Books: Richard Dare\'s Venture
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Edward Stratemeyer >> Richard Dare\'s Venture
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"It's the better way," said Richard. "Do you ride morning and night?"
"Only when the weather is bad. When it is clear I save the ten cents."
"So would I. Besides, it's healthy exercise," returned the boy.
The Massanets occupied the second floor of a modest little flat of six
rooms. It was a cheerful home, and Mrs. Massanet, a pleasant,
middle-aged Frenchwoman, greeted Richard cordially.
"You are indeed welcome, Mistair Dare," she said, with a beaming face.
"Francois have tole me everything of you, and I feel as eef I know you
long."
Mrs. Massanet had the peculiar French accent of the province of
Lorraine, and Richard frequently experienced difficulty in understanding
her, but her motherly way soon put him at ease, and in a few minutes he
felt perfectly at home.
"This is my sister," said Frank, as a tall, dark-eyed girl of sixteen
entered. "Mattie, this is Richard Dare."
"Frank has been telling us of you," said Mattie Massanet, as she took
Richard's hand. "We talked you all over last night," she added, with
a merry twinkle of her eye.
"I'm sure it couldn't have been a very bad talk if you had a hand in
it," said Richard gallantly.
They were soon at the table, and having by a lucky chance (or was it
the girl's natural tact?) struck the right vein, the conversation
became quite animated, and soon all were on very good terms.
"I like you verra mouch," said Mrs. Massanet, when Richard had finished,
"and I shall be pleased to have you as a boarder--eef you like ze
_diner_."
"Thank you, Mrs. Massanet. I shall be thankful to have you take me.
I know it will feel quite like a home."
"Ve make zat so. Ve keep no _hotel garni_ even--only for one."
"Thank you," returned Richard. He did not understand the French, which
means a lodging-house. "Can I come to-night?"
"Oh, yees."
So it was arranged that he should become a boarder at the Massanets',
and having this settled took quite a load from his mind. Now if he
could only do his work well for Williams & Mann, he would be all right,
and have every chance of eventually attaining the object of his
metropolitan venture.
Of one thing he was sure--Frank Massanet's friendship and help, and
in his present place he knew these would count for a good deal.
Little did he dream that the position kind-hearted Timothy Joyce had
procured for him would lead him to the hardest trials of his youthful
life, and place him in the bitterest situation he had ever yet
experienced.
CHAPTER XVI.
PEP.
In a week Richard felt quite at home, both in the stock-room at Williams
& Mann's and at the Massanets'.
During that time Mr. Williams had returned from Chicago, and both of
the members of the firm seemed to be well satisfied by the way in which
their new clerk discharged the duties assigned to him.
A warm friendship sprang up between Frank Massanet and Richard--a
friendship that was destined to bear important results. The stock-clerk,
though Richard's superior in the business, acted more like a chum, and
in the evenings the two, accompanied by Mattie Massanet, walked, talked,
played games, or listened to Mrs. Massanet's music on the flutina, and
were all but inseparable.
Richard received several letters from home--one from his mother,
congratulating him on the position he had secured, and another from
Grace and Nancy, full of village gossip, and what people had said about
his going away.
Both Frank and Richard loved their work, and by the second week the
books in the stock-room were in a neater and handier condition than
they had ever been before, and Frank expressed his pleasure at having
some one who could really help, and not hinder, as the discharged clerk
had done.
On Tuesday morning of the second week, Richard was hurrying to the
store a little earlier than usual. The big consignment of books was
soon to arrive, and they must have even more room for it than had at
first been anticipated.
As he came down the Bowery at a rapid gait, a small figure crossed the
street directly before him, and stopped to gaze into the well-filled
window of a German bakery. It was the street Arab who had robbed Richard
in Park Row!
For an instant Richard could hardly believe his eyes, but, stepping
up, he took a closer view, and then grasped the urchin by the arm.
Instinctively the street Arab shrank away. Then he turned his pinched
and startled face around, and, seeing who it was that held him, gave
a loud cry of alarm.
"Oh, please, mister, please lemme go!" he pleaded. "I won't do it
again, please, sir, no I won't! Oh, don't lock me up, mister!"
That piteous appeal went straight to Richard's heart. If he had felt
any indignation, it melted away at the sight of that haggard, famished,
desperate look.
"What have you done with the stuff you took from my pockets?" he asked,
but his tones were not very harsh.
The boy began to whimper.
"I--I ain't got de money no more," he sobbed, "It's all gone, mister;
I spent every cent of it but two nickels fer medicine and de doctor.
Please don't lock me up, mister."
"Medicine and the doctor?" repeated Richard, rather astonished by this
unexpected statement. "Who is sick?"
"Me dad, mister."
"Your dad? Your father?"
"Yes, mister; been sick going on two months now, and ain't no better."
Richard looked at the boy sharply. He had been deceived so many times
that he was half inclined to discredit the urchin's story.
"It's the truth, mister," went on the boy, seeing the look of distrust.
"I ain't tellin' no lies, so help--"
"What's your name?"
"Pep, sir."
"Pep what?"
The urchin held down his head.
"I ain't got no other name!" he answered hesitatingly.
"Oh, you must have!" exclaimed Richard. "Come, out with it."
But the little ragged figure only began to cry again, harder than ever.
"Come, tell me; I won't have you arrested," urged Richard.
"Oh, thank you, mister! It would kill dad to know I'd been stealin'.
I told him I made the money sellin' papers."
"That was a lie," said Richard sternly.
"I know it, mister, but I couldn't help it. It was better than tellin'
him I'd been stealin'. I wouldn't have taken yer money only I was
afraid he'd die if he didn't have de doctor and de medicine, so help--"
"There, don't swear," interrupted Richard. "If you were so hard up you
should have asked me for help. I would have given you something."
"I would have asked, only most of de people laughs at me and tells me
to clear out, and they think I'm lyin' when I say dad's sick, and say
they guess he must drink de money up, which is a lie itself, 'cause
dad don't drink a drop; he's got pneumony, so de doctor says, and he's
coughin' all de time."
"Is your mother home?"
"Ain't got no mother; she died when I was a kid."
"Well, Pep, I'm sorry for you," said Richard kindly, "and I won't do
anything to you for having taken that money. But those letters--they
were valuable. What have you done with them?"
"I've got 'em home, sir. I'll bring 'em to you right away, sir."
"I haven't got time to wait now," returned Richard, highly elated to
find that Doc Linyard's property was safe. "Will you meet me here at
six o'clock to-night?"
"Yes, sir."
"Sure? Remember I must have those letters."
"I'll bring 'em. I've got 'em hid in de garret. I didn't open 'em or
noddin'. I can't read only a little newspaper print--'nough to find
out what's in de paper ter sell it."
"Well, I shall expect you sure," replied Richard. "I'll give you ten
cents for bringing them," he added, to make certain that Pep would not
change him mind. "Have you had any breakfast?"
"I haven't had no eatin' since yesterday mornin'."
"What would you do if I gave you ten cents?"
Pep's eyes opened in wonder. In his knockabout life he had met all
sorts of people, yet here was certainly a new kind.
"Yer jokin'!" he gasped.
"No, I'm not."
"Then if I had ten cents I'd go and buy some morning papers--I could
sell 'em yet--and take de money home."
"All of it?"
"Yes, sir. Every cent."
Richard felt in his pocket. He had just sixteen cents in change.
"Here is the ten cents," he said, handing it out. "And here is six
cents. I want you to buy something to eat for that."
Slowly Pep took the money. He did not know but he might be dreaming.
"Thank you, mister, you--you're good to me," he said in a low tone.
"I'm in a hurry now," went on Richard, "otherwise I'd talk to you some
more. I want to find out how you get along and how your father makes
out. You can trust me."
"I know I can--now," replied Pep. "And I'll be on hand at six o'clock
with those letters sure. I'm very, very thankful fer what you've done,
indeed I am, and I'll try to make it up to you some day, see if I
don't."
"Anyway, don't steal any more," said Richard. "It isn't right, and it
will land you in jail sooner or later."
"I never took noddin' before," replied Pep, "and I won't ag'in."
"I hope so, Pep."
"Will yer please tell me yer name?"
"Richard Dare."
"I'll remember it, Mr. Dare; ye're the first gentleman ever noticed
_me_, and I'm much obliged, even if you hadn't given me a cent."
"I shall expect to see you at six o'clock or a few minutes later," was
Richard's reply, and fearful of being late at the store he hurried off.
The street urchin stood still, gazing after him. There were tears in
the light blue eyes, and a choking sensation in the thin little throat.
"He must be one of them missionaries I once heard tell of," was Pep's
thought. "They said they went around doing good, and that's what he's
doing. Six cents for something to eat, and a dime to buy papers with!
That's the best luck I've had in five years. If I don't make a quarter
by nine o'clock I'm no good. And I'll never steal again--I won't--as
sure as my name is Pep Clover."
CHAPTER XVII.
GETTING ACQUAINTED.
When Richard reached Williams & Mann's he found Frank Massanet already
hard at work. He had told the stock-clerk of the robbery in Park Row,
and now he related its sequel in the shape of the incident of the
morning.
"Well, maybe you did right," said Frank; "although the majority of the
street boys are not to be trusted beyond sight. You will find out by
this evening if the boy's word is worth anything."
"I think I can trust that boy," replied Richard. "I believe he was
truly penitent. My treating him as I did may be the making of him."
Williams & Mann employed in their various departments between fifteen
and twenty clerks. They were mostly young fellows, and outside of a
tendency to play practical jokes, because he was a new-comer, they
treated Richard very well, and the boy was, with one exception, on
good terms all round.
This one exception was a young man of twenty.
His name was Earle Norris, and he was head of the shipping department.
Richard's duties brought him into daily contact with the shipping-clerk,
but though the latter treated him fairly well, there was something in
the other's manner that he did not like, and consequently he did not
associate as freely with Norris as that young man seemed to desire.
Norris was something of a dandy in his way, and rarely appeared at the
store otherwise than faultlessly dressed. Of course when at work he
changed his coat, cravat, collar, and so forth, so as not to soil them,
but he never left without looking as much "fixed up" as when he had
arrived.
"You're a new fellow here," he said to Richard when the latter came
down to see if a certain box of books had as yet been sent away.
"Yes; new here and new in New York," Richard replied, smiling,
"I thought you weren't a New Yorker," Norris went on. "How do you like
things in the city?"
"First-rate. I haven't seen much of the place yet, though."
"Where do you live?"
"I board with the Massanets."
"Oh, a relative?"
"Oh, no. I never knew them until I got acquainted with Frank here."
"Rather slow at their house, I imagine."
"Oh, I like it very well."
"My folks live in Yonkers," said Norris, "but I couldn't stand it
there, though I had a good position. I like New York life. You ought
to be over at our boarding-house. There are six of us young fellows,
and we're out every night and have lots of sport."
"Thank you; I am very well content where I am," said Richard coldly.
He did not like the manner in which the shipping-clerk had spoken of
Frank and his family.
"I did not think the Massanets kept boarders," continued Norris. "I
thought they were too retired for that."
"I am the only one, and am treated like one of the family."
"Frank has got a sister, hasn't he?"
"Yes."
"Maybe that's the attraction," suggested Norris. "My landlady has a
pretty daughter, too."
"It is not the attraction," said Richard flushing, "though she, like
her mother, treats me nicely," he added stoutly, and with a certain
amount of loyalty.
"Oh, well, it's all right," put in the shipping-clerk hastily. "I don't
want you to change if you're satisfied. Only if you get tired of being
quiet let me know. I tell you, there's lots of fun to be had if you
only know how to get it."
"I guess I won't change, at least for the present," replied the boy.
When he returned to the stock-room he related to Frank what Norris had
said about keeping too quiet.
"I don't agree with him," said the stock-clerk. "I don't know what he
means by having lots of sport and all that, but I never believed in
being out late nights. It isn't right, and besides it doesn't pay.
Haven't you noticed the deep circles around Norris's eyes? They come
from a want of sleep, and how long do you suppose he can stand that
sort of thing and his work here without breaking down? Why, I remember
when he came here, a year ago, he looked twice as healthy as he does
now."
"Then he is foolish," said Richard. "I wouldn't want to run the risk
of ruining my health, especially needlessly."
"Of course if our way of living is too quiet for you--I suppose it
would be for most young fellows--you are at liberty to leave at any
time."
"Thank you, Frank; I know I can, but I reckon I'll stay just as long
as you care to keep me, or at least until I can afford to bring the
family here."
"Norris has approached me several times on the subject of joining him
in some of his frolics," went on Frank, "but I have never gone out
with him."
"Does he get a very large salary?"
"No more than I--ten dollars a week."
"I should think it would take every cent he had after his board was
paid to dress him. His clothing is more fashionable than Mr. Mann's."
"He certainly isn't saving any money," replied Frank.
Frank Massanet had his own idea about Earle Norris and his peculiar
ways. He was almost certain that there would some day be a startling
development at Williams & Mann's, but, having as yet no proofs, he
kept quiet concerning his suspicions.
During the afternoon Richard had occasion again to visit the
packing-room, and once more Norris, who was the only one present,
approached him.
"How would you like to go to Niblo's Garden with me to-night?" he
asked. "I have two tickets, and I would be pleased to have your
company."
"I am much obliged, I'm sure, but I have an errand to-night," replied
Richard. "I must deliver two letters."
"Well, that ought not to take you all the evening. Come along; I don't
want to have the extra ticket and not use it. A friend of mine from
Brooklyn was going with me, but he has just dropped me a postal card
saying he is sick."
"Can't you sell the extra ticket?"
"Oh, I suppose I might; but I don't care to go alone," explained Norris.
"Come, you'll enjoy it, I know."
Richard was sorely tempted. The play at the theater was a standard
one, and the leading actor one of renown. Surely there wouldn't be
much harm in going.
If any other person than Norris had asked him, he would probably have
accepted.
Yet his reasoning on the point was remarkably clear. He was sure that
there had been nothing in his own manner to draw him to Norris, and
this being so, why did the latter take such an interest in one who was
but a step removed from a stranger to him?
"No, I guess not," he replied, after a pause. "I don't care to go."
"Oh, well, don't then," replied Norris coldly. "I only asked you out
of kindness, being as you were a stranger."
And he turned his back on the boy and walked away.
Richard told Frank where he was to meet Pep, and added that if the
stolen letters were forthcoming he would take them to Doc Linyard's
before returning to the Massanets'.
At six o'clock the two quitted the store together and walked over to
the Bowery. Pep was already waiting for Richard. He had a big bundle
of evening papers under his arm, and seemed to have improved both his
capital and his time.
"Here's de letters, mister," he said, holding out the two envelopes
and the slip. "I'm sorry I got 'em dirty."
For his unwashed hands had left many marks upon the white paper.
Richard took the letters eagerly, and put them in an inside pocket.
"How have you done to-day?" he asked.
"First-rate. Had luck ever since yer started me. I'm worth sixty cents
now. Say," he went on in a whisper, "I'm going to pay yer back that
two dollars soon as I kin."
"And how is your father?"
"He is a bit better to-day--he was awful yesterday. Can I see yer here
in a few days?"
"Why?"
"About that money. I want yer to have it back. It's the first time I
took anything."
"Yes, you can see me," replied Richard, somehow pleased at the idea
of becoming better acquainted with the urchin, in whom he found himself
taking a strong interest. "You can generally meet me at the same time
you've met me to-day."
"All right. I'll have der chink in a few days, see if I don't. Have
an _Evening Telegram_ or _Mail and Express_?" "I haven't any
change," replied Richard.
"Ho! what yer take me for?"
And, thrusting a copy of each paper in Richard's hand, Pep darted
across to the Elevated Station, crying his wares as he went.
"Not such a bad chap, I guess," said Frank. "I have seen worse fellows
than him reform. I must see if we can't get him in our mission."
"I'll go right down to West Street with these letters," returned
Richard. "They may be very important."
"I'm sorry I can't go with you," said Frank, "but I'm going out with
mother. Will you be long?"
"I guess not. Of course I can't tell. Doc Linyard may want me to do
something for him--write a letter or so, and that all takes time. I'll
be back by nine, I guess."
And with these words the two separated, Frank hurrying up town, and
Richard to carry his news to the old sailor.
CHAPTER XVIII.
A STRANGE SITUATION.
The road to West Street was no longer a strange one to Richard, and
it took him but a short quarter of an hour to reach the Watch Below.
As usual the restaurant was crowded, and the merry jests of the sailors
mingled with the rattle of dishes and clatter of knives.
Doc Linyard was glad to see the boy, and immediately asked how he was
progressing and how he liked his position.
"I have good news for you," said Richard.
And he handed over the two letters.
"Are they the ones as were lost?" asked the old sailor.
"Yes; I caught the boy and made him return them."
"Did you get your money, too?" went on Linyard, as he cut the envelopes
open.
"Not yet, but I'm pretty sure of getting it in the near future."
"Hope you do; two dollars ain't much, but it's something, and nowadays
everything counts. Will you read these letters for me? My eyesight
ain't none of the best any more, and besides, writing is kinder stiff
reading for me at the best."
"Certainly I will, Mr.--"
"Avast there on that figurehead!" interrupted the old tar.
"Doc Linyard, I'll do it with pleasure."
But it was no pleasure after all for Richard to read the two
communications, for each was a disappointment.
The first was from a firm of lawyers who wished to take the case in
hand at "astonishingly low terms," which must, however, be paid in
advance. The other had been sent by a private detective, who was willing
to institute a search for the missing party for the modest sum of three
dollars per day, also payable in advance.
"Just what I thought they might be," observed Doc Linyard, when the
reading was finished. "You can tear them up. We don't want such outside
help."
Richard did as directed.
"It's a pity that such letters should cause you so much trouble," went
on the old sailor; "but that's the way of the world."
"Have you had any other letters?" asked Richard, for he had not seen
Doc Linyard for several days, and thought it possible that something
might have turned up in the meantime.
"Nary a word. I've put the advertisement in the papers--three of
'em--twice now, and not a single answer."
"It's too bad. Have you heard anything from the property in England?"
"Yes; I got a letter to-day asking me to hurry, as they wanted to
settle affairs up there."
"Did you answer?"
"Not yet. You know it's hard lines for me to write."
"If you wish I'll write for you."
"Thank you; I'll wait a day or two yet, and see if something doesn't
turn up."
It was not yet eight o'clock when Richard, after having a bit of lunch,
left the restaurant to return to the Massanets'. Feeling that it was
early yet, and having a desire to do some "window gazing," he did not
go up the Bowery, but strolled up Broadway instead.
The magnificent windows and their rare and costly exhibits were to him
an enjoyment of the keenest sort, and as he approached the neighborhood
of Astor Place, where the book stores seem to have congregated, he
walked slower and slower, taking in all there was to be seen of each
establishment, how the windows were dressed and the stock arranged,
and wondering away down in his heart if he would ever own, or have an
interest in, any similar establishment.
While deeply engaged in reading the titles of a number of volumes in
a certain window, he felt a light tap on his shoulder, and turning,
found himself face to face with Earle Norris.
The shipping-clerk was dressed in the height of style, including low
cut shoes and carried a heavy gold-headed cane.
"Hello, Dare!" he exclaimed pleasantly. "What brings you up here?"
For an instant Richard was taken aback, not only at meeting Norris,
but at being greeted so familiarly after what had occurred during the
day.
"I have just finished my errand, and thought I'd take a walk to see
the sights," he returned. "How is it you are not at the theater?"
"As I said, I didn't care to go alone, so took your advice and sold
the extra ticket, and also my own. I'll take a walk along with you if
you don't mind."
Richard was not overpleased at the proposition; yet he could not very
well object except by seeming rude, and from this he shrank; so he
gave a mild assent.
"You see I like to get on good terms with all the boys," explained
Norris, as they walked leisurely along. "I'm on the best of terms with
every one in the establishment but Massanet, and I'd like to be with
him, only he's so awfully slow."
"Frank Massanet is a very nice fellow," said Richard stoutly.
"Oh, yes--too nice for me, though. But let that pass. Everybody has
his peculiarities. Have a smoke?"
And Norris pulled two strong-looking cigars from his vest pocket.
"I'm much obliged," replied the boy. "I don't smoke."
"Try one. They are fine," went on the shipping-clerk, stopping to get
a light. "No time like the present for making a beginning. I'm quite
sure it won't make you sick."
"I don't think I care to try," was all Richard could say; and he
heartily wished Earle Norris would go his own way.
"Oh, well, it's all right if you don't care to. I find it just the
thing to settle my nerves after a big day's work."
They walked on in silence for nearly a block, and the boy was wondering
how best to leave Norris without offending him when the latter spoke
up.
"Here are the rooms of the Laurel Club," he said, pointing up to the
narrow but brilliantly lighted stairways of a handsome building just
around the corner of a side street.
"The Laurel Club?" repeated Richard.
"Yes; it is a club of about twenty young fellows. I am a member. We
have a reading-room, and another for all kinds of games."
Norris did not take the trouble to add that "all kinds of games" had
narrowed down to simply card playing, and that for money, too.
"Just come up for a moment," he went on. "I wish to get a book I left
there a few nights ago."
"I'll wait for you here," replied Richard.
"No, no; I want to show you the rooms. We have some fine pictures and
all that up there."
Somewhat against his will Richard consented. Norris led the way up
three flights of stairs and then down a side hall.
Stopping at a certain door he gave two distinct knocks, followed by
a single one.
There was a hurried movement within, and then the door, which had been
securely locked, was cautiously opened.
"Hello, Springer!" exclaimed Norris to the tall young man who had
admitted them. "You're locked up as if this was a sub-treasury. This
is a friend of mine. Mr. Dare, Mr. Springer, our worthy secretary."
"Glad to know you, Mr. Dare!" said the other, and he gave Richard's
hand a tight grip, but at the same time cast a sidelong, inquiring
glance at Norris.
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