Chester Rand; or, The New Path to Fortune

"I cannot yet tell. It will depend on the success I meet with in my business. I am afraid I may be absent four weeks."

"Don't hurry back," said Mullins. "I will keep things running."

"I rely upon your fidelity," said the broker, not without significance.

"You may be assured of that. I have been in your employ for over five years."

"And of course understand all the details of my business. That is true. Continue faithful to me and you will have no cause to repent it."

"Thank you, sir. You need have no anxiety."

"Chester," said Mr. Fairchild, "you may go with me as far as the station and carry my grip."

When they were outside, the broker said:

"I could have carried the grip myself, but I wished to have a parting word with you. Mr. Mullins is thoroughly acquainted with my business, but within the last six months I found myself distrusting him. In four weeks, for I shall be likely to be away that length of time, something may occur detrimental to my interests, and I heartily wish I had some one else in charge. I may rely upon you bearing in mind what I told you the other day?"

"Yes, sir; I won't forget."

"I know that you are faithful, and I only wish you understood the business well enough to be placed in charge."

"I wish so, too," said Chester, frankly.

"I think, however," Mr. Fairchild added, with a smile, "that it would be hardly prudent to trust my business to an office boy."

"You are already trusting me very much, Mr. Fairchild."

"Yes; I feel safe in doing so."

Chester took the grip up the Elevated stairway and parted with Mr. Fairchild at the ticket office.

As he went down to the street he reflected that his own position during the broker's absence might not be very comfortable. Still he had his employer's confidence, and that gave him much pleasure.

He had reached Harris' large store on his way home when a rakish-looking figure, springing from he knew not where, overtook and touched him on the arm. Chester immediately recognized him as the gambler with whom he had seen the bookkeeper walking on the evening of his first visit to the house of Prof. Hazlitt.

"I say, boy," said Ralston, "you're employed by Fairchild, the real estate man, ain't you?"

"Yes, sir," answered Chester, coldly.

"Didn't I see him going to the Elevated station with you just now?"

"Yes, sir."

"With a grip in his hand?"

"Yes."

"Is he off for a journey?"

"He has started for the West."

"So? I had business with him, but I suppose I can transact it with Mullins just as well."

"You will find him in the office."

"All right! I'll go there."

Chester turned his glance upon Dick Ralston and rapidly took note of his appearance. He was rather a stocky man, with a red, pimpled face, a broad nose, small, twinkling eyes and intensely black hair. He wore a "loud," striped sack suit, and on one of his pudgy fingers was a diamond ring. It was really a diamond, and he had often found it serviceable. When he was in very bad luck he pawned it for a comfortable sum, but invariably redeemed it when fortune smiled upon him again.

He followed Chester into the broker's office. Mullins sat on a stool at the desk, picking his teeth. He looked like a man of leisure, with little upon his mind.

"Hello, Mullins, old boy!" said Dick, pushing forward with extended hand. "So you're promoted to boss?"

"Yes," answered the bookkeeper, showing his teeth in a complacent smile. "Can I sell you a house this morning?"

"Well, not exactly. I'm not quite up to that in the present state of my funds. If you have on your list a one-story shanty on the rocks near Central Park I may invest."

"Cash down, or do you want to have part of the purchase money on mortgage?"

Then both laughed, and Ralston made a playful dig at Mullins' ribs.

Chester could not help hearing the conversation. He saw in it a proof of the friendly relations between the two. This, so far as he knew, was the first visit made by Ralston to Mr. Mullins. It was clear that the bookkeeper felt that such a caller would injure him in the eyes of Mr. Fairchild.

"I am glad old Fairchild is gone," said Dick Ralston, lowering his tone. "Now I can come in freely."

"Don't come in too often," replied Mullins, with a cautioning look at Chester. "It might–"

Chester lost the rest of the sentence.

"Send him out!" suggested Dick, in a still lower tone, but Chester caught the words.

"Chester," said the bookkeeper, "you may go up to the Fifth Avenue Hotel and ask at the office if Mr. Paul Perkins, of Minneapolis, has arrived?"

"Yes, sir."

After Chester went out, Ralston inquired, "Is there a man named Paul Perkins?"

"Not that I know of," answered Mullins, with a laugh.

"I see. You're a sharp fellow. You only wanted to get rid of the kid."

"Exactly. Now we can talk freely."

"That's what I came about. Do you know, Mullins, you are owing me seven hundred and fifty dollars?"

"Is it so much as that?" asked the bookkeeper, anxiously.

"Yes; I can show you the account. Now, to tell you the truth, Mullins, I'm in a tight fix, and my bank account needs replenishing."

"So does mine," returned Mullins, with a sickly smile.

Dick Ralston frowned slightly.

"No joking, please!" he said, roughly. "I'm in earnest."

"I don't see what I am going to do about it," muttered Mullins, defiantly.

"Don't you. Then perhaps I can help you by a suggestion."

"I wish you would."

"You are left in charge here during Mr. Fairchild's absence?"

"Well, suppose I am."

"And you handle the funds?"

"Yes."

"Then," and Dick Ralston bent over and whispered something in the bookkeeper's ear.

Mullins started, and looked agitated.

"What would you have me do?" he inquired.

"Borrow a little money from the office," answered Dick, coolly.

"But, good heavens, man, it would ruin me. Must you have me risk prison?"

"Don't be alarmed! I only want you to borrow two or three hundred dollars. You can return it before Fairchild gets back."

"How am I to return it?"

"You can win it back in one evening at the gaming table."

"Or lose more."

There was considerable further conversation, Dick Ralston urging, and Mullins feebly opposing something which the gambler proposed. Then a customer came in, who had to receive attention. Inside of an hour Chester re-entered the office, accompanied by a sandy-complexioned stranger, his head covered with a broad, flapping, Western sombrero, and wearing a long, brown beard descending at least eighteen inches.

"I hear you want to see me," he said to Mullins.

"Who are you?" asked the astonished bookkeeper.

"I am Paul Perkins, of Minneapolis," was the surprising reply.

CHAPTER XX.

PAUL PERKINS, OF MINNEAPOLIS

If a bomb had exploded in the office David Mullins and his friend Ralston could not have been more astonished than by the appearance of Paul Perkins, whose name was invented without the slightest idea that any such person existed.

Before relating what followed, a word of explanation is necessary.

Chester went to the Fifth Avenue Hotel without the slightest suspicion that he had been sent on a fool's errand. He imagined, indeed, that Mr. Mullins wanted to get rid of him, but did not doubt that there was such a man as Paul Perkins, and that he was expected to arrive at the Fifth Avenue Hotel.

He walked up Broadway in a leisurely manner, feeling that his hasty return was not desired. He reached the Fifth Avenue, and entering—it was the first time he had ever visited the hotel—went up to the desk.

The clerk was giving instructions to a bell boy, who was directed to carry a visitor's card to No. 221. When at leisure, Chester asked:

"Has Mr. Paul Perkins, of Minneapolis, arrived at the hotel?"

The clerk looked over the list of arrivals. Finally his forefinger stopped at an entry on the book.

"Yes," he answered, "he arrived last evening. Did you wish to see him?"

About this Chester was in doubt. He had only been asked to inquire if Mr. Perkins had arrived. He assumed, however, that the bookkeeper wished to see Mr. Perkins at the office. Accordingly he answered, "Yes, sir. I should like to see him."

The clerk rang a bell and another bell boy made his appearance.

"Write your name on a card," said the clerk, "and I will send it up."

"The gentleman won't know my name," said Chester.

"Then give the name of your firm."

So Chester, after slight hesitation, wrote:

"Chester Rand. From Clement Fairchild, Real Estate Broker."

"Take that up to 169," said the clerk to the bell boy.

In five minutes the boy returned.

"Mr. Perkins says you are to come upstairs to his room," he reported.

Chester followed the bell boy to the elevator.

He had never before ridden in such a conveyance and the sensation was a novel one. They got off at one of the upper floors, and Chester followed his guide to the door of a room near by.

The bell boy knocked.

"Come in," was heard from the inside.

Chester entered and found himself in the presence of a man of fifty, with a sandy complexion and thick, brown beard. He held the card in his hand, and was looking at it.

"Are you Chester Rand?" he asked, in a high-pitched voice.

"Yes, sir."

"And you come from Clement Fairchild?"

"Yes, sir."

"This is very curious. I never heard the name before."

Chester looked surprised.

"I can't explain it, sir," he said. "I was asked to come to the hotel and ask if you had arrived."

"Where is Mr. Fairchild's office?"

"On West Fourteenth Street."

"And he is a real estate broker?"

"Yes, sir."

"I don't understand what he wants of me, or how in the name of all that is curious he ever heard of me. I don't own any real estate, except a three-story house in which I live."

"Perhaps, sir, if you will go to the office with me you will get an explanation."

"Precisely. That is a very practical and sensible suggestion. Is it far off? I ask because I have never been in New York before."

"It is only about ten minutes' walk."

"Then I'll go with you, that is, if you can wait fifteen minutes while I finish writing a letter to my wife, apprising her of my safe arrival."

"Yes, sir, I am in no especial hurry."

"Then sit down, and—you may look at this," handing him the last copy of Puck.

Chester opened the paper eagerly, for Puck had accepted two of his sketches. He opened it at random, and his eye lighted up, for there was one of the two sketches handsomely reproduced. He uttered a little exclamation.

"What have you found?" asked Paul Perkins, looking up from his letter.

"This picture—is one of mine."

"You don't mean it!" exclaimed the man from Minneapolis, dropping his pen in surprise. "I thought you were an office boy."

"So I am, sir, but—sometimes I sell sketches to the illustrated papers."

"What did you get for this?"

"Seven dollars and a half. That is, I sold this and another for fifteen dollars."

"By the great horn spoon! but this is wonderful."

Chester did not feel called upon to say anything.

"How long did it take you to draw this picture?"

"A little over half an hour."

"Jerusalem! that is at the rate of ten dollars an hour. I am contented to make ten dollars a day."

"So should I be, sir. I don't draw all the time," said Chester, with a smile.

"I was going to ask if you wouldn't give me lessons in drawing and sketching."

"I should be afraid to, sir," laughed Chester. "You might prove a dangerous rival."

"You needn't be afraid. I can play as well as I can sing."

"I suppose you sing well, sir," said Chester, roguishly.

"You can judge. When I was a young man I thought I would practice singing a little in my room one night. The next morning my landlady said, in a tone of sympathy, 'I heard you groaning last night, Mr. Perkins. Did you have the toothache?'"

Chester burst into a hearty laugh.

"If that is the case," he said, "I won't be afraid of you as a rival in drawing."

Mr. Perkins set himself to finishing his letter, and in twenty minutes it was done.

"Now, I am ready," he said.

As they went downstairs, Chester observed, "I will ask you as a favor, Mr. Perkins, not to refer to my work in Puck, as it is not known at the office that I do any work outside."

"All right, my boy. By the way, how much do they pay you at the office?"

"Five dollars a week."

"Evidently it isn't as good a business as drawing."

"No, sir; but it is more reliable. I can't always satisfy the comic papers, and I am likely to have sketches left on my hands."

"Yes; that is a practical way of looking at it, and shows that you are a boy of sense. What sort of a man is Mr. Fairchild?"

"A very kind, considerate man, but I forgot to say that you won't see him."

"But I thought he sent you to call on me?"

"No, sir; Mr. Fairchild started for the West this morning. It was Mr. Mullins, the bookkeeper, who sent me."

"That complicates the mystery. Is he a good friend of yours?"

"No, sir; he dislikes me."

Mr. Perkins looked curious, and Chester, considerably to his own surprise, confided to him the story of his relations with the bookkeeper.

"He's a scamp!" commented the man from Minneapolis. "Why does Mr. Fairchild keep him. I wouldn't! I'd bounce him very quick."

"He has been with Mr. Fairchild five years and understands his business thoroughly."

"Well, there is something in that; but I wouldn't like to have in my employ a man whom I couldn't trust. Have you ever been out West?"

"No, sir."

"You ought to come out there. The city I represent is a smart one and no mistake. Of course you've heard of the rivalry between Minneapolis and St. Paul."

"Yes, sir."

"I don't take sides, for I live in both, but I think business facilities in Minneapolis are greater. I think you are a boy who would succeed at the West."

"I should like to go there some day. I own some property in Washington Territory."

"You do?" exclaimed Paul Perkins, in great surprise. "Whereabouts?"

"In Tacoma. I own some lots there."

"Then let me tell you, my boy, that you will be a rich man."

"But I thought prices of land in Tacoma were small."

"So they are—at present; but it is the future terminus of the Northern Pacific Railroad. When it is completed there will be a boom. How many lots do you own?"

"Five."

"Take my advice and hold on to them. What square is this?"

They had reached Seventeenth Street.

"Union Square."

"It's a pretty place. Is Tiffany's near here?"

"Yes, sir; only two blocks away. We shall pass it."

"All right! Point it out to me. I'm going to buy a gold watch for myself there. I've needed one for a long time, but I wanted the satisfaction of buying one at Tiffany's. Anything that is sold there must be A No. 1."

"I have no doubt of it, but I don't trade there much yet."

"No; you must wait till you have realized on your Western lots."

They turned down Fourteenth Street, and soon stood in front of Mr. Fairchild's office. They entered, and this brings us to the point where the last chapter ends.

CHAPTER XXI.

MR. PERKINS MAKES AN ACQUAINTANCE

Dick Ralston and the bookkeeper stared at their Western friend in undisguised amazement. Finally Mr. Mullins said, "What did I understand you to call yourself?"

"Paul Perkins, of Minneapolis."

"And—you are staying at the Fifth Avenue Hotel?"

"Certainly. Didn't you send this boy with a message?" said Mr. Perkins, rather impatiently.

"Ye-es."

"How did you know that I was coming to New York? That's what beats me."

Mullins began to appreciate the situation, and he was cudgeling his brains for an explanation. Finally one came.

"I may be misinformed, but I learned from a friend of yours that you were coming here with an intention of locating in our city. Now, as we are in the real estate business, I thought we would offer our services to find you a suitable house."

"Some friend of mine notified you of my coming to New York? Why, I started off on a sudden without consulting anyone. I don't see how anyone could give you the information."

"I won't undertake to explain it," said the bookkeeper. "I will only say that I am glad to meet you."

"Thank you! You are very polite. What was the name of the friend who spoke about me and my plans?"

"I have a poor memory for names, but I believe I have the gentleman's card in my desk."

He opened the desk and made an elaborate search for what he knew he should not find.

"It's no use," he said, after a pause. "It's disappeared."

"What was the appearance of the person?" persisted Mr. Perkins.

"He was—tall, and—yes, with a dark complexion and—and side whiskers."

"About how old?"

"I should say about forty."

"I know plenty of people answering that description. But how did he happen to call on you?"

"There you have me. He had some business with Mr. Fairchild, and unfortunately Mr. F. started West this morning."

"I see. I can get no clew to the mystery. However, I am glad to have made the acquaintance of this young man," indicating Chester.

"Oh, you mean our office boy," returned Mullins, coldly.

Just then Dick Ralston nudged the bookkeeper.

"Introduce me," he said, sotto voce.

The bookkeeper did not incline favorably to this request, but did not dare to refuse. Dick Ralston's appearance was decidedly against him, and his "loud" attire was in keeping with his face and manners.

"Mr. Perkins," said Mullins, "allow me to introduce my friend, Mr. Ralston."

"Glad to meet you, Mr. Ralston," said the man from Minneapolis, extending his hand, which Dick seized and pressed warmly.

"Proud to make your acquaintance, Mr. Perkins," rejoined the gambler. "I always did like Western people."

"Thank you. I am not Western by birth, though I went out to Minnesota when I was a mere boy."

"And I have no doubt you have prospered," said Ralston, who was really anxious to learn whether Mr. Perkins was well provided with money and was worth fleecing.

"Well, I don't complain," answered Perkins, in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I shall be glad to pay you any attentions," insinuated Ralston. "I know the ropes pretty well, and I flatter myself I can show you the town as well as anyone, eh, Mullins?"

"Oh, yes," assented the bookkeeper, not over cordially.

"I have no doubt of it, Mr. Ralston, and I take your offer kindly, but I am afraid I won't have time to go round much."

"Won't you go out and take a drink? Mullins, you go, too!"

"Thank you, but I don't drink—at any rate, when I am away from home. By the way, Mr.–" and he stopped short, for he did not remember the bookkeeper's name.

"Mr. Mullins," suggested that gentleman.

"You are misinformed about my wanting to locate in this city. New York's a right smart place, I admit, but give me Minneapolis. That suits me."

"All right, sir. I am misinformed, that's all."

"If you find my friend's card just write and let me know his name. I'd like to know who it is that knows so much about my plans."

"I will. Where shall I direct?"

"Oh, just direct to Minneapolis. I'm well known there. A letter will be sure to reach me."

"Shall you be at the hotel this evening, Mr. Perkins?" added Dick Ralston, who found it hard to give up his design upon his new acquaintance.

"I don't know. I haven't made any plans."

"I was thinking I might call upon you."

"Don't trouble yourself, Mr. Ralston. Probably you would not find me in."

Mr. Perkins was a tolerably shrewd man. He had "sized up" the gambler, and decided that he did not care to become any better acquainted with him.

"Just as you say," returned Dick Ralston, looking discomfited. "I thought perhaps I could make it pleasant for you."

"If I find I have time I can call at your place of business," said the man from Minneapolis, with a shrewd glance at the gambler.

"I have no place of business," returned Ralston, rather awkwardly. "I am a—a capitalist, and sometimes speculate in real estate. Don't I, Mullins?"

"Of course. By the way, I forgot to tell you that I have four lots on Ninety-sixth Street which would make a good investment."

"Ninety-sixth Street! Ahem, rather far uptown. What's the figure?"

"Five thousand dollars."

"I'll take a look at them as soon as I have time. You see, Mr. Perkins, I do all my real estate business through my friend, Mr. Mullins."

"Just so."

Neither Mr. Perkins nor Chester was taken in by Ralston's assumption of the character of a capitalist. The Western man had already a shrewd suspicion of the gambler's real business, and being a cautious and prudent man, did not care to cultivate him.

"Good-morning!" said Mr. Perkins. "I must not take up any more of your time. Will you allow Chester to go out with me for five minutes?"

"Certainly."

David Mullins would have liked to refuse, but had no good excuse for doing so.

"Don't stay long!" he said, rather sharply.

"I won't keep him long."

When they were in the street Mr. Perkins said: "I don't like the looks of that bookkeeper of yours."

"Nor do I," returned Chester.

"I wouldn't trust him any further than I could see him. Who was that Ralston? Have you ever seen him before?"

"Once. He doesn't come into the office when Mr. Fairchild is at home."

"Do you know anything about him?"

"I know—that is, I have heard that he is a well-known gambler."

"By the great horn spoon, if I didn't think so! He seemed very anxious to show me round the city."

"He would probably have taken you to a gambling house."

"Not if I was in my senses. I don't gamble, and I hope you don't."

"I shouldn't know how," answered Chester, with a smile.

"Have you any engagement for this evening?"

"No, sir."

"What time do you leave the office?"

"At five o'clock."

"Then come round to the hotel and take dinner with me. I don't know anyone in the city, and I shall be glad to have your company this evening. We will take a walk together, and you can show me what's worth seeing."

"Are you not afraid that I will take you to a gambling house?" asked Chester, with a smile.

"I'll risk it."

"You would find Mr. Ralston a better guide."

"But not so safe a one. I shall be satisfied with you."

When Chester returned to the office Mullins asked, sharply: "What did Perkins want to say to you?"

"He asked me to dine with him to-night at the Fifth Avenue Hotel."

"Speak a good word for me, Chester," said Ralston, with unusual affability. "I would like to become better acquainted with him."

"What shall I say, Mr. Ralston?"

"Tell him I am a prominent man, and expect to be nominated for Congress next fall."

This he said with a wink. Chester and the bookkeeper laughed.

"I'll tell him," said Chester.

CHAPTER XXII.

DICK RALSTON'S FATHER

When Chester followed Mr. Perkins into the great dining room of the Fifth Avenue he was rather dazzled by its size and the glistening appearance of the tables.

"I hope you have brought your appetite with you, Chester," said his Western friend. "The Fifth Avenue sets a good table."

"My appetite is sure to be good. I was kept so busy to-day that I had hardly time to buy a sandwich for lunch."

"All the better! You'll enjoy your meal. As for me, I don't have the appetite I do at home. There's nothing like a tramp on the open prairie to make a man feel peckish."

"Have you ever been in New York before, Mr. Perkins?"

"Not since I was a boy. I was born up Albany way, and came here when I was about your age. But, Lord, the New York of that day wasn't a circumstance to what it is now. There was no Elevated railroad then, nor horse cars either, for that matter, and where this hotel stands there was a riding school or something of that sort."

"Are you going to stay here long?"

"I go to Washington to-morrow, stopping at Philadelphia and Baltimore on the way. No. I have no business in Washington, but I think by the time a man is fifty odd he ought to see the capital of his country. I shall shake hands with the President, too, if I find him at home."