Cast Upon the Breakers

“Ah, indeed! Then you are not in that business now?”

“No, I got tired of it. I deal in quite a different article now.”

“Indeed?”

“Suburban lot.”

“You don’t happen to have any of them with you?”

The stout man roared with laughter, giving Rodney the impression that he had said a very witty thing.

“That’s a good one,” he remarked, “the best I’ve heard for a long time. No, I haven’t any of the lots with me, but I’ve got a circular. Just cast your eye over that,” and he drew a large and showy prospectus from his pocket.

“If you should be looking for a good investment,” he continued, “you can’t do any better than buy a lot at Morton Park. It is only eighteen miles from the city and is rapidly building up. You can buy lot on easy installments, and I will myself pick one out for you that is almost sure to double in value in a year or two.”

“Thank you,” said Rodney, “but I shall have to invest my money, if I get any, in a different way.”

“As what for instance?”

“In board and lodging.”

“Good. That is even more necessary than real estate.”

“How long have you been in the business, sir?”

“About six months.”

“And how does it pay?”

“Very well, if you know how to talk.”

“I should think you might do well, then.”

“Thank you. I appreciate the compliment. What business are you going into, that is, if you are going to the city?”

“I am going to the city, but I have no idea yet what I shall do.”

“Perhaps you may like to become an agent for our lots. I shall be ready to employ you as sub agent if you feel disposed.”

“Thank you, sir. If you will give me your card, I may call upon you.”

The short man drew from his card case a business card. It bore the name

ADIN WOODS. ROYAL BUILDING. NASSAU ST. Morton Park Lots.

“Come to see me at any time,” he said, “and we will talk the matter over.”

Here the train boy came along and Rodney bought a copy of Puck, while the agent resumed the perusal of a copy of a magazine. For an hour the cars ran smoothly. Then there was a sudden shock causing all the passengers to start to their feet.

“We’re off the track!” shouted an excitable person in front of Rodney.

The instinct of self preservation is perhaps stronger than any other. Rodney and his seat mate both jumped to their feet and hurried to the door of the car, not knowing what was in store for them.

But fortunately the train had not been going rapidly. It was approaching a station and was “slowing up.” So, though it had really run off the track, there was not likely to be any injury to the passengers.

“We are safe,” said Adin Woods. “The only harm done is the delay. I hope that won’t be long. Suppose we go back to our seat.” They returned to the seat which they had jointly occupied.

Then Rodney made an alarming discovery. “My casket!” he exclaimed. “Where is it?”

“What did you do with it?”

“Left it on the seat.”

“It may have fallen to the floor.”

Rodney searched for it in feverish excitement, but his search was vain. THE CASKET HAD DISAPPEARED!

CHAPTER IV

IN PURSUIT OF A THIEF

“Were the contents of the casket valuable?” asked the land agent.

“Yes; it contained my mother’s jewels, all the more valuable because she is dead,” replied Rodney.

“Were they of much intrinsic worth?”

“They must be worth several hundred dollars at least.”

“Then they must be found,” said Adin Woods energetically. “They have evidently been taken by some passenger during the five minutes we were away from our seat.”

“Were you inquiring about the casket?” asked a lady sitting opposite.

“Yes, madam. Can you give any information about it?”

“Just after you left your seat the man that sat behind you rose and reaching over for it went to the rear end of the car and got out.”

“I wish you had stopped him, madam.”

“He was so cool about it that I thought he might be a friend of the young gentleman.”

“I didn’t know him. He must have been a thief.”

“What was his appearance, madam?” asked the lot agent.

“He was a thin, dark complexioned man, with side whiskers coming half way down his cheeks.”

“And you say he got out of the rear end of the car?”

“Yes, sir.”

“He won’t get on the train again,” said the agent turning to Rodney. “He thinks the casket valuable enough to pay him for the interruption of his journey.”

“What shall I do then?” asked Rodney, feeling helpless and at a loss which way to turn.

“Follow him,” said the agent briefly. “He will probably stop over in the village a day and resume his journey tomorrow.”

“Even if I found him I am afraid I shouldn’t know how to deal with him.”

“Then I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll stop over with you and help you make it hot for him. I’ve had a spite against thieves ever since I had a valuable overcoat stolen in one of my journeys.”

“I shall feel very much obliged to you, Mr. Woods, but won’t it interfere with your business?”

“Not materially. If we succeed in overhauling the rascal I shall feel sufficiently repaid for the small interruption. But come on, we can’t afford to linger here while he is carrying off the plunder.”

“I don’t know how I can repay you, Mr. Woods,” said Rodney gratefully.

“You can buy a lot of me when you get rich enough.”

“I will certainly do so, though I am afraid it will be a long time first.”

“You don’t know what good fortune may be in store for you. Did you notice, madam, in which direction the thief went?”

“Yes, I was looking out of the window. He went over the road to the left.”

“That leads to the village. You will see, Mr. Ropes, that I was right about his plans.”

“Don’t call me Mr. Ropes. Call me Rodney.”

“I will. It don’t seem natural to dub a boy Mr. Now, Rodney, follow me.”

The two passengers set out on the road that led to the village. They could see the latter easily, for it was not more than a mile away.

“He will be surprised to think we have ‘struck his trail’ so quick,” said the agent.

“Where shall we go first?”

“To the hotel if there is one.”

“The village seems small.”

“Yes, there are only a few hundred inhabitant probably. It is not a place where a traveler would be likely to interrupt his journey unless he had a special object in doing so, like our dishonest friend. However, I think we shall be able to balk his little game.”

Ten minutes’ walk brought them to the village. Looking about they saw a small hotel just across the way from a neat white chapel.

“Follow me,” said the agent.

They went into the public room in which there was a small office.

The book of arrivals was open, and Adin Woods went forward and examined it. Silently he pointed to a name evidently just written, for the ink was scarcely dry. This was the name: Louis Wheeler, Philadelphia.

“This may or may not be his real name,” said Mr. Woods in a low voice.

“Do you wish to register, gentlemen?” asked the clerk.

“We will take dinner, and if we decide to stay will register later. By the way, I recognize this name, but it may not be the man I suppose.”

“Yes, the gentleman just registered.”

“Would you mind describing him?”

“He was a tall, dark man as near as I can remember.”

“And he carried a small casket in his hand?”

“Yes, and a gripsack.”

“Oh yes,” said the agent his face lighting up with satisfaction. “It is the man I mean—where is he now?”

“In his room.”

“Did he say how long he intended to stay?”

“No, sir. He said nothing about his plans.”

“Did he seem specially careful about the casket?”

“Yes, sir. He carried that in his hands, but let the servant carry up the gripsack.”

“My friend,” said the agent in an impressive tone, “I am going to surprise you.”

The country clerk looked all curiosity.

“Is it about Mr. Wheeler?” he asked.

“Yes, the man is a thief. He stole the casket, which contains valuable jewelry, from my young friend here. We are here to demand a return of the property or to arrest him. Is there a policeman within call?”

“I can summon a constable.”

“Do so, but don’t breathe a word of what I have told you.”

The clerk called a boy in from the street and gave him instructions in a low voice. He went at once on his errand, and in ten minutes a stout broad shouldered man made his appearance.

“This gentleman sent for you, Mr. Barlow,” said the clerk.

“What can I do for you?” asked the constable.

“Help me to recover stolen property.”

“That I will do with pleasure if you will tell me what you want me to do.”

Adin Woods held a brief conference with the constable, then he led the way up stairs, followed immediately by Rodney, while the constable kept a little behind.

“His room is No. 9,” said the bell boy.

The agent paused before the door of No. 9, and knocked.

“Come in!” said a voice.

The agent opened the door, and entered, accompanied by Rodney. A glance showed that the occupant answered the description given by the lady in the car.

Louis Wheeler changed color, for he recognized both the agent and Rodney.

“What is your business?” he asked in a tone which he tried to make indifferent.

“That,” answered Woods, pointing to the jewel casket on the bureau.

It looked to him as if Wheeler, if that was his name, had been trying to open it.

“I don’t understand.”

“Then I will try to make things clear to you. You have, doubtless by accident” he emphasized the last word, “taken from the car a casket belonging to my young friend here.”

“You are mistaken, sir,” said Wheeler with brazen hardihood. “That casket belongs to me.”

“Indeed. What does it contain?”

“I fail to see how that is any of your business,” returned Wheeler, determined, if possible, to bluff off his visitors.

“I admire your cheek, sir. I really do. But I am too old a traveler to be taken in by such tricks. I propose to have that casket.”

“Well, sir, you are the most impudent thief and burglar I ever met. You break into a gentleman’s room, and undertake to carry off his private property. Unless you go out at once, I will have you arrested.”

“That you can do very readily, for I have an officer within call.”

Louis Wheeler changed color. He began to see that the situation was getting serious.

“There is a great mistake here,” he said.

“I agree with you.”

The agent went to the door, and called “Constable Barlow.”

The constable promptly presented himself.

“Do you want me, sir?” he asked.

“That depends on this gentleman here. If he will peacefully restore to my young friend here yonder jewel casket I am willing to let him go. Otherwise—” and he glanced at Wheeler significantly.

“Perhaps I have made a mistake,” admitted the thief. “I had a casket exactly like this. Possibly I have taken the wrong one.”

“I have the key to the casket here,” said Rodney, “and I can tell you without opening it what it contains.”

“What did yours contain?” asked the agent.

“Jewelry,” answered Wheeler shortly.

“What articles?”

“Never mind. I am inclined to think this casket belongs to the boy.”

“Rodney, you can take it and Mr. Wheeler will probably find his where he left it.”

No objection was made, and the discomfited thief was left a prey to mortification and disappointment.

Rodney handed a dollar to the constable which that worthy official received with thanks, and he and the agent resumed their journey by an afternoon train. They saw nothing further of Louis Wheeler who sent for dinner to be served in his room.

CHAPTER V

A YOUNG FINANCIAL WRECK

“You have been very fortunate in recovering your jewels,” said the agent.

“I owe it to you,” replied Rodney gratefully.

“Well, perhaps so. If I have rendered you a service I am very glad.”

“And I am very glad to have found so good a friend. I hope you will let me pay for your ticket to New York.”

“It won’t be necessary. The interruption of our journey won’t invalidate the ticket we have.”

An hour later they reached New York.

“What are your plans, Rodney?” asked Adin Woods, who by this time had become quite intimate with his young companion.

“I shall call on my guardian, and perhaps he may give me some advice as to what I do. Where would you advise me to go—to a hotel?”

“No; it will be too expensive. I know of a plain boarding house on West Fourteenth Street where you can be accommodated with lodging and two meals—breakfast and supper, or dinner as we call it here—for a dollar a day.”

“I shall be glad to go there, for the present, at least. I haven’t much money, and must find something to do as soon as possible.”

“We will both go there, and if you don’t object we will take a room together. That will give us a larger apartment. Mrs. Marcy is an old acquaintance of mine, and will give you a welcome.”

Rodney was glad to accept his companion’s proposal. They proceeded at once to the boarding house, and fortunately found a good room vacant on the third floor. Mr. Woods went out in the evening to make a call, but Rodney was glad to go to bed at nine o’clock.

The next morning after breakfast Rodney consulted his companion as to what he should do with the casket.

“Do you want to raise money on it?” asked the agent.

“No; I shall not do this unless I am obliged to.”

“Have you any idea as to the value of the jewels?”

“No.”

“Then I will take you first to a jeweler in Maiden Lane, a friend of mine, who will appraise them. Afterwards I advise you to deposit the casket at a storage warehouse, or get Tiffany to keep it for you.”

“I will do as you suggest.”

Maiden Lane is a street largely devoted to jewelers, wholesale and retail. Rodney followed Mr. Woods into a store about midway between Broadway and Nassau Street. A pleasant looking man of middle age greeted the agent cordially.

“What can I do for you?” he asked. “Do you wish to buy a diamond ring for the future Mrs. Woods?”

“Not much. I would like to have you appraise some jewelry belonging to my young friend here.”

The casket was opened, and the jeweler examined the contents admiringly.

“This is choice jewelry,” he said. “Does your friend wish to sell?”

“Not at present,” answered Rodney.

“When you do give me a call. I will treat you fairly. You wish me to appraise these articles?”

“Yes, sir, if you will.”

“It will take me perhaps fifteen minutes.”

The jeweler retired to the back part of the store with the casket.

In about a quarter of an hour he returned.

“Of course I can’t give exact figures,” he said, “but I value the jewelry at about twelve hundred dollars.”

Rodney looked surprised.

“I didn’t think it so valuable,” he said.

“I don’t mean that you could sell it for so much, but if you wish to dispose of it I will venture to give you eleven hundred.”

“Thank you. If I decide to sell I will certainly come to you.”

“Now,” said the agent, “I advise you on the whole to store the casket with Tiffany.”

“Shall I have to pay storage in advance?” asked Rodney anxiously.

“I think not. The value of the jewels will be a sufficient guarantee that storage will be paid.”

Rodney accompanied Adin Woods to the great jewelry store on the corner of Fifteenth Street and Union Square, and soon transacted his business.

“Now, you won’t have any anxiety as to the safety of the casket,” said the agent. “Your friend of the train will find it difficult to get hold of the jewels. Now I shall have to leave you, as I have some business to attend to. We will meet at supper.”

Rodney decided to call at the office of his late guardian, Benjamin Fielding. It was in the lower part of the city.

On his way down town he purchased a copy of a morning paper. Almost the first article he glanced at proved to be of especial interest to him. It was headed—

SKIPPED TO CANADA

Rumors have been rife for some time affecting the business standing of Mr. Benjamin Fielding, the well known commission merchant. Yesterday it was discovered that he had left the city, but where he has gone is unknown. It is believed that he is very deeply involved, and seeing no way out of his embarrassment has skipped to Canada, or perhaps taken passage to Europe. Probably his creditors will appoint a committee to look into his affairs and report what can be done.

LATER—An open letter has been found in Mr. Fielding’s desk, addressed to his creditors. It expresses regret for their losses, and promises, if his life is spared, and fortune favors him, to do all in his power to make them good. No one doubts Mr. Fielding’s integrity, and regrets are expressed that he did not remain in the city and help unravel the tangle in which his affairs are involved. He is a man of ability, and as he is still in the prime of life, it may be that he will be able to redeem his promises and pay his debts in full, if sufficient time is given him.

“I can get no help or advice from Mr. Fielding,” thought Rodney. “I am thrown upon my own resources, and must fight the battle of life as well as I can alone.”

He got out in front of the Astor House. As he left the car he soiled his shoes with the mud so characteristic of New York streets.

“Shine your boots?” asked a young Arab, glancing with a business eye at Rodney’s spattered shoes.

Rodney accepted his offer, not so much because he thought the blacking would last, as for the opportunity of questioning the free and independent young citizen who was doing, what he hoped to do, that is, making a living for himself.

“Is business good with you?” asked Rodney. “It ought to be with the street in this condition.”

“Yes; me and de Street Commissioner is in league together. He makes business good for me.”

“And do you pay him a commission?” asked Rodney smiling.

“I can’t tell no official secrets. It might be bad for me.”

“You are an original genius.”

“Am I? I hope you ain’t callin’ me names.”

“Oh no. I am only paying you a compliment. What is your name?”

“Mike Flynn.”

“Were do you live, Mike?”

“At the Lodge.”

“I suppose you mean at the Newsboys’ ‘Lodge?’”

“Yes.”

“How much do you have to pay there?”

“Six cents for lodgin’, and six cents for supper and breakfast.”

“That is, six cents for each.”

“Yes; you ain’t comin’ to live there, are you?” asked Mike.

“I don’t know—I may have to.”

“You’re jokin’.”

“What makes you think I am joking?”

“Because you’re a swell. Look at them clo’es!”

“I have a good suit of clothes, to be sure, but I haven’t much money. You are better off than I am.”

“How’s that?” asked Mike incredulously.

“You’ve got work to do, and I am earning nothing.”

“If you’ve got money enough to buy a box and brush, you can go in with me.”

“I don’t think I should like it, Mike. It would spoil my clothes, and I am afraid I wouldn’t have money enough to buy others.”

“I keep my dress suit at home—the one I wear to parties.”

“Haven’t you got any father or mother, Mike? How does it happen that you are living in New York alone?”

“My farder is dead, and me mudder, she married a man wot ain’t no good. He’d bate me till I couldn’t stand it. So I just run away.”

“Where does your mother live?”

“In Albany.”

“Some time when you earn money enough you can ask her to come here and live with you.”

“They don’t take women at the Lodge.”

“No, I suppose not,” said Rodney, smiling.

“Besides she’s got two little girls by her new husband, and she wouldn’t want to leave them.”

By this time the shine was completed, and Rodney paid Mike.

“If I ever come to the Lodge, I’ll ask for you,” he said.

“Where do you live now?”

“I’m just staying at a place on Fourteenth Street, but I can’t afford to stay there long, for they charge a dollar a day.”

“Geewholliker, that would bust me, and make me a financial wreck as the papers say.”

“How did you lose your fortune and get reduced to blacking boots?” asked Rodney jocosely.

“I got scooped out of it in Wall Street,” answered Mike. “Jay Gould cleaned me out.”

“And I suppose now he has added your fortune to his.”

“You’ve hit it boss.”

“Well, good day, Mike, I’ll see you again some day–”

“All right! I’m in my office all de mornin’.”

CHAPTER VI

AN IMPUDENT ADVENTURER

While Rodney was talking with Mike Flynn he was an object of attention to a man who stood near the corner of Barclay Street, and was ostensibly looking in at the window of the drug store. As Rodney turned away he recognized him at once as his enterprising fellow traveler who had taken possession of the casket of jewels.

He did not care to keep up an acquaintance with him, and started to cross the street. But the other came forward smiling, and with a nod said: “I believe you are the young man I met yesterday in the cars and afterwards at Kentville?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I just wanted to tell you that I had got back my jewel box, the one for which I mistook yours.”

“Indeed!” said Rodney, who did not believe a word the fellow said.

“Quite an amusing mistake, I made.”

“It might have proved serious to me.”

“Very true, as I shouldn’t have known where to find you to restore your property.”

“I don’t think that would have troubled you much,” thought Rodney. “Where did you find your box?” he asked.

“In the car. That is, the conductor picked it up and left it at the depot for me. Where are you staying here in the city? At the Astor House?”

“No, I have found a boarding house on West Fourteenth Street.”

“If it is a good place, I should like to go there. What is the number?”

“I can’t recall it, though I could find it,” answered Rodney with reserve, for he had no wish to have his railroad acquaintance in the house.

“Is the gentleman who was traveling with you there also?”

“Yes, sir.”

“He is a very pleasant gentleman, though he misjudged me. Ha, ha! my friends will be very much amused when I tell them that I was taken for a thief. Why, I venture to say that my box is more valuable than yours.”

“Very likely,” said Rodney coldly. “Good morning.”

“Good morning. I hope we may meet again.”

Rodney nodded, but he could not in sincerity echo the wish.

He was now confronted by a serious problem. He had less than ten dollars in his pocketbook, and this would soon be swallowed up by the necessary expenses of life in a large city. What would he do when that was gone?

It was clear that he must go to work as soon as possible. If his guardian had remained in the city, probably through his influence a situation might have been secured. Now nothing was to be looked for in that quarter.

He bought a morning paper and looked over the Want Column. He found two places within a short distance of the Astor House, and called at each. One was in a railroad office.

“My boy,” said the manager, a pleasant looking man, “the place was taken hours since. You don’t seem to get up very early in the morning.”

“I could get up at any hour that was necessary,” replied Rodney, “but I have only just made up my mind to apply for a position.”

“You won’t meet with any luck today. It is too late. Get up bright and early tomorrow morning, buy a paper, and make early application for any place that strikes you as desirable.”

“Thank you, sir. I am sure your advice is good.”

“If you had been the first to call here, I should have taken you. I like your appearance better than that of the boy I have selected.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“This boy may not prove satisfactory. Call in six days, just before his week expires, and if there is likely to be a vacancy I will let you know.”

“Thank you, sir. You are very kind.”

“I always sympathize with boys. I have two boys of my own.”

This conversation quite encouraged Rodney. It seemed to promise success in the future. If he had probably impressed one man, he might be equally fortunate with another.

It was about half past twelve when he passed through Nassau Street.

All at once his arm was grasped, and a cheery voice said, “Where are you going, Rodney?”

“Mr. Woods!” he exclaimed, with pleased recognition.

“Yes, it’s your old friend Woods.”