Ragged Dick Part 34

"But he was to-day. He said he had got a bad cold, and had to come home for a clean handkerchief."

"Did you see him?" asked d.i.c.k.

"Yes," said Mrs. Mooney. "Bridget was hanging out clothes, and I went to the door to let him in."

"I wonder if he had a key that would fit our drawer," said Fosd.i.c.k.

"Yes," said Mrs. Mooney. "The bureaus in the two rooms are just alike. I got 'em at auction, and most likely the locks is the same."

"It must have been he," said d.i.c.k, looking towards Fosd.i.c.k.

"Yes," said Fosd.i.c.k, "it looks like it."

"What's to be done? That's what I'd like to know," said d.i.c.k. "Of course he'll say he hasn't got it; and he won't be such a fool as to leave it in his room."

"If he hasn't been to the bank, it's all right," said Fosd.i.c.k. "You can go there the first thing to-morrow morning, and stop their paying any money on it."

"But I can't get any money on it myself," said d.i.c.k. "I told Tom Wilkins I'd let him have some more money to-morrow, or his sick mother'll have to turn out of their lodgin's."

"How much money were you going to give him?"

"I gave him three dollars to-day, and was goin' to give him two dollars to-morrow."

"I've got the money, d.i.c.k. I didn't go to the bank this morning."

"All right. I'll take it, and pay you back next week."

"No, d.i.c.k; if you've given three dollars, you must let me give two."

"No, Fosd.i.c.k, I'd rather give the whole. You know I've got more money than you. No, I haven't, either," said d.i.c.k, the memory of his loss flas.h.i.+ng upon him. "I thought I was rich this morning, but now I'm in dest.i.toot circ.u.mstances."

"Cheer up, d.i.c.k; you'll get your money back."

"I hope so," said our hero, rather ruefully.

The fact was, that our friend d.i.c.k was beginning to feel what is so often experienced by men who do business of a more important character and on a larger scale than he, the bitterness of a reverse of circ.u.mstances. With one hundred dollars and over carefully laid away in the savings bank, he had felt quite independent. Wealth is comparative, and d.i.c.k probably felt as rich as many men who are worth a hundred thousand dollars. He was beginning to feel the advantages of his steady self-denial, and to experience the pleasures of property. Not that d.i.c.k was likely to be unduly attached to money. Let it be said to his credit that it had never given him so much satisfaction as when it enabled him to help Tom Wilkins in his trouble.

Besides this, there was another thought that troubled him. When he obtained a place he could not expect to receive as much as he was now making from blacking boots,--probably not more than three dollars a week,--while his expenses without clothing would amount to four dollars. To make up the deficiency he had confidently relied upon his savings, which would be sufficient to carry him along for a year, if necessary. If he should not recover his money, he would be compelled to continue a boot-black for at least six months longer; and this was rather a discouraging reflection. On the whole it is not to be wondered at that d.i.c.k felt unusually sober this evening, and that neither of the boys felt much like studying.

The two boys consulted as to whether it would be best to speak to Travis about it. It was not altogether easy to decide. Fosd.i.c.k was opposed to it.

"It will only put him on his guard," said he, "and I don't see as it will do any good. Of course he will deny it. We'd better keep quiet, and watch him, and, by giving notice at the bank, we can make sure that he doesn't get any money on it. If he does present himself at the bank, they will know at once that he is a thief, and he can be arrested."

This view seemed reasonable, and d.i.c.k resolved to adopt it. On the whole, he began to think prospects were brighter than he had at first supposed, and his spirits rose a little.

"How'd he know I had any bank-book? That's what I can't make out,"

he said.

"Don't you remember?" said Fosd.i.c.k, after a moment's thought, "we were speaking of our savings, two or three evenings since?"

"Yes," said d.i.c.k.

"Our door was a little open at the time, and I heard somebody come upstairs, and stop a minute in front of it. It must have been Jim Travis. In that way he probably found out about your money, and took the opportunity to-day to get hold of it."

This might or might not be the correct explanation. At all events it seemed probable.

The boys were just on the point of going to bed, later in the evening, when a knock was heard at the door, and, to their no little surprise, their neighbor, Jim Travis, proved to be the caller. He was a sallow-complexioned young man, with dark hair and bloodshot eyes.

He darted a quick glance from one to the other as he entered, which did not escape the boys' notice.

"How are ye, to-night?" he said, sinking into one of the two chairs with which the room was scantily furnished.

"Jolly," said d.i.c.k. "How are you?"

"Tired as a dog," was the reply. "Hard work and poor pay; that's the way with me. I wanted to go to the theater, to-night, but I was hard up, and couldn't raise the cash."

Here he darted another quick glance at the boys; but neither betrayed anything.

"You don't go out much, do you?" he said

"Not much," said Fosd.i.c.k. "We spend our evenings in study."

"That's precious slow," said Travis, rather contemptuously. "What's the use of studying so much? You don't expect to be a lawyer, do you, or anything of that sort?"

"Maybe," said d.i.c.k. "I haven't made up my mind yet. If my feller-citizens should want me to go to Congress some time, I shouldn't want to disapp'int 'em; and then readin' and writin'

might come handy."

"Well," said Travis, rather abruptly, "I'm tired and I guess I'll turn in."

"Good-night," said Fosd.i.c.k.

The boys looked at each other as their visitor left the room.

"He came in to see if we'd missed the bank-book," said d.i.c.k.

"And to turn off suspicion from himself, by letting us know he had no money," added Fosd.i.c.k.

"That's so," said d.i.c.k. "I'd like to have searched them pockets of his."

CHAPTER XXII

TRACKING THE THIEF

Fosd.i.c.k was right in supposing that Jim Travis had stolen the bank-book. He was also right in supposing that that worthy young man had come to the knowledge of d.i.c.k's savings by what he had accidentally overheard. Now, Travis, like a very large number of young men of his cla.s.s, was able to dispose of a larger amount of money than he was able to earn. Moreover, he had no great fancy for work at all, and would have been glad to find some other way of obtaining money enough to pay his expenses. He had recently received a letter from an old companion, who had strayed out to California, and going at once to the mines had been lucky enough to get possession of a very remunerative claim. He wrote to Travis that he had already realized two thousand dollars from it, and expected to make his fortune within six months.