Ben's Nugget; Or, A Boy's Search For Fortune

"She seems to be very good-looking," observed Mrs. Bradshaw.

"So she is, and if her mind were healthy I can imagine that she would be admired. As it is, her beauty counts for nothing."

"To be sure!"

"I hope to calm her down, and induce her without a violent disturbance to embark on the next steamer for New York with me. She won't listen to me now, but I shall call to-morrow forenoon and see how she appears. Meanwhile, she will probably try to bribe you to release her. She may promise you thousands, perhaps millions, of dollars, for it's all the same to her, poor thing! But of course you're too sensible a woman to be taken in by the promises of a crazy girl?"

"I should say so!" returned Mrs. Bradshaw, who was thoroughly deceived by the artful story of her employer, who, by the way, had promised her one hundred dollars for her co-operation in his scheme.

"She will probably tell you that she came to California in search of her lover, who is at the mines. Of course there is no such person, but she thinks there is."

"I understand," said the woman, confidently.

"I thought you would. Well, Mrs. Bradshaw, I will see you to-morrow. I am sure you are to be relied upon."

About six o'clock Mrs. Bradshaw carried up some supper to her prisoner.

"I hope you've got an appetite, miss," she said.

"Stay a moment," said Florence, eagerly. "I want to speak to you."

"Now it's coming," thought Mrs. Bradshaw, with some curiosity. She was rather taken aback by the first words of her prisoner:

"How much money has Mr. Orton Campbell promised to pay you for assisting him in his plot?"

"Well, I declare!" said Mrs. Bradshaw, bridling, for though she had been bribed she did not like to confess it.

"He is to pay me rent for this room," she said, after a pause.

"Then I am your lodger, am I?" asked Florence.

"I suppose so," answered the woman, rather embarrassed by this unexpected question.

"Very well, then. I don't think I care to occupy the room. I will pay you a week's rent out of my own purse, and leave you after supper."

"I think not," said Mrs. Bradshaw, decidedly.

"Then I am to consider myself your prisoner?"

"You may call it so if you like."

"It is just as well to call things by their right names. Of course Mr. Campbell has hired you to detain me here. Tell me how much he is to pay you, and I will pay you more to release me."

"Then you are rich, I suppose?" said the woman.

"Yes, I am rich."

Mrs. Bradshaw laughed. "You are worth several millions, I suppose?" she said, mockingly.

"Certainly not. Who told you so?"

"Mr. Campbell warned me that you would pretend you were rich."

"It is no pretence; I am rich, though at present his father has the greater part of my fortune under his charge."

"Oh, of course!" said the woman, laughing again. "I understand all about it."

"What has Orton Campbell told you?" asked Florence, suspiciously.

"He said you would pretend to be rich, and try to bribe me, though you were only a poor relation of his who would have gone to the poorhouse unless his father had supported you out of charity."

"He has deceived you, Mrs. Bradshaw. His father wanted me to marry this man in order to keep my fortune in his own family. That is why I ran away from his house."

"What made you come to California?" asked the woman.

"Because the man whom I really loved was at work somewhere in the mines."

"Ho! ho!" laughed Mrs. Bradshaw, loudly.

"Why do you laugh?"

"Because you are as crazy as a loon. Mr. Campbell told me just what you would say. He told me all about your stealing money from his father's desk, and running off to California after a lover in the mines. It's turned out exactly as he said."

"Did he dare to slander me in that way?" demanded Florence, so indignantly that her jailer drew back in some alarm.

"No violence, miss, if you please," she said. "You'd better be quiet, or you'll have to be tied."

"Good Heavens!" exclaimed Florence, "I would not have believed Orton Campbell so false and artful!"

"He's acting for your good, miss. So you'd better not make a fuss;" and the landlady left the room, not failing to lock the door securely behind her.

CHAPTER XXVII.

A STAR IN THE CLOUD

Meanwhile, though things looked dark for Florence and favorable for her persecutor, there was one circumstance that threatened failure to the latter's plans. Orton Campbell was a mean man, and his meanness in this instance worked against him. He had promised his confederate, Jones, a thousand dollars as the price of his information and co-operation, but intended all the while to avoid paying it if it were a possible thing. Of this sum seven hundred dollars were still due, besides an extra sum for the services of Jones in making Florence a captive.

It was in regard to these sums that Jones called on Mr. Campbell on the evening succeeding the success of the plot.

Orton Campbell was about to go out when Jones appeared at his hotel.

"I would like to see you a few minutes, Mr. Orton," said the man respectfully.

"You must come some other time, Jones," said Campbell, carelessly; "I've got an engagement."

"I must see you now, sir," said Jones, still respectfully, but in a resolute tone.

"'Must'?" repeated Orton Campbell, arching his brows. "You are impertinent."

"Call me what you please," said Jones, doggedly; "I'm not to be put off."

"What do you mean?" demanded his employer, angrily.

"You know well enough. I want the money you are owing me."

"You seem to be in a hurry," said Campbell, with a sneer.

"You don't," retorted Jones. "All I ask is that you will keep your promise."

"What promise do you refer to?"

"'What promise do I refer to?' You said if I would join you in kidnapping—"

"Hush!" said Orton looking around, apprehensive of listeners.

"The young lady," Jones continued, "you would pay me the seven hundred dollars you owed me, and two hundred dollars extra for my help."

Now, Orton Campbell knew very well that he had made this promise, but the payment of nine hundred dollars he dreaded as much as some of my readers would dread the extraction of half a dozen teeth. He had got all he needed from Jones, and he decided that it would be safe to throw him off. It might be dishonorable, but for that he cared little.

"I suppose you have my promise in writing, Jones?" he said, with a sneer.

"No, I haven't, Mr. Campbell."

"Then you can't prove that I owe you anything, I take it."

"You don't mean to say, Mr. Orton, you'd cheat a poor man out of his hard-earned money?" ejaculated Jones, who, in spite of his knowledge of his employer's character, could hardly believe his ears.

"I never intended to give you such an enormous sum for the little you have done for me."

"Didn't you promise it, sir?" demanded Jones, exasperated.

"Not that I remember," answered Campbell, coolly. "I should have been a fool to promise so large a sum. I paid your expenses out to California and three hundred dollars. That, I take it, is pretty liberal pay for your services for a month."

"I'll have justice if I live!" said Jones, furiously.

He looked so threatening that Orton Campbell thought it might be best to placate him, even at the expense of a small extra sum. "Don't be a fool, Jones," he said. "You know very well that your demands are beyond all reason. I've treated you very liberally already, but I don't mind doing a little more. I'll go so far as to give you fifty dollars down, and a further sum of one hundred dollars on my wedding-day if I marry Florence Douglas, if you'll be content with that."

"I won't be content with it, Orton Campbell," said Jones, indignantly; "I won't be content with anything less than the full sum you promised me. You'd better pay me at once, or you may see trouble."

Orton Campbell should have known that it was dangerous to trifle with a man so thoroughly roused as Jones was, but his love of money and dislike to part with it overcame every other consideration, and he said, "You've refused my offer, and I have done with you. You needn't come near me again."

"Do you mean this?" asked Jones, slowly.

"Of course I do. You have served my purpose, and been paid. I have offered you more, and you have refused it. That ends everything."

"I understand you now, Orton Campbell."

"Mr. Campbell, if you please," interrupted Campbell, haughtily.

"Mr. Campbell, then; and I am sorry I didn't know you better before, but it isn't too late yet."

"That's enough: you can go."

As Jones walked away Campbell asked himself, "What is the fellow going to do, I wonder? I suppose he will try to annoy me. Never mind: I have saved nine hundred dollars. That will more than cover all the damage he can do me."

It was about the same hour that a party of three, dusty and shabby, entered San Francisco, and made their way to a respectable but not prominent hotel.

"We look like three tramps, Ben," said Bradley. "Anywhere but in San Francisco I don't believe we could get lodged in any respectable hotel, but they'll know at once that we are from the mines, and may have a good store of gold-dust in spite of our looks."

"If my friends at home could see me now," said Ben, laughingly, "they wouldn't think I had found my trip to California profitable. It would give my friend Sam Sturgis a good deal of pleasure to think that I was a penniless adventurer."

"He might be disappointed when he heard that you were worth not far from a thousand dollars, Ben."

"He certainly would be. On the other hand, Uncle Job would be delighted. I wish I could walk into his little cottage and tell him all about it."

"When you go home, Ben, you must have more money to carry than you have now. A thousand dollars are all very well, but they are not quite enough to start business on."

"A year ago I should have felt immensely rich on a thousand dollars," said Ben, thoughtfully.

"No doubt; but you are young enough to wait a little longer. After our friend Dewey has seen his young lady and arranged matters we'll dust back to our friends, the miners who came near giving us a ticket to the next world, and see whether fortune won't favor us a little more."

"Agreed!" said Ben; "I shall be ready.—Shall you call on Miss Douglas this evening, Mr. Dewey?" asked Ben.

"Yes," answered Dewey. "I cannot bear to feel that I am in the same city and refrain from seeing her."

"Will she know you in your present rig?" suggested Bradley.

"I shall lose no time in buying a new outfit," said Dewey. "There must be shops where all articles of dress can be obtained ready-made."

"I was afraid you were going as you are," said Bradley. "Of course she'd be glad to see you, but she might be sensitive about her friends; and that wouldn't be agreeable to you, I'm thinkin'."

"I thank you for your kind suggestion, my good friend," said Dewey; "no doubt you are right."

Richard Dewey swallowed a hasty supper, and then sought the clothing shops, where he had no difficulty in procuring a ready-made outfit. So many persons came from the mines in his condition, desiring similar accommodation, that he was not required to go far to secure what he wanted.

Then, having obtained from Ben the proper directions, he took his way to the house of Mrs. Armstrong, which he reached about eight o'clock.

"Can I see Miss Florence Douglas?" he asked.

Mrs. Armstrong, hearing the request, came herself to the door. She was feeling anxious about the prolonged absence of her young friend.

"May I ask your name, sir?" she inquired.

"Richard Dewey."

"'Richard Dewey'?" repeated Mrs. Armstrong, in amazement. "Why, I thought you were sick in bed!"

"What made you think so?" asked Dewey, in equal amazement.

"Your own note. Miss Douglas, on receiving it, went away at once with the messenger, and has not returned."

"I have sent no note, and no messenger has come from me. I don't understand you," said Richard Dewey, bewildered.

It was soon explained, and the bitter disappointment of Dewey may well be imagined. This feeling was mingled with one of apprehension for the personal safety of the young lady.

"This is indeed alarming," he ejaculated. "Who can have planned such an outrage?"

"I will tell you, sir," said a voice.

Turning quickly, Richard Dewey's glance rested upon Jones.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

JONES CHECKMATES ORTON CAMPBELL

"Who are you?" inquired Richard Dewey, not favorably impressed by the appearance of the man who addressed him.

"You wouldn't know if I should tell you," said Jones; "so I may as well say that I came out to San Francisco with Orton Campbell."

"Orton Campbell in the city?" exclaimed Dewey, apprehensively. "Had he anything to do with the disappearance of Miss Douglas?"

"Everything, sir; but I can't tell you about it in the street. I will go with you to your hotel."

"Tell me on the way," said Richard Dewey. "First, has any harm befallen Florence—Miss Douglas?"

"None as yet."

"Is any threatened?"

"The loss of her liberty; but I will help you to thwart Orton Campbell."

Jones told the story, which need not be repeated here, as it is already known to the reader. He had difficulty in restraining Mr. Dewey from starting out instantly to the rescue of the young lady, but on his representing that she was safe, and that it would be soon enough to go out in the morning, Richard Dewey yielded.

A little before eight o'clock, Jones, driving the same carriage in which he had conveyed Florence to her place of captivity, halted in front of Mrs. Bradshaw's dwelling.

"Remain in the carriage, Mr. Dewey," he said, "and I will see if I can't secure the young lady without any fuss."

"Won't it be better for me to accompany you?"

"I think not, sir. Mrs. Bradshaw knows I am the one who brought Miss Douglas here, and she will think it is all right. Stay!" he continued, with a sudden thought. "I have an idea. Mr. Campbell told Mrs. Bradshaw that the young lady was insane. I will make her think that you are the doctor from the asylum come to take Miss Douglas back with you."

"Did Orton Campbell really intend such an outrage?" asked Richard Dewey, in a tone of horror.

"Yes, if Miss Douglas wouldn't consent to marry him."

"Go, then, and lose no time."

Jones knocked at the door, which was opened by Mrs. Bradshaw in person. She naturally regarded Jones with surprise, not anticipating so early a call.

"How is Miss Douglas?" he asked.

"Very contrary," answered the landlady. "I can't get her to eat. It's my belief she means to starve herself."

"It's a crazy freak," said Jones, shrugging his shoulders. "Well, I've come to take her away."

"To take her away—so soon?" asked Mrs. Bradshaw, in surprise.

"Yes, Mr. Orton thought it best."

"Is he with you?"

"No."

"I think I see some one in the carriage."

"To be sure. It's the mad doctor from the asylum. Don't let Miss Douglas know it," continued Jones, lowering his voice, "or she wouldn't consent to go with us."

"I see," answered the landlady, nodding. "Do you want to go up now?"

"Yes; let me see her alone, so that I can tell her a story which will quiet her suspicions."

"Mr. Campbell hasn't paid me all he promised yet," said Mrs. Bradshaw, rather uneasily.

"Oh, that's all right," said Jones. "He never forgets his promise—and seldom keeps it," he said to himself.

Florence was sitting on the lounge in her room in rather a despondent state of mind when the door opened, and she looked up, expecting to see Orton Campbell.

Jones closed the door behind him, and then, putting his hand over his lips, said, "Miss Douglas, I bring you good news."

"Are you not the man who brought me out here yesterday?"

"The same one."

"Then how have you the face to show yourself in my presence?"

"Because I am come to free you from your imprisonment."

Florence started to her feet in some excitement. "If this were true!" she exclaimed. "But no; you are an agent of Orton Campbell, and this is some new trick of his."

"I was an agent of Orton Campbell, but he deceived me, and I am his enemy."

"Is he with you?" asked Florence, suspiciously.

"No; but in the carriage outside is one whom you will be glad to meet."

"Who is it?"

"Richard Dewey."

"You brought me a note from him which he never wrote. How do you expect me to believe you now?"

"If he is not there, don't get into the carriage. Not a word to Mrs. Bradshaw. She is in the employ of Mr. Campbell, who represented you as insane, and I told her that Mr. Dewey, whom I did not dare to bring in, was a doctor from the insane asylum."

"Are you sure you are not deceiving me?" said Florence, earnestly.

"I am on the square, miss, but you can easily convince yourself by coming down stairs. If you prefer to remain here till nine o'clock, when Orton Campbell will be here, you can do so."

"No, no! anything better than that!"

Mrs. Bradshaw watched the exit of her guest with a peculiar look. "She little knows where she's going," thought the woman. "Well, if she's crazy, it's the best place for her."

As may easily be imagined, there was scant leave-taking. Florence was eager to leave this shabby cabin, where she had passed a night of anxious solicitude.

She approached the carriage, and Jones opened the door. She looked in, and saw Dewey, who said in a low voice, "Get in at once, Florence, but keep silent till we are on our way."

An expression of joy came over her face as she saw this most convincing proof of her driver's good faith. He mounted the box and drove rapidly off.

On their way back to San Francisco the two who had been so long separated had ample time to compare notes and form plans for the future.

"Florence," said Richard Dewey, "after this treachery of Orton Campbell there is but one way of safety for you."

"And what is that?"

"Let me become your legal protector, and at once. When we are married your guardian will be powerless. He will have me to deal with then, not a defenceless girl."

"But, Richard, this seems so sudden!"

"It ought not to, Florence. Have we not waited for each other long enough? Have we not been separated long enough? I am not much richer than when I left you—not so rich," he added, smiling, "as your other suitor, Orton Campbell."

"I will marry you if only to get rid of him, Richard," said Florence, impetuously.

"I won't quarrel with your motives, since you consent."

So it happened that on their arrival in San Francisco they directed Jones to drive to the house of a clergyman, and were speedily united in marriage, the clergyman's wife and daughter being witnesses. Circumstances compelled them to dispense with the usual "cards and cake."

At nine o'clock, Orton Campbell, secure of his prey, drove up to Mrs. Bradshaw's door and leisurely descended.

"Well, and how is Miss Douglas this morning?" he asked of the astonished landlady.

"How is she? She's gone."

"What!" ejaculated Orton, furiously; "you have dared to let her escape?"

"You sent for her yourself. She went away with the mad doctor."

"'The mad doctor'? I don't know anything about any mad doctor. Woman, you are deceiving me."

"Don't call me woman!" said Mrs. Bradshaw, offensively, putting her arms akimbo. "I'm no more a woman than you are."

"Then you'd better dress differently," sneered Campbell. "Tell me what all this means."

"The man that drove the lady out here yesterday came here more than an hour ago and said you had sent for her. He said there was a doctor in the carriage who would take her to the asylum. That corresponded with what you told me, and I let her go."

"That scoundrel Jones!" exclaimed Orton Campbell. "So this is his revenge? I must go back to the city at once and circumvent him if I can."

He was about to go when Mrs. Bradshaw said, "Before you go you'd better pay me what you promised."

"I won't pay you a cent," said Campbell, angrily.

"Jack!"

The word spoken by the woman brought a rough-looking man to the carriage-door.

"This man says he won't pay me a cent, Jack," said Mrs. Bradshaw.

"You'd better reconsider that, stranger," said Jack, pulling out a revolver and fingering it significantly.

"I owe her nothing," said Orton Campbell, surveying the revolver uneasily. "If she had kept the young lady here, it would have been different."

"If there's a trick been played on you, my wife ain't goin' to suffer by it. She's earned the money, stranger, and I'll give you just two minutes to pay it over."

Orton Campbell read something in the man's face that convinced him he was not to be trifled with. With many an inward groan he drew out one hundred dollars from his purse and handed it over.

"That's all right, stranger," said Jack, coolly. "I thought you'd be reasonable. Short reckonings make long friends."

With a muttered imprecation Orton Campbell sharply ordered his driver to turn the horses' heads toward San Francisco and make his way there as quickly as possible. His thoughts were by no means pleasant company. He had just been forced to pay out a considerable sum without value received, and was beginning to think the sum paid to Jones also money thrown away.

CHAPTER XXIX.

A WEDDING RECEPTION

Orton Campbell cursed his folly in arousing the hostility of Jones. He concluded that the latter had released Florence in order to obtain a hold upon him, and would be ready to assist him again if satisfactorily paid. In that event all was not lost. It was necessary to see Jones as early as possible and make matters right with him.

He was not quite clear as to where Jones could be found, but concluded that he had carried Florence back to her boarding-house. He therefore ordered his driver to proceed at once to the house of Mrs. Armstrong.

He hastily descended from the carriage and rang the bell.

It was answered by Mrs. Armstrong in person, who regarded him with no very friendly eye.

Orton Campbell, knowing his own treachery, and conscious that it was also known to the lady before him, asked, in some embarrassment, "Is Miss Douglas here?"

"No, sir."

Orton Campbell looked surprised. "I—I thought she might be here," he stammered.

"Were you the person who lured her from my house yesterday by a false letter?" demanded Mrs. Armstrong, sternly.

"No," answered Campbell, unblushingly; "it was an agent of mine, who has deceived and betrayed me."

"Then, you had nothing to do with the disappearance of the young lady?"

"Certainly not," answered Orton Campbell, boldly. "I assure you it has given me great concern, and I have been riding hither and thither this morning in search of her."

"Won't you come in, sir? Perhaps we may be able to throw some light on this mystery."

"She believes me," thought Orton Campbell, congratulating himself on the effect of his duplicity.—"Certainly," he answered; "I shall be most happy to do so."

He was ushered into the parlor, into which, five minutes later, entered Florence, Richard Dewey, and a gentleman of clerical appearance.

"Miss Douglas!" exclaimed Orton Campbell, in astonishment.—"I thought you said," turning to Mrs. Armstrong, "that Miss Douglas was not here?"

"I am not Miss Douglas," said Florence, quietly.

"I don't understand you."

"Perhaps I can explain the mystery," said Richard Dewey, coming forward.

"I wish you would, if you can," said Orton Campbell, with a sneer.

"This young lady is my wife."

"Your wife? And who are you?"

"Richard Dewey, at your service."

Orton Campbell had never known Dewey well, and his life at the mines had so changed his appearance that it was not surprising he did not recognize him.

"Is this true?" he asked, in visible dismay. "When were you married?"

"Half an hour since, by this gentleman;" and Richard Dewey waved his hand in the direction of the clerical gentleman already referred to.

"You have done a good stroke of business, sir," said Campbell, with a sneer and a look of baffled hatred. "The lady's fortune makes her a good match."

"So you evidently thought, sir," answered Dewey. "Your unscrupulous methods have not succeeded, and I beg to warn you that the lady now has a protector who will punish any such persecution as that with which you have recently visited her."