Books: Richard Dare\'s Venture
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Edward Stratemeyer >> Richard Dare\'s Venture
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"Oh, it's you!" she exclaimed. "Come in! I was afraid it might be some
drunken man; there's so many here of a Sunday, trying to get in."
"Aunt Betty, don't you know me!" piped up Pep's voice, all in a tremble.
Mrs. Linyard turned and surveyed the street urchin eagerly.
"Mercy me! if it hain't Tom's boy!" she ejaculated. "Where in the world
did you come from?"
"Mr. Dare brought me," replied Pep.
Mrs. Linyard caught him up in her arms.
"Who'd a believed it!" she cried. "Mr. Dare a doing of it. Why, you're
as dirty as a pig! Where's your dad and your marm and sister Mary?"
"Dad's sick. We just left him. Marm and Mary are dead. Mr. Dare says
you've got money for dad. I'm so glad, 'cause he's sick."
"Mother and Mary dead!" The sad news brought the tears to the woman's
eyes. "Poor dear! Poor Tom!"
"Mr. Clover is very sick," said Richard. "He has no one to care for
him but Pep. Is Mr. Linyard at home?"
"Yes; taking his nap on the sofa. I'll call him--or no, come up. My,
what a surprise 'twill be for him! He'd about given up."
Taking Pep by the hand Mrs. Linyard led the way up to her "best room,"
where her husband lay sound asleep on a lounge.
"Get up, Doc!" she cried, shaking him vigorously. "Get up! Here's your
nevvy; and Mr. Dare has found Tom! Just think of it--he's found Tom!
Wake up, Doc! Was ever there such a man! To keep on sleeping with such
good news to hear!"
CHAPTER XXVI.
A SCENE IN THE STOCK-ROOM.
But Doc Linyard did not sleep for any great length of time after his
good wife began to shake him. A moment later he sprang up, rubbing his
eyes.
"Ship ahoy!" he cried heartily. "What's up, what's the trouble?" Then
catching sight of Richard and Pep: "Hello, visitors! How are you,
Dare?"
"Here's Tom's son," repeated Mrs. Linyard. "Mr. Dare has found Tom."
"_What!_" The old sailor looked at the street urchin. "Bless my
heart if it _hain't_ Tom's son! Well, well, Dare; this is better
than getting them letters back." And he took hold of Pep with both
hands.
Richard had it on his tongue's end to say that Pep was the one who had
taken the letters in the first place, but a second thought made him
keep silent. It would do no good to tell, and he would be willing to
vouch for the boy's honesty in the future.
Richard's story, as well as Pep's, was soon told, and then Doc Linyard
and his wife prepared to accompany the two back to Frying Pan Court.
"I'm glad I've got a little money saved," said the old sailor to
Richard, as they hurried across town. "Poor Tom shan't want for anything
while there's a shot left in the locker. It's funny he wouldn't let
us know his condition."
"He was allers sensitive," put in Mrs. Linyard, "and I suppose coming
down made him more so."
It was not long before the little party reached the dingy garret room
where the sufferer lay. Frank received them with a warning for silence.
He said he had had quite a turn with the sick man, but now Mr. Clover
had dropped back exhausted and was dozing.
Mrs. Linyard wept bitterly as she knelt beside the form of her sick
brother. Yet she was thankful that he had been found, and her gratitude
to Richard was outspoken and genuine.
It was decided that the sick man should be at once removed to one of
the private wards of a neighboring hospital, where Mrs. Linyard might
see him daily; and then have him taken to her own home as soon as it
was deemed safe to do so.
Frank, who was somewhat acquainted with the methods of procedure,
accompanied the old sailor to the institution and helped him to make
the necessary arrangements.
Half an hour later an ambulance drove into Frying Pan Court. Tom Clover
was removed with the greatest of care, the garret room was locked up,
and Pep, like one in a dream, went off with his newly-found uncle.
It was nearly sundown when the two boys reached the Massanets' again.
"How long you've been!" exclaimed Mattie, who let them in.
"And we've had quite an adventure," replied her brother.
"Ees zat so?" put in Mrs. Massanet. "You must tell ett, Francois."
"I will, mother," replied Frank. "But Richard will have to help; it's
really his story."
"Then both go ahead," cried Mattie. "Only _do_ go ahead. I am dying to
hear!"
Of course Mrs. Massanet as well as Mattie was highly interested in the
boys' story, and both were deeply touched at the account of Frying Pan
Court and the scene in the little garret room.
"I want to know little Pep," said Mattie. "He is too bright a chap to
run the streets." "I guess Doc Lanyard won't let him do that any more,"
returned Richard. "Especially if he gets that money he's expecting
from England."
"That sailor didn't lose anything by being kind to you," remarked
Frank. "I declare you deserve a reward."
"If only some old soldier would turn up, so that you could get your
father's pension," went on Mattie, "that would be better than a reward."
"You're right," replied Richard. "Even if we only got a thousand dollars
it would help along wonderfully at home."
Monday morning found the two hard at work in the stock-room. About ten
o'clock Mr. Mann came up, and beckoned to Richard to come to one corner.
"I want to find out about an order that was shipped on the tenth to
Pittsburgh," he said, when they were alone. "There is something wrong
about it. You were here by yourself on that day. Do you remember it?"
"To Pittsburgh?" repeated Richard slowly. "Yes, I do. Mr. Williams
filled that order."
"Mr. Williams!" Mr. Mann looked surprised. "I don't understand."
"Mr. Williams came up here while I was alone and offered to help me.
I said that the Pittsburgh order I couldn't read very well; so he took
it and filled it. He will probably remember it."
"Probably he will," replied Mr. Mann, "and in that case the trouble
is certainly _all_ downstairs. You need not mention this occurrence
to any one."
Mr. Mann went below; and there were no more interruptions for that
day. But trouble was in the air, and on the following day the climax
came.
Richard was alone in the stock-room, Frank having just gone below on
business. There was a clatter on the stairs, and turning to see what
was the matter Richard confronted Earle Norris.
The shipping-clerk was pale, but his manner showed that he was also
angry, whether reasonably or not remained to be seen.
"You little greenhorn, you!" he cried. "What do you mean by getting
me into trouble?"
"I don't know as I have," replied Richard, as coolly as he could; and,
not wishing to engage in a personal encounter, he very wisely placed
several cases between himself and his angry accuser.
"Yes, you have!" roared Norris. "You told Mr. Mann that that order
from Pittsburgh was sent down all right, and that if any of the goods
were changed they were changed downstairs."
"I told no one anything of the kind," replied Richard briefly, though
he could readily understand the mistake under which Norris was laboring.
"Yes, you did."
"No, I did not."
"Oh, come, I know better. If you didn't, who did? Massanet wasn't
here."
"That's true, too; but, nevertheless, I didn't tell Mr. Mann."
"You're a--" began the shipping-clerk passionately.
"Here! here! Stop that, Norris!" came a voice from the elevator; and
the next instant Mr. Williams stepped into the room. "What do you mean
by creating such a disturbance?"
"Dare is trying to put up a job on me," began the shipping-clerk. "He
told Mr. Mann that that order for Pittsburgh was sent down 0.K. and--"
"And so it was," replied Mr. Williams calmly.
"No, sir; it was--"
"Hold up, Norris; there is no use of further words," said Mr. Williams
sharply. "You were discharged half an hour ago, and you had better
leave. It was I that told Mr. Mann that the order had gone down all
right, because I filled it myself. I suspected you for a long time,
and I wanted to find out the truth. Dare and Massanet are entirely
innocent in the matter. I have much more information against you--and
also a book-dealer who has sold you old books and bought your new
ones--but we will let that drop. I have learned that your family is
quite a respectable one. For their sake, as well as your own, I advise
you to turn over a new leaf. You can go."
For an instant Norris hesitated. Then he turned, and without a word
of reply hurried down the stairs.
Richard breathed a sigh of relief when he was gone.
"I am sorry he placed you two up here in such a false position," said
Mr. Williams to Richard. "Please tell Massanet of it, too. Neither of
you shall lose anything by it."
CHAPTER XXVII.
A FIRE AND ITS RESULT.
As one proof of Williams & Mann's good intentions towards Richard, the
boy found his salary on the following week increased to eight dollars,
and Frank received a proportionate addition to his pay.
In the middle of the week a new shipping-clerk, a German by the name
of Bretzwartz, was engaged, and, though everybody in the establishment
found it hard at first to understand the young man's broken English,
yet he was such a jolly fellow--as well as an honest and capable
one--that he was soon on good terms all around.
During the evenings of this week Richard wrote a great number of letters
to the Grand Army and other military organizations, in the hope of
finding some one who had known his father during the war or immediately
after it.
On Thursday evening Frank accompanied him to the neighborhood in which
Mr. Dare had once resided; but, though the two spent nearly three hours
in the search, no trace of any former acquaintance was found.
"You see it's different here from what it is in the country," said
Frank, when they were returning. "Here you often find that people don't
know who lives next door, or even in the same house with them. It
sounds queer, but it's true. No one is introduced, no one is sociable,
and the majority are continually moving, in the hope of finding a
better dwelling or cheaper rent."
"Yes, I noticed that," replied Richard, with something like a sigh.
"Out in the country everybody knows everybody else, and outside of a
few prim people all are as sociable as can be. But I suppose if one
wants to make money one must expect to give up some comforts."
"You're right there," replied Frank.
During the week Pep met them twice on the Bowery. He was cleanly washed,
had his curly hair brushed, and wore a brand-new suit. In his altered
appearance Richard hardly knew him.
"Dad's better," was the urchin's reply to the boy's question. "Uncle
Doc is going to take him out of de hospital next week, so as Aunt Betty
can nurse him herself. She's awful kind, she is."
"And how do you like the change?" asked Frank.
"I feel like I was dreamin'," was Pep's answer. "It don't seem natural--
these clo'es and that nice home. It's like de times long ago."
"Are you selling papers yet?" asked Richard.
"No, sir. Uncle Doc says I'm to go to school in a week or so. He says
I must have an eddication, and he's going to help dad get his money
and invest it so it's safe, and all that. Here's yer dollar."
As Pep concluded, he suddenly dived into one of the pockets of his new
trousers, and, after considerable difficulty, extricated a silver
dollar.
"Never mind, Pep, you can keep it," said Richard, yet well pleased to
see the urchin's evident desire to right the wrong he had done.
"No, no, it's yours," exclaimed Pep earnestly. "I won't keep it nohow.
And say," he added in a whisper, "I'm awful glad you didn't say nothin'
to me uncle of it. It's de first time I stole anything, and it's the
last, too, and I wouldn't have Uncle Doc or Aunt Betty know it for de
world."
"You can make sure they shall never hear of it," returned Richard, as,
after more urging, he took the coin. "I can understand how desperate
you felt that morning we met at the newspaper office, and we'll let
the whole matter drop."
"Thank you, sir."
And Pep felt much relieved.
"You must come up Sunday," put in Frank. "Come up to dinner, same as
you were going to."
"Thank you, Mr. Massanet, I will," replied Pep. "My uncle expects both
of you down soon, too."
And they separated, Pep being on his way to Frying Pan Court to get
a few treasured belongings that still remained there.
Early the following morning Richard and Frank started for the store
together. It was a clear, but windy day, thick clouds of dust flying
in all directions. As they passed the entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge,
a fire engine dashed past, on its way down the street.
"Hello! there's a fire somewhere!" exclaimed Frank.
"Can we go to it?" cried Richard. He had not yet seen a conflagration
in the city, and was anxious to see how such a thing would be handled.
Frank looked at his watch.
"We've got twenty-five minutes," he replied. "Come on; if it's in the
neighborhood we can take a look at it."
Both boys started off on a run. They reached Spruce Street, and followed
the engine around the corner.
A dense volume of black smoke greeted them.
The crowd was thick, and the two had hard work making their way forward.
"_It's our place!_" cried out Frank suddenly. "And the whole store
is afire, too!"
"Our place!" ejaculated Richard. "Oh, I hope not!"
But it was only too true, and in a moment they stood opposite the
establishment of Williams & Mann, now all blaze from top to bottom.
"Stand back there!" exclaimed a burly policeman, waving his club at
both boys. "Stand back."
"We work in the place," explained Frank.
"Can't help it," was the reply. "The insurance patrol has charge of
the goods. You'll have to get out of the way. Lively, there!" added
the officer, as a hook and ladder truck came dashing up the street.
So Richard and Frank fell back into the crowd, and were immediately
joined by Bretzwartz, the German shipping-clerk.
"I guess the place is a goner," remarked Frank, as the flames shot out
of the upper windows.
"Wonder how it caught?" said Richard.
"Der poiler in der pasement busted," put in Bretzwartz. "I chust come,
and vos putting on mine odder coat ven I heard an explosion vich knock
me mine feets off, and I rund out like I vos killed, and der whole
place was on fire in two seconds already."
"Was Larry killed?" asked Frank.
Larry was the engineer and porter around the place.
"No, he vos out, getting a pite to eat," replied the shipping-clerk.
Despite the efforts of the firemen, the flames made rapid progress,
and in an hour the "fireproof" building was known to be doomed. Both
of the heads of the firm had been sent for, and Mr. Williams soon put
in an appearance.
He was pale and excited, and shook his head sadly when his many
employees offered their services in any way they could be used.
"We can do nothing at present," he said. "The insurance companies have
entire charge."
"I hope you are covered, Mr. Williams," said Richard earnestly.
"Very nearly so," was the reply. "The stop to business will be our
worst loss. There is no telling when we will be able to resume. I only
trust the accounts in the safes are all right."
By noon the fire was under control. It had burnt itself out, and all
that remained of the establishment was its four scorched walls, and
the mass of half burned stock and fixtures within. Part of the stock
had been saved, and this was transferred to an empty store near by.
The boys assisted in this work until late in the evening, and also all
day Saturday.
In the middle of Saturday afternoon Mr. Mann came to them and paid
them their week's wages.
"You had both better find other places," he said. "We have got into
difficulty with the insurance companies, and it may be some time before
our claim is adjusted. Besides, Mr. Williams speaks of retiring, and
in that case I will probably join some other firm,"
This was dismaying news. Yet neither could blame Mr. Mann, though it
threw them both out of employment without notice.
"You may help us here next week," went on Mr. Mann. "But next Saturday
will finish the job. I will give both of you first-class
recommendations, and if I hear of any openings will let you know."
And Mr. Mann went away to carry his news to the other clerks.
"It's too bad," said Frank, when he was gone. "It won't be an easy job
to find another place."
"No, indeed," replied Richard. "Still, we can't complain of the way
they have treated us."
Both of the boys wore sober faces that night. To Richard came the ever-
recurring, thought, what next?
CHAPTER XXVIII.
A LUCKY RESOLVE.
"Well, Richard, we are gentlemen of leisure now."
It was Frank who spoke, and the occasion was the Monday morning
following their final week with Williams & Mann.
"Yes; but it doesn't suit me in the least," returned Richard. "To be
idle is the hardest work I can do. Have you anything in view?"
"Not a thing. I put in twelve applications last week to as many
different houses, but as yet I haven't heard from a single one."
"What do you intend to do?"
"I hardly know. I don't think it will pay to make any personal
applications."
"I'm going to try it," returned Richard, resolutely. "They can't say
any more than no, and each no will save just two cents in postage if
nothing else."
"When do you intend to start out," asked Frank, who could not help
admiring Richard's pluck.
"In about an hour. It is too early yet to catch the heads of the firms."
"Going to start at any particular place?"
"Yes."
"Where?--or perhaps you don't care to tell," added Frank hastily.
"Yes, I do," replied Richard, smiling quietly. "I am going to try the
stationer on the corner."
"Who? Martin? Why, he has such a small store I'm sure he doesn't need
help. He and his son and a boy do all the business."
"Never mind. I made up my mind to stop at every place, and his is the
first on the route; so I'll call, if only for the principle of the
thing."
"That's an idea!" cried Frank. "You are bound to have a place if there
is a single one vacant. Well, Dick, I trust with all my heart that
you'll succeed," he added warmly.
"You had better start out, too, Frank."
"Oh--I--I don't think it's much use," said the other hesitatingly.
"Oh, yes, it is, and you know it. Now confess that it is only your
lack of 'nerve' that keeps you from it."
Frank colored slightly.
"Well, I guess it is," he admitted. "I never was a good hand at
approaching people."
"Then you ought to break yourself in at once. Just break the ice and
you'll have no further trouble. I remember just how bad I felt when
I first came to New York to look for work. But I'm over it now, thank
goodness!"
And truth to tell in the past few weeks Richard had lost much of his
former shyness.
Frank Massanet was silent for a moment.
"I guess I will," he said finally. "I'll start out and have the thing
over at once. Which way do you intend to go--up or down?"
"I thought I would try down town first."
"Then I'll go up. We can compare notes at supper-time."
"So we can. I hope we both have luck," said Richard.
But he did not feel particularly elated over the prospects. His former
search for employment had convinced him that desirable situations were
rarely to be had--there was always some one on hand to fill a vacancy
as soon as it occurred.
He felt, however, that he must obtain employment of some kind, and
that quickly. The small amount of money he had in hand would not last
him long, and though kind-hearted Mrs. Massanet might be willing to
let him remain awhile without paying board, he knew that now, with her
son idle, the good woman could not afford so generous a course.
Richard had not gone to see Mr. Joyce as yet. He hesitated for several
reasons. In the first place the leather merchant had been so kind to
him that the boy felt it would be encroaching upon good nature to
solicit further aid, and in the second place, Mr. Joyce must know he
was out of a place, and would help him if he could, without being
bothered about it.
"I won't go to him until after I've done all I can for myself," had
been Richard's conclusion. "I would rather show him that I can help
myself."
Richard had written home about the fire, and had added that he would
probably lose his place in consequence, but he had not sent word home
that he was now idle, thinking it would be time enough to do so when
he found himself unable to obtain another situation.
The store to which Richard had referred was a small but neat one,
situated upon the corner of the street in which the Massanets lived
and Second Avenue. It was kept by Jonas Martin, an elderly man, and
his son, James. The stock consisted principally of books and stationery,
although the proprietors also kept papers and magazines, for which
there was a steady daily demand.
"I suppose there is hardly any use in striking him," thought Richard,
as he entered the store. "But I said every place, so here goes."
He found the elderly Mr. Martin behind a desk, writing a letter. The
storekeeper's face wore a troubled look.
"Good-morning," began Richard. "Is this Mr. Martin?"
"That's my name," was the reply. "What can I do for you?"
"I am looking for a place, sir. I worked for Williams & Mann, but they
burned out, as, no doubt you know, and that threw me out of work. Have
you anything open? I can furnish good recommendations."
Richard had carefully rehearsed this little speech, and now delivered
it so that his hearer might understand every word that was uttered.
Mr. Martin looked at him sharply, and then rubbed his chin reflectively.
"What made you think I needed help?" he asked.
"Oh, I don't know, sir. Every proprietor needs help at one time or
another, and I've made up my mind to find a place if there is any
open."
"You have recommendations, you say?"
"Yes, sir."
And Richard handed over those he had received from Williams & Mann.
Mr. Martin read them carefully.
"It seems to be all right," he said, as he handed back the paper. "If
I thought you would answer my purpose I would look you up."
"Then you need help?" asked Richard, quickly, glad to think he had
struck an opening with so little trouble.
"Yes, I do. My son James who helps me is sick in Philadelphia, and
consequently I have only the errand boy to relieve me. It is too much
for me and I must get a clerk."
"I would like you to try me," said Richard eagerly. "I would do my
best to suit, even if the place was only a temporary one."
"It might be permanent. The business is growing. But of course when
my son came back I could not pay a clerk so much."
"How much would you pay now?"
"How much do you expect?" asked Mr. Martin cautiously.
"I was getting eight dollars a week at my last place."
"I would be willing to pay that. But I want some one who is trustworthy
and willing to learn. Have you other recommendations?"
"I can refer you to Mr. Timothy Joyce," replied Richard; and he wrote
down the leather merchant's name and address on a bit of wrapping
paper.
Mr. Martin looked at the neat handwriting.
"Come round to-morrow morning this time," he said. "I will look up the
references this afternoon and if I find them satisfactory you can come
to work at once."
"Thank you, sir. Good-morning."
By this time there were two customers waiting, so not wishing to detain
the storekeeper longer. Richard nodded pleasantly and left the place.
CHAPTER XXIX.
FRANK'S IDEA.
"That's what I call luck!" thought Richard, as he hurried back to the
Massanets' home. "I'm mighty glad I called on Mr. Martin. He seems to
be a gentleman and will no doubt do what is right. I hope Frank has
been equally fortunate."
Mrs. Massanet was surprised to see him returning so soon.
"What ees eet?" she asked, anxiously. "I hope you no deesheartened
a'ready?"
"No, indeed!" returned the boy; and he told her of his good fortune.
"Zat ees nice!" exclaimed the Frenchwoman. "I hope you gits zee place
widout trouble."
And then she gave a little sigh as she thought of her son's uncertain
search.
"Maybe Frank will be as lucky," said Richard, who fancied he could
read her thoughts.
"I sincerely hope so," returned Mrs. Massanet.
Not having anything special to do for the rest of the day, Richard sat
down and wrote a long letter home. He intended not to send it until
the following day, when he could add a postscript that the new place
was positively his.
Five weeks in the great metropolis had worked wonders in the boy. He
no longer looked or felt "green," and he was fast acquiring a business
way that was bound, sooner or later, to be highly beneficial to him.
In these five weeks he had received several letters from friends and
not a few from home, the most important news in all of them being the
announcement of his sister Grace's engagement to Charley Wood, and
baby Madge's first efforts to master her A B C's.
"I wish I could afford to bring them all to New York," had been
Richard's thought. "Or else near enough so that I could go home to
them every night. It would be so pleasant to have them around me.
Perhaps some day I can afford to get a little cottage right near the
city, which would be nicest of all; for I am sure mother would like
to have a garden, even if it was a small one."
His letter for home finished, Richard spent an hour or more in the
preparation of an advertisement which he intended to insert in one of
the army journals on the following week. The advertisement gave his
father's full name, company, regiment and so forth, and asked for the
address of any one who had known him during the war, with promise of
reward for information.
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