier."

"That is very good, Sargent. Public opinion and sympathy are so strong for Alden it will not do for him to remain here. When confronted with the accusation he must be induced to run away rather than face exposure. When he is accused of defalcation I can express sympathy for him – offer to make good the missing funds – even give him money with which to abscond."

"But, suppose he writes back to his friends – what then?"

"In that case we must plan to intercept his letters."

"That will be easily done, my brother being clerk in the post-office."

"Sargent, you are quick-witted. That will be the very thing; it is a most important point, and has bothered me considerably. We will do nothing until after I return home next week. By that time we shall know more about his chance of recovery."

A customer entering the bank, the conversation ceased.

The following Monday was cold and wintry, and before Senator Hamblin left Cleverdale for Albany he called at the bank and said to Sargent: "He is much better this morning, and we will plant our seed on Saturday."

During the week he was engrossed in his legislative duties. Being a recognized leader in his party, his late victory over both the opposition and stump candidate raised him higher than ever in the estimation of his fellow senators, and in the scramble for spoils of office his power was great. While there were scores of applicants for every office in the gift of the Senate or Legislature, those inducing Senator Hamblin, to espouse their cause were usually successful. The Senator was besieged by many callers, while every mail brought him letters asking help to obtain some position. Every senator and member possessed scores of friends seeking appointments. Mothers, sisters, wives and even children appealed personally to Senator Hamblin for aid, until he was nearly driven to distraction. It was impossible for him to move without encountering some one with a petition, for even when seated in the Senate Chamber, cards and letters were thrust into his hands by the pages, requesting interviews in the cloak-room. Every man who had peddled a vote on election day, asked another to support his candidate, or hurrahed at a political meeting, expected to share in the spoils. Every member unable to obtain positions for all his friends was declared ungrateful, and curses loud and deep were heaped upon his head.

Reader, did you ever visit your State Capitol at the organization of the Legislature, and see the scramble for spoils? A great army of hungry office-seekers, like sharks after a ship, appear even before the opening. Candidates for leading positions, such as speaker and clerks of the House, clerk of the Senate, postmasters, door-keepers and sergeant-at-arms, commence operations before the houses organize. Senators and Assemblymen are besieged and promises obtained from them to support some favorite candidate. Those seeking these places make pledges to support their helpers for subordinate positions, promising to help members voting for them to chairmanships of leading committees. It is a persistent scramble, and honor must take a back seat until the spoils are disposed of. After the leading offices are filled, the fight for subordinate places follows. Railroad trains from the North, South, East and West are laden with applicants accompanied by their backers. Chairmen of county committees, members of the State Committee, Assembly district, and town bosses, are all on hand to offer their assistance in arranging the "slates."

Senator Hamblin was in a dilemma. There were two applicants from Cleverdale for the same position; one backed by Paddy Sullivan, the other by Cyrus Hart Miller. Miller was his first and best man, but Senator Hamblin could not afford to ignore Paddy Sullivan. He expostulated and plead with them, but each was persistent and obstinate. Both were on the ground, and as the war for spoils raged, each felt sure of winning. A rupture with one or other of the favorites seemed imminent, when the affair was amicably arranged, at a cost to the Senator of several hundred dollars, paid to appease his powerful lieutenant, Paddy Sullivan.

The scramble for spoils continued several days, and when the Speaker of the House and the President of the Senate announced their appointments, the usual Swearing Bee began. Disappointed men vowed they would never again support the party, and that night, as the "Swearing Train" left the Capitol city, a long streak of sulphur must have arisen above the car roofs, and all supplied by the profanity of those who, if they had spent as much time in trying to obtain legitimate business employment as they had done in crawling at the heels of appointing powers, would have been richer, better, more useful and independent citizens.

CHAPTER XXII.

SAD FAREWELLS

George Alden improved slowly, his back having received serious injuries, from which Dr. Briar feared he would never fully recover. His faithful nurses were in constant attendance at his bedside, bestowing every attention that skill could suggest or loving hands perform. For many weeks he could not be moved. He became much emaciated, paroxysms of pain being of frequent occurrence and making opiates necessary.

Weeks passed, and spring was near at hand. Allowed to sit up for a short time each day, Alden looked from the window upon the street, enjoying every movement with delight known only to those confined for months upon beds of sickness and pain. Belle sat beside him reading aloud from a book, the patient watching her constantly, seemingly in a trance of worshipful devotion. His eyes sent forth sympathetic and tender glances, his heart catching every word that fell from the beautiful lips. Forgetting himself, he was held in transports of love, soon, alas! to be broken, leaving him a poor worshipper, removed far from his idol. Enjoying these precious hours, and watching the expression of love and happiness gathering upon the face of his young wife, he little thought she was to be the victim of the ambition and lost fortunes of two other men.

"Ah, Belle!" he said one day, "during all my sickness and suffering, I have passed many happy hours; will it always last?"

"I hope so, my dear husband; and when you recover we will publish our marriage, and then renew these happy moments without the attendant suffering."

"But must I be a cripple? Oh, the thought is agony to me. What should I do, a helpless person entirely dependent upon those I love? Even with all the precious hours I could enjoy with you and my dear sister, I should pray God to take me away."

"Do not talk of that. Dr. Briar says you will again be able to walk. Do for the present let your mind rest and be contented; your recovery depends entirely upon this."

"Yes, I know it, and were it not for my two good and loving nurses my mind long ere this would have given way. I am truly happy, yet I am so often reminded of the danger surrounding me that I cannot dispel the thought that I may be permanently helpless."

Belle, rising from her chair, approached him lovingly, placed her arm about his neck, and laughingly said:

"No more of such gloomy forebodings. If you wish to get well you must be happy and contented; if not your nurses will retire and send two snuff-taking, herb-giving hospital women to take care of you. How would you like that, my impatient prisoner?"

"That being too great a punishment, I will promise to obey my nurses, providing they will remain with me."

Week after week passing, the later spring began to send forth its balmy breezes. The snows of winter long since gone, and the birds returned from southern homes, the trees began taking on their garb of emerald, while the apple blossoms were bursting forth, soon to expand their germs into luscious fruit.

The factory had not been rebuilt, and much suffering had been experienced among families whose members were thrown out of employment by the disastrous fire of the previous fall.

The heavy loss to the Cleverdale Woollen Company forced several of its stockholders into bankruptcy, and the business interests of the village were more or less affected by the disaster. Naturally, everybody thought Senator Hamblin too solid financially to be disturbed by the loss of one hundred thousand dollars – the amount of his stock in the company – but had they seen him in the solitude of his office or home meditating over the critical condition of his business affairs, they would have formed a far different opinion. During the winter he had been obliged to raise large sums of money to prevent his own bank paper from going to protest, but with an unlimited credit he could command almost any desired amount. Men with funds lying idle were glad to place their money in the hands of as safe a man as they supposed him to be. Widows and factory operatives felt secure, could they induce the president of the Cleverdale Bank to take their savings and pay them interest. In this way Senator Hamblin succeeded in averting the calamity that would otherwise have overwhelmed him.

He borrowed heavily from the bank on the notes of his friends.

The limited amount a bank may loan to any one individual – as regulated by the National Banking law – is one tenth of its capital stock, but on notes of his friends President Hamblin had already borrowed three quarters of the bank's capital. Thus keeping himself apparently solvent, the people of Cleverdale looked upon him as the wealthiest man in the county, and being a shrewd actor in life's drama, by his conversation and general demeanor he succeeded in making good the impression of his wealth, bestowing gifts upon charitable objects with more liberality than ever before. The Hamblin Guards were his especial pride; he contributed largely to the company's support when occasion afforded opportunity for the organization to do credit to its patron. At the State Capitol he was the leader in numerous projects, and his power was felt on many occasions, when important bills had to be carried through both houses. He returned to his home nearly every Saturday, remaining until Monday. While appearing happy and at ease before the public, in private he was discontented and miserable. Inevitable ruin staring him in the face, he planned to avert the calamity by the assistance of Walter Mannis.

He delayed making final arrangements for disgracing the cashier, hoping the latter would die, but as months passed and the obstinate fellow refused to play the part assigned him, Senator Hamblin became petulant and cross because he was so long in getting well.

He constantly chided Belle for confining herself so closely to the sick-room.

"You must go away from home for a time. Your mother and yourself had better make preparations immediately for the long-talked-of visit to your aunt in Philadelphia," said he. "You need rest and recreation, my daughter."

"I cannot leave home at present; perhaps I may be able to go next month. George is improving rapidly and begins to walk about the room, and even talks of soon resuming his work at the bank."

"Tell him to hurry up, for I want to see the roses back again in your cheeks. You must have rest and at once."

As he turned and left the room, he failed to hear his daughter remark:

"What would Papa say did he know I was the wife of George Alden?"

Two weeks later George Alden, riding for the first time since his illness through the streets of the village, received many demonstrations of the esteem in which he was held. Not only were kind expressions uttered by men, but the "God bless you" of many an old woman reaching him touched his heart-strings. Each day's drive gave him new force, he grew stronger, and the danger of being crippled for life finally passed away.

One day, after he had returned from his drive, Belle sat at his side, where she had passed so many anxious hours.

"Belle, my darling," he said, "you look tired and careworn, your bright color has entirely vanished, and you need a change of air and scene. I am improving so rapidly now, you ought to go away for a while."

"Do you think so, George? Papa said the same thing to me a short time ago. He wants Mamma and me to visit his sister at Philadelphia, but I cannot endure the thought of leaving you."

"I am much better, and by another week hope to be able to resume my duties at the bank. Although I should greatly miss you, nevertheless you must promise to go, for you need it."

Fannie entering the room at that moment, her brother appealed to her. "Fannie, I am trying to persuade Belle to leave home for a short time. Her father also desires her to visit his sister; and she needs rest. Come, Fannie, be as decided with her as you have been with me, and she will not dare disobey."

Fannie laughingly replied, "Yes, my dear Belle, you must go, for it will greatly benefit your health. Get ready to go at once, for George will soon be able to go into the bank."

Belle consented, and returning home, told her mother of her determination. Mrs. Hamblin readily fell in with the arrangement; so dressmakers were called, and everything was done to make the ladies ready for the journey.

One week later George Alden declared himself able to resume his duties, but postponed returning to the bank until after the departure of his wife. Naturally enough he and Belle were constantly together, and were as one in dreading the separation.