Ralph Raymond's Heir

"You sent for me, sir?" he said interrogatively, as he entered.

"Yes, Robert, take a seat. I wish to speak to you," said his guardian.

The boy obeyed, and looked inquiringly in the face of Paul Morton to see what he had to communicate.

"It is desirable," he said, "that we should speak together of your future arrangements. It is for that purpose I have sent for you this morning."

"I suppose I shall go back to the school where my father placed me," said Robert.

"Ahem!" said his guardian, "that we can settle presently. I have not yet decided upon that point."

"It is a very good school, sir. I think it was my father's intention that I should remain there for at least two years longer."

"He never spoke to me on that subject. He thought it would be safe to trust to my judgment in the matter."

"Then I am not to go back?" said Robert, in some disappointment.

"I do not say that. I only say that I have not yet decided upon that point. Even if you go back you need not go at once."

"I shall fall behind my class," said Robert.

"You are young yet, and there is no hurry. For the present I have another plan in view for you."

"What is it, Mr. Morton?"

"Come here a minute. I want you to look at some views I have here."

In some surprise the boy came to his side; for the remark seemed to have no connection with the plan his guardian had referred to just now.

Mr. Morton drew from a drawer in his desk a collection of views of Niagara Falls, and spread them before his ward.

"Have you ever visited Niagara, Robert?" he asked.

"No, sir."

"Here are some views of the cataract. It is a beautiful sight."

"Oh, yes, sir," said Robert; "I have heard a great deal of it, and I have often thought I should like to see it."

"Well, your wish is likely to be gratified," said his guardian.

"Do you mean to let me visit it, then?" asked the boy, looking up with eager and animated inquiry.

"Yes; I have observed that your father's death has naturally weighed upon your mind, and depressed your spirits. If you should go back to school now, you would not be in a fitting frame to resume your studies. I think a little change and variety would do you good. For this reason I intend to let you go on a journey, not only to Niagara, but still farther West."

"You are very kind, Mr. Morton," said Robert; "but," he added, with momentary hesitation, "would it be quite right for me to go on a pleasure excursion so soon after the death of my poor father?"

"Your father would, I am sure, approve it," said his guardian. "Because your mind is diverted by pleasant scenery, it will not follow that you have forgotten your father."

"No, I shall never forget him as long as I live."

"So you see there is no objection on that score."

"Are you going with me, Mr. Morton?" asked Robert, suddenly.

"No, I am unable to leave my business for so long."

"Am I going alone?"

"No, you are too young for that. I have a friend," Mr. Morton was about to say; but after a pause he said, "acquaintance, who is to start at once on a trip to the West, and I shall place you under his charge."

"Who is it, sir?"

"A young man named Cromwell."

"How soon are we to start?"

"Probably in a day or two. You can look over your wardrobe, and see if you need any new clothes, and can get them before you leave New York."

"Yes, sir."

Robert left his guardian's presence in better spirits than he had entered. The prospect of a journey was very agreeable, for he had all a boy's love of new scenes, and it added to his pleasure, though he hardly admitted it to himself, that his guardian was not able to accompany him. He hardly knew why it was, but, although he had been told that Mr. Morton was his father's intimate friend, and had no reason to doubt the truth of this statement, he found it impossible to like him. Indeed, there was a half feeling of repugnance which he was dimly conscious of, and had tried to overcome, but without success. This feeling was not so strange as it appeared to him. It was the natural repugnance of a frank and innocent boy to the double dealing and false nature of a selfish man of the world.

Shortly after Robert left the presence of his guardian, James Cromwell was once more ushered into it.

He was no longer the threadbare clerk, but had provided himself with a new suit of clothes, which looked, indeed, better than his former array; but no clothing, however costly, could change the appearance of his mean and insignificant features, and give him the air of a gentleman.

"I have waited upon you early, Mr. Morton," he said.

"Not too early," answered the merchant. "Indeed, I may say that I am anxious to complete our arrangements, and put the boy under your care as soon as possible. The fact is, that with my business cares the additional burden of a ward is not very welcome. If it had not been the son of my intimate friend, I might have declined the trust; but under the circumstances I did not think I ought to do so."

James Cromwell listened to this statement from the lips of his employer in silence. It is needless to say that he did not believe one word of it; but it was for his interest now to appear to credit whatever Mr. Morton chose to say, and he accordingly did not think it politic to indicate in any way his real feelings.

"Yes, it is a great care in addition to by business responsibilities," proceeded the merchant; "but I shall feel in a great measure relieved when Robert is once placed under your charge."

"Does he know that he is going with me?" inquired Cromwell.

"I have just had an interview with him. He has been at a boarding-school on the Hudson River, and he supposed he was going back. When I told him that I had another plan for him, he was at first disappointed."

"Did you tell him what the plan was?"

"Not precisely. I showed him some views of Niagara Falls, and asked him if he would like to visit the cataract. He said that he would. I then told him that previous to his going back to school I intended to let him have a little journey,—visiting the Falls, and going as far as Indiana. He was pleased with this prospect."

"Does he know he is going with me?"

"I mentioned that I had asked an acquaintance of mine to take charge of him. I shall introduce you as that acquaintance."

"You intend then, Mr. Morton, that we shall take Niagara Falls on the way?" said James Cromwell.

"Yes; I think it will be a pleasant arrangement for you, no doubt, if you have never seen the Falls."

"No, I have never seen them."

"And besides, it will make the journey seem more plausible to Robert. He need not know until you get to your journey's end that he is not coming back."

"How shall it be communicated to him?"

"I think I will give you a letter to him which you can let him read when the proper time comes."

"When do you wish me to start?"

"As soon as possible—day after to-morrow. You can be ready, can you not?"

"I can be ready at any time. I have very few arrangements to make."

"I should like to show you some views of Niagara, which I have here, Mr. Cromwell," said Paul Morton. "Will you step to the table?"

The clerk left his seat, and advanced to the side of the merchant's chair.

"There," said Paul Morton, looking over the views, and selecting one, "is a view of Goat Island. You will no doubt visit that?"

"Yes, sir; we will try to see all that is worth seeing."

"I think," said Paul Morton, slowly, "I have heard of a man—or a boy—who was standing here one day, and chanced to lose his footing, and fell over the cataract. Horrible, was it not?"

He looked significantly in the face of his companion. James Cromwell's face grew pale, as he comprehended the infernal meaning of this speech, and he echoed the word "Horrible."

"I just mentioned it," said the merchant, "for boys are apt to be careless, and it occurred to me that perhaps Robert might be in danger of a similar accident."

CHAPTER XI.

GOLD VERSUS CRIME

James Cromwell did not reply to the merchant's speech. Not that he was so much appalled at the wickedness suggested, as that his nature, which was a timid one, shrank with timidity from undertaking so hazardous a crime. He hardly knew what to think or what to say. In fact, it was most politic for him to be silent, for, with such artfulness had Paul Morton conveyed the suggestion to the mind of his confederate, that he appeared only to be counselling prudence, and to be actuated by a kind desire to protect his boy-ward from possible danger. He had so guarded himself that he could at any time boldly deny having counselled violence, and turn upon his instrument with the unblushing assertion—"Thou canst not say I did it."

Paul Morton, seeing the sudden pallor of his companion, knew that his purpose had been accomplished, and went on to other matters.

"I think," he said, "that you will be able to start on the day after to-morrow. I will see that Robert is ready, and if you will come around by nine o'clock, there will be ample time to take the middle train."

"Very well," said Cromwell. "I will bear in mind what you say, Mr. Morton."

"And now, I think, Mr. Cromwell, I shall be obliged to leave you, as my business, which I have neglected of late, requires my attention."

James Cromwell took the hint, and left the house. He fell into a fit of musing, as he rode downtown on a street-car.

"Shall I do this thing which he wants of me?" he said to himself. "There would be danger in it, and there is something ugly in the thought of murder. Still, ten thousand dollars would set me up in life. Besides, I should still have a hold on Mr. Morton. Ah, it would be pleasant to be rich! No more miserable drudgery, no more cringing to an employer who cares no more for you than for a dog, and perhaps treats you no better! Money, money is a blessed thing. It brings independence; with it you can lift your head erect, and walk proudly among men, who are always ready to doff their hats to a man who is backed up by wealth. Yes, it is worth something to gain it, but then—murder!"

Here James Cromwell shuddered, and imprisonment, trial, conviction and the gallows, loomed up, an ugly and forbidding picture, before him. So weighed was his imagination with the terrors of the scene which he had conjured up before him, that when he was aroused from his musings by a slap on the shoulder, he started, and turned a terror-stricken countenance to the face that bent over him. He fancied for a moment that the terrible tragedy had been accomplished, and that the touch was that of a policeman who had been sent to arrest him.

"Why, Cromwell, what's the matter?" asked the other, in wonder. "You look as pale and scared as a ghost."

"Is it you, Hodgson?" said Cromwell, with an air of relief.

"Who did you think it was? You didn't think a policeman was after you, did you?" said Hodgson, jocosely.

"Oh, dear, no!" said Cromwell, laughing faintly. "I am not afraid of anything from that quarter. But the fact is, I have been getting nervous lately, and I think my health is affected."

"Why are you not in the shop? Got a furlough?"

"Yes, a permanent one. I resigned my situation on account of my health."

"Indeed! I don't see but you look about as usual—that is, now, though a minute ago, you looked pale enough."

"You can't always judge by appearances," said James Cromwell, shaking his head.

"Well, what are your plans? You haven't retired on a fortune, have you?"

"Not exactly. Still I am not wholly without resources. I think of going out West."

"Do you?"

"Yes, I think the change may benefit my health."

"Well, I hope it will. I don't know but I shall go myself, if I can find an opening. If you find anything you think will suit me, I wish you would let me know."

"All right. I will bear you in mind."

"Good-bye. I get out here. Good luck to you!"

The young man, who was salesman in a shoe-store, got out of the car, and James Cromwell rode on to his destination.

When he reached the small room which he had been compelled to call home, because he could afford nothing better, he looked with disdain on its scanty and shabby furniture, and said to himself:

"Thank Heaven, I shall not long be compelled to live in such a hole! That reminds me that I must give warning to my landlady."

He went down, encountering a careworn and shabbily-attired woman on the stairs.

"I was just looking for you, Mrs. Warren," he said. "I am intending to leave you this week."

"Indeed!" said the landlady. "I hope you are not dissatisfied, Mr. Cromwell?"

"No; that is not my reason for going. I am going to leave the city."

"Indeed, sir! have you left your place?" asked the woman, in surprise.

"Yes, I have been obliged to on account of my health."

"I am sorry to hear it, sir. What is the matter with you?"

"I expect it is the confinement."

"I am sorry to lose you, sir. I find it hard to keep my rooms full. If you know of any of your friends who would like a room, I hope you will send them to me."

"I will, certainly."

"When were you expecting to leave, Mr. Cromwell?"

"Day after to-morrow, but I will pay you up to the end of the week."

"Thank you, sir."

The landlady went away sighing at the loss of one who represented to her so many dollars a month, and James Cromwell went up again to his little room. He sat down on the bed, and indulged himself in pleasant thoughts.

"What a change has come over my prospects!" he said, complacently. "Three weeks ago I was a poor clerk on a miserable salary of ten dollars a week. Now, fortune has opened her doors, and there is a prospect of my acquiring an independence, and that without much trouble. It was a lucky day when Paul Morton came into our shop. It is well that my employer was not there, or I should have been unable to act with the promptness which has bettered my fortunes so materially. It isn't every one who would have improved so shrewdly such a chance. I must say that, at least, to the credit of my shrewdness. Would Paul Morton even have thought of intrusting his ward to me, if I had not let him know that I had a hold upon him, and meant to make use of it? In that hold lies a pile of money, and I mean to squeeze it out of him. I don't think he will deal unfairly by me. He must know that it would not be safe."

Money was the god of James Cromwell's idolatry. He had been in early life a poor orphan, reared in a poorhouse, kicked and cuffed by older boys, who sneered at him on account of his poverty. Later, he was apprenticed to a druggist, and served a hard apprenticeship, poorly fed and clothed. When he reached manhood, he came to New York to try his fortune, but his unpromising personal appearance stood in the way of his obtaining a desirable situation. At last, when he was reduced to his last dollar, he obtained a situation as assistant in the small store on the Bowery, where we found him at the commencement of the story, on a salary of six dollars a week. He had remained there for several years, and still his compensation had only reached the low figure of ten dollars a week.

He had pined for riches, and dreamed what he should do if he ever could amass a moderate sum of money, but three weeks since, it seemed very improbable whether he would ever be able to compass what he so feverishly longed for.

Thus all the circumstances of his past life had prepared him to become the pliant tool of Paul Morton's schemes. In his case, as in so many others, the love of money was likely to become the root of all evil.

So, with weak and vacillating timidity, drawn on by the lust for gold, James Cromwell thought over the proposal which had been made to him, weighing the risk against the gain proffered, and the more he thought, the stronger grew the power of the temptation, and the greater became the peril which menaced the life of Robert Raymond.

CHAPTER XII.

ON GOAT ISLAND

"Robert," said his guardian, "this is Mr. Cromwell, who is to take charge of you on the journey. Mr. Cromwell, this is my ward, whom I hope you will find a pleasant traveling companion."

"How do you do?" said James Cromwell, holding out his hand rather stiffly to the boy.

"I am well, thank you," said Robert, looking with curiosity, and it must be confessed, disappointment, at the young man who was to be his companion.

He had hoped that he would be a congenial person, with whom he might be on terms of pleasant familiarity; but when he looked at the small, ferreting eyes and mean features of James Cromwell, his first impressions were unfavorable. Every man's face is to a certain extent indicative of his disposition and prevailing traits; and Robert, who was quicker than most boys in reading character, concluded without delay, that the companion with which his guardian had provided him would not be to his taste. Still, he possessed a great deal of natural courtesy and politeness, and he determined to conceal this feeling as well as he might, and treat Mr. Cromwell with as much respect and politeness as if he had liked him better. Though he would have liked to travel with a different person, still, the natural scenery which he would behold would be none the less attractive, and would afford him some compensation for the absence of a congenial companion.

James Cromwell was on his side not without sharpness of insight. As he met the boy's gaze with the glance of his small ferret-like eyes, he perceived the look of disappointment, however carefully it was veiled, and with the spite of a small, mean mind, it inspired him with instant dislike for Robert. Instead of determining to win his confidence and regard by kindness, he resolved as soon as he fairly had him in his power, to annoy him by petty tyranny, and so wreak vengeance upon him for the feelings which he could not help. But the time for this had not yet come. He knew that policy dictated a courteous and polite treatment for the present. Accordingly he said in a soft voice:

"I hope I shall be able to make Mr. Raymond's time pass pleasantly."

"Thank you," said Robert, politely.

"Oh, I have no doubt you will get on well together," said Mr. Morton. "Robert, I shall expect you to follow the directions of Mr. Cromwell, as I have confidence that he will act with good judgment."

Robert bowed.

"I have obtained tickets for you by the middle train," proceeded the merchant. "Here they are, Mr. Cromwell."

"Thank you, sir," said Cromwell, taking them and putting them in his pocket.

"You will remain at Niagara two or three days if you like," continued Paul Morton. "I have no doubt you will enjoy yourself. What do you say, Robert?"

"I shall be sure to enjoy it," said Robert, with animation.

"So shall I," said Cromwell. "I have never visited the Falls."

"Well," said the merchant, drawing on his gloves, "I am sorry, but I shall be obliged to leave you. I have considerable business awaiting me at my counting-room. I have ordered a carriage at eleven to convey you with your trunks to the railroad depot. Good-bye, Robert, good-bye, Mr. Cromwell. A pleasant journey to you."

"Good-bye, sir," said both.

"Oh, by the way, Mr. Cromwell," said the merchant, turning as he reached the door, and looking significantly at Cromwell, "if you meet with any mishap, telegraph me at once."

Again a greenish pallor overspread the face of James Cromwell, for he understood the allusion, and his cowardly nature recoiled with fear, not with abhorrence.

"Yes, sir," he said, "I will remember."

"Once more, good-bye, then," and Paul Morton closed the door behind him.

"I hope I shall never see that boy alive again," he said to himself. "Once get him out of the way and the money is mine. A hundred and twenty thousand dollars will be a great windfall to me. To be sure, there will be ten thousand to pay to Cromwell, but it will leave over a hundred thousand. Egad! it would be a capital arrangement if they both would tumble over the Falls together. It would be the best joke of the season."

And Paul Morton laughed to himself, a low, wicked laugh, at the prospect of the two from whom he had just parted being hurled together into a death so frightful, and all that he might gain money. As if human life were to be weighed against perishing dross! Yet every day life is bartered for it; not always criminally, but sacrificed by overwork, or undue risk, so insatiable is the hunger for gold, and so desperate are the efforts by which men seek to obtain it.

In due time they reached the station, and entering one of the long cars, selected their seats. They did not sit down together, but took seats directly in front of each other, giving a window to each.

"I suppose I ought to say something to him," thought Robert, "but I don't know what to say."

Indeed, there seemed to be no common ground on which they could meet. With some persons the boy would have been engaged in animated conversation long before this, but he seemed to have nothing to say to James Cromwell.

"Do you like traveling, Mr. Cromwell?" he asked, at length.

"Pretty well," said Cromwell.

"I think we shall have a pleasant journey."

"Yes; I expect so."

"Do you know when we shall reach Niagara, Mr. Cromwell?"

"I think Mr. Morton said it would take us about twenty-four hours."

"Then we shall get there about this time to-morrow."

"Yes; we shall be all night on the cars."

"I am sorry for that, for we shall lose the scenery on the way—I mean, that we pass through during the night."

Here the conversation dropped. James Cromwell bought a paper from a boy who came through the cars, and began to read. Robert, with all the eager interest of his age, employed himself in looking out of the window, watching the fields and houses among which they were wending their rapid way.

It will be unnecessary to chronicle the incidents of the journey, for there were none worth mentioning. In due time they reached Niagara, and secured rooms at the principal hotel on the American side.

It was afternoon, and they only went round a little before supper. They decided to defer the principal part of their sightseeing until the next day.

The next day was pleasant. Together the two walked about, enjoying views of the cataract from various points.

At length Cromwell said, "How would you like to go to Goat Island? I am told the view is fine from there."

"I should like it very much. Suppose we go," said Robert, promptly.

Had he known the sinister purpose with which this proposition was made, he would have recoiled from it as from a deadly serpent, but the boy was wholly unconscious of the peril that menaced him, nor did he observe the nervous agitation that affected James Cromwell, whose timidity made him shrink with fear at the risk he was about to incur.

"Then we will go," said the young man.

They soon found themselves on the island, and advancing, reached an exposed point from which they could look down upon the foaming waters beneath. Cromwell manœuvered so as to have the boy on the side toward the water.

"What a grand sight!" exclaimed Robert, surveying the great fall with boyish enthusiasm.

He had scarcely uttered these words when he felt a violent push at the side, and felt himself impelled toward the brink of the precipice. He would infallibly have fallen if he had not seized with the desperate clutch of self-preservation the arm of James Cromwell. As it was, he hung balancing over the brink, and nearly carried the clerk with him. Cromwell saw that it must be either both or neither, and he drew Robert back to a place of safety.

"Good Heavens! Mr. Cromwell," exclaimed the boy, his face pale with horror, "what does this mean? Did you mean to push me over?"

"What a question!" returned Cromwell, himself pale. "Thank Heaven! I have saved you!"

"But you pushed me!" said the boy, suspiciously. "If I hadn't clung to you, I should have fallen!" and he shuddered at the thought.

"Yes; it is true. I will explain. I am troubled with fits occasionally which make me rigid and convulsed. Whenever I feel one coming on I grasp convulsively at whatever is nearest me. I felt one coming on a moment ago, and that led me to seize you. But I believe my terror, for I came near going over the precipice with you, has saved me from the threatened attack."