Rupert's Ambition

"How do you know my name?" asked the man from Colorado, not recognizing Rupert.

"I am one of the bell-boys at the Somerset Hotel, where you are boarding."

"Why do you give this warning? Can you judge of the value of the watch?"

"No, sir; but I know this man."

"That is false," asserted Clayton; "I never saw you before to my knowledge."

"I don't know what to think," said the cattleman, looking puzzled. "You say you know this man?"

"Yes. He came near cheating one of our guests not long since by offering to give his son a place in an office in Wall Street for a hundred and fifty dollars."

"The boy lies," exclaimed Clayton. "I have a good mind to give you in charge, you young rascal."

"You are quite welcome to do it," said Rupert, coolly.

"I hope my word is as good as this boy's," continued Clayton.

"Don't take either, Mr. Packard. I am no judge of watches. Suppose you go to a jeweler's and ask him the value of it. If it is worth even a hundred dollars, you can venture to give this man what he asks, that is, supposing he has come by it honestly."

"That is a sensible proposal. I accept it."

"But I don't!" said Clayton. "I feel that I have been insulted, and I decline to sell the watch. As for you, you young rascal, I shall remember your interference with me in my business."

He rose and went off with his head very high in the air.

"Sit down and tell me all about this fellow," said the cattleman. "I suspect you have saved me from being imposed upon."

Rupert told the story, and the stranger thanked him heartily.

"I have always been told that I must look out for myself in New York, and I begin to realize it. How does it happen you are so far away from the hotel?"

"It is my afternoon off."

They sat and chatted of Colorado, about which Rupert felt considerable curiosity. At the end of fifteen minutes their attention was drawn to a man of prosperous appearance who seemed in trouble. He paused as he reached their bench, and asked anxiously, "Has either of you seen a young man, nicely dressed and carrying a cane?" and he went on to describe Clarence Clayton.

"Yes," answered Packard and Rupert, simultaneously, "the fellow was sitting here less than half an hour since."

"He has stolen my gold watch," said the new acquaintance.

"He tried to sell it to me. He said it cost a hundred and fifty dollars."

"So it did, and more, too."

"He offered it for fifty dollars."

"How did it happen that you did not buy it?"

"I was about to do so, but this boy told me he was a confidence man."

"Then you knew him?" asked the stranger.

"Yes," answered Rupert.

"Can you suggest any way in which I can recover my property?"

"Yes, sir. Report the matter to the police, and ask to have Richard Darke, a well-known detective, put on the case. I will give you a line to him. He will know at once who it is."

"I will do so. Where can I find you again?"

"At the Somerset Hotel, on Broadway."

"Thank you. If I receive it I will gladly compensate you for your suggestion."

"I thank you, but do not wish any compensation. If I can defeat this man's dishonest scheme I shall feel well repaid."

"Our cunning friend will soon be overhauled, I suspect," said the cattleman. "Did you say you were off this afternoon?"

"Yes, sir."

"I am new to the city and want a guide. Are you open to an engagement?"

"Yes, sir," answered Rupert, with a smile. "But I don't care for pay."

"Then we don't go. Business is business, and there is no reason why I should take up your time without paying you a fair sum."

"Just as you like, sir."

The two spent the next three or four hours in visiting different objects of interest in New York. The Colorado man seemed much pleased with his young companion.

"You must come out to Colorado some time, Rupert," he said. "You are a boy who would succeed there, or indeed anywhere. We have some men come out there who are failures at the East, and they are surprised that they don't succeed in the West. But I tell you that it takes as much brains to win success in Colorado as in New York."

"Is that always the case? I have heard of men getting rich in the West who were poor at home."

"That is true. Perhaps they were in the wrong business. I don't mind saying that was the case with me. I was in the insurance business in Hartford, but I wasn't particularly well adapted for it. I couldn't talk. Out in Colorado I have learned to understand cattle, and they have made me rich."

"Mr. Clayton can talk."

"Yes, a little too well. Unfortunately he is not honest, and a dishonest man ought not to thrive anywhere. In Colorado he wouldn't live wrong. Thieves are summarily dealt with."

About seven o'clock Mr. Packard invited Rupert to dine with him at Delmonico's.

Rupert had heard a great deal about this celebrated restaurant, and was glad to accept the invitation.

CHAPTER XVIII.

A SCENE AT DELMONICO'S

The two friends entered Delmonico's on the Broadway side, and took seats at one of the windows. Rupert, after giving the order, looked about him. He was curious to see that famous restaurant. He was destined to a surprise. At the second table, sitting with his back to Mr. Packard and himself, was a person whom he had the best reason to remember.

It was Clarence Clayton.

He touched Mr. Packard's arm, and silently pointed to Clayton.

"Well, I'll be jiggered!" exclaimed the cattleman, in surprise. "That fellow has got nerve."

Mr. Clayton was evidently enjoying himself. Beside his plate stood a pint bottle of champagne of Delmonico's special brand. His dinner would probably involve an expense of five dollars.

"He must have sold or pawned the watch," suggested Rupert in a low voice.

At this moment Clayton looked around. He at once recognized the two whom he had last seen at the Battery.

"So we meet again?" he said, coolly.

"Yes," answered the cattleman. "You appear to be having a pleasant time."

"I generally do," returned Clayton.

"You seem to have negotiated a loan."

"I met a party who seemed to know more about gold watches than you do."

"I congratulate you," said Packard, dryly.

Clayton returned to the discussion of his dinner, and soon the two friends were served.

"Shall I order some champagne, Rupert?" asked the man from Colorado.

"Not for me. I have promised my mother to avoid drink."

"You are wise. Far be it from me to tempt you. I have seen too much of the evil done by intemperance."

Clarence Clayton evidently had no such objection to drink. He drained the bottle, and calling for a cigar, leaned back in his chair, with a self-satisfied smile.

"That fellow is a curiosity," Packard said. "He probably has good abilities, and would meet with success in an honest career. He has made poor use of his talents. I wonder if he ever reflects upon the inevitable end of his dishonesty?"

"It doesn't seem to trouble him much," returned Rupert.

Neither he nor Clayton observed the quiet entrance of a small, unobtrusive man, with sharp eyes, who, taking rapid glances at the guests, moved towards the table occupied by the adventurer.

Sitting in pleasant enjoyment of his cigar, Clayton's attention was drawn by a slight tap on his shoulder. Looking up in momentary impatience he saw the newcomer at his side.

Stifling an ejaculation he stared at him in dismay.

"Mr. Clayton," said Detective Darke, in a low voice, "I see you know me."

"No, I can't say I have the pleasure," stammered Clayton.

"You are polite to call it a pleasure. I am Richard Darke."

"Can I offer you a glass of champagne, Mr. Darke?"

"There doesn't seem to be any left in the bottle."

"I will order another."

"I won't put you to that trouble. I have business with you, and must request you to go with me."

"But–"

"I can take no denial," said the detective, sharply. "Go up to the desk, settle your bill, and then we will go out together. There will be no scene, and no one will know my errand, if you obey my directions."

Clayton went up to the desk, paid his check, and then, turning to the detective, said,

"I am at your service."

By this time Rupert noticed what was going on, and silently called the attention of Mr. Packard to it.

"Poor chap!" said the cattleman, as Clayton and his unwelcome companion left the restaurant, "his punishment has come sooner than I anticipated. He will be punished, but I am afraid the owner of the watch stands a poor chance of recovering his property."

"Probably he will get possession of the pawn ticket and so secure the watch, though it may cost him twenty-five dollars."

"It will be some time before the thief gets another such dinner as he has eaten to-night."

After supper Packard said,

"Are you feeling tired, Rupert?"

"Oh, no, sir."

"Then suppose we go to some theatre."

"All right, sir. What theatre do you prefer?"

"I leave the choice to you."

"Palmer's Theatre is very near."

"Then let us go there."

They reached the theatre just as the curtain was rising. Mr. Packard bought two choice seats, and they were soon seated in the orchestra. As soon as he had a chance to look about him, Rupert discovered to his surprise that Mr. Lorimer and Julian were sitting directly in front of him. At the sound of his voice Julian turned, and was greatly surprised to see the bell-boy occupying as high-priced a seat as himself. When the first act was ended, he took measures to gratify his curiosity.

"I am surprised to see you here," he said.

"It is a mutual surprise," responded Rupert.

"You know what I mean. It is not usual to meet bell-boys in orchestra seats."

"I was not asked at the ticket office what was my employment."

"Are you here alone?"

"No; let me introduce my friend, Mr. Packard, of Colorado."

Julian glanced at the cattleman, and was not impressed. Mr. Packard's clothing was by no means stylish. Julian naturally supposed him to be a person of small means and no particular consequence. He gave him a slight nod, and turned his face towards the stage.

"What is the name of that boy?" asked the cattleman.

"Julian Lorimer."

"Is he related to Stephen Lorimer?"

"Stephen Lorimer is his father. Do you know him?" asked Rupert, in surprise.

"Stephen Lorimer is a cousin of mine."

"There he is, next to Julian."

Mr. Lorimer's ears caught the sound of his own name, and, turning, he recognized Rupert, but not his cousin.

"You here, Rupert Rollins?" he said, in surprise.

"Yes, sir. Do you know this gentleman with me?"

Stephen Lorimer regarded the cattleman blankly.

"No," he answered slowly. "I don't know him."

"Perhaps you will remember the name of Giles Packard," said the cattleman, but his tone was cold and not cordial.

"Are you Giles Packard?"

"Yes."

Stephen Lorimer looked embarrassed.

"I hope you are prosperous," he said.

"Thank you—I am doing well now."

"Where do you live?"

"In Colorado."

"Ah! Mines?"

"No, cattle."

"Call and see me. Rupert will tell you where I may be found."

"I may do so."

"Is he a cowboy?" asked Julian, in an audible whisper.

Giles Packard heard the words and he looked at Rupert with a smile.

"He is like his father," he said.

They did not again speak. After the play Stephen Lorimer went out of the theatre without even a look at his new-found relative. Rupert and the man from Colorado, following slowly, made the best of their way down Broadway to the Somerset House.

"How came you to know Stephen Lorimer?" asked Packard.

"He and my father were in business together in Buffalo some years since. They failed, and I have always believed that my father was defrauded. At any rate he lost everything, while his old partner had money enough to start in the dry-goods business in New York."

"History repeats itself," said Packard. "Many years ago, when I was twenty-two, I was the partner of Stephen Lorimer."

"You!"

"Yes. In fact I furnished three-fourths of the capital. At the end of eighteen months we failed. I never could understand why, for our business had been good. Stephen kept the books, and I examined without being able to understand them. The upshot of it was that I was thrown upon the world penniless, while he soon went into business for himself in another place. I have not seen Lorimer for twenty years, till accident brought us together to-night."

"I am glad you are prosperous again."

"Yes. I have far more money than when I belonged to the firm of Lorimer & Packard."

"Perhaps Mr. Lorimer would take you in as partner again."

"I have no desire to be associated with him in any way. I believe him to be a thoroughly dishonest man. I am sorry that your father has suffered also at his hands."

Rupert accompanied Mr. Packard to the hotel, having agreed to relieve another bell-boy from midnight till six o'clock the next morning.

When he reached the hotel he found it a scene of excitement. The bell of No. 61 had been ringing violently for some time.

The other bell-boy had come downstairs in a panic.

"I can't get into No. 61," he reported. "There is somebody dead or murdered there."

CHAPTER XIX.

WHAT HAPPENED IN NO. 61

"Come upstairs with me, Rupert," said Mr. Malcolm, the clerk. "You've got a head on your shoulders. We'll soon find out what's the matter."

They ascended in the elevator to the third floor, and made their way hurriedly to No. 61.

There was a sound of a child crying inside. Mr. Malcolm tried the door but it was locked.

"Open the door!" he called out.

"I can't," was the answer, in a young child's voice. "It's locked."

"Can't you turn the key?"

"No; I don't know how."

"You will have to get through the transom," said the clerk. "If we only had a step-ladder."

"Lift me up and I'll get through," said Rupert. "I have practiced in a gymnasium."

"Very well, if you think you can."

The clerk bent over, and Rupert, standing on his shoulders, was lifted so that he could reach the transom.

Then, by a skillful movement, he raised himself still farther till he could look inside.

"What do you see?" asked Malcolm.

"There is a man lying on his face on the floor. He must have had a fit or something."

"Can you get through and lower yourself to the floor?"

"I think so. I will try."

"It is the only way to get into the room."

In very quick time Rupert accomplished his object. He turned the key and opened the door.

It was as he had said. A man lay prone upon the floor, and beside him, crying bitterly, was a pretty little boy of five, who was evidently very much frightened.

"Papa sick," he said.

Malcolm bent over the prostrate man, and tearing open his vest placed his hand on his heart.

"The man is dead!" he said, gravely, turning to Rupert.

The child was undressed, and the appearance of the bed showed that he at least had occupied it.

"How long has your papa been lying here?" asked Malcolm.

"I don't know. I woke up a little while ago, and I saw him on the floor."

"Is he cold?" asked Rupert.

"Yes; he must have been lying here for some time. Probably he was about to undress, when he had an attack of some kind, and fell as we see him. Call Dr. Bancroft."

A physician from Massachusetts was one of the guests of the hotel, and occupied Room 57.

Summoned by Rupert, he entered the room, and immediately made an examination of the body.

"Died of heart disease!" he said, briefly.

"Will papa soon be well?" asked the little boy, anxiously.

"We can tell better to-morrow," said the physician, pityingly. "You had better go with this gentleman, so as not to disturb your father, and we will do what we can for him."

Soothed by this assurance, for the little fellow did not understand that his father was beyond earthly help, the boy was led away and put in charge of a sympathetic lady guest for the night.

"Has he been dead long, doctor?" asked Malcolm.

"Probably for over an hour. What is his name?"

"I have forgotten. It is on the register."

"Perhaps we may find a letter in his pocket that will throw light on the matter."

Malcolm put his hand in the inside coat pocket and drew out, first, a letter addressed to

Paul Harvey,Albany, New York.

The other had no envelope and seemed to be an open letter. It ran thus:

"To whom it may concern—

"My doctor tells me that I am liable at any moment to drop dead from heart disease. I do not dread death for myself, but when I think of my little Fred, soon to be left fatherless, as he is already motherless, I am filled with anxiety. I am practically alone in the world, and there is no one to whom I can confide. Should death come to me suddenly, I trust some kind-hearted person will adopt Freddie, and supply a father's place to him. In my inside vest pocket will be found securities amounting to eleven hundred dollars. After defraying my funeral expenses there will probably be a thousand dollars left. I leave it to any one who will undertake the care and maintenance of my dear little boy.

Paul Harvey."

The three looked at one another after the clerk had read the letter.

"Here is a responsibility for some one," said Dr. Bancroft. "I wish it were in my power to take the little boy, but I am only here as a guest, and circumstances will not permit."

"I am a bachelor, and should find it impossible to assume such a charge," said the clerk, "though I feel for the little fellow."

An inspiration had come to Rupert. His heart had gone out to the little boy so tragically deprived of his natural protector.

"I will take the little boy if you are willing," he said.

"You! A boy! What can you do with him?" asked Malcolm.

"I am boarding in a nice family," he said. "I will put him under the care of Mrs. Benton, who has a young son of her own."

"But do you realize what a responsibility you are assuming?"

"I do, and I am not afraid. I never had a little fellow, and I shall be very fond of Fred."

"What do you think, doctor?" asked the clerk.

"I think from the little I know of this boy, that, though a young guardian, he will be a reliable one. I recommend that Fred, if that's his name, be put under his charge."

"In that case, according to the father's direction, the money will go to Rupert."

"Please take charge of it, Mr. Malcolm, till the funeral is over. Then we will place it in some bank."

"It will not go very far towards paying for the boy's board and education. He can't be more than five or six."

"When it is gone I will support him."

No objection was made, and it was agreed that Rupert should have the custody of the little orphan, not yet conscious of his loss.

CHAPTER XX.

MR. PACKARD'S GIFT

It was not until the next day that Giles Packard knew of the tragedy in No. 61. He had gone to bed at once on reaching the hotel, and had not heard of Rupert's adopting a child.

"What is this I hear, Rupert?" he asked, on meeting the bell-boy. "I hear you have an adopted son."

"Yes," answered Rupert, with a smile.

"Won't you get tired of the care and responsibility?"

"I think not."

"Besides, there will be considerable expense."

"The money left by his father will pay that till I am older and am earning more."

"Not many boys of your age would dare to assume such a charge."

"Perhaps not, but Fred is such a sweet boy I cannot help loving him."

"Look here, Rupert, won't you let me share the expense? I am rich and have no family ties?"

"Thank you, Mr. Packard. I am very much obliged to you, but I should like to feel that I am Fred's sole guardian. I want him to learn to love me."

"I don't know but you are right. I won't interfere if you don't wish me to."

That evening Rupert took Fred to Mr. Benton's.

"I have brought you another boarder," he said.

Mrs. Benton looked surprised.

"Is it a relation of yours?" she asked.

"He is my son."

The good lady looked amazed.

"My adopted son," amended Rupert, with a smile; and then he told her of the sudden death at the hotel, and little Fred's bereavement. Mrs. Benton's heart went out to the little orphan, and she stooped and kissed him.

"Will you live with me?" she asked.

"I am going to live with him," said little Fred, taking Rupert's hand.

"He will live here, too."

"Then I will stay," answered the child, gravely. "I am to stay with him till papa comes back."

They had told the little boy that his father had gone on a long journey, and wished him to stay with Rupert during his absence. He had acquiesced quietly, for he was a docile child, and transferred his affection to Rupert, of whose love he felt assured.

"Now, Mrs. Benton, I must make a bargain with you for Fred's board."

Mrs. Benton at first refused to accept anything, protesting that a child would be little expense, but Rupert told her that the father had left money, and finally induced her to accept three dollars a week.

"I am afraid that is too little," said the bell-boy.

"No; it will help pay the rent, and I shall like to have Freddie here as a companion for Harry."

So it was arranged, and the little boy was provided with a happy and comfortable home at small expense.

Two days later Giles Packard sought out Rupert during an interval of the bell-boy's labors.

"How is the little boy?" asked the cattleman.

"He is well, and he seems to be happy. He thinks his father is away on a journey."

"The journey we must all take some time," said Packard, gravely. "Then you won't accept my help towards paying for the child's maintenance?"

"It won't be necessary, Mr. Packard. I am to pay only three dollars a week for his board."

"His clothing will cost something."

"Mrs. Benton will manage that. She says it won't cost over fifty dollars a year."

"I foresaw that you wouldn't let me help support the boy, so I have got even with you in another way."

"How is that?" asked Rupert, puzzled.

Mr. Packard, smiled.

"I decided to make you a present," he said. "You won't refuse that?"

"No; I am sure you are a good friend, and I won't reject your kindness."

Rupert fancied Mr. Packard might be intending to give him fifty dollars, or something like that, and he felt that it would be ungracious to refuse.

The man from Colorado drew from his pocket a large-sized envelope, and from it took a legal document.

"This," he said, "is a deed of two lots in Harlem, not far from One-hundred-and-twenty-fifth Street. The deed is made out to you, and establishes your ownership."

"I didn't know you had any lots in Harlem," said Rupert, in surprise.

"Neither had I till yesterday. I bought them through a real estate agent on Third Avenue, after carefully considering several others."

"But, Mr. Packard, they must have cost you a good deal of money."

"Two thousand dollars."

"And you give me such a valuable present?"

"Yes, Rupert, and I am glad to do so. Don't think I have pinched myself to do it. I am a rich man, and I haven't a chick or child, except—well, except you," he continued, with a smile.

"I don't know that I ought to accept such a handsome present, though I fully appreciate your great kindness."

"I don't quite see that you have any choice. The deed is made out in your name, and in due time you will find that you will have to pay taxes on them."

"Then I suppose I must submit. I don't know how to thank you."

"Then don't do it. It would make me feel awkward. I will give you some good advice before I leave you. Those lots I believe will advance in price very rapidly. Building is going on very near them, and they are in the path of improvement. My advice is that you hold on to them at least five years. They may realize you a small fortune."

"I will certainly be guided by your advice. Do you know, Mr. Packard, I imagine there are very few bell-boys in New York who are as rich as I am?"

"I don't think I have ever heard of a bell-boy millionaire," said the cattleman, smiling, "though I hope the one before me may make the first exception to a general rule. Did I tell you that I expect to start on my return to Colorado to-morrow?"