, ::
 

 
 The Dugdale Millions 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 By BARCLAY NORTH, (Wm. c. Hudson), 
 author of " The Diamond Button" " Whose 
 Was It" " Vivier of Vivier, Longman & 
 Co.," "On the Rack," "The Man With a 
 Thumb" "520 Per Cent." etc. . . . 
 
 NEW YORK AND CONDON 
 STREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS.
 
 Ps 
 
 Copyright, 1891, 
 By OASSELL PUBLISHING GO. 
 
 Copyright, 1900, 
 By STREET & SMITH 
 
 All Rights Reserved
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. A PERPLEXING COMMISSION, . . . . I 
 
 II. A REVELATION, 10 
 
 III. THE FIRST STEP, ...... 21 
 
 IV. A GOOD FRIEND, . . . . 32 
 V. SIGNOR BARBERINI, ..... 43 
 
 VI. A TALE AND A DISCOVERY, ... 54 
 
 VII. DISQUIETING NEWS 65 
 
 VIII. COUNTERPLOTS, .....* 72 
 
 IX. A FATEFUL ARRIVAL, ..... 79 
 
 X. A PLAN OF CAMPAIGN, .... 91 
 
 XI. PLAYING THE KNAVE, ..... 102 
 
 XII. A PERVERSE MAIDEN, .... 112 
 
 XIII. THE RED SHAWL, 121 
 
 XIV. ORTON PIERSON, . . . 131 
 XV. CONFLICTING INTERESTS, . . .141 
 
 XVI. DICK S PROGRESS, .... * 153 
 
 XVII. A Box AND ITS CONTENTS, . . .163 
 
 XVIII. THE DUGDALE HEIR, . . 170
 
 V CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGB 
 
 XIX. REBELLIOUS INDEPENDENCE, . , . . 179 
 
 XX. DICK S DISCOVERY, 190 
 
 XXI. THE TIN Box, ....... 201 
 
 XXII. MRS. STANTON S INTRIGUE, . . . 210 
 
 XXIII. A BURGLARY, 222 
 
 XXIV. PUZZLED CONSPIRATORS, .... 233 
 XXV. COMPLICATIONS, . . . . . 239 
 
 XXVI. A BURST OF SUNSHINE, .... 252 
 
 XXVII. IN IMMINENT PERIL 264 
 
 XXVIII. THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE, . . . 277 
 
 XXIX. THE DECISIVE BLOW, 284 
 
 XXX. HAROLD S PROOF, ..... 295 
 
 XXXI. DETECTED AND CAPTURED, . . 307
 
 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A PERPLEXING COMMISSION. 
 
 "MR. HETLOW has asked twice for you, Mr. 
 Mason." 
 
 These words were respectfully addressed by a lad to 
 a young man who had just entered the counting-room 
 of Hetlow, Altmount & Co., in Cliff Street. 
 
 The young man stopped short in astonishment. 
 
 "Mr. Hetlow!" he repeated incredulously. "At 
 this hour?" 
 
 "He has been in his room since before nine 
 o clock," replied the young lad, as if in confirmation of 
 his statement. 
 
 The color mounted slightly to the cheeks of Mason, 
 who was widely known as " Dick," and, also, to many 
 who did not presume to call him such when talking 
 with him. He threw off his light overcoat, for it was 
 when autumn had just fallen upon the year, and 
 handed it to the young lad standing respectfully 
 beside him. 
 
 As he walked to his own desk he muttered: 
 
 "Now what is the meaning of this?" 
 
 Standing irresolutely beside his chair for a moment, 
 he turned sharply with an air of determination, and 
 passed into the corridor leading to the room occupied 
 by the head of the great concern.
 
 2 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 Once out of sight of the clerks, all of whom he knew 
 were watching him covertly, he stopped and bent his 
 head in deep thought. After a brief moment rousing 
 himself, he said aloud in a low tone. 
 
 "He has come to know that I went up last night to 
 that garden party at Farmington. Well, even so! 
 Suppose his charming daughter was stopping at the 
 Negleys ! He cannot expect to control the invita 
 tions sent out by the people his daughter visits. He 
 can hardly have learned that ray invitation was due to 
 the kindly offices of the charming Bessie. Perhaps 
 he has come to know that I spent an hour with that 
 sweet girl behind the ferns in the greenery. If he has, 
 someone stayed up all night to inform him. Well, 
 here goes for a tussle with the Tycoon. There will be 
 a row, I suppose." 
 
 He hurried along the corridor, at the end of which 
 there was a door on which there was a silver plate, 
 bearing the name of the head of the concern. 
 
 He opened it without knocking, and stepped in, 
 with the easy assurance of one who knew he had the 
 entr&e. 
 
 The room was sumptuously furnished for a business 
 office. The carpet on the floor was so thick as to 
 deaden all footfalls; easy-chairs of stuffed leather 
 abounded; on the walls were oil paintings and about 
 the room rare bits of china and valuable bronzes. In 
 one corner, at a desk, so placed that the best light fell 
 upon it, was sitting an impressive-looking old gentle 
 man, portly, gray-headed, dignified in demeanor. 
 
 "You wished to see me, I understand," said Dick, 
 as he approached the desk, leaning his left elbow on 
 the top, in an easy manner. 
 
 Mr. Hetlow looked up from the papers over which 
 he was poring, with a frown on his brow, which faded 
 away as he looked upon the pleasant picture of youth 
 and manly beauty Dick presented, braced as he was 
 for the contest he anticipated.
 
 A PERPLEXING COMMISSION. 3 
 
 Tasked twice for you," he said at length, "and 
 was told you were not yet come." 
 
 "No," replied Dick carelessly, "I ran out of town a 
 short distance last night. One train to return by was 
 much too early, the other a little too late. I took the 
 one a little too late." 
 
 Apparently not heeding the answer, the old mer 
 chant laid the papers away from his hand and pushed 
 back his chair. 
 
 "Sit down, Mason," he said, pointing to a seat. " I 
 have a most delicate matter to speak to you about." 
 
 "It s coming," said Dick in an underbreath, as he 
 sat down. 
 
 "You have been connected with this house a num 
 ber of years, and I and my partners appreciate your 
 abilities and know we can trust you." 
 
 "I wonder who the deuce told him," muttered Dick. 
 
 "And I feel," continued the old merchant, "that 
 the trust and confidence reposed in you justifies me 
 in expecting a return from you in a matter which is 
 without the province of your duties here." 
 
 Dick replied with a bow, saying to himself, "I d 
 give half a year s salary to know who informed him." 
 
 "I have received a letter which greatly annoys me 
 so perplexing that I hesitate as to the course I 
 should pursue." 
 
 "I could suggest a course satisfactory to myself," 
 muttered Dick. 
 
 "The matter comes close home to me because it 
 affects my daughter Bessie. She is all I have left, 
 since her mother died, and this thing will affect her 
 life very much." 
 
 "Naturally," said Dick aloud, adding to himself, 
 "whether she is Mrs. Mason or Mrs. Somebody Else 
 naturally will." 
 
 The merchant looked into Dick s face quickly as 
 he inquired: "Why, naturally? You do not know 
 what it is yet."
 
 4 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 The young man pulled himself together with a start. 
 "The remark was made at random. Please go on, 
 sir." 
 
 Mr. Hetlow continued his gaze upon the young man 
 a moment or two, as if it pleased him to look upon the 
 bright, open face, and then went on, plunging abruptly 
 into his tale, to Dick s manifest surprise. 
 
 "Samuel Dugdale died six months ago in England, 
 a very old man, leaving a vast estate, the income 01 
 which is more than two hundred thousand pounds, 
 He married in middle life and his wife bore him a son 
 and daughter, dying shortly after. Ten years before 
 his death his daughter, never having married, died, leav 
 ing as his sole relatives his son and a sister. The son 
 and the father did not agree. The former was bent 
 on his pleasures, while the father desired him to main 
 tain the traditions of the house and bear his part in 
 the business, which had descended from father to son 
 for more than two centuries. Finally the son added 
 to his refusal to enter the business house the marrying 
 of a public dancer. Thereupon the father cast him 
 off, refusing to provide for him in any way. In a 
 short time the son and his wife dropped out of sight. 
 For a number of years nothing was heard from him, 
 when a letter, dated from New York, was received by 
 the elder Dugdale begging assistance, setting forth that 
 he was wretchedly poor; that his wife was dead and, 
 as he feared, from want and exposure ; that he was 
 left with a child a boy then two years old. At first, 
 stern and unyielding, old Samuel Dugdale would not 
 consider the letter, but subsequently thinking that the 
 woman who had been the bar to his son s reformation 
 was dead, that the son had been severely disciplined 
 by adversity, and that there was now a male in the 
 third generation two lives to bear the house forward 
 called a trusted clerk, told him to forward relief 
 immediately, then proceed to New York and bring his
 
 A PERPLEXING COMMISSTON. 5 
 
 son and grandson home at once. On arriving, how 
 ever, the clerk found that Edmund Dugdale, for such 
 was the son s name, was dead, and buried by charity. 
 Before his death the child had disappeared ; no trace 
 of him being discoverable. The clerk returned to 
 England, but was sent back to search for the child a 
 search made without result and abandoned after a 
 year or two. 
 
 "Now," continued Mr. Hetlow, growing more im 
 pressive, "Samuel Dugdale died intestate, and, if this 
 child cannot be found, why, since she is the daughter 
 of the sister of Samuel Dugdale, and therefore is the 
 next of kin, my daughter Bessie inherits this vast 
 property and becomes the largest wool merchant in 
 the world." 
 
 So utterly unexpected was the conclusion of the old 
 merchant that Dick Mason nearly lost that sangfroid 
 which it was the boast of his friends never forsook 
 him, under the most trying occasions. 
 
 "By Heavens," he murmured, "what chance have 
 I with a girl with a million for an income. It was 
 bad enough before, but now " 
 
 "Now," continued Mr. Hetlow, deeply interested 
 in his tale and unmindful of the effect produced upon 
 Dick, "I have a letter from the family solicitor in 
 London, informing me of this condition of affairs, but 
 strongly asserting that before steps are taken to put 
 Miss Hetlow in possession of all this property, I 
 should make sure the grandchild does not exist, and 
 will not turn up to make trouble and disappoint hopes 
 that have settled into certainty. In other words, the 
 solicitor puts upon me the burden of discovering 
 whether or not the fellow exists. If he does, he must 
 now be a young man of twenty-six or seven. It is a 
 trying and strange position in which to place a man 
 to force him to a search for one, who, if found, will 
 deprive his daughter of an enormous fortune. I do
 
 6 TffE DUGDALE MILLIONS, 
 
 not think I am more dishonorable than the average of 
 men, but I freely confess I am afraid to trust myself 
 in this matter afraid that by reason of the great inter 
 ests involved, I may be betrayed into stopping short 
 of that energy and persistency necessary to make 
 a search. It will be a difficult one after such a lapse of 
 years, but it must be made honestly and exhaustively 
 made. The fact of the grandson s existence or death 
 must be determined. You, my dear Mason, are a dis 
 interested person. * 
 
 "Not so entirely disinterested after all, * thought 
 Dick with a grimace. 
 
 "You are attached to the house keen, sharp, and 
 energetic and, as I have frequently remarked, pos 
 sessed of a great faculty for getting at the bottom of 
 things. I feel that I can trust you to protect my 
 honor, and protect it against myself, by using all the 
 requisite energy and ability. You will perceive upon 
 examination it is no small trust I am reposing in you. 
 I want you to take it in hand at once. The expense 
 will be borne by the estate and your drafts will 
 be honored. Here," continued Mr. Hetlow, as he 
 handed Dick a bundle of documents, "are copies of 
 papers forwarded by the solicitor. After you have read 
 them, you will know all I or anyone else can tell you." 
 
 Dick took the papers, fingering them over in an 
 abstracted manner. Mr. Hetlow waited for him to 
 make some remarks, but hearing none he went on: 
 
 * I know most people would say let the young man 
 find himself, but I hoped I could induce you to see 
 the matter as I do, and that a moral obligation rests 
 upon me to make a vigorous and energetic search. 
 Am I mistaken?" 
 
 "No, sir," said Dick promptly. "You are not mis 
 taken. Your wishes shall be obeyed. You have not 
 only induced me to see the matter as you do, but you 
 have made me appreciate the keen sense of honor that
 
 A PERPLEXING COMMISSION. 1 
 
 induces you to put the search on foot, and to put it 
 into the hands of one you think will not be influenced 
 by considerations of personal interests." 
 
 The face of the old gentleman flushed with pleasure. 
 He arose from his chair and extending his hand to the 
 young man said: 
 
 "I thought you would understand me. * 
 
 Dick had risen at the same time. He stood a mo 
 ment deeply thinking; finally, with an air of timidity, 
 he asked: 
 
 "Does Miss Hetlow know of this matter?" 
 
 "No," replied the merchant, "she is not at home, 
 and this information has reached me during her ab 
 sence. I have not yet determined what is the best 
 course to pursue whether to withhold the facts for 
 the present so as not to accustom her to hopes and 
 aspirations which may never be realized, or whether 
 to inform her, dwelling strongly upon the possibility 
 that the grandson may be found." 
 
 Dick was about to speak, but suddenly checked 
 himself. 
 
 "You were about to say something, Mason,* said 
 Mr. Hetlow. 
 
 * I was about to offer some advice, but a second 
 thought suggested its impertinence." 
 
 "Nothing would be impertinence after the trust I 
 have given you," said the old merchant kindly. 
 
 "I would not inform her. The contemplation of 
 such riches, it seems to me, must necessarily affect the 
 imagination, and, if I find the grandson, the disap 
 pointment must of necessity be very great." 
 
 "Perhaps," rejoined Mr. Hetlow thoughtfully. 
 
 "You have nothing more to say to me," asked 
 Dick, as he moved to the door. 
 
 "Nothing except, and it is not important, that 
 nearly thirty years ago a man called at our house in 
 Bond Street, claiming relationship with my wife, who
 
 8 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 he said was his aunt, and that his name was Edmund 
 Dugdale. Not having heard at the time of the differ 
 ences between Edmund and his father, believing him 
 still to be pursuing his gay career in London, and 
 because the man was so shabby and clearly in want of 
 money, we treated him as an impostor. That is all. 
 You have everything I can tell you and a carte blanche 
 to proceed as you think best." 
 
 Dick went out, carrying the papers with him. As 
 the door closed upon him he stood still in the passage 
 way that led to his own room, with his head bent to 
 the floor for some time, and then he spoke his thoughts 
 aloud. 
 
 "Well," he ejaculated, "by the great hickory post 
 that played the banjo before General Jackson, this is a 
 go! I don t think I quite take it all in. I am in love 
 with Bessie Hetlow. Whether she is with me is an 
 unsolved problem, and before it is solved, she rises upon 
 my vision as an heiress of gigantic possibilities and 
 proportions, and I am asked to find a man who, if he 
 exists and presents himself, will reduce her to a pov 
 erty of about a hundred thousand a year. I am to do 
 this wrong to the woman I love. If I do not find this 
 young man, or find him dead, she will sail off into the 
 region where lords and dukes disport the prismatic 
 rays of their jeweled coronets as glittering baits to 
 trap unwary heiresses and wholly beyond my reach. 
 If I do not find him, the aforesaid dukes and princes 
 will not spread their glittering bait and there may be a 
 chance for Dick Mason, who has nothing but his vir 
 tues and good clothes to commend him." 
 
 He lost himself in thought again. Finally he walked 
 off, saying: 
 
 "My heart aches for that poor young man, deprived 
 of all the luxuries these millions would bring him. 
 I ll find him if it takes one of these shapely legs. It 
 will be tough on Bessie, but then she can compensate
 
 A PERPLEXING COMMISSION. 9 
 
 herself for her loss by the possession of this stout 
 and manly heart. I ll find Dugdale junior, and make 
 him the largest wool merchant in the world." 
 
 He went to his own desk, and settled himself to a 
 careful perusal of the documents.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A REVELATION. 
 
 THE country-place of Mr. Hetlow, at which he lived 
 six months of each year, was on the Hudson, above 
 Dobbs Ferry. A princely estate in all save territory, 
 what it lacked in extent, it made up in the superb 
 state of its cultivation and the extreme beauty of the 
 grounds which immediately surrounded the house. 
 
 Mr. Hetlow was an Englishman, but he had lived 
 from early manhood in America, so long indeed that 
 he had forgotten that he had ever been a British sub 
 ject. His favorite boast was that he was a good 
 American citizen, with a comfortable stake in the 
 country. His father, when alive, had had an inter 
 est in the firm of Samuel Dugdale & Son, of London, 
 the name by which the firm had been known for nearly 
 two centuries. It would not do, perhaps, to say that 
 he was a partner, but, as was the custom of that house 
 after years of faithful service, the responsible heads 
 were given a share in the profits in addition to their 
 salaries. This had made him rich, and, as he was the 
 manager of the concern, had given him rank and in 
 fluence. When, in the course of the needs of the 
 widely extending business, it appeared that an agent 
 in New York City was advisable, he was influential 
 enough to secure the appointment for his son Howard, 
 the present Hetlow, then employed in the home office 
 and about thirty. 
 
 In the New World the young man thrived, broad 
 ened out into business on his own account, and, with
 
 A REVELATION. II 
 
 t!w assistance of his father, founded the great concern of 
 Hetlow, Altmount & Co., always remaining the agent 
 of Samuel Dugdale & Son. On one of his visits to 
 the old country, he had married the younger sister a 
 half sister in fact, since her mother was the stepmother 
 of the Dugdale but recently dead and with the for 
 tune she had brought him, he had so extended his 
 business that he had taken the lead in his line in this 
 country. 
 
 At the time of the beginning of this tale, that is to 
 say in 1883, he was a man of sixty, so hale and hearty 
 that few believed him to be more than fifty. His wife 
 was dead and his daughter, now but little turned of 
 twenty, was his only child. 
 
 Though he boasted his thorough identification with 
 America and American interests, still he retained 
 many British and insular prejudices, one of which was 
 a peculiar contempt for American architecture. Con 
 sequently when he built his country residence, it was 
 strong enough for a fortress and large enough for sev 
 eral families. It was in fact a reproduction of the old 
 Dugdale mansion in Kent a lordly and stately dwell 
 ing. 
 
 Immediately adjoining his place was that of An 
 drew Stanton, a lawyer practicing in New York, who 
 had inherited his property from his father. The 
 house was a large, roomy, rambling, wooden structure 
 of the colonial period, as distinctly American as the 
 Hetlow mansion was distinctly British. And Mr. 
 Stanton was as diametrically opposed, in methods of 
 thought and ways of life, to Mr. Hetlow as their re 
 spective houses were opposed to each other. Never 
 theless they were the best of friends, and though 
 from the time Mr. Hetlow left in the autumn to take 
 up his residence in his town house, until he returned 
 in the spring, the two men never saw each other, they 
 renewed their intimacy at that season of the year as if
 
 12 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 a day only had parted them, and quarreled over their 
 politics and religion with a hearty liking for each other. 
 
 Mrs. Stanton was a second wife, some twenty-five 
 years younger than her husband. She was a good, 
 kindly woman hospitable and charitable, but pos 
 sessed of the demon jealousy. Certainly the life of 
 her husband did not justify the doubts she enter 
 tained, but as she was a woman thoroughly ingrained 
 with superstition, devoutly believing in the revelation of 
 the unknown by means of signs and dreams, she pursued 
 him with her suspicions. As she was nightly dreaming 
 that he was making tender love to some woman she 
 had never known or heard of, she was daily vexing 
 herself with jealousy of the unknown, to his infinite 
 perplexity and irritation. Moreover she had frequent 
 recourse to the cards, as revealing his relations to the 
 fair sex, and seasoned his dinners with veiled allusions 
 to a diamond woman, or a spade woman, to his com 
 plete mystification and the intense amusement of the 
 other member of his household, a young girl. 
 
 This young girl was Mr. Stanton s niece, an orphan 
 he cared for, the child of his younger sister Wallis 
 Gladwin a frolicsome sprite with a rare fund of 
 humor, whose mischievousness brightened, as well as 
 perplexed, the somber old house. She was the bosom 
 friend of Bessie Hetlow though three years her junior, 
 and in all things, complexion, size, spirits, mind, and 
 humor, the direct opposite of her friend. Beauty, 
 though widely different, they possessed in common. 
 They loved each other as dearly as sisters never sep 
 arated could, and were devout believers in each other. 
 The house of one was almost the house of the other. 
 In this friendship Mr. Hetlow and Mr. Stanton and 
 his wife acquiesced, notwithstanding the former stood 
 somewhat in dread of the quick tongue and in4epen- 
 dent personality of Wallis, and the headlong direct 
 ness with which she plunged in "wd arrived at the
 
 A REVELATION 1 . 13 
 
 truth of things which seemed obscure to him, and 
 notwithstanding the latter gentleman feared the influ 
 ence upon his ward, the knowledge of the luxuries of 
 wealth she obtained through her close association with 
 Bessie would naturally exert. 
 
 It was a sunny afternoon in late September, that 
 Bessie returned to her home from her visit to the 
 Negleys on Long Island. She sent word to Wallis 
 that she was home and was dying to see her, as soon 
 as she arrived, which message brought Wallis in haste 
 to the Hetlow mansion. 
 
 Notwithstanding Dick s advice, Mr. Hetlow, after 
 consultation with his lawyer, had determined to pre 
 pare his daughter s mind for the brilliant possibilities 
 opening to her. He was anxious to have the matter 
 off his mind. With Dick prosecuting the search vig 
 orously and his daughter properly informed, he could, 
 with easy conscience, return to his pursuits of busi 
 ness and pleasure. He therefore awaited her return 
 with impatience. Before leaving for the city on the 
 morning of the day his daughter was to return, he 
 wrote her a letter saying that he had a matter of grave 
 importance to communicate to her, upon his return, 
 begging she would make no engagement to interfere 
 with this communication. 
 
 Bessie was reading the letter when Wallis entered 
 and found her grave and puzzled by its formality. 
 The two friends sat down to speculate upon what it 
 might portend. 
 
 "Someone has proposed for your hand," said 
 Wallis positively. 
 
 This was her favorite speculation a brilliant pro 
 posal of marriage for her friend a thought which 
 desolated her when she recalled the separation it 
 would entail. 
 
 "Oh, dear! I hope not," cried Bessie. "I do 
 hate these ready-made courtships where the man
 
 14 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 comes with the blessing of the father upon the union, 
 before there has been a word of love." 
 
 "Let us go over to Aunt Ellen and get her to cut 
 the cards for its meaning," laughed Wallis. "The 
 dear old girl is in the humor for it. She is in great 
 grief to-day." 
 
 "In great grief?" repeated Bessie, in wonder. 
 
 "Yes, in great grief. She dreamed last night that 
 she saw Uncle Andrew kissing a beautiful woman in a 
 red shawl, and she is so jealous of that woman that 
 she is to-day bemoaning her sad fate and the misery 
 she is subjected to." 
 
 "Oh, no; we won t go," replied Bessie, "we will 
 only be treated to a lament over the miseries of matri 
 mony and a lecture on the joys of spinsterhood." 
 
 "Perhaps, Bess," exclaimed Wallis, after a moment 
 of silence, during which she had curled herself into a 
 queer little heap on the lounge, "perhaps Mr. Mason 
 has declared himself to your father." 
 
 The color rose to the cheeks of the fair young girl, 
 and she said with an evident effort at contempt : 
 
 "Mr. Mason! If he has, I shall say no at once, 
 and most emphatically." 
 
 "Why?" asked Wallis, her black eyes opened to 
 their fullest extent. "Bess, you mustn t tell me you 
 don t like him, for I know that you do. Don t you 
 think I have seen it?" 
 
 "Do you suppose," retorted Bessie, with much 
 haste, as if she found refuge in the words, "do you 
 suppose that I could have any respect for a man who 
 would go to your father before he sued for your hand? 
 Certainly not. That would be taking all the spirit out 
 the affair. It must be like that drink your uncle 
 takes, when he burns all the alcohol out of his brandy. 
 Just think of it! Afraid to speak to the girl before he 
 gets the father s consent, then having obtained it, 
 comes expecting her to fall down before him, because,
 
 A REVELATION. 1 5 
 
 forsooth, her father favors his suit. Bah, I d despise 
 such a man, as every girl of spirit would. Mr. Mason 
 wouldn t do such a thing. No, he d rather run away 
 with the girl first and ask the father afterward." 
 
 "Therefore, you do not despise Mr. Mason," 
 remarked Wallis with a sly glance. 
 
 "I don t say that I despise him, or I don t! Why 
 should I? However, you are wrong." 
 
 "And why, my pretty demure puss?" 
 
 "Because because I know." 
 
 "Most excellent reason, but not very clear," re 
 plied the cynic on the lounge. 
 
 "Well, I ve seen Mr. Mason only a day or two 
 ago." 
 
 "Oh, where? Tell me all about it." 
 
 Cynicism lost in interest. 
 
 "At the Negleys . He came up to the garden 
 party. And we had a long well we had a talk. And 
 Wallis, what do you think he told me?" 
 
 "Oh, go on, don t be so slow telling it." 
 
 "He said that my father had given him a direct 
 hint that his calls at our house were not quite the 
 thing in a clerk." 
 
 "The beast!" 
 
 "Who? Mr. Mason?" 
 
 "No, your father. You agreed with your father of 
 course." 
 
 "Of course I didn t. I couldn t be so impolite." 
 
 "What did you tell him? That they were just the 
 thing and you wept when they were not?" 
 
 "Nonsense! I evaded any reply in words that is." 
 
 "Oh! But made him understand that the daughter 
 differed with the father on this important question? 
 
 "Not at all. He was so pressing so ardent in 
 fact, that I had to play stiff Miss Propriety, and then 
 you know we had been for an hour in the greenery by 
 ourselves Heavens!" she broke off with a scream.
 
 l6 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 "What is it? For gracious sake what?" cried 
 Wallis in alarm. 
 
 "That is what the letter is about." 
 
 "What, the greenery?" 
 
 "Yes; someone has told father!" 
 
 "There will be a time. I must be with you when 
 the storm breaks." 
 
 "No, no; I don t care for myself. All he can do 
 will be to scold, but poor Dick 
 
 "Oh, poor Dick It s poor Dick now, is it?" 
 
 "Please don t tease, because this is very serious. 
 You know Dick that is, Mr. Mason, is in papa s 
 office, and if papa were to cut up rough it might be 
 very serious for Mr. Mason." 
 
 "And if he does?" 
 
 "Well, it may be very hard on Mr. Mason. Just 
 for fancying one, you know." 
 
 "Just for loving his employer s daughter. But you 
 see he ought not to aspire so high, and the lovely prin 
 cess should not stoop to so lowly a knight." 
 
 "Mr. Mason is a gentleman." 
 
 "But as poor as I am the traditional church mouse. 
 Yet if you are irretrievably steeped in your folly, and 
 if Papa Hetlow proceeds to extremes, you will have 
 but one thing to do." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Marry poor Dick and compel the Hetlow Fortress 
 to succumb from attacks from without." 
 
 "What? Without his even asking me to marry 
 him?" 
 
 "I presume he has done that already." 
 
 "No, he has not even presumed to do so. I 
 wouldn t let him go so far." 
 
 "Bess," cried Wallis, uncurling herself and assum 
 ing great severity. "You are not flirting with that 
 young man?" 
 
 "Suppose I am, what then?"
 
 A REVELATION. I| 
 
 "You are not leading him on just to throw him 
 Over and break his heart? Bess, I don t I can t 
 believe it of you." 
 
 "Why not? I m sure it s no more than I have 
 seen you do a score of times." 
 
 "You never saw me flirt with anything but a rich 
 young man. I never in all my life tried to break the 
 heart of a poor young man." 
 
 "Where is the difference?" 
 
 "Bess, I know the pangs of poverty, and I have 
 deep sympathy for that poor young man, Dick Mason, 
 with his lovely mustache. What will he have to con 
 sole him, when you break his heart? You throw him 
 over and not only does he lose the loveliest and most 
 beautiful girl in all the world, but a lot of money 
 besides. If you are determined to break hearts break 
 a rich man s heart, then he s got his money to console 
 him." 
 
 "So you think Mr. Mason is after money." 
 
 "No, I don t. And you know he isn t. I don t 
 believe Dick Mason cares a copper penny for all the 
 money your father has got." 
 
 "You seem to be a warm friend of Mr. Mason." 
 
 "I am, and I mean he shall know it. And Bess, if 
 you don t love that Dick Mason and marry him too, 
 I ll never speak to you again, and I ll I ll I ll " 
 
 "Marry him yourself?" 
 
 "No, I won t; he s too poor." 
 
 "Who is mercenary now?" laughed Bessie. 
 
 Before Wallis could retort, the roll of wheels upon 
 the gravel of the carriageway was heard. The young 
 girl springing to the window cried out: 
 
 "It is your father, Bess. Now comes the tug of 
 war. Shall I stay? No? Then I ll run home and 
 come back after dinner to learn who is victor in the 
 sanguinary battle. " 
 
 She had hardly left the apartment when a servant
 
 1 8 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 announced to Bessie that her father would be pleased 
 to see her in the library. 
 
 Bracing herself for the shock she was convinced she 
 was to sustain, and assuming the demurest expression 
 she could summon, Bessie descended to the room, 
 which from her earliest childhood had been associated 
 with scoldings, punishment, and serious affairs. 
 
 The affectionate greeting of her father surprised her, 
 for she was nerved to encounter stern looks and 
 reproaches. 
 
 "Since you have been from home, Bessie," he said, 
 as he led her to a recessed window where he sat down 
 with her, "I have received extraordinary news. 
 Before I relate it, I must warn you to receive it with ali 
 the self-command you can summon, and also not to 
 build too many hopes upon it, because the matter is 
 not definitely settled. The chances are, I think, that 
 our hopes will be realized. But in either event, I 
 hope to see you bear yourself in a modest and womanly 
 way, and in either event, I am quite certain your 
 qualities of mind and heart will be severely tested." 
 
 This exordium greatly whetted the curiosity of 
 Bessie, who was unable to perceive in what direction 
 it tended. Mr. Hetlow related the story he had told 
 Mason some days previously, differing only in that he 
 dwelt more strongly upon the possibility of finding the 
 missing grandson; nevertheless he could not deny him 
 self the pleasure of dilating upon the brilliant future 
 possible for her. When he had finished, her first 
 remark increased his respect for her. 
 
 "It will be an awful responsibility," she said. "I 
 shrink from the thought of it." 
 
 She was sobered by the tale, not elated. Dreams 
 of a more brilliant existence did not have place with 
 her, upon the contrary she was saddened by the 
 thought of so much riches. 
 
 "Perhaps the young man will be found," she con-
 
 A REVELATION, 19 
 
 tinued after some silence, and she added softly, "I 
 hope he will. If he is alive the money is his. He 
 ought to have it. I hope he is being sought for." 
 
 "Yes," replied Mr. Hetlow, who was subject to 
 mixed sensations pleasure that his daughter bore the 
 news so steadily, and disappointment that she showed 
 no greater appreciation. "Yes, an honest and ener 
 getic search is now being made. The whole matter 
 has been placed in the hands of Mr. Mason." 
 
 "Who?" she inquired sharply. 
 
 "Mr. Mason Richard Mason one of our clerks. 
 You know him a very able, shrewd, and energetic 
 young man; admirably adapted for the labor." 
 
 Bessie was silent for a few moments, looking out 
 upon the lawn which she did not see, then asked: 
 
 "Does he know all the story?" 
 
 "All of it," replied her father. 
 
 "Does he understand that if he succeeds in the 
 search he deprives me of millions?" 
 
 Her father did not comprehend the meaning back 
 of the question, and replied with a smile: 
 
 "He is not dull and must understand such will be 
 the result of his success." 
 
 "And he was willing to undertake it he made no 
 objections?" she persisted. 
 
 Her father, still failing to perceive the hidden mean 
 ing of her words, replied haughtily: 
 
 "I cannot see what interest he can have in it, but 
 to do his duty. I directed him to undertake the 
 search. He is my clerk. He did not undertake it as 
 the act of a friend." 
 
 "No," she replied wearily, rising from her seat with 
 a peculiar smile upon her lips. "It does not look like 
 the act of a friend. However, let us hope he will be 
 successful and forget all about it. The thought of so 
 much riches stifles me." 
 
 She left her father alone to wonder over the singu-
 
 20 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 lar manner his daughter had received the tale, for like 
 most men he placed riches above all things. 
 
 And she went to her room to wonder alone over the 
 readiness with which Dick had undertaken to deprive 
 her of a fortune, for like most women she placed the 
 devotion of a heart above all things.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE FIRST STEP. 
 
 FROM a careful perusal of the documents given him 
 by Mr. Hetlow, Dick gathered these data, as the basis 
 for the search he was to enter upon: 
 
 In 1853 Edmund Dugdale, with his wife, arrived 
 in New York and was immediately lost to view ; in 
 1855 he reappeared and was employed by a lawyer 
 named Stanton; in 1856 a child was born to them; in 
 1857 young Dugdale was discharged by Stanton, 
 under the accusation of having sold valuable papers 
 pertaining to a litigation to the other side; in 1858 he 
 was employed in a minor capacity in the office of the 
 Courier and Inquirer \ living at the time in MacDougall 
 Street, where his wife died; in 1858 he had applied to 
 his father for relief; in the same year, the lawyer Stan- 
 ton, hearing the truth as to the lost documents, en 
 deavored to repair the wrong, but was too late, for the 
 man was dying and all he could do was to secure for 
 him a decent burial ; the final fact was that a few days 
 before Dugdale s death the child had disappeared and 
 no one could tell where. 
 
 The difficulties of Dick s task grew with the con 
 sideration of them. A quarter of a century had elapsed 
 since the death of Edmund, and there was every indi 
 cation that he had kept the fact of his relationship to 
 the great London merchant to himself. The Courier 
 and Inquirer was out of existence, and, if by any 
 chance Dick could find anyone employed upon that 
 paper, it was extremely doubtful if recollection of a
 
 22 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 man employed in a minor capacity for a short time 
 could be stirred. 
 
 The chances of finding the son of Edmund, or of 
 obtaining any knowledge of him, seemed to be small. 
 Duty, however, demanded that he should proceed with 
 his inquiry, but he felt it would be conducted without 
 enthusiasm, because there must necessarily be an ab 
 sence of belief in a successful outcome. 
 
 The final result of all his thoughts upon the subject 
 was the determination to confer with a celebrated 
 detective of the day, Captain Lawton, with whom he 
 was upon friendly terms, with a view of obtaining 
 suggestions as to the best method of proceeding. 
 That shrewd and capable official listened to the tale 
 with interest. "Your task is a difficult one," he said 
 at its conclusion. "You have very little to go upon 
 in the beginning. The first thing you should do, is to 
 take steps to obtain knowledge of the surroundings of 
 Edmund Dugdale while he was living here the people 
 he knew and associated with. You must begin with 
 the lawyer Stanton. Go to the Law Library and get a 
 list of the lawyers of the name of Stanton practicing in 
 the city in 1855 and trace them down to 1883. Don t 
 bother with those who have come into practice after 
 1855. Insert an advertisement in all the papers, and 
 keep it standing, for anyone who had knowledge of 
 Edmund Dugdale in the years 1853 to 1857. Some 
 thing may come of it." 
 
 Dick acted upon this advice at once. He could 
 find but one lawyer of the name of Stanton practicing 
 in 1883 who was at the bar in 1855. His name was 
 Andrew Stanton. On calling at his office in Wall 
 Street he was told that Mr. Stanton was gradually 
 retiring from business, and that he was away from the 
 office for long periods of time, nor had anyone know 
 ledge as to when he would next make his appearance. 
 To his surprise, he learned that the house of this law-
 
 THE FIRST STEP. 23 
 
 yer was immediately adjoining the grounds of Mr. 
 Hetlow above Dobbs Ferry. To make the trip seemed 
 necessary, and he concluded to do it forthwith. 
 
 It was a delightful afternoon when he arrived at 
 Dobbs Ferry one of those soft, balmy days not un- 
 frequent in this climate in the latter part of September 
 and the early part of October, when the air is heavy 
 with languor, and a deep, rich haze settles upon the 
 distant hills. Dick procured a conveyance to carry 
 him to the residence of the old lawyer. 
 
 As he was borne swiftly over the hard smooth road 
 that ran along the top of the hill, and from which occa 
 sional glimpses of the river smiling under the sun 
 could be seen, he wondered if after his interview with 
 the old lawyer he could not find an excuse to call upon 
 his employer. Dick was too frank to deceive himself 
 with the idea that a call was necessary, but he thought 
 that under such excuse he might be able to see Bessie. 
 He was in that frame of mind, when he condemned 
 himself for an idiot for fluttering like a moth about 
 the candle flame, but he thought that if he was singe 
 ing his wings, after all he was getting a good deal of 
 pleasure out of the pursuit, even if it was accompanied 
 with the pain of the uncertainty as to whether or not 
 his ardency was returned. 
 
 The young gentleman had a very fair appreciation 
 of his own graces of person and mind, and his self- 
 esteem was not of such modest dimensions as permit 
 ted him to admit that he was not a goodly mate for 
 any beauty, but he was, withal, clear-headed and 
 worldly wise, and he knew very well he was not in 
 cluded in the category of eligible young men, and he 
 feared that however much pleasure Bessie might derive 
 from surreptitious flirtations with him, she still had 
 been trained in the idea that in the serious affairs of 
 the heart she must direct her eyes to one who would 
 bring more wealth and position than he could, at all
 
 24 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 events for many years to come. Yet a complete real 
 ization of the bar which existed between them did not 
 prevent him from seizing every opportunity to throw 
 himself into Bessie Hetlow s society. The truth of it 
 was that he was in love with the fair young girl in 
 love with herself, apart from any consideration of the 
 worldly advantages of such a match. 
 
 These thoughts occupied his mind until the carriage 
 stopped in front of the residence of Mr. Stanton and 
 he was compelled to alight. Handing his card to a 
 servant who responded to his ring, he was ushered 
 into a small apartment near the door and here he was 
 left to himself for some time. Finally, there came to 
 him a middle-aged lady, who informed him that her 
 husband was absent, but was expected home momen 
 tarily. She asked him to remain, yet suggested, and, 
 as Mason thought, with a curious mixture of eager 
 ness and timidity, that she might, perhaps, be able to 
 serve him. 
 
 Dick replied that he did not think she could, as his 
 business must necessarily be with Mr. Stanton on a 
 matter she could not be expected to have any know 
 ledge of. Why so polite and guarded a response 
 should have produced the effect it did, Dick could not 
 determine, but he observed with a great deal of sur 
 prise that the lady became the prey to repressed ex 
 citement and that her voice fairly trembled as she 
 asked : 
 
 "Is it a matter which concerns Mr. Stanton?" 
 
 Dick was so much surprised at the eagerness with 
 which she asked the question, that he hesitated in 
 replying, and the lady repeated it with an appearance 
 of increased alarm. Then he hastened to assure her 
 that it did not. An expression of disappointment 
 swept over her face as she fell into a brown study, and 
 Dick began to feel that he had happened upon the 
 lawyer in an inopportune moment, in that it was a
 
 THE FIRST STEP. 25 
 
 period of some domestic distress. The lady emerged 
 from her brown study with a sudden question. 
 
 "Is he in any trouble?" 
 
 "Who, your husband?" asked Dick. 
 
 "Yes?" most eagerly. 
 
 "Not that I am aware of," replied Dick. 
 
 She was silent again for a few moments, her hand 
 playing in a curious fluttering way from her lap to the 
 side of her dress. Again she propelled a sudden 
 question at him. 
 
 "Do you come to make trouble for him?" 
 
 "No. Certainly not." 
 
 Mrs. Stanton cast a look of deep incredulity upon 
 him as she rose, begging to be excused, and crossed the 
 wide hall, into a room directly opposite, and as she did 
 so, Dick saw her draw something from her pocket 
 which looked like a pack of playing cards. As Dick 
 could see by looking into the mirror in the room, she 
 seated herself at the table and began a hasty distribu 
 tion of the cards into small piles upon it, and then, 
 picking up each pile, hastily ran them over in her 
 hands, poring intently over them. Having run over 
 each one of the piles, she gathered them together with 
 the air and gesture of one who had arrived at a satis 
 factory conclusion, which had convinced her as to her 
 course. She returned hastily, before Dick could 
 imagine what her action meant. 
 
 "Who is the woman?" she demanded, standing 
 immediately in front of him. 
 
 "The woman, madam?" asked Dick, thoroughly 
 mystified. "I know of no woman." 
 
 "It is a heart woman," she continued most posi 
 tively. "There is no doubt about it. You cannot 
 conceal it from me. I knew trouble was coming. I 
 dreamed so last night. It is a woman with yellow hair 
 and blue eyes. I saw it clearly in the cards." 
 
 Dick stared at her stupidly and began to believe
 
 26 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 that some demented creature had escaped her 
 keeper. 
 
 "I am sure, madam," he replied, in a tone intended 
 to soothe her, "I do not understand you." 
 
 "Is she anything to you? Sister? Or wife?" she 
 persisted. 
 
 "Madam, you will certainly have to be plainer with 
 me before I can understand you." 
 
 "I know you have come to see Mr. Stanton about a 
 woman. It is true. I have tested it and I know. Per 
 haps you and I can settle the trouble." 
 
 "You are wholly mistaken," said the wondering 
 Dick, thinking that Mr. Stanton was either a very 
 improper person or else a very much younger man 
 than he had supposed him to be. "I came to make 
 inquiries as to a young man who, I suppose, was in 
 the employ of Mr. Stanton twenty-five years ago. 
 My name is Mason, and I am in the employ of your 
 neighbor Mr. Hetlow." 
 
 "Oh, indeed!" she cried, her manner changing 
 instantly. "Are you that Mr. Mason? I ve heard 
 Wallis speak of you. Neverthless I know it will come. 
 I look for it every day. It is terrible, this dread and 
 suspense." 
 
 Before Dick could ask what was terrible, a heavy 
 footfall was heard in the hall. Mrs. Stanton went to 
 the door and said to someone outside: 
 
 "There is a gentleman to see you, pa." 
 
 She returned to her seat, followed by a man cer 
 tainly not less than sixty, spare in frame, and severe in 
 expression, whose whole appearance suggested rigidity, 
 principles, and rules. One less likely to be an object 
 of jealousy upon the part of his wife, Dick could not 
 possibly imagine, and therefore he concluded that 
 Mrs. Stanton was slightly deranged. 
 
 Dick was treated politely, and he plunged into his 
 business at once.
 
 THE FIRST STEP. aj 
 
 "Mr. Stanton, " he said, "I have come from New 
 York in pursuit of information and beg to ask a ques 
 tion, by the answer to which I can tell at once whether 
 I need to further trouble you in the matter." 
 
 Mrs. Stanton leaned forward in intense interest, her 
 lips parted in her eagerness, and her eyes fixed upon 
 her husband. Mr. Stanton hesitated before he re 
 plied, pursing up his lips, and wrinkling his brow. 
 
 "Proceed, sir," he said, after a moment s thought, 
 "but I reserve the right to answer or not as I see fit" 
 
 "Of course! of course," muttered Mrs. Stanton 
 loud enough for both to hear, and in a tone which 
 indicated her intense appreciation of her husband s 
 cunning. 
 
 Mr. Stanton turned to her and said sharply, "Now 
 don t be silly." 
 
 "The right to answer or not," said Dick cour 
 teously, "cannot be denied by me, of course. The 
 question is this. Did you ever have in your employ 
 a man named Dugdale?" 
 
 "Why, yes," answered the lawyer promptly, "but it 
 vras some twenty-five or six years ago." 
 
 "That is as I understand it," said Dick. 
 
 "But what is the meaning of this inquiry at this 
 late day?" 
 
 "It is the first step in a search for the son of Ed 
 mund Dugdale, I am commissioned to make by my 
 employer Mr. Hetlow, your neighbor." 
 
 "Hetlow!" said Mr. Stanton, "why the deuce did 
 he not ask me himself?" 
 
 "I presume," said Dick, "that he was not aware 
 you ever knew Edmund Dugdale. I came to suppose 
 so, by learning that a lawyer of the name of Stanton 
 employed him in 1855, and search revealed to me that 
 of all of that name at the bar in that year, still alive and 
 practicing in 1883, you are the only one. So I began 
 with you."
 
 *8 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 "I see," said Mr. Stanton. "I employed Dugdale 
 and discharged him under an accusation I subse 
 quently learned did him wrong, and I sought to repair 
 my error, but I was too late. He was dying when I 
 went to see him and so I buried him as the best thing 
 I could do. But I have no knowledge of a child." 
 
 "Probably," said Dick. "We know his child dis 
 appeared several days before his death. My object in 
 calling upon you, was to ask if you could tell me 
 something of the surroundings of Edmund Dugdale." 
 
 By this time Mrs. Stanton lost interest in the con 
 versation, and made an excuse to retire. 
 
 "I knew nothing about Dugdale when he came to 
 me," said Mr. Stanton, taking up the dialogue after 
 Mrs. Stanton went out. "He wrote an excellent hand, 
 and that was his sole recommendation. I came to 
 believe he had been unfortunate, had not been accus 
 tomed to earning his living, and had seen more pros 
 perous days than those he had fallen on with me. 
 But he never talked of himself, nor did I ask him any 
 questions." 
 
 "Did you know anyone who knew him in those 
 days?" 
 
 "No," replied Mr. Stanton indifferently. 
 
 Dick thought he would have to enlist the old man s 
 interest by telling him the tale of the fortune begging 
 for an heir, since he seemed so indifferent, so he said: 
 
 Edmund Dugdale s son is the heir to a great for 
 tune. I do not presume Mr. Hetlow desires wide 
 publicity of the affair, but so distinguished a lawyer 
 as you are, and one having such wide experience, is 
 accustomed to holding great secrets, and I am quite 
 sure I will not go astray in telling you the story." 
 
 Whereupon he told it all as he had received it from 
 Mr. Hetlow and as he had gathered it from the written 
 reports made by Samuel Dugdale s clerk to his em 
 ployer. He had the satisfaction of seeing that he had
 
 THE FIRST STEP. 29 
 
 thoroughly aroused the old man s interest by the time 
 he had finished. 
 
 "I know something about this," he said. "That 
 clerk of Samuel Dugdale s you speak of, came to see 
 me. But he was a thick-witted fellow and undertook 
 to lecture me upon what he called my presumption in 
 daring to discharge Samuel Dugdale s son as if I 
 cared for, or knew of, Samuel Dugdale. I drove him 
 from the office. But he said nothing about a child of 
 Edmund." 
 
 He thought a long time. 
 
 "Dugdale was living in MacDougall Street in a sin 
 gle room under the roof, with a family from whom he 
 hired the room, when I went to see him," he con 
 tinued. "He only lodged there. Several days after 
 I learned the truth about the papers I thought he had 
 sold, and while I was thinking what I could do to 
 repair the wrong I had done him, the man in whose 
 house he was living came to me, to say Dugdale was 
 very ill, and in great distress. I went immediately, 
 but he was dying when I reached him very weak, and 
 did, in fact, die while I was there from starvation, I 
 thought then and do yet. I buried him. But I can 
 not for the life of me remember the man s name in 
 whose house he had the room. Possibly I have it 
 among my papers of the year 1856 or 1857. I will see 
 to-morrow. But at all events I can go direct to the 
 house." 
 
 "After so many years?" asked Dick incredulously. 
 
 "After so many years," replied Mr. Stanton posi 
 tively. "My memory for localities never fails me; 
 for names and figures it does. However, I passed 
 through MacDougall Street about a year ago, and the 
 whole Dugdale incident was recalled to me by recog 
 nizing the house." 
 
 "Then we may be able to learn something if we can 
 trace back the tenants," said Dick hopefully.
 
 3 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 * I can help you in this, for my experience in 
 searching titles of property will be of value to you. I 
 will go to town with you to-morrow. You say you are 
 in the employ of neighbor Hetlow?" 
 
 Dick replied he was. 
 
 "Your name is Mason, you say?" pursued the old 
 man. 
 
 "Yes," replied Dick. 
 
 "Anything to Thomas Mason who was once in the 
 shipping business in New York?" 
 
 "A nephew, and adopted by him," replied Dick. 
 
 "I knew him. Was his counsel in his business 
 days. He adopted you to inherit his property. But 
 you didn t inherit anything, did you?" 
 
 Dick could not refrain from laughing over the blunt 
 directness of the old lawyer, as he replied: 
 
 "No, sir; Uncle Thomas father as I called him 
 died practically without property." 
 
 "I know all about it," said Mr. Stanton. "I man 
 aged to save a little for the widow very little enough 
 to keep her if she didn t live too long. Is she alive 
 or dead?" 
 
 "Dead, sir," replied Dick. "She died two years 
 ago. She lived long enough for me to show in a prac 
 tical way that I was grateful for the kindness she and 
 Uncle Tom had shown an orphan from his babyhood." 
 
 "Her money gave out before she died then?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, but I was earning some." 
 
 "Good boy! Good boy! I suppose you will stop 
 with Hetlow to-night?" 
 
 "No," replied Dick, with a peculiar smile, "I shall 
 not. I will call upon him, for I think he should know 
 that his neighbor holds the key to our future progress. 
 But since you will go to town with me to-morrow, I 
 will stop in the village overnight." 
 
 "No, you shan t do that. You shall stop here.
 
 THE FIRST STEP. 31 
 
 Go over and make your call, and be back at sharp six. 
 I don t like to wait for my meals." 
 
 Dick yielded, and went over to the Hetlow house 
 by a short cut, pointed out from the piazza by Mr. 
 StaatoE.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A GOOD FRIEND. 
 
 THE path called by Mr. Stanton the short cut was 
 well worn, and Dick found little trouble in following 
 it. He had never visited the country-place of Mr. 
 Hetlow. Having received a delicate and well guarded 
 hint, in the past, that it was hardly the proper thing for 
 a clerk to seek to enter his employer s house upon 
 terms of social equality, and which, in his conceit, he 
 had attributed to a desire to separate him from Bessie, 
 Dick determined he would make the call with all the 
 ceremony he could. To reach the main entrance he 
 was compelled to follow the paths which led by the 
 south elevation of the dwelling and past the windows 
 of the apartments dedicated to the occupancy of the 
 daughter of the house. It so happened that at the 
 exact moment he was passing, the daughter of the 
 house was gazing from the window in gloomy discon 
 tent. It was with sensations she could not have 
 analyzed had she tried, that she recognized Dick s 
 manly form, following the winding paths the land 
 scape gardener, with strict adherence to the Hogarth- 
 ian rule, had laid down. As a matter of fact she did 
 not stop to analyze them but hurried out to determine 
 whether he had had the audacity to seek her in so 
 bold a way. 
 
 What she did learn was that Dick asked for her 
 father as he was turned into the reception room, and 
 she heard the servant reply that he would see whether 
 Mr. Hetlow was in the house. She knew her father 
 
 32
 
 A GOOD FRIEND. 33 
 
 would not be in for an hour, and, by a quick flank 
 movement she intercepted the servant so that she could 
 receive the card and thus have an excuse for going to 
 Dick. 
 
 Dick was not unprepared for her appearance. So 
 strong was the hope that accident might favor him, 
 that he persuaded himself it would, and he recognized 
 the swish of her skirts as she came up the hall. But 
 he was not prepared for the manner of his reception 
 for the studied air of dignity and coldness with which 
 she greeted him. 
 
 The last time he had seen her, barely a week pre 
 vious, she had been gracious, and he tender. The 
 idea crossed his mind that she thought he had been 
 too tender and was now resenting it. She waved him 
 to a seat and sank into another upon the opposite side 
 of the room. 
 
 "This is an unexpected pleasure, Mr. Mason," she 
 said coldly. "I supposed, at this time of the year, 
 gentlemen were confined to the city by business." 
 
 Dick thought he detected something in the speech, 
 indicating that it had been purposely left incomplete 
 and would be finished only by the words "especially 
 when they are clerks." 
 
 Being a young man of spirit he resented the implied 
 significance and replied with equal dignity and coldness: 
 
 "True. Gentlemen engaged in business especially 
 when they are clerks have not freedom at this time 
 of the year." 
 
 Haughtiness was not Bessie s intention. She 
 thought the readiness with which Dick had been will 
 ing to undertake the search for a young man, who, if 
 found, would make the Dugdale fortune impossible to 
 her, argued an indifference to her interests quite 
 remote from his protestations, and she wanted to make 
 him feel that she resented the difference between his 
 acts and his professions. But now she in her turn
 
 34 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 took umbrage at the significance with which he had 
 invested her little speech and the proud humility with 
 which he had reminded her he was her father s clerk. 
 
 The two young people had begun badly, and she 
 was compelled to make an effort before she could 
 reply, with apparent indifference: 
 
 "You are more fortunate than the rest." 
 
 "You are mistaken," he replied coldly. "I am 
 here on business to see your father upon a matter I 
 have in charge from him." 
 
 "Ah, yes," she said, "I had forgotten. Father will 
 soon return. It must be tiresome, this search. Will 
 you find the young man?" 
 
 The art with which she seemed to make an effort 
 to conceal her weariness was delicious. Dick was 
 startled by her question. He thought Mr. Hetlow 
 would not tell Bessie until the search had ended. He 
 showed his confusion and she, noting it, enjoyed it. 
 
 "Your father then has told you?" he asked quite 
 stupidly. 
 
 "Why should he not? He is interested in his 
 daughter s prospects, if other people are not." 
 
 This was said with head bent over the fan at which 
 she was picking, but from the corners of her eyes she 
 was keenly observing the effect of the thrust. 
 
 "Yes," she continued, "he has told me, and that 
 you are commissioned to make the search for the miss 
 ing young man. I hope it is progressing." 
 
 "It is barely begun," he replied, now keenly alive 
 to the fact that she was resenting the making of the 
 search, though he could not realize that it was only 
 because he was making it. 
 
 "Oh! Have you prospects of success?" 
 
 "Success? Please explain. It might be success to 
 fail, failure to succeed." 
 
 This was too enigmatical to please the young lady, 
 nor was she pleased either with the tone in which it was
 
 A GOOD FRIEND. 35 
 
 said nor the smile accompanying it. Dick, finding he 
 had confused her, felt decidedly better and ventured 
 another remark. 
 
 "It is not a question of success or failure with me." 
 
 "No," she quickly replied; "a matter of indiffer 
 ence as to the consequence." 
 
 Dick stared at her, and continued : 
 
 "I am directed by your father to make an energetic 
 search for the young man and I do it, as I hope I do 
 other things falling to my duty, with all the ability I 
 can command." 
 
 "Without regard to friend or foe," she said. 
 
 Dick bowed in acquiescence. 
 
 "Yes, I suppose that is the chivalry of the nine 
 teenth century. One may sometimes regret one falls 
 upon such coldly civilized times," she replied. 
 
 Dick, stung by her manner, proceeded in a manlike 
 fashion to blunder. He thought she was annoyed 
 because any search at all was being made, and he won 
 dered why a girl, who already had all the money she 
 could require, could show such desire for more. 
 Under the influence of this thought, he said: 
 
 "If the young man lives the fortune should be his, 
 and justice, as your father sees it, demands it should 
 be given him." 
 
 The young lady straightened up, bent a look upon 
 him sharp and angry, and rose to her feet. 
 
 "You are insolent," she said. 
 
 "If I am, I crave your pardon. Such was not my 
 intent." 
 
 "You seek to rebuke," she replied. 
 
 Dick had risen from his chair, not a little alarmed 
 at the effect produced by his words, which were rather 
 the expression of his thoughts than a speech addressed 
 to her. With a low bow, he answered: 
 
 "I cannot so far forget myself as to attempt to 
 rebuke the daughter of Howard Hetlow."
 
 3* THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 Bessie was now thoroughly angry. Why would he 
 so persistently force on her the fact that he was her 
 father s clerk. 
 
 " Why don t you add my employer? " she demanded 
 angrily. 
 
 "My employer," obediently added Dick. 
 
 This prompt compliance did not mend matters. 
 With a contemptuous ejaculation she walked to the 
 other end of the room, turned, swept to the window, 
 through which she gazed a moment. Suddenly she 
 faced him. 
 
 "I do not know why I should be insulted in my 
 own house." 
 
 Dick was no less angry than she, but he was under 
 better control. And it needed all his self-control to 
 repress the angry retort which leaped to his lips. He 
 held his peace, looking sternly at her. When he did 
 reply it was with a dignity of manner and an emphasis 
 of tone which challenged her admiration, angry as she 
 was. 
 
 "Miss Hetlow," he said. "When you have time 
 to review this conversation, you will acquit me of any 
 insult, or attempt at insult." 
 
 "You charge me with wishing to seize this property 
 whether I have a right to it or not," she replied hotly. 
 
 "I am not aware that any words spoken by me this 
 afternoon can be so construed," he answered firmly. 
 
 "If your words did not convey that meaning your 
 manner did," she replied sharply. "And that has 
 been most offensive." 
 
 Dick was very irritating. He was so calmly supe 
 rior, and so entirely polite, that he evaded the coming 
 to close quarters she so much desired, and therefore 
 she determined to force the war. 
 
 "Do you suppose I want these millions?" she asked. 
 "That I long for them? Dream of them of nights and 
 hug the idea of their possession with pleasure by day?
 
 A GOOD FRIEND. 37 
 
 that I so desire them that I would deprive the rightful 
 owner?" 
 
 "God forbid," answered Dick fervently. 
 
 "Answer me?" she demanded. "Am I so merce 
 nary, so avaricious, that you think I would commit 
 crime to obtain them? Is that your opinion of me?" 
 
 "I do not think you are either mercenary or avari 
 cious " 
 
 He stopped short, holding his voice in suspense, not 
 as if he had ended a sentence, but rather as if he had 
 suddenly checked himself, and endeavored to appear 
 as if he completed it. 
 
 "But what, sir?" she demanded imperiously. 
 "You are not frank. Finish your sentence, please." 
 
 "I was about to add that I could quite well under 
 stand that a young lady, dazzled by the sudden vision 
 of almost boundless wealth, could, without being 
 charged with being mercenary or avaricious, desire 
 that events should turn in her favor." 
 
 "Oh," she said, with an evident sneer, "you are 
 lenient in your opinions of our sex. I have no desire 
 for that fortune. Do you believe it? It is true. 
 Never, from the moment my father revealed the pos 
 sibilities, have I desired its possession. And I hope 
 from the bottom of my heart you will find the young 
 man Dugdale." 
 
 Never in all her life, thought Dick, was she ever so 
 admirable as then, when with flashing eyes and height 
 ened color, she stood erect before him, repelling the 
 imputation she perversely attributed to him. Perhaps 
 she perceived his very evident admiration, for the 
 color deepened in her face, as she said: 
 
 "However, this fortune has served to show me my 
 fair-weather friends." 
 
 She waited for a reply, and so Dick said: 
 
 "I am afraid I do not comprehend that remark." 
 
 She bent a look of deep scorn upon him and said:
 
 38 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 "Look for its meaning in your own readiness to 
 undertake a search which, if successful, will deprive 
 me of Samuel Dugdale s money." 
 
 She swept him a deep courtesy, and after saying that 
 her father s presence would not be long delayed, 
 marched with stately tread out of the room. 
 
 Dick stared after her utterly dumfounded and com 
 pletely mystified by the contradiction involved by her 
 parting shot. He sat himself down, but thought that 
 after the scene with the daughter he did not care to 
 see the father, and so he left the house. He went 
 back to the Stanton residence by the path he had 
 come, past the windows of the apartments of the 
 daughter of the house, but this time the daughter of 
 the house was not gazing from the windows ; she was 
 lying upon a sofa, her head buried in her arms, and 
 her breast torn and heaving with sobs. 
 
 The Stanton family was awaiting him, and when he 
 was presented to Wallis, he was claimed as an old 
 acquaintance by that young lady, since they had met 
 more than once in the city. During the meal he was 
 distracted and could only with difficulty bear his part 
 in the conversation a fact which did not escape the 
 keen observation of Miss Gladwin. When they rose 
 from the table, Wallis insisted upon taking Dick for a 
 stroll about the grounds before darkness fell. 
 
 "You were received by my aunt, I think," said 
 Wallis, as they strolled about. 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Stanton kindly met me," replied Dick, 
 not quite certain whether Wallis was making an effort 
 to learn the nature of that reception. 
 
 "She thought she could serve you quite as well as 
 uncle?" 
 
 "She said perhaps she could," replied Dick diplo 
 matically. 
 
 And was quite anxious to know the nature of the 
 you had -with uncle, persisted Wallis.
 
 A GOOD FRIEND. 39 
 
 "She manifested some curiosity as to it," replied 
 Dick again gravely. 
 
 By this time he perceived that Wallis was vainly 
 endeavoring to repress her laughter. 
 
 "Poor aunt! She is desolated to-night for fear she 
 made an exhibition of herself, and, wanting sympathy, 
 confided all to me." 
 
 She broke into a hearty peal of laughter in which 
 Dick joined from sheer sympathy, so contagious was it. 
 
 "I think I shall go into convulsions when I picture 
 to myself poor aunt s demands, and your bewilder 
 ment. It is just too funny for anything. Poor aunt! 
 She is absurdly jealous of uncle and not the slightest 
 cause exists for it. She loves him so much herself 
 that she thinks everyone else must see him as she 
 does. You must know, she is the best soul in the 
 world, but she is a firm believer in dreams and for 
 tune-telling by the cards, and when she thought you 
 were not telling her the truth, she says she went into 
 another room and drew the cards that told her you 
 had called about a heart woman who was associated 
 with uncle, and last night she had had a dream that 
 foretold it." 
 
 "I saw her go into the other room and do some 
 thing with the cards," said Dick, highly amused. 
 
 "Oh, that is too good," laughed Wallis again. 
 "She thinks you did not." 
 
 Wallis was again convulsed with laughter, and Dick, 
 now comprehending the whole of the strange scene, 
 laughed heartily with her. But Wallis turned sud 
 denly on him. 
 
 "You must not laugh at her; it is her only weak 
 ness and is lost sight of in her many excellences. 
 Did you call upon Mr. Hetlow this afternoon?" 
 
 "Yes," briefly replied Dick, becoming suddenly 
 sober. 
 
 "Did you see him?"
 
 4 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "You are not responsive at all. Who did you seer 
 
 "Miss Hetlow." 
 
 "That was pleasant. She was agreeable as she 
 always is, of course?" 
 
 "She was somewhat singular in her manner, 1 
 thought," replied the cautious Dick. 
 
 "In what way?" 
 
 "Very cold and haughty." 
 
 Wallis looked at him very sharply, and then said 
 with an abruptness that startled Dick: 
 
 "Mr. Mason, I said the other day that I was your 
 friend and meant that you should know it. And I 
 am, too." 
 
 "Thank you," said Dick, smiling. "I accept the 
 friendship and pledge mine in return." 
 
 "Now that s nice, and I will be your good friend. 
 Do you know why I am?" 
 
 "I suppose I have been fortunate enough to impress 
 myself favorably upon you." 
 
 "Poh! Conceited like all the rest of the men. 
 No! Because you are like me poor." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 "Yes. I have a great sympathy for poor young 
 men a great deal more than I have for poor young 
 girls." 
 
 "I should think it would be quite the other way." 
 
 "Certainly not. A poor girl can marry a rich young 
 man. They are easily caught. I shall do it when the 
 time comes. Any girl can learn how. But a poor 
 young man is so abominably proud that is if he is 
 worth having so disgustingly proud that he will not 
 sue for the hand of a rich girl, lest he be called a for 
 tune hunter. That s why he is an object of sympathy. 
 He actually compels a rich girl to make love to him or 
 go without him. You have had a row with Bess." 
 
 The suddenness with which she arrived at this exact
 
 A GOOD FRIEND. 41 
 
 truth fairly took his breath away, and not knowing 
 how to reply, he said nothing. This did not prevent the 
 vivacious Wallis from demanding to know all that had 
 occurred, and by dint of questioning and guessing she 
 finally obtained a circumstantial account of the epi 
 sode, which involved the telling of the tale of the 
 Dugdale millions. When she had learned all, she was 
 silently thoughtful. Finally she said: 
 
 "I did not think you could be so stupid." 
 
 Somewhat offended, Dick replied. 
 
 "I am noted for my density and it serves me well 
 now, for I do not understand you." 
 
 "You ought to have seen at once that this great 
 promise of money had not altered her one whit." 
 
 "She did show a great change of manner neverthe 
 less." 
 
 "Why, you are a perfect ninny! Can you not see 
 what it was all due to?" 
 
 "I am very dense, you know; but I do not know, 
 unless she is angry with me because I am trying to find 
 a man, who, if found, deprives her of a fortune." 
 
 "Precisely." 
 
 "Well, then I am not such a ninny after all." 
 
 "Yes, you are. It isn t the possible loss of the 
 money. You have been friends. You have shown 
 each other that you liked each other, if nothing more. 
 She thinks however that at the first request, without 
 any thought of her, whether it will serve her or not, 
 you go out on that search. It is your willingness to 
 do that which the world would call an unfriendly act. 
 She expected you to say, Let some one else do this. * 
 
 A glimmering of light broke upon the horizon of 
 Dick. 
 
 "Oh, I see." 
 
 "Of course you do when you are told." 
 
 "But she is quite right," said Dick. "I don t 
 want her to have the fortune." 
 
 "Now why, for Heaven s sake!"
 
 42 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 "Because because I fear the effect so much money 
 will have on her nature, and " 
 
 "And what?" 
 
 "You say you are my friend. I will confess to you. 
 I m desperately in love with Miss Hetlow, and the 
 more money she has, the further out of my reach she 
 goes. It s downright selfish, I know wretchedly 
 selfish if you will have it, but there it is; and I ll break 
 my back to find that Dugdale." 
 
 "You re a duck of a man. Leave it to me; I ll clear 
 the atmosphere. Let us go into the house. Uncle will 
 be growing impatient and must be tired by this time of 
 the beautiful blonde in the red shawl." 
 
 Dick suffered himself to be led back, feeling 
 strangely happy without quite knowing why.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 SIGNOR BARBERINI. 
 
 IN the seclusion of the room assigned him as a 
 sleeping apartment, Dick reviewed the events of the 
 day. 
 
 The singular attitude of Bessie toward him engrossed 
 much of his thought. Beside an open window in an 
 easy-chair en deshabille, with lighted cigar, he endeav 
 ored to reason to a determination. After his talk with 
 Wallis, he had experienced a sensation of elation. 
 Upon consideration, however, that sensation faded 
 away. He could not bring himself to a belief that 
 Wallis s interpretation of Bessie s strange manner and 
 conduct was the true one. He recalled Bessie s 
 words, manner, and expression, and tried to square 
 them with the meaning Wallis put upon them and failed. 
 The trouble was he sought to judge Bessie s treatment 
 of himself by masculine standards. Result a mud 
 dle and a fixed error. 
 
 If, he argued, Bessie were angry with him because 
 he had undertaken the search, for the reason Wallis 
 gave, why did she not say so directly, and charge him 
 openly with unfriendliness. As if a bludgeon was a 
 woman s weapon! He would have done so had their 
 positions been reversed, was his blundering conclusion. 
 
 With that fatuity of a man who had never been 
 tested and tried by the close associations with the 
 subtleties and indirections of the feminine mind, he 
 satisfied himself that there were too many irreconcil 
 able points, for him to accept Wallis s interpretation. 
 If she were angry with him only because she thought
 
 44 THE DVGDALE 
 
 he failed in devotion to her, why did she so persist 
 ently show him the difference between her father s 
 daughter and her father s clerk? If she was fond 
 of him why did she say so many cutting and con 
 temptuous things? Why, if she felt the fondness for 
 him Wallis insisted, did she seek to wound him? It 
 was not the way of the world for people to hurt those 
 of whom they were fond. The truth was, and he 
 regretted he was forced to the conclusion, that the 
 possibility of so much wealth had inflamed Bessie s 
 imagination, and opened up to her visions of a bril 
 liant existence, in ranks of life not before entertained 
 in her dreams, and while under their early influence, 
 she had seized the first opportunity to make clear to 
 him, the gulf which existed between a struggling clerk 
 and an heiress to untold millions. So he threw his 
 cigar away and went to bed, very sore and unhappy. 
 
 Mr. Stanton accompanied Dick to the city the next 
 morning. When they parted on arrival, the old law 
 yer set out upon the task of finding the name of the 
 tenant of the MacDougall Street house at the time of 
 Edmund Dugdale s death, and Dick went to his office 
 in Cliff Street. 
 
 On entering, the first object to meet his eyes was a 
 shabbily dressed old man, whose appearance adver 
 tised his want of prosperity. A clerk informed Dick 
 that the stranger wanted to see him. Wondering what 
 so disreputable an old person could want with him, 
 Dick asked his visitor his business. 
 
 "I wish to see Mr. Richard Mason," said the old 
 man rising, and removing his hat with an attempt at 
 jauntiness which struck Dick as oddly incongruous. 
 
 Assuring him that he saw what he wished to see, 
 Dick again asked him his business. 
 
 The old man, reseating himself and laying his bat 
 tered hat carefully upon the floor with his walking 
 stick over it, deliberately took from an inner pocket a
 
 S/GA-OA BARBERNL 45 
 
 wallet, which he opened with trembling fingers. After 
 fumbling over a number of well worn and dirty papers 
 he extracted a slip cut from a newspaper, which he 
 extended to Dick, asking: 
 
 "Are you the gentleman as put that into the news 
 papers?" 
 
 It was the advertisement asking for communication 
 with anyone having knowledge of Edmund Dugdale. 
 
 "Yes," Dick answered, with a sudden increase of 
 interest in the old man. "Have you any knowledge 
 of Dugdale?" 
 
 "I knew him when he was alive." 
 
 I want to know all I can learn of him, said Dick, 
 as he drew up a chair, and seated himself beside his 
 visitor. 
 
 "For what purpose," asked the old man, turning 
 shrewd eyes upon Dick. 
 
 To reveal his purpose was not Dick s intention, 
 yet he could not let the first chance for obtaining the 
 knowledge he sought that presented itself slip from 
 him. A rapid survey of the old man s appearance 
 determined his course, so he said imperiously: 
 
 "My purpose is my own. I want to know the life 
 led by Edmund Dugdale and the names of the people 
 with whom he associated in this city. If you have 
 such knowledge I will pay for it. If you have not, 
 you have no wares to sell me." 
 
 Laughing slyly to himself, as if well pleased with his 
 own shrewdness, while his hand played over his chin, 
 white with a stubble growth of many days, the old man 
 answered: 
 
 "I can hit it close. It s about the money left by 
 Samuel Dugdale, the great Lunnon merchant." 
 
 Startled by the answer Dick showed his surprise, to 
 the great amusement of the old man. 
 
 "Oh!" he cried, "then you know something as to 
 the antecedents of Dugdale?" 
 
 "A little, a little," replied the old man, with an air
 
 4 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 of importance, as he settled himself more comfortably 
 in his chair. "I knew him in Lunnon and New 
 York when he was rich and gay in Lunnon, and 
 poor and miserable in New York. I will tell all I 
 know. I am a poor man and will leave it to your gen 
 erosity to say what value my information is to you." 
 
 Dick assured him that he would be paid in propor 
 tion to the value of his communication, and that in any 
 event, he would be remunerated for his trouble in call 
 ing. The old man settled himself for a long tale and 
 long it was, filled largely with personal reminiscences. 
 The facts however were few. 
 
 The old man s name was Edward Barber. He had 
 been ballet-master at the Drury Lane Theater in Lon 
 don, where he was professionally known as Signor 
 Barberini. In the corps over which he presided was 
 Loie Weller, whom Edmund Dugdale had married. 
 Signor Barberini had afterward come to New York in 
 connection with the Italian Opera. And here he had 
 again renewed acquaintance with Dugdale, through 
 the latter s wife, who had applied to him for a place in 
 the ballet, since her wages were necessary for the 
 support of herself and husband. After Barber had 
 been taken sick, stricken with paralysis, Mrs. Dugdale 
 had been very kind to him. When he recovered he 
 went to another city and, returning after a year s ab 
 sence, found Mrs. Dugdale dead, and Edmund strug 
 gling as best he could with his child, morose and 
 despairing, refusing to apply to his father for assist 
 ance. Barber had helped him then, and again had 
 left the city for a long period, and when he returned 
 Dugdale was dead. He supposed the child had been 
 adopted by someone, since Edmund had talked a great 
 deal about finding a good home for it and then putting 
 an end to himself. 
 
 "Did you know the name of the person with whom 
 he lodged?" asked Dick, when the old man had con 
 cluded the long and rambling tale.
 
 SIGNOR BARBERINI. 47 
 
 "No, I don t believe I ever knew." 
 
 "Do you recollect the name of any of Edmund s 
 associates, or of his wife, in those days?" 
 
 "They hadn t any. Edmund kept very much to 
 himself, and his wife stop!" he exclaimed, interrupt 
 ing himself. "There was one a woman Jennie 
 Crandall. I brought her from Lunnon to look after 
 the costumes. Loie, that is Mrs. Dugdale, knew her 
 in the ballet in Lunnon. They were friends." 
 
 "What has become of her?" 
 
 "I dunno. I ve lost sight of her. She married a 
 stage carpenter named Tomlinson, and he kept an ale 
 house in Brooklyn the last I heard of him." 
 
 "She is not dead, then?" 
 
 "That I don t know, sir. But I think I can find 
 out." 
 
 "Do so," said Dick rising, "and bring me the 
 information as soon as you can. Here is twenty 
 dollars for what you have told me, and if you can find 
 Mrs. Tomlinson and take me to her, there will be 
 more pay." 
 
 Highly satisfied, the old man shuffled away. 
 
 Many moons had waxed and waned since he had 
 earned twenty dollars in one sum. His first impulse 
 on gaining the street was to set out immediately in 
 search of Mrs. Tomlinson, but reflection deterred him 
 indeed sent him in an entirely different direction. 
 He thought that a too prompt finding of the woman 
 would cheapen his services, but that which was influ 
 ential was purely of a personal nature. 
 
 For several years Signer Barberini had frequented 
 a certain drinking place on a certain Sixth Avenue 
 corner, where his direct custom was inconsiderable, 
 but, since he was always willing to accept an invita 
 tion to drink, and to entertain paying customers with 
 anecdotes of theatrical and operatic personages, a large 
 fund of which he possessed, his indirect custom made 
 him a tolerated lounger. Suddenly possessed of a
 
 48 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 sum of money larger than he had hoped for, with 
 brilliant promises of more to be earned as easily, he 
 concluded that, without doing violence to his service 
 to Mr. Mason, he could indulge in the pleasure, now 
 rare to him, of appearing before the barkeeper of the 
 place he affected, and the regular frequenters thereof, 
 as a capitalist, and thus regain some of that respect, 
 which he was forced to admit was lost to him through 
 his inability to buy even his morning cup. 
 
 Poets may call money dross, and moralists may call 
 it the root of all evii, but nevertheless the average man 
 with a few dollars in his pocket enjoys a sense of dig 
 nity utterly wanting when his pockets are empty. 
 The ex-ballet-master was an average man, and on this 
 particular day when he entered the drinking-place, 
 there was such dignified independence, almost touch 
 ing haughtiness in his manner, as he walked across the 
 saloon, that the barkeeper regarded him with aston 
 ishment, to the old man s secret delight. He made 
 his way to the rear of the room and seated himself at 
 a table. Two men were already seated at this table, 
 who, by their manner and their neglect in returning his 
 salutation, plainly showed that his companionship 
 was not welcome. But so positive was the ex-ballet- 
 master that he carried with him the charm to open the 
 doors to their favor that he refused to observe their 
 coldness, and having heaved a sigh, indicating that 
 rest after labor was most comfortable, said: 
 
 "I have been downtown on business a long jaunt 
 for an old man. A draft of good old gin would rest 
 me. Will you join?" 
 
 The two men were at no pains to conceal their sur 
 prise, but it was not so great as to prevent them from 
 promptly accepting the invitation. The Signor 
 "Teddy," as he was called there did not resent the 
 openly expressed surprise, which he did not fail to 
 observe, but with the air of a patron summoned the 
 waiter to receive the orders.
 
 SIGNOK BARBERINI. 49 
 
 His companions at the table were most dissimilar. 
 
 One was possibly forty or forty-five. His face, 
 clean shaven, presented a singular blending of force 
 and cunning, acuteness and subtlety, cruelty and char 
 acter. His eyes bore a shifty and haunted expres 
 sion, and had a curious trick of dropping before one s 
 gaze, and stealthily lifting to look; his nose was broad 
 on top and pinched at the nostrils; his lips were thin 
 and the lines of his mouth ragged; his chin sharp 
 and pointed, though his jaw was square and angular; 
 when his hat was off, a large, broad forehead, over 
 which the skin was tightly drawn, out of all proportion 
 to the rest of his face, was seen, and there was a strange 
 depression on the top of his head. His face was not 
 attractive. His hands were noticeable long, white, 
 slender hands, with tapering fingers, withal strong 
 muscular hands, but the most noticeable of all, was 
 his voice soft, low, and gentle in tones. He was 
 respectably clad in black. Rumor said he was a 
 gambler, but as to that no one about the drinking-place 
 was certain. 
 
 The other was his junior by fifteen or twenty years. 
 His appearance at first glance suggested that he was 
 better than his surroundings that he was accustomed 
 to something above a Sixth Avenue barroom. He 
 wore clothes in good taste, and modest colors of the 
 latest fashion, with the air of one who was accustomed 
 to them. Of easy manners, with handsome face, well 
 knit and graceful figure, there was a certain persistent 
 suggestion of a lost refinement. Notwithstanding 
 all this, the man of the world would have preferred to 
 have withheld than to have given confidence to this 
 young man. He too had the same shifty, haunted 
 expression in his eyes, and in addition an alertness 
 which apparently took the form of constant suspicion 
 always on guard. 
 
 Evidently in his old age Signer Barberini was not 
 choice as to his associates.
 
 5 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 "It is wonderful," remarked Barber, in a meditative 
 tone, after he had done the honors and sipped of his 
 gin and water, "how things half forgotten come up." 
 
 The other two, evidently believing that they were 
 to be treated to one of his tales of the theater, all of 
 which they had heard, were indifferent to the remark. 
 Without heeding the yawn with which the younger 
 man treated his beginning, he pulled before him a 
 copy of the daily paper lying on the table and search 
 ing it for a while, finally pushed it before the younger 
 man with his finger designating a certain advertisement. 
 
 "Read it, Bob," softly demanded the older man. 
 
 With a facility showing that he was not wholly 
 without educational training, the young man obeyed. 
 
 Anyone, " he read, " having information con 
 cerning Edmund Dugdale, who came from England to 
 New York City in 1855, and who lived in MacDougall 
 Street in 1857, and was in that year employed in the 
 business office of the Courier and Inquirer, or who 
 knew him in those years, will confer a favor, by com 
 municating with Richard Mason, at the office of Het- 
 low, Altmount & Co., No. Cliff Street. " 
 
 The elder of the two looked keenly at the old man 
 for a brief instant, and then said softly: 
 
 "I knew him." 
 
 Barber regarded the speaker with severe displeasure. 
 
 "How long ago?" he asked, incredulity in his tones. 
 
 "I was a kid, and employed in that newspaper 
 office." 
 
 "Oh, you were," replied Barber sarcastically. 
 "What did you know about him?" 
 
 "Very little; nothing in fact." 
 
 "I thought so," remarked the old man, much mol 
 lified. "Well, I knew him well. What do you sup 
 pose that means?" 
 
 "Blessed if I know," answered the younger man, 
 perceiving the other, who was stealthily watching the 
 old man from under his brows, made no remark.
 
 SIGN OR BARBERINI. 5 1 
 
 "Millions," said the ex-ballet-master unctuously. 
 "Millions upon millions." 
 
 "What means millions?" asked the younger man 
 contemptuously. "That ad ?" 
 
 "Just that advertisement," answered the old man 
 impressively, proud that he had something to say 
 which enlisted the interest of the two men, accustomed 
 to treat him and his remarks with contempt. "I 
 knew Edmund Dugdale when he was the gayest 
 young man in Lunnon, making the sovereigns spin in 
 a way to set your head in a whirl; I knew him when 
 he married a girl in the ballet, and when he was kicked 
 out for it by his father, the richest merchant in Eng 
 land. Rich ! Talk about Vanderbilt s money why, 
 Edmund Dugdale s father thirty years ago could have 
 bought and sold three Vanderbilts." 
 
 "Bah," cried the younger man in supreme disgust. 
 "What s this you are giving us?" 
 
 "The truth. And yet Edmund Dugdale died in 
 this city for want of food, as his wife died before him." 
 
 "What has all this to do with this ad ?" inquired 
 the young man. 
 
 "Everything. Samuel Dugdale s great fortune is 
 going a-begging. Six months ago I was reading in a 
 Lunnon paper that Samuel Dugdale was dead, and it 
 went on to say that the business had descended from 
 father and son for near on to two hundred years, but 
 now the only son of Dugdale having died in America, 
 the business and the great fortune would go to a dif 
 ferent branch of the family." 
 
 The younger man, tired of the tale, shifted his posi 
 tion in his chair. As he did so he caught a darting 
 look from the other, accompanied by a sudden uplift 
 ing of the heavy brows. He turned to Barber and 
 said impatiently: 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Well," continued the old ballet-master, "here 
 comes the advertisement I showed you."
 
 C2 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 "You say the son died here in New York?" 
 
 "Yes, in 1857." 
 
 "I suppose they are trying to establish his death for 
 a certainty, so the heirs can take the property." 
 
 "Not a bit of it. Edmund Dugdale left a son." 
 
 "Is he dead too?" 
 
 "That is what the advertisement means. No one 
 knows. Nine days before Edmund s death the son 
 disappeared. Where? No one knows." 
 
 "Stolen?" 
 
 "No, I believe put out for adoption. I ve got 
 good reasons for supposing so." 
 
 "And this is an attempt to find the child, alive or 
 dead." 
 
 "That s it precisely. There s millions for the son 
 if he is found and big money for the man that finds 
 him." 
 
 "How old was the child when the father died?" 
 
 "Two years old." 
 
 "I suppose you are going to find the child and make 
 the big money." 
 
 Although by this time Barber had imbibed fre 
 quently, his cunning had not deserted him. Perhaps 
 the younger man s inartistic yawn, so evidently an 
 affectation of weariness, warned him that he was being 
 drawn into telling all he knew. 
 
 "Me?" he cried. "How can 1 find him? It is a 
 quarter of a century ago, and Edmund Dugdale never 
 told anyone where he put the child. There s no trac 
 ing the real heir." 
 
 The elder man got up and lounged out of the side 
 door. The younger one argued with Barber upon the 
 possibility of finding the missing heir. 
 
 The elder man lounged back presently and dropped 
 into his chair. Then he treated to drinks not once, 
 but two or three times. 
 
 By and by, the old ballet-master struggled to his 
 feet and, somewhat unsteady on his legs, went out,
 
 SIGNOR BARBERINI. S3 
 
 saying he had business across town. After he had 
 gone, the elder man got up and again lounged to the 
 door, watching Barber as he slowly walked up the 
 street. At the same time, a man emerged from behind 
 the coal-box of a grocery on the opposite corner and 
 went up the street, taking the same direction as did 
 Barber. The elder man lounged back to the table. 
 
 "The old fellow is flush to-day," he said to the 
 young man. 
 
 "Yes," was the reply; "been staked for what he 
 knew about Dugdale." 
 
 "He knew more than he told us," said the elder 
 man. 
 
 "Do you think so?" inquired the other with inter 
 est. 
 
 "I do. Who is Richard Mason?" 
 
 "I don t know." 
 
 "Find out right away." 
 
 Obediently the young man rose and went out of the 
 front door. In the meantime Barber pursued his way 
 across town, took the elevated cars downtown, got out 
 at Fulton Street and crossed to Brooklyn. By a sin 
 gular coincidence the man who had stepped out from 
 behind the coal-box of the grocery store had business 
 also in Brooklyn and crossed on the same boat with 
 Barber.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A TALE AND A DISCOVERY. 
 
 THE directness with which the disreputable old per 
 son had arrived at the purpose lying back f the 
 search did not please Dick. He feared Barber would 
 endeavor to engraft himself upon the enterprise, for 
 evidently he expected profit to arise out of his know 
 ledge. Dick would have been less pleased had he 
 known that the old dancer, with a view to further pay 
 ments, had concealed several essential points: one that 
 Dugdale had informed him of his relationship to Mr. 
 Hetlow; another that from time to time, both before and 
 after Dugdale s death, Mrs. Tomlinson had cared for 
 the child, and still another that the child had been 
 adopted by some person. The old ballet-master was 
 not a vicious person, but his necessities drove him 
 hard and his mind was filled with visions of a great 
 fortune, a small portion of which he thought he could 
 divert to himself. 
 
 On the afternoon of the day Barber had called on 
 Dick, a letter arrived for the latter, which however 
 was not received by him until the following morning. 
 It was from the lawyer, Mr. Stanton, informing him 
 that he had been successful in his search for the 
 owner of the property at the time Dugdale had occu 
 pied a room under its roof, and that he hoped in a 
 short time to find the name of the person who had 
 rented the house during that year. 
 
 Dick had hardly digested the contents of this letter, 
 when Barber entered the office and inquired for him. 
 
 "Well," he said, "I have found Mrs. Tomlinson, 
 
 54
 
 A TALE AND A DISCOVERY. 55 
 
 after a good search I can tell you. Her husband is 
 dead, but the old ale house is still in existence, kept 
 by the man who bought it from her after her husband s 
 death." 
 
 "What is her address?" sharply asked Dick, cutting 
 the old man short in the tale of the search he was pre 
 paring to give in detail. 
 
 To answer so directly was not the purpose of the 
 old man. Ignoring Dick s question, he said: 
 
 "Mrs. Tomlinson recollects the Dugdales well. It 
 was she who buried Mrs. Dugdale and took the baby 
 home with her after the funeral. But she thinks the 
 baby was adopted out by Mr. Dugdale, but as she did 
 not see much of him after his wife s death, she is not 
 clear on this point. I don t believe we will get much 
 out of her, but in thinking this matter over " 
 
 "Give me her address," demanded Dick impera 
 tively. 
 
 Dick was ruthlessly destroying the schemes the old 
 man had so laboriously builded. Mrs. Tomlinson was 
 a sharp old woman, having little confidence in her 
 former employer. Therefore she had not been at all 
 communicative. Barber, appreciating this, leaped to 
 the conclusion that she possessed information most 
 desirable, and used ail the tact and diplomacy he 
 could employ, but without avail. The greater the 
 effort he put forth, the firmer became her determina 
 tion to keep her own counsel. With a shrewdness 
 superior to his own she induced the old ballet-master 
 to tell that he was making the inquiry on behalf of a 
 Mr. Mason, who was an agent of Mr. Hetlow. The 
 latter name aroused her recollections and she recalled 
 that Edmund Dugdale had more than once told her 
 of his relationship to a man of that name. Barber was 
 finally compelled to retire, but he did so with the de 
 termination to return again to the attack, and again 
 and again, until he had finally succeeded. But Dick s 
 imperative ways were destroying his plans.
 
 56 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 "Give me her address," repeated Dick. "I don t 
 want you to question her. I ll do that myself." 
 
 "No. Prospect Street, Brooklyn." The old 
 
 man was crushed. 
 
 "Now," said Dick, pointing to a desk. "Sit down 
 and write a letter saying that the bearer is the Mr. 
 Mason on whose behalf you called yesterday." 
 
 Overborne by Dick s masterful ways, and influenced 
 by the fact that he saw Dick put his hand in his pocket 
 and take out a large roll of bills, Barber did as he was 
 told. When he had finished, Dick gave him a note 
 the size of which nearly made him faint with joy. 
 
 "Now," said Dick, dismissing him, "you can con 
 tinue to serve me by finding other people who knew 
 Dugdale. Your information will be paid for." 
 
 Dick lost no time in going to the house of Mrs. 
 Tomlinson. When he handed Barber s letter to her 
 and she read it, she looked up with surprise. Attrib 
 uting her surprise to a suspicion that he was not the 
 person he represented himself to be, he said: 
 
 "If that letter does not assure you I am the Mr. 
 Mason, I have other credentials which will prove my 
 identity." 
 
 "It is not that," she responded quickly, evidently 
 favorably impressed by her visitor, "but I thought I 
 was speaking to Mr. Mason last night." 
 
 Dick was puzzled, and asked her to explain. 
 
 "A gentleman called to see me last night after 
 Teddy Barber had been here," she said, "and I 
 thought he was Mr. Mason." 
 
 "Did he say his name was Mason?" asked Dick. 
 
 "Why, when I come to think on it, I cannot say 
 that he did. He asked me if I was the Mrs. Tomlin 
 son Barber had called on, on behalf of Mr. Mason. 
 And so I thought it must be Mr. Mason, you see." 
 
 Dick was puzzled all the more. At first he was 
 inclined to believe the person was Mr. Stanton, but 
 Mrs. Tomlinson s description of her caller disposed of
 
 A TAL& Attti A bisCOVMY. $7 
 
 that idea, even if it had not occurred to him that Mr. 
 Stanton had no knowledge of Barber, nor Barber of 
 Stanton. He could not imagine the meaning of it. 
 Finally he concluded that Barber had employed some 
 one to endeavor to draw out Mrs. Tomlinson after his 
 own failure. 
 
 "Well, Mrs. Tomlinson," after a moment s silence, 
 "your caller was not Mr. Mason, for he is here now." 
 
 He took some papers from his pocket and handing 
 them to her, added : 
 
 "Here are some papers which will prove to you I am 
 Mr. Mason. I wish you would look at them, for I 
 have some questions to ask which I very much desire 
 to have answered." 
 
 Mrs. Tomlinson returned them after a careless 
 overlooking, remarking that she was satisfied without 
 them. She had trusted to her intuitions. 
 
 "Then," said Dick, we may go on. But first let me 
 ask the business of the person who called last night." 
 
 "He wanted me to tell all I knew about Mr. Dug- 
 dale," 
 
 This answer confirmed Dick in his belief that the 
 caller was an agent of Barber, and when Mrs. Tom 
 linson went on to say that she told him all she knew, 
 because she had nothing to conceal, and had been con 
 trary with "Teddy" because "Teddy" had acted as 
 if she were bound to tell him everything because she 
 had once been in his employ, he was still further con 
 vinced it was simply an effort of the old man to worm 
 into the secrets of the case. So he proceeded to ques 
 tion Mrs. Tomlinson on the matters upon which he 
 desired to be informed. 
 
 The greater part of her recital was mainly confirma 
 tion of what he had already learned. What was new 
 and essential was that, after Mrs. Dugdale s death, she 
 had cared for the child until she was compelled to go 
 with her husband to Boston, where he had an engage 
 ment in a theater. Returning the next summer she
 
 5 8 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 had again cared for the babe. She had found Dug- 
 dale distressed and despairing. He talked of finding 
 a good home for the child and yielding it up, as the 
 best thing he could do for it. While she had the 
 child the second summer, Dugdale suddenly died, and 
 at first she supposed the child would fall to her to 
 bring up. It was her custom to spend a portion of 
 the day in Union Square, where she met a lady who 
 the summer before had been attracted to the child, 
 and who now learning from Mrs. Tomlinson its home 
 less condition, expressed a desire to adopt it. 
 
 She had brought her husband to Mrs. Tomlinson 
 the next day to make the proposition, which was not ac 
 cepted, because Mrs. Tomlinson wanted first to consult 
 her husband. When the husband came home it was 
 with the announcement that they must prepare for a 
 journey to Montreal, where he had taken an engage 
 ment. They concluded that the best disposition they 
 could make of the child was to permit this lady to 
 take it, and busy as her husband was he went out to 
 make inquiries, which satisfied them that the lady and 
 her husband were proper persons to take the child. 
 As their time was limited, and as the people with whom 
 Dugdale had lodged at the time of his death were 
 very kindly and respectable people, they determined 
 to carry the child, with the address of the lady and 
 gentleman, to them, and ask them to attend to the 
 details of its settlement. This had been done, and 
 Mrs. Tomlinson had been subsequently informed that 
 the transfer had been accomplished and that the baby 
 was in a good home. And that was the last she had 
 heard of it, for when she returned, the people in the 
 MacDougall Street house had moved away and she 
 had lost all trace of them. 
 
 "Do you recollect the name?" asked Dick. 
 
 "Yes, it was Powers. None of their old neighbors 
 knew positively where they had moved to, but there 
 was a belief it was to Newark."
 
 A TALE AND A DISCOVERY. 59 
 
 "You recollect, of course, the name of the lady and 
 gentleman who adopted the child?" 
 
 * No, I don t," replied Mrs. Tomlinson earnestly. 
 "I carried the address to Mrs. Powers, but forgot it 
 afterward." 
 
 "Didn t they give the name in the letter written to 
 you at Montreal?" 
 
 "Yes, but that letter I lost. I ve tried again and 
 again to recall the name, but it has slipped from me. 
 I cannot." 
 
 Nothing Dick could do elicited anything more 
 from Mrs. Tomlinson essential to his search. 
 
 However he felt that there had been a substantial 
 advance made. The child had not died. It had been 
 adopted by someone, and the name of the person 
 through whom the adoption was made had been ob 
 tained. So asking Mrs. Tomlinson not to inform 
 Barber of the purpose of his search, which he had 
 revealed to her, he left her and returned to New York. 
 
 On arriving at his office he found another letter 
 from Mr. Stanton, telling him that the old lawyer had 
 an important fact to communicate, and that Wallis had 
 charged him with delivering an important message, and 
 closed with the wish that since he had been unable to 
 see him, Dick should run up to Dobbs Ferry and 
 spend the night. And so Dick hastened to take the 
 train. , 
 
 Wallis was not at home when he arrived. She had 
 gone to ride with Bessie, not expecting him until a 
 later hour. This was a disappointment, for though 
 his journey was supposed to be wholly connected with 
 the search, yet his thoughts were more given to the 
 misunderstanding which had arisen between himself 
 and Bessie. If the truth were told he was far more 
 desirous of knowing what success had attended Wallis 
 in her efforts at clearing the atmosphere, than he was 
 of learning what the old lawyer s important communi 
 cation might be. Moreover he feared that Wallis had
 
 6o THE DUG DALE MILLIONS. 
 
 failed in the exercise of a proper discretion, and had 
 told Bessie of his frank confession of his love for her. 
 And he feared that if Wallis had done so, Bessie 
 would take umbrage at that. By conjuring up all 
 sort of doubts and possibilities, as lovers are so apt to 
 do in that period when hope and uncertainty hold 
 equal sway, Dick had succeeded in making himself 
 very uncomfortable. On arriving, he found the old 
 lawyer seated upon the veranda overlooking the river, 
 intent upon the panorama below. 
 
 "O Mason! You are earlier than I expected," 
 was Mr. Stanton s greeting as he came down the steps 
 to meet him. "Powers was the name of those people 
 who lived in the MacDougall Street house." 
 
 Dick laughed as he replied: 
 
 "I supposed I would give you the news. I learned 
 that fact this morning." 
 
 "What more do you know," asked the lawyer, much 
 interested. 
 
 "Not a single fact more." 
 
 "Well, I know a little more," said the lawyer, as he 
 motioned Dick to be seated in one of the cane-bot 
 tomed chairs on the veranda. " The head of the family 
 was named James. He was a morocco finisher. His 
 family consisted of a wife and two girls small ones 
 then. The MacDougall Street house belongs to the 
 old Gadwise estate, and the man who has had charge 
 of it for thirty years has so still. He has kept a record 
 of all the tenants." 
 
 Dick told him of his interview with Mrs. Tomlinson. 
 
 "Well," said the old gentleman, having listened 
 closely to the recital, "well, certain facts are estab 
 lished. The child was adopted by someone yet un 
 known. The chances are that it is alive. The next 
 step is to find James Powers. Here the chances are 
 against you. Assuming that he was thirty-five in 
 1857, he would be over sixty years old now. The 
 chances are largely that he is dead. And his wife
 
 A TALE AND A DISCOVERY. 6r 
 
 also. You say that Mrs. Tomlinson told you that 
 there was a belief that he had moved to Newark. 
 That is quite likely since he was a morocco finisher, 
 because Newark has been for many years a place 
 where the leather industry flourished. The course 
 to pursue is to put a man on the track of Powers 
 send him to Newark to inquire at the morocco places. 
 In the meantime my people at the office will insert 
 advertisements in the papers asking for information 
 as to him. This will be better than for you to do so, 
 because you have had one of a similar kind afloat for 
 some days. I will see this Tomlinson woman," con 
 tinued the lawyer; "I may get something from her 
 you failed to obtain." 
 
 "Perhaps you may," replied Dick, "for you are 
 trained in examination and I am not ; but, to be frank, 
 I do not think you will. She is a woman of a good 
 memory and an orderly mind. I believe she gave me 
 all she knew." 
 
 "It may be so," the lawyer returned, "yet she might 
 have said something which escaped your attention, 
 which, if followed up, would have elicited something. 
 I don t suppose you asked her any questions, for 
 instance, about the conversation she had with the 
 woman who talked to the baby in the Park whether 
 she talked at all about herself." 
 
 At this moment there was a slight noise just behind 
 them at the window, which caused them both to look 
 around, but as the blinds were closed they saw nothing. 
 
 "No," answered Dick. "I took it for granted that 
 they talked only of the baby." 
 
 "That s just it," said Mr. Stanton. "Yet it is in 
 conceivable that these two women should have talked 
 together on several days without revealing something 
 of themselves. I think possibly I could start her 
 memory to some effect. You say this Toiviinson 
 woman had the baby for nearly three month:: in the
 
 62 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "A year old, then?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "The next summer only four weeks?" 
 
 "That is all." 
 
 "Two years old then when the Powers got posses 
 sion of it and turned it over to the woman who adopted 
 it. It ought not be difficult to trace it. But let me 
 caution you not to talk about this part of the affair." 
 
 Dick imagined that he heard the sound of labored 
 breathing, but upon looking up at the old gentleman 
 found him as placid as a summer morning. So he 
 replied: 
 
 "You can rely upon my discretion, sir." 
 
 At this moment the roll of wheels upon the gravel 
 upon the drive at the other side of the house was 
 heard. The mingling of two fresh young voices also 
 was heard, and Dick concluded that Bessie and Wallis 
 had returned from their drive. 
 
 But as Mr. Stanton made no motion to rise Dick 
 could not. A moment later the carriage was heard as 
 it rolled away, and Mr. Stanton took up the talk again 
 by saying he must also see Barber and put him through 
 a course of sprouts. 
 
 When Wallis entered she was met by her aunt, who 
 was in a most excited state. 
 
 "I knew it," she cried, as soon as Wallis stepped 
 within the door. "I knew I should hear bad news. 
 I had a dream last night and I knew it would 
 come." 
 
 "What has come?" asked Wallis anxiously. 
 
 "The bad news." 
 
 "But what is it?" asked Wallis, somewhat alarmed 
 as she laid off her hat, going to her aunt. 
 
 "Your uncle has a baby." 
 
 Wallis broke into a ringing laugh, awakening the 
 echoes of the old house and penetrating to the veranda 
 where Mr, Stanton and, Dick were sitting, filling the
 
 A TALE AND A DISCOVERY. 03 
 
 air with its music. The two men laughed together in 
 
 sympathy. 
 
 "You may laugh," protested Mrs. Stan ton, much 
 vexed. "But it is true. I heard him arranging for 
 its care." 
 
 "With whom indeed?" laughed Wallis, for she per 
 ceived that her aunt was seized by one of her fits of 
 unreasoning jealousy. 
 
 "With Mr. Mason. I knew that young man had 
 something to do with it, when he first came here." 
 
 "Why, nonsense, auntie," said Wallis, "they were 
 doubtlessly talking about the young man Mr. Mason 
 is looking for the Dugdale heir." 
 
 "Do they call n young man who is twenty-six if he 
 is a day, a baby?" asked Mrs. Stanton severely. 
 
 "Well, hardly, confirmed Wallis, still unconvinced. 
 
 "Is a baby two years old an heir to the Dugdale 
 property?" queried Mrs. Stanton, following up her 
 advantage. 
 
 "No, I should think not." 
 
 "This baby is two years old." 
 
 "Why, auntie, how do you know?" 
 
 "Didn t I toil you I heard your uncle admit it? 
 Didn t they sit out on the veranda and shamelessly 
 discuss it? Your uncle figured up the wretch and 
 said it was t\vo years old this summer. And didn t 
 they both talk of the baby having been lost? put away 
 by its mother the shameless thing and didn t your 
 uncle beg Mr. Mason to make every effort to trace it? 
 And didn t I hear him say he thought those Powers 
 had it?" 
 
 "And who are the Powers?" asked Wallis, bewil 
 dered by the proof her aunt was piling up, yet still 
 certain and confident as to the moral integrity of her 
 uncle. 
 
 "How do you suppose I should know?" demanded 
 her aunt indignantly. "If I did, wouldn t I goat once 
 and demand the proof by which I could forever shame
 
 t>4 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 your imcle and confound him? Some of the low peo 
 ple lie associates with, I suppose, when my eyes are not 
 upon him." 
 
 "Oh, aunt, you are mistaken; you have not under* 
 stood properly." 
 
 "Have I ears?" asked the poor lady, highly wrought 
 up by the opposiiion she was meeting with. "Have I 
 intelligence? Can I comprehend what I hear? I ll 
 find out now for the first time. I have names. There 
 is a Tomlinson, and a Barber and a Powers, and a 
 detective to hunt for the baby. Oh, I ll get at the 
 bottom of it. Your uncle is going to advertise for the 
 Powers in the papers. Oh, I ll get at the bottom of 
 it. He shall not escape me now by his cunning, in 
 making it appear as if I was ridiculous! Oh, no! It 
 is the heart woman in the red shawl, and I know it." 
 
 The object of the good woman s suspicions put an 
 end to her confidences, by appearing at the other end 
 of the hall, and calling out to Wallis that Mr. Mason 
 was on the veranda. 
 
 "Now Wallis," said Mrs. Stan ton hastily and warn- 
 ingly, "be discreet. Say nothing to anyone. I ll 
 say nothing until I get the proof. Go and entertain 
 Mr. Mason, so that they cannot conspire further. I 
 will go to see about dinner. When I asked for a 
 decent carriage, he said I must wait until next sum 
 mer. But the blonde woman in the red shawl, she 
 can have anything she wants." 
 
 Wallis, scarcely able to preserve her gravity, assured 
 her aunt that at least she would not speak to Mr. 
 Mason of the great discovery, and went forward to 
 meet him.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 DISQUIETING NEWS. 
 
 FROM the remarks made by her uncle, and the 
 questions he asked Dick, after she appeared on the 
 veranda, Wallis learned that progress had been made 
 in the search, and that her aunt s suspicions were 
 wholly unfounded. 
 
 From her Dick learned that Mr. Hetlow had re 
 turned from the journey he had gone upon the day 
 Dick was last at Dobbs Ferry. With a mischievous 
 twinkle in her eyes, she expressed the belief that Mr. 
 Hetlow would be pleased to see Dick, and learn from 
 his own lips the progress the search was making, and 
 concluded by proposing that he should accompany her 
 to call at the Hetlow mansion, after dinner. To this 
 Dick made no answer, nor in fact did he have the 
 opportunity, for Mr. Stanton acquiescing in the prop 
 osition, said he would go with them, adding that Mr. 
 Hetlow did not yet know that he was interfering in the 
 affair, and that it was high time he did. 
 
 Dick s face was evidently the cause of amusement 
 to Wallis. It presented expressions of desire, dislike, 
 and embarrassment, ludicrously blended. He did not 
 know how to meet the situation forced upon him. He 
 could not refuse without giving Mr. Stanton a reason, 
 and he could not give as that reason his misunder 
 standing with Bessie. Wallis would not assist him, 
 but, upon the contrary, persisted in increasing the 
 gravity of the situation, to his evident distress, and her 
 Own amusement, until he began to contemplate a sudden 
 attack of illness as the only way out of the difficulty.
 
 66 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 Having extracted sufficient entertainment from the 
 condition of the hapless young man, Wallis proposed 
 a walk over the tunnel before dinner, to which Dick 
 eagerly consented, since he so much desired a talk 
 with her alone. 
 
 The walk over the tunnel was one of the treats 
 offered visitors to Springhill, the old name of the 
 Stanton place. 
 
 Mr. Stanton s land stretched out to the river, to 
 which it descended abruptly by a precipitous range of 
 rock. Through this rock a long tunnel had been 
 bored for the way of the Hudson River Railroad. At 
 the extreme end of the bluff overlooking the river, a 
 summer-house had been built, from which a long view 
 of the river, with its floating craft, could be had. 
 From this point, a rough wooden stairway descended 
 to the water s edge, where there was a small boat- 
 house, the shelter of a light rowboat in which Wallis 
 and Bessie had spent many happy hours, but now rot 
 ting from neglect and disuse. From the south the 
 railroad tracks entered the tunnel, through a rough 
 rock cutting, the sides of which gradually ran down 
 from the face of the tunnel to the level of the tracks. 
 From the top of the tunnel opening to the top of the 
 rock was a distance of twenty or twenty-five feet, 
 almost perpendicular. It had not always borne this 
 appearance, but, as the accident records of the com 
 pany could show, many years previous, a large amount 
 of rock had been detached and had fallen upon 
 the track below, leaving its face bare and ragged. 
 As the years had passed, small evergreen trees 
 and bushes had grown upon the ledges made by 
 the broken rocks. Immediately over the center, at 
 the extreme top, a large piece projected, and 
 this had been guarded by a rail set up by Mr. 
 Stanton, so that one could walk out in safety upon it 
 and leaning over, watch the trains plunge into the tun 
 nel, or see them dash out with their thundering noise.
 
 DISQUIETING NEWS. 67 
 
 This was one of the sights of Springhill, and to this 
 spot Wallis led Dick. 
 
 As they leaned over this railing, looking down upon 
 the tracks, Wallis said: 
 
 "You were not pleased "with my suggestion to go to 
 the Hetlows to-night." 
 
 "How could you be so unkind?" asked Dick 
 reproachfully. "Any meeting with Miss Hetlow must 
 now be full of embarrassment for both of us." 
 
 "I suppose so," said Wallis, adding maliciously, 
 "you should not have lost your temper." 
 
 "Temper!" replied Dick in surprise. "Surely I 
 made no display of temper!" 
 
 "Bessie says you behaved in a perfectly outrageous 
 manner; accused her of all sorts of things, and I said 
 I had no doubt of it." 
 
 Dick looked up at her, to see the mischief dancing 
 in her dark eyes, and remarked with humorous sar 
 casm: 
 
 "Your efforts at clearing the atmosphere seem to 
 have been attended with great success." 
 
 She laughed merrily, as she said : 
 
 Of course there must be some embarrassment when 
 two such geese as you have been, first meet after your 
 foolishness. But be consoled, 1 have acted the part 
 of your friend, I have insisted to her that it was from 
 no indifference to her that you undertook to find 
 young Dugdale." 
 
 "I hope you did not tell her what I said to you in 
 a. moment of bitterness and confidence," said Dick 
 anxiously. 
 
 "Am I not your friend? Do you not suppose that 
 I know a girl wants to hear that she is loved from the 
 man who loves her? Oh, I was discreet." 
 
 Dick was silent as he busied himself with pushing 
 small pebbles over the rocks with his foot, but he was 
 also busy with his thoughts, for he could not see how 
 Wallis could have persuaded Bessie that he was not
 
 6S THE DUCDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 indifferent to Bessie s interests without revealing to 
 her the feelings he had confessed he had entertained. 
 At best Wallis was unsatisfactory. The question was, 
 and this Wallis did not answer, Was Bessie convinced? 
 He endeavored to induce her to say more. 
 
 "Was this the news you desired to give me?" 
 
 "Mercy, no! I had nearly forgotten. Who do 
 you think is coming to visit Mr. Hetlow all the way 
 from England?"* 
 
 "The Prince of Wales?" 
 
 Nonsense! Yet pretty nearly as great a person 
 age. Lord Merrimount, second son of the Duke of 
 Mountchessington a real live English noble 
 man." 
 
 "The dev I mean you don t say so." 
 
 "I just do mean to say so! Now what do you think 
 of that? He comes introduced by the Dugdale family 
 solicitor. " 
 
 "What is he coming here for?" 
 
 Wallis turned upon him with intense scorn. 
 
 "Now just stand up and look me in the eyes. 
 There! Now what else do you suppose he s coming 
 for than 
 
 "Than what?" 
 
 "Why to propose for Bessie, of course." 
 
 "Does he send that word?" 
 
 " Well, are not men stupid ! Did he send that word ? 
 No, he didn t. Of course not." 
 
 "Then how do you know?" 
 
 "Why gracious, what dullness! The Dugdale 
 solicitor is also the solicitor of the Duke s family. 
 He knows that Bessie is heir to the untold Dugdale 
 millions. The Duke s family are not rich, and so he 
 sends young Lord Merrimount over here to make love 
 to Bessie, so as to restore the fortunes of the ducal 
 family. Why it s so plain any one, but you, could 
 see it. Didn t the letter say that he would make a 
 proposition relative to the Dugdale estate which he
 
 D/SQU/ET/NG NEWS 69 
 
 thought Mr. He-How ought to give serious thought 
 to?" 
 
 "Wallis," said Dick, after a moment s silence, "dc 
 you know that I feel in rny bones that I won t lit*, 
 that real live young saphead of an English noble 
 man." 
 
 "I shall just hate him." 
 
 "I never did like English noblemen. It is one of 
 the peculiarities of my nature that I hate an English 
 nobleman whenever I meet one." 
 
 "How many have you ever met?" 
 
 "Not one. That, however, does not alter the fact. 
 Wallis, I ll defeat that Lord What s-his-narae, if I 
 involve the two countries in a war." 
 
 "And I ll make his life miserable while he s here." 
 
 Dick put out his hand to Wallis. 
 
 "It is a compact then for blood and war for life 
 and death. Wallis, there is an easy way to crush 
 him." 
 
 "How." 
 
 "Find the missing Dugdale. Then your Lord 
 won t want Miss Hetlow." 
 
 "An additional incentive for your work. But we 
 must go back for dinner." 
 
 As lightly as Dick had treated the news of the com 
 ing of Merrimount, for it was his habit to conceal hia 
 real emotions under the guise of a humorous triviality, 
 he was much troubled. With Wallis, he believed that 
 the only object of the young nobleman s visit was to 
 secure the Dugdale millions by securing Bessie. He 
 thought he knew Mr. Hetlow well enough to know 
 that the old merchant would be so flattered by the 
 prospect of an alliance with a family of such high rank 
 in the mother country, that, from the moment of his 
 arrival, the young Englishman would have a potent 
 and efficient ally in the father of the girl he would 
 come to woo. So, though he laughed and joked with 
 the othen at the dinner-table over the purpose of tbp
 
 70 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 nobleman s visit, he felt his dislike growing stronger 
 for the arrogant foreigner, as he called him. 
 
 After dinner, they went to the Hetlow mansion. 
 Mr. Hetlow welcomed him cordially, but he imme 
 diately perceived that Bessie s manner, though per 
 haps intended to be gracious, was marked by great 
 constraint. How he had expected to be received by 
 her he could not have explained to himself, but he was 
 distinctly conscious that he resented her manner. 
 With a perversity for which he cursed himself later in 
 the evening, he assumed an air of coldness and indif 
 ference, which immediately was met by Bessie with 
 an equal amount of haughtiness. Their quarrel was 
 continued, though only words of the utmost common 
 place were exchanged between them Wallis loyally 
 endeavored to smooth the difficulties and exercised no 
 little ingenuity in an effort to bring the two together. 
 But they were as unmovable as rocks, and finally she 
 lost her temper. 
 
 As opportunities presented themselves she informed 
 each, at different times, that they were a pair of idiots 
 for whom it was little use to attempt to do anything. 
 
 With a feeling that he was gratifying a resentment, 
 Dick told Mr. Hetlow, with positive enthusiasm, the 
 progress made, and was unnecessarily confident as to 
 the ultimate success of his search, while Bessie, feeling 
 also that she was gratifying a similar feeling, combated 
 his theories and plans and doubted his conclusions. 
 
 As a consequence, Wallis saw all her friendly and 
 amiable schemes fall to the ground, while the two 
 parted with the breach wider than before, and each 
 convinced that the other had lost the interest which 
 each had hoped had been felt for the other. 
 
 Dick was quite sure the prospects of so much wealth, 
 and the possibility of attaining to high social rank by 
 reason of its possession, was the cause of Bessie s 
 treatment of himself, while Bessie was certain some 
 fairer girl had stolen into Dick s affections.
 
 DISQUIETING NEWS. " 71 
 
 Wallis was too indignant over the perversity of each 
 to even scold Dick, and dismissed him to his room for 
 the night with the contemptuous remark that such a 
 stupid didn t deserve to have the affection of such a 
 girl as Bessie. 
 
 The next morning, Mr. Stanton accompanied Dick 
 to New York. On the cars, Dick found an item in the 
 morning paper which interested him and which he 
 pointed out to Mr. Stanton. It was this: 
 
 "Yesterday afternoon, there died after an illness of 
 only an hour, a character well known in certain circles 
 Edward Barber. He was a man over seventy, and 
 was quite celebrated as a ballet dancer and director of 
 the ballet at one time then known to fame as Signor 
 Barberini. After many years service at the Drury 
 Lane, he came to this country to take charge of the 
 ballet of the Italian Opera. In 1856, however, he 
 received a paralytic stroke, from which he never fully 
 recovered. Since then he has been a costumer and 
 dresser of theatrical stars. He was taken ill in a 
 saloon he much affected and was carried, by two com 
 panions with whom he was drinking, to the room he 
 occupied in the neighborhood. He had no family." 
 
 "You will not be able to question Barber," said 
 Dick.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 COUNTERPLOTS. 
 
 ON the afternoon of the day, the night of whicl; 
 Mason passed at Mr. Stanton s house, three men sa 
 in close confidence in the back room of the Sixt! 
 Avenue drinking-place frequented by Barber. Two 
 of the trio we have seen as the companions of the old 
 ballet-master, in the enjoyment of the proceeds of his 
 visit to Dick. 
 
 The third was a man who could be found every 
 morning about the Tombs courts, acting as counsel 
 for as many of the poor unfortunates caught in the 
 meshes of the police net on the previous night, as he 
 could discover possessed money, or could obtain it. A 
 few years ago such men were called "Tombs sharks," 
 The police authorities credited this man with having a 
 wider knowledge of and acquaintance with thieves and 
 men of irregular lives generally, than any other one 
 person in the city. His name was Moore. He had 
 achieved the prenomen of "Nosey," but was ad 
 dressed as Counselor by all those who were not inti 
 mate enough to call him Dennis, the name given him 
 by his parents. 
 
 The two were giving undivided attention to the tale 
 he was relating. When he had finished, the man with 
 the soft voice relapsed into profound thought, the 
 others waiting patiently for him to emerge from it. 
 
 "It is lucky," he finally said, "that old Barber is 
 dead. He would have been in the way." 
 
 No response was made to this remark, but the 
 younger man lit a fresh cigar, and puffed vigorously. 
 
 73
 
 COUNTERPLOTS. -]$ 
 
 After a few moments of further silence the man of ths 
 soft voice again spoke. 
 
 "This is the layout, " he said. "Bob, here, finds 
 that Mason is a clerk of Hetlow, who is a brother-in- 
 law of the old Dugdale, and granduncle to the young 
 ster they want to find. Barber got hold of the right 
 end of the story. There is an heir wanted for the 
 money. If this youngster is alive he s the heir, if not 
 Hetlow s daughter is. So they ve started in to find 
 the youngster." 
 
 "But, Ransom," said the younger man, taking the 
 cigar from his lips that he might the more easily make 
 his point, "how can that be? If they found the 
 young fellow, Hetlow s daughter would be done out 
 of the money. Why should they hunt for him?" 
 
 "Of course," replied the man called Ransom, "that 
 seems reasonable on the face of it. But there are some 
 men in this world so d honorable that they in 
 jure themselves. I expect this Hetlow s one of them. 
 Anyhow that s what he s doing looking for a man, 
 who, if they find him, 11 do the girl out of a heap of 
 money. Tain t for us to talk about the foolishness 
 of it, but the fact of it. Now this one hain t been 
 seen or heard of since he was two years old. The 
 last that can be said of him is that at that time he was 
 put into the hands of a man named Powers, to give to 
 somebody else. That s as far as they ve got, and 
 the man Powers hasn t been found, so far as we 
 know." 
 
 "I know he ain t," interjected Dennis. 
 
 "How?" asked Ransom. 
 
 For answer Moore took a newspaper from his 
 pocket, and pointed out an advertisement, asking that 
 any one having information as to James Powers, a 
 morocco-finisher, who in 1857 and 1858 lived at 
 
 No. MacDougall Street, to communicate with 
 
 Stanton, Boyd & Stephens, No. Wall Street. 
 
 "That s a highly respectable law firm." said Moore.
 
 74 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 "Now if they had got on to the track of Powers that 
 wouldn t be in the papers." 
 
 "That s so," said the younger man. 
 
 "It tells us something more," remarked Ran 
 som. 
 
 The other two looked inquiringly at him. 
 
 "It tells us that Powers was a morocco-finisher, and 
 that gives us a clew. Didn t that Brooklyn woman 
 tell you some one had told her Powers had moved to 
 Newark?" 
 
 "She said there was an idea he had." 
 
 "It all comes back to the same thing," said Ran 
 som after a long period of reflection during which the 
 others waited patiently. "We know just as much as 
 Mason or Hetlow knows. You see," he said, leaning 
 back in his chair, "if they have got to Powers, our 
 cake is all dough. If they haven t, we ve got the 
 chance of getting to him first. If we do, why we may 
 get the steer that ll carry us straight to the young fel 
 low and then we ll be fixed to dicker with one side or 
 t other." 
 
 "Then the scheme is to get the information and 
 sell it?" queried Moore. 
 
 "That s our part of it," replied Ransom. "Not to 
 Mason or Stanton, but to young Dugdale himself. 
 He ll give up more for a fortune he s coming into, 
 than Hetlow will for one he s going out of. My point 
 is to get the young feller and hold him." 
 
 "And it all turns on finding Powers?" asked the 
 young man. 
 
 "Yes; and for that reason I want Dennis to start 
 out at once." 
 
 "Where to?" asked Moore. "I m blessed if I see 
 a way to go." 
 
 "Go to Newark," said Ransom. "Get a list of the 
 morocco factories and ask at each one if they know 
 anything of Powers. I ll work the same job here in 
 town, and Bob can get a list somewhere of morocco
 
 COUNTERPLOTS. 75 
 
 factories out of town hereabouts, and write to em, 
 There can t be such an allfired lot of them." 
 
 "Suppose we find him dead?" suggested Moore. 
 
 "Find what s left of the family the widder." 
 
 "Suppose she s dead?" 
 
 "Suppose the devil," cried the younger man. 
 You re always setting up something to climb over. 
 Suppose the youngster s dead when you find him? 
 Suppose you can t get trace of him at all?" 
 
 "Which is what I hope 11 be the case," remarked 
 Ransom. 
 
 This, said without the trace of the slightest emotion 
 and in those dulcet tones in such contrast to his ap 
 pearance, caused the utmost surprise in the others. 
 The younger man, after staring at him for a moment, 
 said with a puzzled air: 
 
 "You hope we can t get any trace of him?" 
 - "Yes," said Ransom, smiling at their wonder a 
 smile not pleasant to look upon and utterly without 
 geniality. 
 
 "Well, if that ain t a riddle then I don t know one 
 when I hear it," remarked the younger man called 
 Bob. 
 
 "It will make it so much easier to find young Dug- 
 dale, won t it?" was the calm reply. 
 
 "Talk in English," said Bob impatiently. "I don t 
 see your game." 
 
 "If we can t find him or trace of him, neither can 
 Mason nor Stanton, can they?" 
 
 "I suppose that s so," said Moore. 
 
 "If they don t find Powers or any trace of young 
 Dugdale through Powers, they ve got to the end, 
 haven t they?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "That will suit them, won t it?" 
 
 "Why should it?" asked Moore. 
 
 "Because the property then ll go to Hetlow s girl. 
 See! There s only two people who know anything
 
 ?6 THE DUG DALE MILLIONS. 
 
 about Edmund Dtigdale Barber, and he s dead, and 
 the Brooklyn woman. I got out of Barber all he 
 knew. Dennis got out of the Brooklyn woman all she 
 knew. Neither of them knew what was done with the 
 child." 
 
 He paused and looked significantly from one to the 
 other. The young man threw his cigar away, and said 
 irritably: 
 
 "Oh, give it out. Give it out." 
 
 "Then what s to hinder us from finding a Dugdale 
 anyhow?" 
 
 "The devil," said Bob and Moore in one breath. 
 
 Ransom watched them narrowly as the suggestion 
 slowly penetrated to their minds with all its meanings 
 and possibilities. 
 
 "It isn t so hard to do," he said, after he had waited 
 until his startling idea had had time to find secure 
 lodgment. "There is no one to tell them how Dug- 
 dale looked. The last time any one saw him to know 
 who he was, he was two years old. Why, you ve got 
 the whole game in your hands! You can dicker to 
 keep him from knowing who he is, or you can dicker 
 to get him to refuse to be the heir, for a good round 
 sum, or you can put him forward to take the whole of 
 the property." 
 
 "But," cried the young man, "how are you going 
 to prove him to be Dugdale? They aren t going to 
 take him just because we say he is." 
 
 "That s easy enough," interjected Moore. "A few 
 documents can be fixed up that ud settle that. What 
 is difficult is to secure yourself against the real Dug 
 dale, if he s alive, turning up some time." 
 
 "Now you ve hit it," said Ransom. "So you see 
 we ve got to hunt for Powers, and so whether we find 
 him dead or alive, it s all the same to us, but we ve 
 got to be sure." 
 
 "It s a big scheme," said the young man, "and 
 awfully risky."
 
 COUNTERPLOTS. 77 
 
 "There ain t no risk until you know just where you 
 stand, and there s stuff to be made whichever way it 
 turns out," replied Ransom. "There s no risk look 
 ing for Powers. If you happen to run down the true 
 Dugdale, then you bargain with one side or t other. 
 There s no risk then. If you find him dead, there s 
 money in that and no risk. If you don t find him at 
 all, or, if finding Powers, he can t tell you anything 
 about him, or, if you can t find Powers at all, it s easy 
 enough to equip him with an adopted father with all 
 the documents needed." 
 
 "You ve got to find a fellow of twenty-six," said 
 Moore. 
 
 "There he is," rejoined Ransom, pointing to the 
 younger man. 
 
 "Me!" cried the young man, with an oath, springing 
 from his chair. "No, you don t. I ll not put myself 
 in any such hole." 
 
 "Why not?" asked Ransom, calmly and softly, 
 though his eyes were blazing with an angry fire. 
 
 "I ve run all the risks I m going to. I ve had 
 enough." 
 
 The tones of the elder man were still dulcet, but 
 there was an expression on his face which made the 
 younger one falter. 
 
 "A fortune mounting up to millions will be better 
 any time than a lifer in the jug. 
 
 The young man turned pale, indeed he was as white 
 as the wall against which his head rested, as he sank 
 into his chair limply. 
 
 "You wouldn t peach?" he gasped. 
 
 "If Inspector Byrnes should happen to learn that 
 Allan Mark Everard spent his days about a certain 
 Sixth Avenue gin-mill, someone would go back to 
 England, very quick." 
 
 Nerved by sudden anger the young man leaped to 
 his feet and made a backward motion with his hand, 
 but as quick as it was, quicker was the action of the
 
 7 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS, 
 
 elder man who, mounting the table which separated 
 them, in an instant encircled the throat of the younger 
 man with his long white fingers, and pushed him into 
 his chair, dragging himself across the table. 
 
 "None of that," he said, in a low voice trembling 
 with intensity. 
 
 The young man s tongue protruded and his face 
 grew purple as the elder one held him. 
 
 Moore sprang to the door to prevent any one enter 
 ing, the moment the disturbance began. Ransom 
 released the other, but stood over him watching him 
 intently. 
 
 "Well," he said, "is it a lifer or with me?" 
 
 "I m with you, of course. I m in your power." 
 
 "Oh! You know that, do you? What did you 
 mean by going down for your gun?" 
 
 "Come, come," said Moore genially. "We re not 
 going to get ahead with quarrels. Bob s all right. 
 He only lost his temper. We re all in the same boat. 
 Let s get down to business. You want me to go to 
 Newark. Good! I ll go right away. Do we meet 
 here to-night?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Ransom, as he returned to his side 
 of the table, still standing, and eying the younger man 
 narrowly. "Bob, you be here at that hour, and no 
 nonsense." 
 
 He lounged out of the side door and crossed the 
 street to the corner, where he stood for some time. A 
 man crossed from the opposite corner with whom he 
 exchanged a word or two and lounged up the avenue. 
 Moore left the saloon by the front entrance. A mo 
 ment or two after the younger man passed out of the 
 same door and went down the avenue. The man who 
 had exchanged words with Ransom was but a short 
 distance behind him.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A FATEFUL ARRIVAL. 
 
 THE reports of the detectives sent out to obtain 
 knowledge of James Powers were unsatisfactory. No 
 trace had been found of the man but that he was dead, 
 and had been for nine years previous to the making of 
 the inquiries. His family had moved from Newark 
 immediately after his death, and trace of them was 
 impossible to find. One of the daughters was married 
 and it was believed that the family had gone with her 
 to live, but whether to Philadelphia as some believed, 
 or into the West as did others, it was impossible to 
 definitely determine. No one had heard the name of 
 the son-in-law. 
 
 There was one fact in the report that caused Dick 
 much wonder and some uneasiness. His agents had 
 been preceded in their inquiries, no matter where they 
 went, by a middle-aged man. The description of this 
 man comported with Mrs. Tomlinson s description of 
 the man calling upon her, whom she had at first taken 
 for Mason. At that time he had concluded that the 
 man was acting for Barber, but Barber was dead and 
 still the inquiry was pursued. He wondered if Mr. 
 Hetlow had employed other people on the matter 
 without his knowledge. He was so much perplexed 
 by this discovery, and as well by what appeared to be 
 the end of the search, that he thought he needed the 
 advice of Mr. Stanton. Accordingly he sent a dispatch 
 to the old lawyer, asking if it would be agreeable to 
 receive him that afternoon. The answer was made, 
 UOt fry the old lawyer, but by Wallis, to the effect
 
 8o THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 that Mr. Stanton was away for the day, but would 
 return at night. Wallis, however, urged Dick to go 
 up immediately as she had a matter of great importance 
 to communicate. 
 
 Dick thereupon set out at once, and on arriving at 
 Springhill, was met by Wallis, evidently awaiting his 
 coming with impatience. 
 
 " He s come, she cried, before he had even alighted 
 from his carriage. 
 
 "Who? Your uncle?" inquired Dick innocently. 
 
 "Patience! No, the lord." 
 
 "What?" cried Dick, "the Second Advent?" 
 
 Wallis stared at him, puzzled, until the sense of 
 Dick s apparently irrelevant response stole upon her, 
 when, with an assumption of severity, to which her 
 dancing eyes sparkling with merriment gave the lie, 
 she said reprovingly : 
 
 "That is wicked. What I meant was that Lord 
 Merrimount is here." 
 
 "In this house?" asked Dick in mock astonishment. 
 "I refuse to enter. All the blood of Bunker Hill 
 bubbles in my veins." 
 
 "Be sensible. This is no trifling matter. No; of 
 course he isn t here. He s over at Mr. Hetlow s. " 
 
 Dick stepped out on the driveway and looked over 
 at the Hetlows mansion, the towers of which were 
 gleaming under the rays of the declining sun, a prey 
 to conflicting emotions, strong among which was a 
 sense of self-pity that fortune had used him so ill. 
 He recovered himself in a moment, and going back to 
 Wallis, said with well assumed carelessness: 
 
 "I do not see that the royal standard floats from the 
 towers, as yet at all events." 
 
 "I don t believe you care one whit whether he is 
 there or not," said Wallis, annoyed that her informa 
 tion should be received so coolly. "You are very 
 trifling, or 
 
 She clasped her hands in anxious expectancy:
 
 A FATEFUL ARRIVAL. Si 
 
 "Or you ve found young Dugdale." 
 
 "No," replied Dick, ascending the steps. "Young 
 Dugdale still has the indecent perversity to conceal 
 his being. What does he look like?" 
 
 "There s the worst of it," replied Wallis petulantly. 
 "He s a real fine-looking man and a gentleman in 
 everything." 
 
 "Worse and worse," cried Dick, dolefully sinking 
 into a chair. "Now, if he were only fifty, with a bald 
 head, minus his teeth " 
 
 "He has a splendid set of teeth, and he is not any 
 older than you are," interposed Waliis. 
 
 "The fates are perverse," murmured Dick; "Dug 
 dale won t materialize, and Merrimount will be young 
 and handsome. At all events," he continued hope 
 fully, "he has neither my goodness nor sweetness." 
 
 "Goodness nor sweetness!" this with ineffable con 
 tempt. "Was there ever such conceit?" 
 
 "Nor my good clothes." 
 
 "There I ll grant you one superiority. How do 
 you know he hasn t your goodness nor sweetness? 
 You haven t seen him." 
 
 "I m arguing on general principles. In the first 
 place, mine is of such high degree that two possessing 
 an equal amount, in the nature of things, would not 
 revolve in the same circle. Again, he is a British 
 nobleman, I am an American citizen. Goodness and 
 sweetness is inherent in the latter, but in the 
 former 
 
 "Oh, spare me," broke in Wallis, "I think he is 
 good. He looks like it." 
 
 "But as to sweetness, you are not certain." 
 
 "Pah! I think he is real nice, and very polite." 
 
 "Wallis, you have deserted me. You have gone 
 over to the enemy." 
 
 "I haven t. But facts are facts. He s been very 
 nice to me and is agreeable to everybody. To be sure 
 he hems and haws a little too much, and every time I
 
 82 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS, 
 
 make a remark looks at me as if I were a wild animal 
 recently caught and tamed, and on the whole rather a 
 curiosity. But he s very nice." 
 
 "Has he proposed to Miss Hetlow yet?" 
 
 "Why don t you ask if he telegraphed for her hand 
 when he reached Sandy Hook? It would be quite 
 as sensible." 
 
 "How long has he been here?" 
 
 "Four days." 
 
 "Wallis, with his advantages and under the same 
 roof " 
 
 "Added to your advantages of goodness and sweet 
 ness and fine clothes, you would have married Bessie 
 in that time." 
 
 "Precisely." 
 
 "Mr. Mason, I admire you very much. Your confi 
 dence in your own powers is charming." 
 
 "I wish Miss Hetlow was of your mind. But in 
 face of this great and immediate danger, what are we 
 to do?" 
 
 "We? It s you." 
 
 "No; you swore fidelity to me in life or death 
 blood or war. You cannot desert my colors on the 
 first sight of the enemy. Wallis, I fear me greatly, 
 that those bewitching black eyes of yours have been 
 dazzled by the jewels of that coronet." 
 
 "Jewels! I haven t seen any jewels yet." 
 
 "What? Do you mean to tell me that Lord Merri- 
 mount has not been wearing his glittering coronet oil 
 his head, with a golden stick in his hand?" 
 
 "How can you be so absurd! Of course not." 
 
 "Not once, eh! Wallis, we have him!" 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "We have him! A man who carries a glittering 
 coronet around in his trunk, and doesn t know tha 
 the place for it, in this country, of all countries, is on 
 his head, is gone he s easily demolished." 
 
 "What nonsense are you talking?"
 
 A FATEFUL ARRIVAL. 83 
 
 "Why, if he had mounted that coronet at the first 
 dinner, all the women, from you down to the scullery 
 maid would have been contemplating the tip end of 
 his polished boots in adoration." 
 
 "You re positively insulting." 
 
 "He ll lose the game through his ignorance of the 
 weakness of the natives." 
 
 And you expect me to be your friend after such 
 abuse?" 
 
 "I promise you I shan t inform him. Magnanimity 
 is my strong point, but there is a limit a limit even 
 to mine." 
 
 "There ought to be a limit to your foolish tongue. 
 Let us go over to Bessie. Perhaps you may meet him." 
 
 "O Heavens, no." 
 
 "Afraid of him?" 
 
 "Afraid of him? No. But it is against my Ameri 
 can principles to encourage noblemen by recognition 
 of their existence." 
 
 "Really! I am quite sure if Lord Merrimount 
 could hear you, he would be crushed." 
 
 "I perceive, Wallis, and I greatly regret it, that the 
 title of that misguided young man trips off your tongue 
 with a lingering unctuousness, as if you were loathe to 
 let it go." 
 
 "Will you go with me? I dare you to go!" 
 
 "I will rise to heights of moral grandeur. I will be 
 dared." 
 
 "The American citizen, as represented by you, 
 seemt to be timid." 
 
 "I will not be ridiculed into descending from my 
 high moral perch. But I will compromise with you. 
 I ll write a note to Mr. Hetlow, and ask if he will 
 receive me." 
 
 Dick suddenly became very sober. 
 
 "To be sensible again," he continued, "I have a 
 reason, apart from any consideration of Lord Merri 
 mount for making my intercourse with Mr. Hetlow,
 
 84 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 in his own house, as formal as possible. I do not for* 
 get that Mr. Hetlow once delicately hinted something 
 about the inexpediency of junior clerks being received 
 at their employers houses on terms of social equality. 
 True, I am not now a junior clerk, but I have never 
 been invited to visit Mr. Hetlow in any other capacity 
 than as assistant. So, if you will permit me, I will 
 address a note to him." 
 
 About the time Dick was asking Wallis for writing 
 materials, Mr. Hetlow was taking Lord Merrimount 
 into the library, at the request of the young nobleman 
 for a formal interview. 
 
 Bessie had refused to believe that the object of Lord 
 Merrimount s visit was to propose for her hand. Yet 
 she had heard so much from Wallis and others about 
 her, all of whom had settled into the fixed belief that 
 such was his object, that when she learned the two 
 had shut themselves up in the library, she became 
 nervous and excited, and could no longer remain in 
 her apartments. So she ran out to consult with Wallis 
 as to the course she should pursue, in case the confei- 
 ence with her father and Lord Merrimount resulted in 
 a proposal for her hand. While she bitterly con 
 demned herself for entertaining the idea that her hand 
 was the object of the young nobleman s visit to Amer 
 ica, yet she determined she would not yield, however 
 disappointed her father might be. She would not 
 admit herself that her heart was given to Dick. Of 
 course that idea was preposterous after the way he had 
 treated her. But she determined that the man who 
 won her hand must first win her heart, and to do that 
 he must possess qualities similar to those of Mr. 
 Mason. She was quite young enough to forego bril 
 liant position in the world for a man she loved anc 
 admired the most, but which of course was not Mr. 
 Mason. Oh, no! Not after that day when he had 
 attributed such base and sordid motives to her and 
 had dared to reprove her.
 
 A FATEFUL ARRIVAL. 85 
 
 What Mr. Hetlow s opinion was as to the meaning 
 Of the young nobleman s visit no one knew, for he had 
 expressed none, however slight. If he shared that pre 
 vailing at "The Larches" he must have been greatly 
 surprised when that object was unfolded. 
 
 With little hesitation and in a simple and direct man 
 ner, Lord Merrimount set forth that the family estates 
 were heavily burdened. The cost of maintaining the 
 various places which made up the estate was heavy, 
 and, as misfortune had followed upon misfortune, the 
 personal property of the family had been so greatly 
 reduced that it was only with the greatest difficulty 
 that the yearly obligations could be met. This was 
 the condition of affairs when the family solicitor, also 
 bearing the same relation to the Dugdale estate, had 
 proposed, in view of the fact that the sole heir to the 
 Dugdale estate was a woman, who probably would not 
 care to continue the business, that the Duke of Mount- 
 chessington should purchase an interest in the business, 
 and place his second son in the concern as a partner, 
 the proceeds of which partnership should be devoted 
 to lifting the family burden. To that end Lord Mer 
 rimount had come to offer fifty thousand pounds in 
 cash for such interest as could be mutually agreed upon. 
 
 This proposition had just been submitted when 
 Dick s note was presented to Mr. Hetlow. Excusing 
 himself to Merrimount, Mr. Hetlow, after reading the 
 note, said chat the letter was in touch with the 
 very subject they were in conference over. Asking 
 permission to answer it, he did so by requesting Dick 
 to present himself at once. Then turning to Merri 
 mount, he said that it was not yet determined whether 
 his daughter was the heir. He related to the young 
 nobleman the tale with which the reader is familiar, 
 and concluded by saying that the note he had just 
 read was from one of his most trusted assistants, and 
 to whom was confided the search for the young Dug 
 dale. Continuing, he said:
 
 86 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 I have asked Mr. Mason to come to us at once. 
 He may have some information directly bearing upon 
 this matter which we have under advisement. He is 
 stopping with a neighbor, and I imagine, although I 
 have no knowledge, has aspirations for the hand of 
 the young lady of the house. However this is not to 
 the point. Your lordship will see that since the suc 
 cession to the Dugdale estate is not determined, since 
 it is among the possibilities that young Dugdale may 
 be found, it is really impossible at this juncture to 
 entertain the proposition. If young Dugdale is found, 
 of course neither my daughter nor myself will have a 
 voice in the disposal of the Dugdale estate. If how 
 ever Dugdale is found to be dead, or cannot be found 
 at all, then my daughter will succeed, and then only 
 can we entertain the proposition you have done us such 
 honor to make. As the matter now stands, I would 
 suggest that your lordship make The Larches your 
 home until the matter is definitely determined one 
 way or the other." 
 
 Mr. Hetlow had only concluded his statement, 
 when Dick s card was presented. Bidding the servant 
 to conduct Dick to the library, Mr. Hetlow continued 
 to Merrimount : 
 
 "Thus you will perceive, my lord, that at present 
 my daughter cannot be declared the heir." 
 
 At this moment Dick was announced, and the ser 
 vant retired. The young nobleman and the old mer 
 chant were standing at the window with their backs 
 to the door and so engrossed that neither had heard 
 the announcement of Dick s presence. As a conse 
 quence, that luckless young man was left standing at 
 the door an unwilling listener to the conversation. 
 
 "I am deeply sensible of the alliance you propose," 
 said the old merchant. 
 
 "Hang it!" thought Dick, "why don t they turn? 
 I don t want to hear my own misery." 
 
 "As you will perceive, until this search is concluded
 
 A FATEFUL ARRIVAL. 87 
 
 and my daughter s status is fixed, I cannot entertain 
 your proposition. Indeed it would be neither just to 
 her nor to you." 
 
 The young nobleman bowed in acquiescence. 
 
 "One thing more," continued Mr. Hetlow, "and 
 then, with your permission, we will drop the subject. 
 I have talked little with my daughter as to her pros 
 pects while such uncertainty hung about them. 
 Therefore I beg you will not address her npon the 
 subject." 
 
 The young nobleman, with a bow, said that under 
 the circumstances he would not think of doing so, and 
 thanked the old gentleman for his frankness and 
 courtesy. 
 
 Dick could stand it no longer. He deliberately 
 kicked a piece of furniture to announce his presence, 
 causing both to turn. 
 
 "Ah, Mason!" cried Mr. Hetlow, "I m glad 
 you ve come. Lord Merrimount, this is one of my 
 most trusted lieutenants (he said leftenants), Mr. Ma 
 son, of whom I spoke a moment ago." 
 
 The two young men bowed, the nobleman most cor 
 dially, and, as Dick felt bound to admit, without a 
 trace of that haughty reserve he had expected to meet 
 with. On his own part he was about to extend his 
 hand, when it occurred to him that he had heard 
 somewhere that Englishmen did not shake hands, so 
 he contented himself with an inclination of his head, 
 somewhat more reserved than was his wont. 
 
 Merrimount was "chawmed" to meet Mr. Mason, 
 and Dick was pleased to know Lord Merrimount. 
 
 "Mr. Mason," said Mr. Hetlow, after asking Dick 
 to be seated, "we were discussing the search you have 
 charge of, in its relation to a proposition I have had 
 the honor to receive from Lord Merrimount. Your 
 coming is timely, and we would like to know the 
 latest." 
 
 "I presume," said Dick, turning to the young noble-
 
 88 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 man and thinking what a handsome fellow he was, 
 "that Lord Merrimount has been informed as to the 
 condition of the search up to the present." 
 
 "Yes," responded Merrimount, "Mr. Hetlow has 
 been kind enough." 
 
 "Then," continued Dick, "you know that latterly 
 the search has been directed to the discovery of one 
 James Powers, a morocco-finisher." 
 
 The young Englishman bowed to indicate he so 
 understood. 
 
 "By the report of the detective," Dick went on, 
 "made to me this morning, it appears that James 
 Powers, after having finished morocco all his life, fin 
 ished his earthly career about nine years ago." 
 
 Mr. Hetlow frowned over this levity, but the eyes 
 of the young nobleman sparkled with suppressed 
 humor. 
 
 "The family, consisting of the widow and two 
 daughters, one of them married, disappeared shortly 
 after the death of Powers, but where they went or 
 where they are now, we have up to the present time 
 been unable to discover. In short, with all the dili 
 gence we have used, or the acumen we could employ, 
 we are really but little nearer the end than in the be 
 ginning." 
 
 "Then," said Mr. Hetlow, "as a matter of fact, 
 nothing definite has been ascertained." 
 
 "That is it, sir. I have come here to consult with 
 Mr. Stanton as to the next step. He is fertile in 
 devices, and has had a large experience, as a lawyer, 
 in hunting lost heirs." 
 
 "Very properly," remarked Mr. Hetlow. Then 
 changing his tone, he said to Dick s astonishment: 
 
 "Mr. Mason, Lord Merrimount will remain with us 
 until something definite is reached. I shall look to 
 you to assist in making his stay in America agreeable. 
 Young men can cater for young men s amusement 
 better than old men can."
 
 A FATEFUL ARRIVAL. 89 
 
 The words Dick gave expression to upon the spur 
 of the moment were idle and hollow, wrung from him 
 in his surprise. 
 
 "I will be pleased to devote myself to Lord Merri- 
 mount, " he said. 
 
 "Thank you," said the young Englishman heartily, 
 rising and extending his hand to Dick. "But please 
 drop the title. It isn t anything in this country, you 
 know. I d rather be called Merrimount." 
 
 As Dick took the other s hand, and felt the firm 
 hearty grasp with which his own was taken, he appre 
 ciated the sincerity of the man, and felt a strong lik 
 ing for the Englishman ; moreover he was distinctly 
 conscious that the young nobleman had formed 
 the same feeling for himself. It was one of those 
 strong fancies which not infrequently occur between 
 men instantly on meeting, which is not to be ex 
 plained. 
 
 "Mason, you will dine with us to-night," said Het- 
 low. "Dinner at seven." 
 
 Accepting the invitation, given as it was in a spirit 
 he could not resent, he begged to retire to prepare 
 himself. 
 
 As he wandered along the crooked path leading to 
 Mr. Stanton s house, he muttered to himself: 
 
 "Hang it; he s just the kind of fellow I didn t want 
 him to be handsome, courteous, simple, unaffected, 
 a d good fellow, d him." 
 
 He did not see Wallis until in the evening, when he 
 walked back from "The Larches" with her. 
 
 "Well," he said, "he s gone and done it." 
 
 "Done what?" asked Wallis, with a gasp. 
 
 "He has proposed for Miss Hetlow s hand." 
 
 "Lord Merrimount has? Oh, we feared that was 
 what the library conference meant. Did Mr. Hetlow 
 consent? Of course he did." 
 
 "No; he said, until it was definitely settled that 
 Miss Hetlow was the heir, everything must remain in
 
 9<> THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 suspense. In the meantime Merrimount is to say 
 nothing to Miss Hetlow." 
 
 "And the sword is to dangle over her head all the 
 while?" 
 
 -"Yes; but a chance is left us. I will find that Dug- 
 dale." 
 
 "You certainly must." 
 
 As Wallis left Dick for the night, she whispered to 
 him: 
 
 "Bessie doesn t want Merrimount. She won t have 
 him at any price."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A PLAN OF CAMPAIGN. 
 
 WHEN Dick consulted Mr. Stanton as to the course 
 to be pursued in view of the failure of the search for 
 Powers the lawyer had little to offer. The best advice 
 he could give was that advertisements, calling upon per 
 sons having knowledge of James Powers, deceased, to 
 communicate with Stanton, Boyd & Stevens, should 
 be spread far and wide. 
 
 The old lawyer was evidently puzzled by the infor 
 mation given him by Dick that a person was conduct 
 ing a search upon parallel lines. The thought occurred 
 to him, as it had to Dick, that perhaps Mr. Hetlovr 
 unknown to them had employed other people, but 
 Dick disposed of that idea, by telling him that he had 
 questioned Mr. Hetlow upon the point, and had 
 received the assurance that no one but himself had 
 been so employed. Mr. Stanton was inclined to give 
 the fact a greater importance than Dick had been. 
 But, with all the consideration he gave to it, he could 
 :aot suggest a purpose. 
 
 <T t would be strange," he said, "if the young Dug- 
 dale was endeavoring to establish proof of his identity, 
 starting from the end we are seeking and, in working 
 toward us, crossing our lines in the endeavor. It is by 
 no means improbable. All we can do, however, is to 
 await developments, 
 
 And so, without a satisfactory result from their 
 consultation, Dick went to his bed, much disturbed 
 r the events of the day. 
 
 During the dinner mention had been made of West 
 
 53
 
 92 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 Point, which had interested Lord Merrimount. Learn 
 ing that the place was not far distant, the young noble 
 man expressed an earnest desire to visit it. Out of 
 the talk and the desire, came the arrangement that on 
 the following day Dick should accompany the young 
 Englishman with letters of introduction to some of 
 the officers stationed there. At first, it had been sug 
 gested that a party should be arranged, consisting of 
 the young ladies and Mrs. Stanton as chaperon. But 
 this had been abandoned, by reason of Bessie s oppo 
 sition, pleading prior engagements, but which Dick 
 attributed to her disinclination to be of a party of 
 which he was one. 
 
 It was true that Bessie s opposition arose from the 
 fact that Dick would be one of the party, but not from 
 dislike of him, but because of the fear of embarrass 
 ments, to arise from such close associations as it would 
 entail. 
 
 Accordingly, early in the morning of the next day, 
 the two young men set forth. The day was not 
 marked by any incident of moment, but it afforded an 
 opportunity for the young men to become better 
 acquainted with each other. The impression each had 
 made upon the other upon their first meeting was 
 deepened, and Dick was forced to admit that Merri 
 mount was not only a right good fellow but a man of 
 sense and ability, not at all disposed to take advan 
 tage of his rank and birth, but rather disposed to lay 
 them aside as of no possible concern in this country. 
 
 He puzzled Dick, however, by many of his remarks. 
 For instance he said: 
 
 "I don t see any leisure class in this country. 
 Everybody seems to have occupation, and everybody 
 is prosperous. I don t think I am like that famous 
 countryman of mine who, upon entering France, and 
 seeing three women wearing sabots, jotted down in his 
 note book that all the women in France wore wooden 
 shoes, but it does seem to me, I see more universal
 
 A PLAN OF CAMPAIGN. 93 
 
 luxury in life than I am accustomed to observing at 
 home. I suppose it comes from the fact that every 
 one is engaged in producing. We will come to it at 
 home. We will have to, to save ourselves. People 
 of our class are now doing things that would not have 
 been dreamed of five-and-twenty years ago. For 
 instance, I am seeking to go into trade, as you prob 
 ably know, for that is what my proposition to Mr. 
 Hetlow really involves." 
 
 "Well, I ll be hanged," thought Dick, "he pro 
 poses to become the largest wool merchant in England 
 by marrying Bessie. It is an ingenious way of getting 
 into business. I suppose Bessie is a mere incident to 
 this going into trade." 
 
 "Mr. Hetlow has doubtless told you of this?" con 
 tinued Merrimount. 
 
 "No," replied Dick, "he has given me no confi 
 dence on the matter." 
 
 "Oh, well then, I ought to say nothing more, but 
 what I have said will suffice to show what a change is 
 taking place at home. The caste wall is breaking 
 down rapidly so rapidly indeed that the Radicals are 
 predicting that the Queen will be the last ruler under 
 the theory of divine right. Of course the traditions 
 of our house are against any such theory, for we are 
 loyal supporters of the crown ; but the leveling tenden 
 cies of the age have entered our circle, and the family 
 indorsed my mission to this country, and is willing 
 that I should devote myself to trade. Indeed many 
 of the old families are making alliances, by marriage 
 with tradespeople, which would even twenty years ago 
 have been called a mesalliance" 
 
 The manner in which Merrimount talked, the utter 
 absence of any regret over the state of things he was 
 describing, or affectation of superiority, but as if 
 there was in this progress to an advanced condition 
 to be commended rather than condemned, contrasted 
 v/ith what Dick thought was an arrogant assumption
 
 94 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 that when the time came, in the young nobleman s 
 judgment and pleasure, he had but to cast his hand 
 kerchief upon Bessie and carry her off, involved con 
 tradictions which Dick could not understand. 
 
 He listened to Merrimount and reasoned. He saw 
 that the Englishman was a sincere, open, and frank 
 young fellow, and finally concluded that the assump 
 tion arose from an appreciation of his own rank, which 
 was so recognized at home that he was unconscious of 
 a possibility of failure in any alliance which he might 
 propose. 
 
 As it was, the day s association ended so far as Dick 
 was concerned in a very much increased respect for 
 the man in the nobleman. What he found to criti 
 cise in Merrimount was the result of training and edu 
 cation, rather than inherent qualities. He concluded 
 that Englishmen were given to regard the marriage 
 relation rather as a matter of convenience than as an 
 affair of the heart as a partnership to be entered 
 into with a due regard to the advantages to accrue to 
 both the contracting parties. It was only upon this 
 ground that he could reconcile the fact that he talked 
 of his mission to America without a singie allusion to 
 Bessie, and of Wallis, whose brightness and wit 
 seemed to have greatly taken his fancy, in terms 
 approaching admiration. 
 
 "Well," said Dick aloud to himself, after he had 
 parted from the young nobleman on their return, "I 
 can t make out just the particular kind of a beast he is. 
 All I do know is that he is a good fellow a first-rate 
 good fellow but all the same, 1 don t want him to walk 
 off with Bessie, and he won t if I can help it." 
 
 While Dick and Merrimount were returning from 
 West Point in the afternoon, Ransom, Bob, and Den 
 nis Moore were in close consultation at Moore s rooms 
 in Third Avenue. 
 
 Moore s story of the result of his inquiries at New-
 
 A PLAN OP CAMPAIGN. 95 
 
 ark, showed he had arrived at precisely the same end 
 the detectives employed by Dick had. 
 
 "The affair," he said in concluding, "is in bad 
 shape. If we could find where the Powers family had 
 gone to, we could base some action on the knowledge. 
 But here we are with our heads against a stone wall. 
 So long as we know nothing about it, we can t make a 
 stir, because we don t know at what moment the old 
 woman may pop up, and not only upset our plans, 
 but put us into trouble." 
 
 "The old woman is dead," said Ransom in his soft 
 voice. 
 
 "Ah!" responded Moore argumentatively, "you 
 don t know that for a fact. If you did it would be 
 all right." 
 
 "But I do know it," persisted Ransom. "She is 
 dead." 
 
 Moore and Bob looked at him inquiringly, aston 
 ishment in their glances. 
 
 "I have got a piece of news," he continued. 
 "This aftejjpoon I fell in with a party over in Broad 
 way, and one of them happened to remark that he had 
 followed the trade of a morocco-finisher all his life. 
 I asked if he knew a James Powers in the same line. 
 It turned out that he had learned his trade from him, 
 but he said he was dead, and he went on to say that 
 he left a widow and two daughters, but that the widow 
 only lived a year after his death and died here in New 
 York, and that he had been at her funeral. He said 
 both daughters were married, but he didn t know their 
 names or where they lived." 
 
 "Ah!" said Moore, "that helps somewhat." 
 
 "It helps a good deal," insisted Ransom. 
 
 "Not much," persisted Moore. "You see you are 
 m the same position as to the daughters. You don t 
 know where they are." 
 
 "They don t count in this game," was the positive
 
 9<5 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS, 
 
 reply of Ransom. "See; Dugdale died in 1858; the 
 Powerses left New York in the same year ; Powers died 
 fifteen years after, 1873; at the same time the eldest 
 daughter was twenty years old. Therefore in 1858 
 she was five years old too young to know anything 
 about the adoption of the child of Dugdale. When 
 she was old enough, the adoption must have been an 
 old story with Powers and his wife, because the only 
 interest they could have had in the child was to get 
 rid of it. The game is ours." 
 
 Moore was thoughtful. Bob watched him eagerly. 
 
 "You are right," he finally said. "The element of 
 risk is out of it. Everything seems to run in our 
 favor. Old Barber is dead. Mrs. Tomlinson knows 
 nothing that can spoil us. And the two Powers peo 
 ple are dead. Yes, we are safe fcr the next move. 
 What is it?" 
 
 Ransom was silent for a long time, his head bent over 
 the table at which he was sitting. His leadership was 
 demonstrated in the respect the others paid his silence. 
 
 "You know," he said finally, as he lifted his head 
 from the table, "when I was a kid, I worked in the 
 office of the Courier and Inquirer. Edmund Dugdale 
 worked in the same office, putting the papers into 
 wrappers and addressing them. Now on the basis of 
 that I mean to go to Mason, in answer to that adver 
 tisement of his, and claim I knew the man." 
 
 "Yes?" asked Bob anxiously, even impatiently, 
 "and what then?" 
 
 "I will tell him that I used to run errands for him 
 and go to his house ; that I knew a woman named 
 Tomlinson who took the baby ; that I knew the Pow 
 erses and that if I can think of another name I can 
 find who adopted the baby." 
 
 Again he was silent for a while. 
 
 "Well," he continued, "by degrees I can get to an 
 old man who adopted the baby and can find Dugdale 
 to present him to Mason."
 
 A PLAN OF CAMPAIGN. 97 
 
 "But who?" asked Moore; "you are not plain." 
 
 "I am not so glib with my tongue as you lawyers 
 are," replied Ransom sarcastically. "You must wait 
 until I tell you. You know Orton Pierson?" 
 
 "What, the lawyer disbarred a dozen years ago for 
 being concerned in some forgeries of documents?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, what of him?" 
 
 "He will do for the man who adopted the Dugdale 
 baby." 
 
 "The deuce," commented Moore doubtfully. "He 
 doesn t stand well in this city." 
 
 "Suppose he don t. What s that to do with it? 
 His wife s dead. He did have an adopted son, who 
 ran away years ago and died in prison in Spain as 
 Pierson and I and nobody else knows, three years ago, 
 and besides the old man s handy with the pen." 
 
 "But will he go into the scheme?" asked Moore. 
 
 "He will do what I tell him." 
 
 "Have you talked to him about it?" asked Bob. 
 
 "Not yet. He ll do it. He s got little to say that 
 isn t true. His wife got a baby from someone named 
 Powers. That s one lie. Then he ll tell the story of 
 the youngster he did have, of his running away and 
 turning up three years ago. That s no lie. Bob 
 turned up here three years ago and he can tell about 
 his knocking about the world in India and the rest 
 of it, except those two years in France," he added, 
 with a malicious grin. 
 
 Bob bit his cigar in a nervous, vicious manner, but 
 maintained silence. 
 
 "The thing is easy," continued Ransom. "There 
 ain t a big story to tell. There ain t much to learn. 
 Bob here and Pierson can get together and make their 
 stories fit in, and you, Moore, can get up two or three 
 letters from Powers to Mrs. Pierson, which old Pier- 
 son can copy and fix up as if they were old ones, don t 
 you see?"
 
 98 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 "And I am to be young Dugdale, am I?" asked 
 Bob viciously. 
 
 "Yes," replied he of the soft voice calmly, with his 
 eyes sternly fixed on the young man. "When you get 
 done being Harold Pierson. That will be a good deal 
 better than being Allan Mark Everard." 
 
 "Now, drop that!" exclaimed the young man 
 angrily. "I m in this game and I ll see it out, but I 
 won t take any joking from you. You ve had your 
 hands on me once, but it s for the last time. You 
 mustn t look ugly at me, nor attempt to be my master. 
 I d as soon die as have such a hellhound as you 
 are on top of me for my life. Meet me as your equal, 
 or, by Heaven, I ll put daylight through you if I swing 
 for it!" 
 
 Ransom leaped to his feet, his eyes blazing and his 
 face livid. With a spring forward, which had the 
 litheness and stealthiness of a tiger in it, he reached 
 for the young man s throat. But this time Bob was 
 prepared. His left fist shot straight from his shoulder 
 full into the face of Ransom, who went down like a 
 log. The blow and the fall stunned him. Moore, 
 thoroughly frightened, grasped a water-jug and threw 
 its contents over Ransom s face. The shock revived 
 him, and with restored consciousness he realized in 
 stantly what had occurred. His face was hideous 
 under the workings of his awful passion. He made a 
 violent effort to arise. The younger man s passion was 
 as great. With his foot he sent Ransom to the floor 
 again, standing over him with a wicked knife in his 
 hand. 
 
 With a frightful oath, uttered from between his 
 teeth, Bob cried: 
 
 "You ve been working up the devil in me for a long 
 time, and by Heaven, if you stir a hand or say a word, 
 I ll put this knife through your heart!" 
 
 Ransom knew he was at the mercy of the younger 
 man. Looking up into Bob s eyes, he saw a most dan-
 
 A PLAN OF CAMPAIGN. 99 
 
 gerous light blazing in them a murderous, desperate, 
 fiendish light and he knew he had for once met a 
 spirit which, when aroused, was more wicked than his 
 own. For the first time since Bob had fallen under 
 his influence he respected him. Flat on his back he 
 could not look upward without encountering those 
 gleaming eyes. He was compelled to turn away from 
 the murderous blaze, from that handsome face, horri 
 ble now under the workings of a terrible passion which 
 convulsed it. He looked to Moore, who was standing 
 by, frightened into helpless impotence. The look re 
 called Moore to himself. 
 
 "This is no way to begin business," he said in 
 answer to the prostrate man s appeal. "Bob, let Ran 
 som up." 
 
 He put his hand upon the younger man s shoulder, 
 and, finding he was not repulsed, gently urged him into 
 his chair. Then he assisted Ransom to arise. While 
 this was being done, the younger man never removed 
 his eyes from the face of Ransom, but remained hold 
 ing his knife in his hand in a threatening manner. 
 
 There was a rap at the door. Moore hastened to it. 
 Someone hearing the noise came to ask if an accident 
 had occurred. Assuring the inquirer that one of his 
 visitors had fallen without injury to himself he closed 
 the door again. The two men were sitting on oppo 
 site sides of the room glaring at each other when he 
 turned. 
 
 "Well," said Moore, perceiving that active hostili 
 ties had ceased. "What does this mean? Does the 
 whole thing drop because you two have quarreled?" 
 
 "I have not quarreled," replied Ransom, forcing 
 himself into composure. 
 
 Gaining courage as he proceeded, Moore took upon 
 himself the role of peacemaker. 
 
 "Someone has," he said. "Put up that knife, 
 Bob; Ransom won t hurt you." 
 
 "No, I don t think he will," answered the young
 
 100 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 man, with an oath. "But he must learn I am not tc 
 be fooled with. I know he has got the head and I am 
 willing to follow him, but that don t make me his 
 slave. He mustn t treat me as such. If he has got 
 his lesson we can go on with the business." 
 
 While Ransom realized that he had at last met one 
 he had cause to stand in fear of, he also realized thai- 
 it would never do to permit Bob, or anyone else in 
 fact, to see such was the case, for his leadership among 
 his companions -was yielded him quite as much by 
 reason of the fear he excited as by reason of the recog 
 nition of his mental superiority. 
 
 He therefore arose from his chair and walked 
 toward the young man. He did not intend to be 
 menacing in his manner, but he overacted his part. 
 Bob sprang to his feet, pulled his knife and cried with 
 a frightful oath: 
 
 "Have I got to kill you before you know me?" 
 
 Moore sprang between them, but Ransom put him 
 aside and said sternly: "Bob, put up your toothpick. 
 You re making a fool of yourself. Let us get to 
 business." 
 
 It no doubt required a great deal of brute courage 
 to pass within arm s length of that murderous knife, 
 held by an enraged man, but he did so without a 
 quiver, and passed on to the table, at which he sat 
 himself with his back to the young man, and took up 
 a pencil. 
 
 "Where does this man Mason live, Bob?" he asked 
 calmly. 
 
 The coolness and self-possession, as well as the 
 indifference to his passion, displayed by Ransom, 
 calmed Bob by surprising him and indeed secured his 
 admiration. He was so long in replying that Ransom 
 was compelled to repeat his question. 
 
 "At No. East Twenty-eighth Street." 
 
 "What s his business place?" 
 
 "No. Cliff Street, Hetlow, Altmount & Co.
 
 A PLAN OF CAMPAIGN. IOI 
 
 "I ll bring Pierson here to-morrow night," he said 
 io Moore; then turning to the young man, he said: 
 "You be here at eight o clock to-morrow night, Bob; 
 I shan t see you until then." 
 
 Without another word he took his hat and went out 
 of the door. Moore and the young man listened to 
 him as he slowly and deliberately descended the stairs. 
 They listened until they heard the front door close 
 upon him, when Moore, turning to the young man, said 
 with a laugh in which there was the quality of relief. 
 
 "What a hothead you are!" 
 
 "It was coming," replied Bob, in a surly tone. 
 "He must learn that I ve been a gentleman once, if 
 I am crooked now. I won t take anything from him. 
 I m not a slave." 
 
 "Well, you frightened him for once in his life." 
 
 "No, I didn t," replied Bob; "he didn t weaken 
 once. He stopped because it would interfere with 
 business." 
 
 "You re mistaken," persisted Moore. "For the 
 first time in his life Ransom was frightened. From 
 this out he will fear you. He will pretend he doesn t 
 and perhaps will act so, but he s afraid of you." 
 
 "Do you think so?" said the young man with a 
 glad, proud glance in his eyes. 
 
 "I know it. Now don t you go to trading on if 
 but hold your grip now you ve got it." 
 
 Moore was not displeased to find that there was one 
 among them, of whom the man who had terrorized 
 aver them all stood in fear.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 PLAYING THE KNAVE. 
 
 MASON, after his excursion to West Point with Lord 
 Merrimount, was depressed and apprehensive. Every 
 thing tended to confirm him in the belief that the 
 young nobleman s mission was to secure the hand of 
 Bessie, provided she was in fact the heir to the Dug- 
 dale millions. Though he was quite certain, after his 
 conversation with Merrimount, that no sentiment was 
 involved in the young nobleman s plans, and that he 
 paid no more attention to Bessie than any polite and 
 well bred young man would do, being a guest in her 
 father s house, still he did not fail to recognize the 
 formidable character of the rivalry he was certain to 
 encounter. On Merrimount s side was ambition, "anK, 
 distinction, and the sanction of the father, family influ 
 ence, and the pressure of opinion within the circle in 
 which Bessie moved. These influences, he thought, 
 even exerted passively, would be influential, and, he 
 feared, controlling. While upon his own side, was 
 only his deep and passionate love for Bessie, not even 
 declared, and which, if declared, would doubtless meet 
 with the determined opposition of Mr. Hetlow. And 
 over and above all was the growing conviction that the 
 prospect of sudden and vast enrichment was having 
 a baleful influence upon Bessie herself. The only 
 course open to him to follow, which would seem to 
 lead to anything like success, was a vigorous prosecu 
 tion of the search for young Dugdale, the successful 
 end of which seemed now to be far away. 
 
 it was thus that he was musing, as he was seated
 
 PLAYING THE KNAVE. 103 
 
 at his desk in his office, when a messenger announced 
 to him that a man named Ransom desired to see him. 
 
 "Admit him," said Dick, arousing himself from his 
 gloomy reverie. 
 
 When his visitor entered he was distinctly conscious 
 of a feeling of distrust and aversion. But as unfavor 
 able as was the first impression, no sooner did Ransom 
 reveal his business than all such sensations were lost 
 in the eager desire to know what Ransom had to tell. 
 
 "For some days," Ransom began, as he seated him 
 self in the chair indicated by Dick, "I have been 
 noticing advertisements in the papers, asking anyone 
 having knowledge of Edmund Dugdale to call upon 
 you. I suppose I am speaking to Mr. Richard 
 Mason?" 
 
 Dick eagerly assured him that he was. 
 
 "Well, the man is dead," briefly continued Ran 
 som. 
 
 "We know that," murmured Dick, "and that he 
 died in 1858, but we want to know all we can about 
 his life and associations when he was alive." 
 
 "It is very little I can tell you," said Ransom. 
 "That s what kept me from coming before I had so 
 little to say. But that ad kept turning up before 
 me and so I thought I d come." 
 
 "Anything, however trivial it may appear to you, 
 might be important to us," urged Dick. 
 
 "Well, I was a boy," Ransom went on, as he crossed 
 his legs and supported his elbows on the arms of the 
 office chair, bringing the tips of his fingers together, 
 thus attracting Dick s attention to his beautiful white 
 hand, "I was a boy, I say, in the office of the Courier 
 and Inquirer \ when Dugdale was employed there, and 
 sometimes ran errands for him. That s the way I got 
 to going to his rooms. He lived in Macdougall Street. 
 He was a shy, reserved fellow, as I recollect him, and 
 very poor." 
 
 "All you say comports with the information \ve
 
 104 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 have received," remarked Dick. "Did you know the 
 name of the people with whom he lodged in Mac- 
 dougall Street?" 
 
 "Yes; the name was Powers. I knew the family. 
 I think he went to lodge there through me. Powers 
 was a morocco-finisher, and soon after Dugdale s death 
 moved to Newark. He died there some nine or ten 
 years ago. His wife is dead, too." 
 
 "She dead, too!" exclaimed Dick, much disap 
 pointed. 
 
 "Yes, she died a year after Powers. Died here in 
 New York. They had two daughters, both married. 
 I don t know what has become of them." 
 
 "Did you know of any intimate friends that the 
 Dugdales had?" 
 
 "Well, unless you could call a Mrs. Tomlinson and 
 a man named Barber, who were in the theatrical line, 
 friends, I don t think they had any. I saw an item in 
 the paper the other day about an old man named Bar 
 ber who had been a ballet-dancer, who died, and I ve 
 been wondering if that fellow was the same one." 
 
 "Yes, he was the same man," answered Dick. "Do 
 you know whether Mrs. Tomlinson is alive and, if she 
 is, where she lives?" 
 
 "I do not. I don t know anything more about her, 
 than that she cared for Dugdale s baby a good deal 
 after Mrs. Dugdale s death." 
 
 "Oh, then you know there was a child?" 
 
 "Oh, yes." 
 
 "It disappeared before the father s death, didn t 
 it?" 
 
 "No, it didn t disappear. The Tomlinson woman 
 took it." 
 
 "It disappeared after the father s death." 
 
 "No; the Tomlinson woman brought it back to the 
 Powers people and they put it out for adoption to 
 someone." 
 
 "Do you know to whom?"
 
 PLAYING THE KNAVE. 105 
 
 "Well, I heard the name at the time, but I ve for 
 gotten it now." 
 
 By this time Dick had taken the hook firmly. 
 Ransom had played his part with great skill. He had 
 not known too much, and he had not been eager to 
 recollect too much. And it was just about what the 
 recollections of a boy, having the relations to Dug- 
 dale he described himself to have, would naturally 
 have been. 
 
 With no little excitement Dick asked if it were not 
 possible for him to arouse his memory on that point, 
 which he told Ransom was the essential point. 
 
 "Perhaps," replied Ransom doubtfully; "it s a 
 good many years since I thought of these things. 
 Perhaps I might. I can try. It runs in my head that 
 the man was a lawyer." 
 
 "We have heard he was in the shipping business." 
 
 "Who says that?" asked Ransom sharply and 
 quickly. 
 
 Had Dick not been so much engrossed with his own 
 thoughts, he would have noticed the difference in 
 tone and the sudden alertness of Ransom s eyes, in 
 sharp contrast with his carefully preserved expression 
 of indifference. As it was, he did not even heed the 
 question, but went on to say: 
 
 "I wish you would try to recollect the name. And 
 we should be very glad to to pay you for the 
 trouble you have been put to." 
 
 Ransom, however, refused this, and somewhat 
 brusquely. He went away saying he would try to 
 recollect, and if he did he would write to Mr. Mason. 
 
 As he reached the door, he met Mr. Stanton enter 
 ing. The old lawyer looked Ransom steadfastly in the 
 face as they passed, and on joining Dick at his desk, 
 said: 
 
 "That is a thoroughpaced rascal, if there ever was 
 one. Who is he?" 
 
 "Rascal or not," lightly laughed Dick, highly
 
 106 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 pleased, "he brings most valuable information. He 
 knew the Powerses as well as Dugdale. He says that 
 both Powers and his wife are dead. He knows of the 
 adoption of the child, and, though he has now forgotten 
 the name of the person taking it, thinks he can in time 
 recall it." 
 
 "What does he want for his information?" grumbled 
 Mr. Stanton. 
 
 "Nothing," replied Dick. "Rather, he resented 
 the idea of being paid." 
 
 "Umph!" 
 
 The old lawyer s intuitions warned him to distrust 
 the man and his professions. The fact that Ransom s 
 face was a bad one did not, after all, argue his infor 
 mation was not of value. He questioned Dick closely 
 as to what Ransom had said, and at the end added : 
 
 "If true, what he says is valuable. Part of it we 
 know to be true, possibly it may all be true. But act 
 with great caution on all he says." 
 
 He sat silent for some moments, and then began 
 abruptly : 
 
 "I have something to say to you, Mason. I sup 
 pose people would call it a delicate matter, but you 
 are a sensible man, and when you hear what I have to 
 say and my reasons, I don t think you will take 
 offense, but will meet me in the same manly spirit I 
 am approaching you in." 
 
 Although their acquaintance was of short duration, 
 comparatively, still they had been thrown together so 
 frequently and closely that Dick had become accus 
 tomed to the old lawyer s odd and abrupt manners. 
 Moreover, he had a sincere and respectful liking for 
 Mr. Stanton. So he replied : 
 
 "I shall not resent anything you may say to me, 
 Mr. Stanton." 
 
 "Well," continued the lawyer, "here it is. When 
 you first began to come to our place, from the way you 
 and Wallis drifted together, the idea occurred to me
 
 PLAYING THE KNAVE. 107 
 
 that you had an attraction for each other. I was sat 
 isfied. I had formed a good opinion of you, and the 
 inquiries touching your habits and character, which I 
 thought in the interest of Wallis it was my duty to 
 make, confirmed it." 
 
 Dick was highly amused, but he did not interrupt 
 Mr. Stanton. 
 
 "But last night Mrs. Stanton informed me I was 
 wholly mistaken. From Wallis she had learned that 
 you entertained an affection for Hetlow s girl an 
 affection of long standing which is reciprocated by 
 Bessie, but opposed by Hetlow. And that the motive 
 lying at the bottom of your search is the obtaining of 
 Hetlow s consent." 
 
 "There is truth and error in your statement," inter 
 jected Dick. 
 
 "Permit me to state my case," urged Mr. Stanton. 
 " Now I have thrown myself heartily into the effort to 
 assist you in this search, and I am giving you aid and 
 comfort by having you at my house. I am a neighbor 
 of Mr. Hetlow, and have made professions of friend 
 ship for him. I don t want to be placed in a false 
 position. While pretending to be his friend, I don t 
 want to be open to the charge of playing a treacherous 
 part, as I would be, if knowing of your suit and his 
 opposition, I were to continue to afford you the oppor 
 tunity to communicate with Bessie. I don t want you 
 to stop coming to my house. You are only too wel 
 come. But, if this statement is a true bill, I want 
 permission to explain my position to Hetlow. I 
 didn t want to say these things to you in my own 
 house, so I have come to you here, for a frank under 
 standing between us." 
 
 Notwithstanding Dick s assurance in the beginning 
 that he would take no offense, he nevertheless did feel 
 his heat rising as the old lawyer talked. But making 
 the effort to curb his annoyance, he was enabled to 
 think upon the matter calmly for a moment or two,
 
 Io8 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 and when he did, he saw clearly that Mr. Stanton was 
 right in the position he had assumed. 
 
 "I will have to state the matter as it really is," Dick 
 said, after a moment s reflection. "It is true that I 
 have an affection for Bessie Hetlow. It is of long 
 standing. It would be difficult for me to tell when 
 that attachment did not exist. It began when I first 
 met her, when she was a child and I a mere boy. 
 Uncle Tom, who secured me a place with Hetlow, 
 Altmount & Co., was an old and attached friend of 
 Mr. Hetlow. As I say I used to go to the Hetlow 
 house. My love for Bessie has been the best senti 
 ment of my heart all these years perhaps my incen 
 tive to win a place for myself. But whether that sen 
 timent is reciprocated, I am unable to state. Not 
 long ago I flattered myself it was, but recently certain 
 events have led me to doubt whether her interest in 
 me is any more than a friendly one, born of long 
 acquaintance. While I have been at no pains to con 
 ceal the regard I have for her, I have said no words of 
 love to her, nor have I asked for her love in return. 
 Mr. Hetlow does not disapprove of my suit, for no suit 
 has been actually made. He does not oppose, be 
 cause, if for no other reason, he does not imagine there 
 is anything to oppose. I have the right, at this time, 
 to assume that he will make no opposition. The idea 
 that he would make opposition is based upon the fact 
 that, a few years ago, Mr. Hetlow intimated to me that 
 it was not the proper thing for a junior clerk to seek 
 to enter his employer s house upon terms of social 
 equality. I resented this, in the only way I could, by 
 refusing to enter his house at all, except when busi 
 ness requirements compelled it. At the time, I could 
 not see why a boy could be admitted to the run of the 
 house, and a junior clerk could not. When I was 
 older I reasoned that Mr. Hetlow saw danger likely to 
 arise from permitting a young man to associate with a 
 young lady, his daughter, when there was none while
 
 PLAYING THE KNAVE, 1 09 
 
 they were boy and girl. This being the true interpre 
 tation of his meaning, it followed logically that he 
 opposed even the possibility of an interest growing up 
 between Bessie and myself. True, I am not now a 
 junior clerk. I am the head of the most important 
 department of the house, and, it is not too much to 
 say, the trusted lieutenant of the house. I have been 
 advanced rapidly, and by the favor of Mr. Hetlow. 
 True also that within a few days I have been invited to 
 his table upon terms of social equality, but you will 
 please mark this fact at a time when a most eligible 
 suitor, who can offer to his bride the highest social 
 distinction, is in the house, ostentatiously there with 
 the approval of the father as a preferred suitor. 
 
 "Now," continued Dick, "as to the search. I did 
 not seek to make it. I did not even offer my services. 
 I was requested to undertake it, and in such manner 
 that, had I refused to comply, my refusal would have 
 been taken as a reflection upon Mr. Hetlow. I will 
 confess to you that I was alarmed at the prospect of 
 Miss Hetlow s inheriting all this money. I saw that 
 with such immense wealth she would move into cir 
 cles and into conditions which would put her beyond 
 my reach. But whether or not that consideration had 
 weight with me, the fact remains I was instructed to 
 undertake the search an energetic search, leaving 
 nothing undone, and to protect the honor of Mr. Het 
 low against himself, who feared he might be betrayed 
 into failing to exert all the requisite energy. The 
 further fact is patent. Whatever may be the motives 
 inspiring me to successful effort, the result of my 
 labors is in the line of Mr. Hetlow s desires and tends 
 to an entirely proper end. I am not enough of a 
 moral philosopher to get beyond the facts. It may be 
 argued that having so direct an interest in the finding 
 of Dugdale, I should not be engaged in the effort. If 
 that is so, it is a matter which is between myself and 
 my honor; it does not touch the end sought by Mr.
 
 110 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 Hetlow. More than that influenced as I am, though 
 Dugdale is not found, there is assurance in the fact 
 that nothing has been left untried or undone to find 
 him. And here I will also confess, that since Lord 
 Merrimount has presented himself as a conditional 
 suitor for the hand of Bessie, and believing as I do 
 that he will return without a formal request for her 
 hand if Dugdale is found, I have redoubled my ener 
 gies." 
 
 As he talked Dick had been sitting at his desk with 
 his left arm leaning upon it, as he gesticulated with his 
 right. On reaching this point, he rose to his feet, and 
 standing upright before Mr. Stanton, who was still 
 seated, with an expression of stern determination on 
 his face, from which it was usually his trained habit 
 to chase all expression, he said firmly: 
 
 "I will further say that I love Miss Hetlow with all 
 my strength, and notwithstanding the fact that at pres 
 ent, she seems to regard me with disfavor, and not 
 withstanding that I believe Mr. Hetlow will oppose 
 our union if the proposition is submitted to him, and 
 notwithstanding the presence of Lord Merrimount, I 
 will do all that becomes a man to win her heart and 
 her hand." 
 
 As he said this he saw the shadow of a woman start 
 ing swiftly past the painted glass which formed part of 
 the partition which made his individual office, but he 
 was too much engrossed in his own words to heed it. 
 
 The old lawyer arose with an expression of admira 
 tion upon his face, but his words were at variance with 
 such admiration. 
 
 "Your statement of the case differs widely from 
 that which I received," he said. "There is now a 
 perplexing moral question in it. And there must 
 arise to the lawyer s mind this point moved as you 
 are, is not Mr. Hetlow in danger of having a Dugdale 
 presented to him?" 
 
 "What do you mean?" demanded Dick sternly.
 
 PLAYING THE KNAVS. Ill 
 
 "Nothing you need grow warm over," quickly 
 replied Mr. Stanton. "I think I have judged you 
 accurately enough to be assured that you would never 
 be guilty of such an intrigue, but if this statement was 
 presented to a lawyer, without knowledge of the kind 
 of man conducting the search, the fear would instantly 
 rise in his mind, that with such an incentive as you 
 have admitted, there was a danger to be guarded 
 against that an heir would be presented, whether 
 Dugdale was alive or dead, discovered or undiscov 
 ered." 
 
 Dick turned pale under this suggestion. 
 
 "I never thought of such a thing," he gasped 
 faintly. 
 
 "I know you never did," said Mr. Stanton, with a 
 laugh. "The very fact that you have been frank 
 enough to confess your motives puts that supposition 
 out of the case. Don t let that worry you, but go on 
 with your work. As the matter stands I do not see 
 that I am called upon to interfere. I will stand by 
 you at every turn of the matter." 
 
 Putting out his hand he took Dick s in a strong 
 grasp, and said : 
 
 "As you are protecting the honor of Mr. Hetlow 
 against himself, I will protect your honor against your 
 self. Don t let this free talk alter any of the present 
 conditions." 
 
 He departed, leaving Dick considerably shaken by 
 the interview. Shortly after, Dick went into the 
 street, and in time to receive from Bessie Hetlow a 
 polite recognition as she entered the carriage witb her 
 father.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A PERVERSE MAIDEN. 
 
 DAYS passed, and as nothing was heard from Ran 
 som, Dick began to lose faith, and addressed himself 
 with greater energy to spreading far and wide adver 
 tisements calling for information as to the Powerses. 
 
 During this time he had several conversations with 
 Mr. Hetlow upon the subject of the search, and he 
 thought he had discovered a suppressed impatience 
 upon the part of the old merchant that no conclusion 
 was reached. In the last one the merchant had said: 
 
 "The time must come when further search will not 
 only be useless, but unjust to my daughter. I am 
 convinced that I will be justified in taking steps to 
 place my daughter in possession of the property, if, at 
 the expiration of a year from the time the search was 
 undertaken, no trace of young Dugdale is found." 
 
 It was clear Mr. Hetlow did not believe the search 
 would result in finding the heir. 
 
 Dick made no response to this remark. Noting 
 what he conceived to be the growing impatience of Mr. 
 Hetlow, he attributed it to a desire to further the pos 
 sible alliance between the houses of Mountchessington 
 and Hetlow, which would only become probable in the 
 event of Bessie s inheriting the property. 
 
 As disturbing as the thought was, he nevertheless 
 took comfort in the implied promise that he should 
 have a full year in which to work out this problem, 
 although further disturbed by a fear as to what the 
 consequences might be of a close and daily association 
 between Lord Merrimount and Bessie, should the
 
 A PERVERSE MAIDEN, 113 
 
 young nobleman continue to be the guest of Mr. Het- 
 low during that year. 
 
 Five days had passed since he and Mr. Stanton had 
 had their free talk, and he had heard nothing from the 
 old lawyer. He was sitting at his desk in his office 
 endeavoring to invent some valid excuse for his go 
 ing to Spring Hill, when a letter from Wallis was 
 put into his hands. Mr. Stanton desired to see him 
 and had instructed Wallis to write him, suggesting that 
 Dick should put in an appearance as soon as possible 
 and come prepared for a stay of several days. 
 
 Tortured as he was by doubts as to the sentiment 
 of Bessie with regard to himself, and by fears as to 
 the influence Merrimount s daily contact would exert 
 upon her, he eagerly determined to comply, and to 
 carry the acceptance of Mr. Stanton s invitation in 
 his own person and at once. 
 
 As a consequence he arrived at Spring Hill at an 
 hour when he was not expected. The family were 
 gone upon a day s excursion on the river, upon Mr. 
 Hetlow s steam yacht. This, however, led to no em 
 barrassment, for he was already on the footing of a 
 frequent and favored guest in the Stanton household. 
 Left to his own amusement he started out for a stroll. 
 His thoughts tended naturally and inevitably to the 
 misunderstanding which had arisen between himself 
 and Bessie, and as to what could be done to bring 
 matters back to the old ground. Though Wallis had 
 confidently promised to clear the atmosphere, appar 
 ently she had failed. And because of this apparent 
 failure Dick concluded that her interpretation of Bes 
 sie s singular attitude to himself was not the true one, 
 and that there was some other reason, of which neither 
 he nor she had a conception. 
 
 As he strolled on he also determined that while he 
 was staying at Spring Hill he would seek an oppor 
 tunity to bring matters to an issue; to force an ex 
 planation from Bessie, and to demand from her tha
 
 H4 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 right and occasion to defend himself. If the offense 
 Bessie held he had committed was explainable, he 
 would explain it; if he had unwittingly offended her, 
 he would admit the offense and apologize; if she 
 were obdurate and resolved to end their relations, he 
 would bow to the inevitable, and retire from further 
 struggle against her injustice, but he would no longer 
 continue in the condition of doubt and anxiety which 
 had become torture to him. 
 
 As he thus planned his course, he had wandered 
 in the direction of the river, and had reached the 
 rocks, beyond the tunnel overhanging the water. The 
 shining river placidly flowing under the sun and bear 
 ing the lazy sail upon its bosom, unruffled by the 
 slightest breath of wind, presented a restful picture 
 and invited him to the contemplation of a repose to 
 which his mind had been a stranger for many days. 
 Yielding to its influence, he rested his elbows upon 
 a jutting rock extending beyond the line of the shore, 
 and with his head upon his hands dreamily viewed the 
 peaceful scene. 
 
 His attention, however, was taken by a discordant 
 shout beneath him, and looking down, he saw a small 
 rowboat, with three men in it, one of whom was stand 
 ing in the bow, ready to spring on to land when the 
 boat reached the shore. Though the distance was 
 great, he thought he recognized in the standing man 
 one employed by Mr. Hetlow at "The Larches," who 
 had impressed himself upon him by his ill-favored face. 
 The man who was pulling the bow oar turned his head 
 to see how the other would make his landing, thus 
 presenting a side face to view, when with a start Dick 
 thought he recognized the features of Ransom, who had 
 called upon him five days previously. At this mo 
 ment the man lifted his head, saw Dick, turned away 
 quickly, and though the one who had leaped to shore 
 turned his face to those in the boat, the man at the bow 
 oar said something to the other and they pulled sharply
 
 A PERVERSE MAIDEN. 1 15 
 
 into the river, turned, and in an instant were lost to 
 view behind a projecting bowlder. 
 
 Why the incident, which was not a significant one, 
 should have caused the sensation Dick was conscious 
 of experiencing, and just what that sensation was, Dick 
 would have been put to great trouble to explain. Re 
 flection showed him that he was by no means sure the 
 man was Ransom, and even if it were, there was no rea 
 son to regard it as important, or as having any bear 
 ing upon the matter he had in hand. The direct effect 
 of it was, however, to divert him from the peaceful 
 scene, and he wandered on. Turning a point of the 
 rock along which he knew there was a path, and 
 among which rocks there was a recess and a natural 
 seat much favored by Wallis, he suddenly came upon 
 the one who had to such an extent occupied his thoughts 
 that afternoon. 
 
 When she looked up to see who was the intruder upon 
 her solitude, it was evident she was as much surprised 
 to look upon him as he was to find her there. He 
 had supposed she was with the yachting party. She 
 had no knowledge he was expected at Spring Hill. 
 
 As he saluted her, he expressed surprise that she was 
 not upon the river with her father. On her part she 
 replied, with some constraint of manner, that a severe 
 headache had prevented her going in the morning, but 
 recovering, she had strolled out for the air in the 
 afternoon. 
 
 Here was the opportunity ready made for which 
 Dick had only ten minutes previously firmly determined 
 he would diligently seek. Yet, now that it was pre 
 cipitated upon him, from being a young man noted for 
 the promptness with which he seized passing oppor 
 tunities, he passed into one without wits and with 
 nothing to say. 
 
 Perhaps it was his silence which embarrassed Bessie, 
 for neither could she find words for a tongue usually 
 most voluble. The situation was awkward. Realizing
 
 Il6 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 this, Dick essayed to relieve it, and rushed into his first 
 blunder. 
 
 "I had determined," he said, after an effort, "on 
 coming here to seek from you an explanation of your 
 singular conduct toward myself." 
 
 Bessie resented the adjective. While the awkward 
 silence had lasted she had been looking up the river, 
 her face averted, but, with Dick s words, she lifted it to 
 him, her color rising and indignation shining in her 
 lovely blue eyes. It was so like a man to charge upon 
 a woman a fault that was his own. She had only re 
 sented his singular treatment of herself, in a proper 
 and womanly spirit. 
 
 "Singular!" she repeated, sarcasm in her tones. "I 
 did not know people regarded my conduct as sin 
 gular." 
 
 "It has been to me," replied Dick, noting with ad 
 miration how pure was the profile of her face outlined 
 against the dark deep blue of the sky. "I have been 
 made to feel keenly the weight of your displeasure " 
 
 He hesitated long enough to give Bessie the sug 
 gestion that he was selecting his words with care. 
 
 "And," he went on, "so far as I am able to perceive, 
 without good or sufficient reason." 
 
 Poor Dick! he had stumbled from one blunder into 
 another. In his nervousness, and in his determina 
 tion to arrive at an understanding, nerving himself for 
 an effort, he had assumed a severity of tone and a 
 sternness of manner he was far from intending. 
 
 "Perhaps," said Bessie, straightening herself up with 
 an excess of dignity, "before we enter upon that expla 
 nation you are so pleasantly" (severe stress on "pleas 
 antly") demanding, you will inform me who conferred 
 upon you the authority you so frequently exercise to 
 censure and reprimand me?" 
 
 "I censure you reprimand?" stammered Dick, 
 overwhelmed, "surely you do not accuse me of such 
 audacity."
 
 A PERVERSE MAIDEN. II? 
 
 "You have just chosen to tell me my conduct :, ; j 
 singular that I have conducted myself without rea 
 son," returned Bessie, following up sharply her advan 
 tage. "And, the last time we conversed alone, yoa 
 informed me I was sordid, grasping, avaricious ; pos 
 sessing an unholy ambition to shine in circles beyond 
 me; willing, in order to achieve such ambitions, to 
 seize riches which did not belong to me; that I was 
 opposed to a search for the rightful heir, and that in 
 your high devotion to duty you would exert all in your 
 power to find the man, so as to save me from myself." 
 
 Dick stared at her, dumb in his amazement. He 
 was aghast at the ingenuity with which she perverted 
 the words used in that heated interview. 
 
 "One would suppose," continued Bessie, "that hav 
 ing so low an estimate of a woman, any words of ex 
 planation she might utter would have no weight with 
 you. So detestable a creature as I must appear to 
 you should be without sufficient interest to induce 
 you to desire any intercourse with her." 
 
 "Interest?" weakly repeated Dick, as if he was 
 grasping at the only significant word she had uttered. 
 
 "But," Bessie went on, "whether or not I am all 
 you suppose me to be, and you have not wasted deli 
 cacy in your effort to leave me in no doubt as to your 
 opinion, I deny your authority to rebuke or to criti 
 cise me." 
 
 Dick gathered himself together with an effort. Sev 
 eral moments passed before he spoke, and when he did 
 it was in gentle tones and with a most respectful air. 
 
 "I must have another existence of which I am not 
 now conscious." 
 
 She turned to him puzzled. 
 
 "I do not understand you," she said. 
 
 "Unlike Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, who always re 
 tained consciousness of the other existence, I do not; 
 for I have no recollection of the other Mason who 
 has said these things."
 
 8 THE DUG DALE MILLIONS. 
 
 "Do you mean to say you did not say them to me?" 
 
 she asked indignantly. 
 
 "By no means. I mean to say that I am not now con 
 scious of the existence of myself when I did say them." 
 
 "Which is only your polite way of telling me that I 
 am untruthful," she broke in hotly. 
 
 Yet, when Bessie gave utterance to these words, 
 which she knew would wound him, she wounded 
 herself, for she saw that Dick was endeavoring to 
 evade a contest with her, and she was fully aware she 
 had put a perverse construction upon their former 
 conversation the facts did not warrant. Moreover, 
 they were just what she did not want to utter. But 
 she could not restrain herself. Oh! If he would 
 only go away, so that she could have a good cry, and 
 then come back to her, how easily matters could be 
 smoothed. But there he obstinately remained, seek 
 ing words to placate her and make her listen to reason. 
 She knew well what he was striving to do. She was 
 angry with herself that she could not abandon her 
 mood and give him that assistance she dearly desired 
 to give, and so she visited her anger upon him. 
 
 All this time he was leaning against the rock, his 
 face very sober and very anxious, and his eyes very 
 troubled. He was too earnest and too much en 
 grossed to think of his attitude, but Bessie did not fail 
 to recognize its unstudied grace, and she thought she 
 had never seen him looking so handsome. She pitied 
 him from the bottom of her heart for the trouble he 
 was in the trouble which was of her own making. 
 Then she knew that she loved him deeply. Why 
 would he not see this? Why would he not rise up in 
 his wrath and bid her to silence? Why would he not 
 take that mastership over her which was his to take, 
 and to which she would yield, only too willingly, if he 
 would but exert it? She had no patience with him. 
 Why had he not the address to see that she wanted 
 him to take the very authority she denied him?
 
 A PERVERSE MAIDEN. HO 
 
 "I had hoped," he said after a while, deliberately 
 and sadly, "that when the opportunity presented 
 itself, I would be enabled to induce you to tell me 
 wherein I had given you offense. I am unconscious 
 of having done so. If I have, it was unwittingly done. 
 If any words I may have said to you can be construed 
 into the meaning you have placed upon them, I can 
 only say such meaning was far, far indeed from my 
 intention. I do not think these things of you. I have 
 never thought such things, and there can never be a 
 time when, clothed in my right mind, I could think 
 such things of you. I can make no apology, for I 
 cannot make an apology for something I never did. 
 I can only regret that I have used words that could be 
 construed into such meaning. Even now I am unable 
 to recall them. I think, however, that I must have 
 given you offense in other ways. If I have, I would 
 like to know how, that I may either explain, defend 
 myself, or apologize if I am in the wrong. Could 
 you but know with what respect and esteem I regard 
 you, you would understand how impossible it is for 
 me to wittingly offend you. Regard! It is a cold 
 word, which does not reveal my sentiments. If you 
 could but know if you would but believe in the 
 strong, enduring, unconquerable love I bear to you 
 and have always borne to you, you would know that I 
 would see this right arm wither in the fire, before I 
 would utter one word, or do a single act, which would 
 give you a moment s distress." 
 
 He held out his arm straight before her, looking over 
 it earnestly into her face. While she, quivering with 
 joy and trembling on the brink of tears, turned her 
 face away to conceal her emotions. 
 
 He thought her action meant obduracy, and so, let 
 ting his arm fall slowly to his side, he went on : 
 
 "You do not heed me. You are not cold. It is I 
 who am unfortunate. But the past cannot be taken 
 from me. The dreams of the days when hope in-
 
 120 THE DUG DALE MILLIONS. 
 
 spired me to efforts to make myself worthy of your 
 love are burned into my memory. My love, unre 
 ciprocated as it may be, is mine. That cannot be 
 taken from me. And I can still indulge the hope that 
 you will see that justice to me, who have been guilty 
 of but one wrong, and that of daring to love you, de 
 mands that I be given the opportunity to defend my 
 self against your belief in my offense." 
 
 He waited for her to speak, but she could not trust 
 herself. She sat like one entranced, her whole being 
 flooded with light, her tongue dumb. 
 
 "I will wait and ask again for justice," he said. 
 "And I think I know you too well to believe you will 
 deny me so small a boon." 
 
 She heard the gravel crushing under his feet and 
 thought he was coming to her. But he did not come. 
 She slowly turned. He was gone. She sprang up, 
 with a wild yearning in her heart. She saw him slowly 
 going from her over the soft, yielding sod. She 
 stretched out her arms appealingly, as if she would 
 call him bark, and then, flinging herself against the 
 hard, flinty bosom of the unsympathetic rock, she 
 gave her heart up to a storm of sobs, heard only by 
 the soft winds stopping to toy with her golden tresses 
 shining in the western sun.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE RED SHAWL. 
 
 CRUSHED and hopeless, Dick went his way, caring 
 little where he wandered. Yet he had won his love. 
 He had achieved his heart s dearest desire, and was 
 not aware of it. He was quite certain the sun was 
 blotted from his heaven, that all purpose was gone 
 from his life. He knew now what influence his love 
 for Bessie had exerted upon his life, shaping its course 
 and giving direction and energy to his efforts. And 
 as he stalked away with crushed heart and lowered 
 head, fatuous and despairing, he left behind him, con 
 cealed by the rocks, a maiden weeping bitterly because 
 the conqueror to whom she had surrendered the em 
 pire of her soul had failed to take possession of it by 
 right of conquest. 
 
 In time Dick reached the Stanton residence and sat 
 himself down in one of the broad-armed chairs on the 
 veranda and gave himself up unreservedly to gloom 
 and despair. 
 
 From his reverie, after a long time, he was aroused 
 by the sound of steps upon the gravel walk. Looking 
 up his eyes fell upon a woman, not yet of middle age, 
 evidently strange to her surroundings, making her way 
 toward the entrance at which he was sitting. Al 
 though apparently of humble life, her appearance sug 
 gested thrift and prosperity, and her face was attractive 
 because of its frankness no less than its comeliness. 
 Notwithstanding his gloomy frame of mind, it was 
 With difficulty that Dick repressed a broad smile when
 
 122 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 he noticed that her hair was blonde and her shawl a 
 fiery red. 
 
 As she reached the foot of the flight of steps leading 
 to the door she inquired for Mr. Stanton. 
 
 When Dick informed her that he was not at home, 
 an expression of deep disappointment settled upon her 
 honest face. 
 
 "I have come all the way from New York to see Mr. 
 Stanton," she replied, as she accepted Dick s invita 
 tion to seat herself. "I didn t want to come, but they 
 urged so hard that I did. And they told me I d be 
 sure to find Mr. Stanton at home." 
 
 Dick was on the point of inquiring who "they" 
 were, when it occurred to him that he might be ob 
 truding himself upon private affairs, and he withheld 
 his questions. But the woman enlightened him with 
 out the necessity of inquiries from him. 
 
 "They didn t know at his office what Mr. Stanton 
 wanted to see me about, but they said he was very 
 anxious to see me about something. It is all along of 
 an advertisement they put into the papers, asking any 
 who knew James Powers to communicate with them." 
 
 Now Dick was interested. A few moments before 
 he had determined to withdraw from the search, but 
 so strong is the fascination of the chase, that upon the 
 first scent he was all eagerness. 
 
 "Of course," he said, "you are alluding to Stanton, 
 Boyd & Stevens, and you are the daughter of James 
 Powers." 
 
 The hazard was a correct one, as Dick perceived 
 by the astonished expression of her face. 
 
 "It is all right," continued Dick. "lam the one 
 you want to see. Mr. Stanton inserted that advertise 
 ment for me. I am the one who wanted to talk with 
 anyone who knew James Powers. My name is 
 Mason. Are you the married daughter?" 
 
 "Both of us are married now, sir. I am the oldest. 
 My name is Jenkins now. We live in Philadelphia.
 
 THE RED SHAWL. 123 
 
 After we saw the piece in the papers, my husband said 
 I d best go on. It might be important." 
 
 "It is," replied Dick. "Most important. When 
 you were four or five years old, and your father and 
 mother lived in MacDougall Street, they had a lodger 
 named Dugdale, who died there and left a child, which 
 your mother cared for until it was adopted by some 
 persons unknown to me. Do you recollect anything 
 of this?" 
 
 "I recollect hearing my mother telling the story." 
 
 "Is your mother alive?" 
 
 "No, sir; she s been dead nine years, father ten." 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed Dick, beginning to have more 
 trust ini Ransom by reason of this confirmation. "Do 
 you recollect the name of the person who adopted the 
 child?" 
 
 "No, sir; I do not. I don t know that I ever 
 heard it." 
 
 By this time Dick perceived that Mrs. Jenkins was 
 greatly disappointed as to the business she was called 
 on. Rightly judging that imagination had suggested 
 to these good people the possibilities of advantages to 
 themselves, to accrue from the inquiry which had been 
 put on foot, Dick with ready tact bent himself to en 
 list her interest. 
 
 With some reservations, dwelling upon the high 
 connections of her mother s lodger and the immense 
 fortune awaiting the child her mother had cared for, 
 Dick told the story, winding up with the statement 
 that he knew she had been put to trouble and ex 
 penses, for which she would be amply compensated. 
 Having overcome her disappointment, he plied her 
 with many questions. But nothing he did not already 
 know was elicited. Failing on this tack, he tried to 
 learn if there were not some persons still alive who 
 might have knowledge of the adoption. 
 
 Mrs. Jenkins thought possibly an aunt, who lived 
 with her father and mother about that time, might have
 
 124 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 known about it, but she was old now and not very 
 clear in mind. 
 
 Somewhat discouraged, Dick rather hopelessly 
 asked if there was nothing in her possession which 
 would throw light upon the subject. 
 
 Mrs. Jenkins thought a moment and then replied: 
 
 "There is a tin box at home that father used to 
 keep his papers in. We ve got it yet. I haven t 
 looked into it in many a day, but all the papers are in 
 it yet, excepting the deed for the Newark house, which 
 was taken out when we sold the house. I will look 
 when I go home. 
 
 Here at least was a chance. The Powers possibilities 
 were not exhausted yet. So he earnestly requested her 
 to do so, and, giving her his address in writing, asked 
 her to inform him as promptly as she could as to what 
 came of her search. Then taking from his pocket a 
 roll of bills, he handed her a sum of money so large as 
 to make her eyes glitter with delight. 
 
 It occurred to him that as thoroughly as he had 
 questioned her, still, had Mr. Stanton been present, he 
 might have been more successful, so he proposed that 
 she should wait for Mr. Stanton s return. 
 
 To this she energetically demurred, saying that she 
 must return by the six o clock train, since her hus 
 band would be awaiting her upon its arrival. Con 
 sulting his watch, Dick found she could not reach the 
 station in time if she were to walk, so he hastened to 
 the stable and saw that a carriage was prepared to 
 take her thither. 
 
 As he helped her into the carriage, he saw Mr. and 
 Mrs. Stanton come up over the brow of the hill in the 
 distance, but as time pressed he could not wait for 
 them. He urged the driver to hasten to the depot. 
 As the carriage rattled off, he saw Mrs. Stanton stop, 
 as if her attention had suddenly been arrested, and 
 then run forward to intercept the carriage by a short 
 cut. He realized that Mrs. Stanton had at last found,
 
 THE RED SHAWL. 125 
 
 in the flesh, the blonde woman with the red shawl of 
 her dreams, and he laughed aloud. 
 
 By the time Mr. Stanton reached him, perplexed 
 and puzzled over the eccentric desertion of his wife, 
 Mrs. Stanton, hot, panting, and flurried, was returning 
 over the lawn, for the carriage had eluded her and 
 passed out upon the highway before she could reach 
 the turn where she had hoped to intercept it. 
 
 "What is all this?" asked the wondering lawyer. 
 
 "I ve been making somewhat free with your be 
 longings," answered Dick, smiling. "That was the 
 first result from the inquiry after James Powers. The 
 woman was compelled to return by the six o clock 
 train, and there was no way of getting her there in 
 time but by sending the carriage." 
 
 "Oh, that was proper," said Mr. Stanton. "But 
 what does she bring?" 
 
 Before Dick could reply Mrs. Stanton came up 
 heated and indignant, 
 
 "I knew it! I knew it," she cried. "I knew if I 
 waited she d appear. I m the most miserable of 
 women! It is shameful! Right here in my own 
 house, too! What is the meaning of this?" 
 
 "If you will keep quiet long enough you ll know," 
 said Mr. Stanton, much annoyed. "Mason is about 
 to tell." 
 
 Dick could preserve control of his gravity only by 
 great effort when he saw Mrs. Stanton s expression, in 
 which were blended indignation, incredulity, and curi 
 osity. 
 
 Mastering his overpowering desire to laugh, he 
 related what had passed between Mrs. Jenkins and 
 himself, expressing the hope that an examination of 
 the box would reveal what they so earnestly sought. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the fine scorn with which 
 Mrs. Stanton regarded Dick as he finished the tale. 
 
 "And you expect me to believe that foolish story?" 
 ghe exclaimed, "I am foiled again, You are too
 
 126 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 sharp for me. What can a woman do against two 
 such men?" 
 
 "What nonsense is this?" sharply asked the per 
 plexed husband. 
 
 "It is no nonsense! That was the heart woman 
 with a red shawl. I ve been waiting for her to come 
 that I might get at the bottom of all this talk about a 
 baby and the Barbers and the Tomlinsons and the 
 Powerses. Oh, yes! You may think you can fool me, 
 but you cannot. I know what is under it. You may 
 deceive Wallis, but you cannot deceive me. What is 
 her name?" 
 
 She propelled this question abruptly at Dick. 
 
 Again with an effort Dick controlled himself. 
 
 "Her name is Jenkins," he replied. "She is the 
 eldest married daughter of James Powers." 
 
 "Oh, she is," exclaimed the irate lady. "And the 
 baby, where is that?" 
 
 "I am not aware that she has a baby," replied 
 Dick, inwardly convulsed. 
 
 "Of course she hasn t one, if she put it out for 
 adoption to someone she doesn t know, nor Mr. 
 Stanton either. You wouldn t be turning the world 
 upside down looking for it if it was with her." 
 
 "If you are going to be silly, go into the house," 
 angrily commanded Mr. Stanton. 
 
 His wife, awed by his manner and tone, obeyed, but 
 she walked away with the air of a martyr, leaving Dick 
 convulsed with suppressed laughter. 
 
 Mr. Stanton, leading the way to the veranda, ques 
 tioned Dick particularly as to his talk with Mrs. Jenkins. 
 
 "I wish I could have seen her," he said. "Yet it 
 looks as if you had elicited all she had to tell. I am 
 inclined to think more will be obtained ^rom the aunt 
 than from the box." 
 
 The conversation languished, and Dick asked for 
 Wallis. 
 
 "She ran over to see Bessie Hetlow before coming
 
 THE RED SHAWL. 127 
 
 home. Bessie was sick with a headache this morning 
 and did not go with us." 
 
 "Lord Merrimount is still at the Hetlows ?" 
 
 "Yes. He was with us to-day. He is a fine fel 
 low. I like him. I don t favor, as a rule, American 
 girls marrying these foreigners, but I think this would 
 be a good thing for Bessie " 
 
 He stopped short, recollecting Dick s affection for 
 Bessie. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Mason. I d forgotten your 
 interest in this matter. " 
 
 "No pardon is necessary, sir," replied Dick sadly. 
 "I am not so blind as not to see that Miss Hetlow s 
 friends naturally think that Lord Merrimount, son of 
 the Duke of Mountchessington, must be a much better 
 alliance for her than would Dick Mason, a clerk in 
 her father s office, with his way yet to make and his 
 fortune yet to get. Do you consider the matter 
 determined?" 
 
 "Why, bless me!" cried the old lawyer, his sym 
 pathies stirred by Dick s tone. "I know nothing 
 about it. Hetlow has never said a word to me on the 
 subject. I have fallen into the belief, if belief it is, 
 from hearing everybody say so everybody, that is, 
 except Wallis. She insists that Bessie won t have 
 him, if he offers himself. In fact she says Bessie s in 
 love with you," bluntly added the old lawyer. 
 
 "Wallis is mistaken," said Dick quietly. 
 
 Mr. Stanton looked at him a moment seriously, but 
 as the young man made no further remark took a cigar 
 from his pocket, lit it, and smoked. Dick, in whom 
 this conversation had revived sad thoughts, got up and 
 walked the length of the veranda. As he reached the 
 end, from which a view of the Hetlow mansion could 
 be had, he observed Wallis turning the corner of the 
 house. She saw him at the same moment. 
 
 "I want to see you. Come down," she com 
 manded.
 
 128 THE DUG DALE MILLIONS. 
 
 Dick obeyed, and joined her on the lawn. 
 
 "What have you been doing to Bessie?" she asked 
 imperiously. 
 
 "It would be better if you were to ask what Beseie 
 has done to me," he replied. 
 
 "Well, what has she done?" 
 
 "She has rejected me. More than that, she has 
 made me feel the sting of her contempt. She has shown 
 me how wide is the gulf between her father s clerk 
 and her father s daughter." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "This afternoon." 
 
 "You think she has rejected you?" 
 
 "Think!" There was a world of sarcasm in his 
 manner of repeating the word. 
 
 "I never saw such idiotic children," exclaimed 
 Wallis, with a gesture of impatience. "I am thor 
 oughly disgusted." 
 
 She threw off her hat, and sat herself down on the 
 gnarled root of an old tree which protruded above the 
 turf, and clasping her hands over one knee rocked her 
 self gently to and fro, her brow gathered in wrinkles. 
 
 Dick, standing in front of her, thought she was very 
 pretty as she sat there vexing herself with his troubles. 
 
 "To whom are you alluding?" he asked at length. 
 
 "To you and Bessie, of course," she answered with 
 much asperity. "I never saw such idiots. You 
 would go wrong, both of you, if there were a hundred 
 ways to go right, and only one to go wrong." 
 
 Dick was silent, wondering what she meant, a slight 
 hope springing up within him. She continued rock 
 ing herself to and fro. 
 
 "I don t know what is to be done," she said after a 
 while. "If it were anyone else in the world I d 
 know what to do. But both of you are so stupid, you 
 rush into a quarrel as soon as you re let loose. Such 
 geese ! Geese ! A goose is a miracle of wisdom and 
 penetration compared to you."
 
 THE RED SHAWL. 1*9 
 
 "I am surprised so astute a person as yourself 
 should waste concern upon such idiots," remarked 
 Dick, at last stung into a retort by her scorn. 
 
 "Now for goodness sake!" impatiently cried Wallis, 
 "don t add sarcasm to your other absurdities, when I 
 am trying to see a way out of this miserable business. 
 Do you know what Bessie is doing now?" 
 
 "Felicitating herself upon the easy manner in which 
 she has rid herself of me, I presume," replied Dick, 
 immediately feeling ashamed of his reply. 
 
 Wallis stopped rocking and looked up into his face 
 most contemptuously. 
 
 "She is lying on her face sobbing as if her heart 
 would break, because you had not the sense to know 
 that she loves you with all her soul." 
 
 "Did she tell you so?" 
 
 "Did she tell me so!" Thus cried Wallis full of 
 scorn. "No, she didn t tell me so." 
 
 "It is impossible after what occurred this after 
 noon." 
 
 "Tell me it! Tell me all! I want to judge." 
 
 Thus commanded, Dick did without reservation of 
 any kind. Wallis listened intently with the air of sit 
 ting in judgment, frowning at times, and audibly ex 
 pressing her disgust at others. 
 
 When he had finished, she said: 
 
 "And you didn t go to her after that and demand 
 an answer, but stalked away in magnificent wrath!" 
 
 "It was useless. Her manner told me how she 
 received my declaration. She turned her face from 
 me." 
 
 "What did you want her to do? Fall at your feet 
 and on her knees thank you for conferring upon her 
 the priceless boon of your love? Whose part is it to 
 woo? A pretty lover you are! Didn t you know she 
 waited for you to come? Will men never understand 
 women! You didn t know then that you had won 
 Bessie, and that she was waiting for you to take her?"
 
 I3<> THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 "I knew nothing of the sort," said Dick firmly, 
 satisfied he knew and Wallis didn t. 
 
 "Well," she added, rising as she heard the dinner 
 bell, "we ll go to dinner, and I ll think what is best 
 to be done. I do wish the good Lord had given you 
 a little less of good looks and a little more of brains. 
 I don t believe I ll ever get this straightened out." 
 
 Dick followed her quietly over the lawn, making no 
 reply, for though he had been greatly irritated by 
 Wallis s words, and especially her contempt, yet he 
 knew they were the outcome of her deep interest in 
 himself and Bessie. Notwithstanding the firmness of 
 his belief in Bessie s determined rejection of himself, 
 he felt lighter and more hopeful. 
 
 Mrs. Stanton had not recovered from her indigna 
 tion over the appearance of the heart woman in a red 
 shawl, but sat at the head of the table, in stately dis 
 pleasure, from time to time interjecting remarks quite 
 puzzling to Wallis, who had not yet been made aware 
 of the afternoon s events. 
 
 During the dinner, Dick learned that a coaching 
 excursion had been planned for the following day by 
 Mr. Hetlow, and that he was expected to be of the 
 party. He shook his head as if he proposed to de 
 cline. Wallis sharply informed him he was to go and 
 without question, and that he must behave himself like 
 a man, if that were possible a doubt which received 
 instant acquiescence on the part of Mrs. Stanton, if 
 an active series of affirmative nods were to be taken as 
 such acquiescence. 
 
 After dinner, Wallis informed him that he must get 
 through the evening without her as best he could, as 
 she had a duty to perform in going to Bessie, who was 
 ill. Before she left she whispered to him : 
 
 "I have a plan. I think it will succeed. Now 
 don t spoil everything by refusing to go to-morrow."
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ORTON PIERSON. 
 
 WHEN Dick gave his promise to Wallis that he 
 would be one of the coaching party he was sincere. 
 At the first suggestion, thoughts of the embarrassment 
 to result from a meeting with Bessie, so soon after 
 what he considered to be his rejection, inclined him 
 to a refusal. But he had been influenced by Wallis, 
 despite his stubborn adherence to his own belief. 
 Hope had sprung up within him, notwithstanding the 
 surly entertainment he offered it. And in the end he 
 had come to be eager for another meeting. But 
 events conspired to alter the plans made for him. 
 
 When he came to the breakfast table the next morn 
 ing, prepared for the excursion, he found his mail 
 beside his plate. Wallis was at the table alone, and 
 directing his attention to it, said: 
 
 "Your mail came in Mr. Hetlow s bag from the 
 office, and was sent over by him. While you read it, 
 I will send for your coffee." 
 
 Opening the first letter at his hand, he uttered an 
 exclamation of surprise on reading it. 
 
 Wallis looked at him with curiosity, but did not 
 speak. 
 
 "This letter," he said, "has an important bearing 
 on the search." 
 
 Briefly relating to her the call of Ransom upon him 
 self, and the little faith he had in anything to flow 
 from it, he read the letter to her. 
 
 "Mr Mason: Dear Sir," it began. "I have recol 
 lected the name of the man you want. It is Orton
 
 I3 2 THE DUG DALE MILLIONS. 
 
 Pierson. He lives somewhere uptown, in Harlem I 
 am told. I heard also that his adopted son lives with 
 him. He is a lawyer. I hope this is satisfactory. 
 Yours, etc., Oliver Ransom." 
 
 "Oh," cried Wullis much interested, "will the prop 
 erty go to him, right away?" 
 
 Now that the result which, for the sake of Dick, she 
 had hoped would be reached seemed accomplished, 
 she began to have a great pity for Bessie and Lord 
 Merrimount. 
 
 Before Dick could answer, Mr. and Mrs. Stanton 
 entered, and Dick handed the letter to the old lawyer 
 who read it deliberately. Laying it upon the table, 
 he said : 
 
 "This looks like the beginning of the end." 
 
 "Yes, and it means I must go to New York at 
 once." 
 
 "I suppose you should," said Mr. Stanton. 
 
 "Oh, I hope not!" cried Wallis. "All my nicely 
 laid plans will be destroyed if you do." 
 
 "It will not do to delay," interposed the lawyer. 
 "This is a very important matter." 
 
 He took up the letter again and studied it. 
 
 "This letter," he said, "impresses me more favor 
 ably than the writer did. It bears no evidence of 
 being in relation with the Pierson people. He s a 
 lawyer, eh? Pierson! Pierson! The name is 
 familiar. 
 
 "Which is the lawyer?" asked Dick. "The old 
 man or the son? The letter is capable of both con 
 structions. 
 
 "So it is," replied Mr. Stanton referring to the 
 letter. "Pierson! There was a lawyer of that name 
 some years ago eight or ten disbarred for wrong 
 practice I don t know what. However, you should 
 go at once. Your inquiries should be made before 
 they get wind of the prize to be gained. You ought 
 to know all about Pierson before you go to him. I ll
 
 oA r PIER sow. 133 
 
 give you a letter to Boyd, my partner; he will know 
 how to put you in information." 
 
 "I ll leave you to explain the matter to Mr. Het 
 low," said Dick. "And I beg, Wallis, you will 
 express my regrets to Miss Hetlow. " 
 
 "It s very unfortunate," complained Wallis. 
 "Why couldn t they have kept their letter until 
 to-morrow ! " 
 
 "One of the perverse peculiarities of duty is that it 
 always interferes with pleasure," remarked Dick. 
 
 During the rest of the meal-time, Mr. Stanton dis 
 coursed upon the probabilities and possibilities of this 
 information, giving Dick many suggestions as to his 
 methods of proceeding in the matter and of dealing 
 with Pierson. The meal was barely dispatched when 
 a messenger from Mr. Hetlow announced that the 
 coach would be ready to start in a very short time. 
 
 As Wallis rose from the table to prepare herself she 
 passed Dick s chair, and stopped to say: 
 
 "I actually believe you are glad to escape going on 
 this ride." 
 
 "Believe me, you are mistaken," answered Dick 
 eagerly. "At first I was disinclined, for reasons you 
 may appreciate, but after that I became anxious to go, 
 and now I feel a deep sense of disappointment. You 
 ought to see that while I can excuse my absence to 
 Mr. Hetlow, I could not, in view of my commission 
 from him, excuse my presence." 
 
 Wallis made no further protest, but expressed the 
 hope that he would return as soon as circumstances 
 would permit him. 
 
 In an hour Dick was on his way to the city. He 
 entered the first drug store he could find, after leaving 
 the cars, and consulted a directory. 
 
 A Mr. Orton Pierson resided and did business at 
 No. 1 28th Street a real estate brokerage busi 
 ness. Having determined that such a person existed, 
 Ihck went at once to the office of Stanton, Boyd &
 
 134 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 Stevens, and presented the letter written by Mr. 
 Stanton to Mr. Boyd. 
 
 "Now what does Stanton want with that scamp?" 
 inquired Mr. Boyd, after he had read the letter. 
 "Pierson was disbarred twelve years ago. I know all 
 about it. I was on the committee presenting the 
 charges. Yes, he s in the real estate business, and I 
 guess has done pretty well at it. He s a slippery old 
 fellow, shrewd and plausible. If you are about to 
 have any dealings with him, be on your guard. His 
 reputation is bad." 
 
 Thus forewarned, Dick went up to 12 8th Street. 
 He found that Orton Pierson conducted his real estate 
 business in the basement of his dwelling. In this real 
 estate office Dick found an elderly person, not ungen- 
 tlemanlike in appearance, whose hair was white and 
 long, and whose face was covered with a long white 
 beard and mustache, who rose in a polite manner to 
 greet him. 
 
 Having learned that the elderly gentleman was the 
 person he sought, Dick proceeded to his business. 
 
 "I have some inquiries to make, Mr. Pierson," he 
 began, "which at the outset may seem to be an imper 
 tinent interference in your private affairs." 
 
 Could Dick have observed the old man s eyes as he 
 talked, he would have seen them suddenly light up 
 with an alert expression, and as suddenly sink into 
 dullness. But he could not, for their relative posi 
 tions were such that a strong light was in Dick s face, 
 while that of Mr. Pierson was in the shadow. 
 
 "Take a seat, sir," replied Pierson graciously. 
 "You do not look like a man who would make imper 
 tinent inquiries, without good reasons." 
 
 Dick sat down, endeavoring to place his chair so 
 that the light would not be so full upon him. But the 
 old man, without seeming to do so, outmaneuvered 
 him and their positions remained, sitting, as they had 
 been standing.
 
 OR TON PIER SON. 135 
 
 "I desire to ask first," Dick continued, "if you 
 have a son?" 
 
 "Yes," replied the old man, "I have a son. But 
 if there is purpose in your question, I suppose to 
 answer you properly, I should say he is an adopted 
 son. But he is the same to me as one, for he was 
 adopted when a babe, and it is only in recent years 
 that he has known that he was not a son of my own 
 blood." 
 
 "So much confirmation," thought Dick. 
 
 Aloud he asked : 
 
 "Did you obtain the child from an institution? 
 Pardon me, I do not intend to be offensive." 
 
 "You are not, sir," blandly replied the old man. 
 "No, the child did not come from an asylum. There 
 is quite a story connected with our obtaining it. Mrs. 
 Pierson, who is now dead, and I hope in Heaven where 
 so good a woman should be, was strolling one day, a 
 quarter of a century ago, in Union Square, and had 
 her attention attracted to a pretty babe in the arms of 
 a respectable woman. Mrs. Pierson had never been 
 blessed with children but had a large mother heart. 
 She stopped to notice it, and, chatting with the 
 woman, learned that the babe was the child of a man, 
 though a gentleman, very poor, and that the mother 
 was dead. How the talk of adoption came up, I 
 don t know, yet I recollect that Mrs. Pierson talked 
 to me of adoption, but as I was not inclined, the mat 
 ter was dropped for the time. The next summer, 
 however, Mrs. Pierson again saw the woman and the 
 babe, and learned that the child s father was dead and 
 the babe homeless. Then it was that Mrs. Pierson 
 persuaded me to go with her the next day to see it. 
 Seeing it, I fancied it. We made a proposition to take 
 the child, but Mrs. Tompkins no, that wasn t the 
 name not Tompkins Tomp Tompkins Tomlin- 
 son that s it! but Mrs. Tomlinson said she could not 
 dispose of the child until she had consulted her hus-
 
 I3 6 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 band, so we went away, with the understanding we were 
 to hear from her upon the subject promptly. As a 
 matter of fact, we never did hear from her again, nor 
 have I ever heard of her since. But after a few days 
 a man named Powers came to my office, telling me that 
 Mrs. Tomlinson, compelled to leave town with her 
 husband hastily, had turned the child over to his wife, 
 with my address, and announced his readiness to make 
 over the child if we were still of the same mind. To 
 cut the story short the transfer was made and the child 
 reared by us." 
 
 "How old is he now?" asked Dick, already con 
 vinced that he had at last ended his search. 
 
 "About twenty-seven, I think." 
 
 "What name does he bear?" 
 
 "Mine Harold Pierson." 
 
 "Is he a young man of good habits? * 
 
 "As good as the average perhaps better. He left 
 me on a foolish misunderstanding shortly after Mrs. 
 Pierson s death, six years ago, but returned three 
 years ago. I do not see that his knocking about the 
 world has harmed him. Upon the contrary, I think it 
 has strengthened and broadened him. He was abroad. 
 He is now assisting me in this business." 
 
 "I see," said Dick, glancing about and taking note 
 of an empty desk which did not seem to be much used. 
 
 "Did you know what the name of the child s father 
 was?" he continued. 
 
 "Yes. It was Dugdale. The Powers people said 
 that the child s father was of an excellent English 
 family, and had been discarded for marrying beneath 
 him and, as they thought, for other wrongs. The 
 name is an old English name, and, besides, there were 
 some papers, old letters and such things, found after 
 the death of the father, which would indicate such to 
 be the case." 
 
 "Have you those papers?" 
 
 Well, no. Powers was rather strange about them,
 
 OR TON PIER SON. 137 
 
 I argued that they were the property of the child and 
 should go with it, but Powers seemed to think he 
 ought to keep them, and, as I did not regard it as 
 essential, I did not press the point. A few scraps, 
 memoranda, a partially written letter, came into my 
 hands, and an old seal-ring much worn and battered, 
 which had upon the seal a device, undecipherable 
 however. I must have these things somewhere, but I 
 would have to hunt for them." 
 
 Dick was silent. It seemed to him that the heir to 
 the Dugdale millions was found. The story of Pier- 
 son seemed to fit in perfectly with all he had previously 
 learned. Moreover it was straightforward and ap 
 peared to be truthful. Dick did not appreciate that 
 the story was direct and conclusive only upon points 
 which he was unable to confirm, and vague in all else, 
 except where the facts were undisputed. He did not 
 even see that the only new point was that he, Pierson, 
 had adopted the child. 
 
 He asked another question tending, as he thought, 
 toward the confirmation of Pierson s story. 
 
 "Do you know where Powers is?" 
 
 "He is dead. So is his wife. They moved to 
 Newark after the adoption." 
 
 "Did you ever have communication with them 
 afterward?" 
 
 "Yes, from time to time." 
 
 Up to this time Pierson had manifested no curiosity 
 ns to Dick s identity, nor as to his purpose in making 
 his inquiries. Nor did this occur to Dick as strange, 
 if indeed he appreciated it. 
 
 "Can I see the young gentleman?" asked Dick. 
 
 "Not to-day, for he has gone a short distance out 
 of town, but you can to-morrow, or any subsequent 
 time that you may appoint." 
 
 "I do not know that it is essential," remarked 
 Dick, rising. "I presume, Mr. Pierson, you can es 
 tablish these facts as vci: have stated them to me?"
 
 13$ THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 "I presume as a matter of proof? Well, I hardly 
 know how to answer you. My own statement would 
 be proof. Mrs. Tomlinson, if found, would be further 
 proof. There may be other proof to be found after 
 thought, but I can think of none just now. What need 
 is there of proof?" 
 
 Dick hesitated before replying, and when he did, it 
 was most cautiously. 
 
 "I have been commissioned by certain persons to 
 make these inquiries. I have no direct interest in 
 them for I am merely an agent in the matter. If it 
 can be established that Harold Pierson is Edmund 
 Dugdale s son, I imagine he will inherit some prop 
 erty." 
 
 "I presumed it was something of the kind," said 
 Pierson indifferently. "Indeed I have always thought 
 that it might occur, if Powers story of the father s 
 high connections was true. Is the amount consider 
 able?" 
 
 "Considerable is a relative term," said Dick 
 evasively, smiling to think that an annual income of 
 a million dollars from invested property, apart from an 
 enormous business, was termed considerable. "What 
 might be very considerable to one of limited means, 
 might be regarded as very little by others having much. 
 However I could not state the exact amount. Do you 
 know a man named Ransom?" he asked abruptly. 
 
 "Ransom! Ransom! I do not think I do," re 
 plied Pierson, without the quiver of an eyelash. 
 
 "It is unimportant," said Dick, as he bade the old 
 man good-by and left the room. 
 
 He did not realize that, during the whole conversa 
 tion, Pierson had not asked his name, nor that he had 
 not volunteered it, indeed that his own name or those 
 in behalf of whom he had been acting had not been 
 mentioned. Nor did he realize that Pierson permit 
 ted him to leave without assurances that anything more 
 would be heard from him or those he represented.
 
 OR TON PIERSON. 139 
 
 As he left the room, the door leading into the rear 
 of the basement was opened, and Ransom and Bob 
 entered. But Pierson motioned to them most ener 
 getically to go back, for Uick had stopped upon the 
 pavement in front, as if he were about to return. But 
 he walked off in the direction of Third Avenue. 
 
 When Pierson was assured that Dick had really gone 
 he opened the door and called the two men in. 
 
 To Ransom, Pierson extended his hand, grinning 
 broadly. Ransom grasped it, a treacherous, trium 
 phant smile overspreading his face. In his dulcet 
 tones, he exclaimed : 
 
 "You are slick, Pierson a very slick article! 
 Nothing could have been better!" 
 
 "He swallowed it without a wry face," said Bob 
 jubilantly. 
 
 "Why shouldn t he?" asked Pierson. "He got his 
 information without pumping for it. I oozed it out, 
 meandering around gently." 
 
 "Now," asked Bob, seating himself astride an office 
 chair, "what is the next thing to be done?" 
 
 "Nothing," promptly replied Ransom. "We must 
 wait for their move now. It will come quick 
 enough." 
 
 While this was going forward, Dick was making his 
 way downtown. He wondered how Bessie would 
 receive the news. He knew how Mr. Hetlow would 
 take it. He would acquiesce in it, and as disap 
 pointed as he might be, assist the young man to the 
 inheritance, being assured the right man had been 
 found, bowing to the inevitable cheerfully, although 
 the prospect of an alliance with the Mountchessington 
 family was dissipated thereby. The effect of his news 
 upon Merrimount, he thought, would be to promptly 
 send that young nobleman home without a wife. 
 
 The large question was how would Bessie treat him 
 now, the bearer of the news that she was not the Dug- 
 dale heiress. Would she visit him with her displeas-
 
 14 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 ure? One thing he would do and that was that he 
 would again offer himself, and if it had no other 
 result, it would show her that she was as dear to him 
 when she was not a great heiress, as when she 
 prospectively was. 
 
 All those interested in his day s work and with 
 whom he wanted to consult, being at Dobbs Ferry, 
 he determined to go there without delay.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 CONFLICTING INTERESTS. 
 
 AMPLE time was given Dick to review the events of 
 the day, before the return of the coaching party. 
 The more he reflected upon his talk with Orton Pier- 
 son, the more convinced he was that young Dugdale 
 had been found. Orton Pierson might be all Mr. 
 Boyd insisted he was, but the fact remained that he 
 had told all he could tell frankly and unreservedly. 
 And this, too, before he knew Dick s purpose in mak 
 ing the inquiries. He might be a schemer and a 
 designing man, but in this instance he had shown no 
 disposition to conceal anything, nor had he mani 
 fested curiosity as to the meaning of the inquiries until 
 he had satisfied Dick s desire for knowledge. Then 
 too, Mr. Pierson s statements were truthful, when 
 judged by all Dick had previously learned. When 
 anything he had said could be put to the test of com 
 parison with the statements of other people, they 
 comported with all the essentials. 
 
 And yet Dick was not satisfied. There was a sense 
 of disappointment that Dick told himself was un 
 reasonable. Upon what this feeling was based, or 
 wherein the result failed of expectation, he could not 
 tell. Indeed he was unable to tell what that expecta 
 tion had been. But whatever it had been, he felt that 
 it had not been realized. 
 
 The only weak point, he said to himself, was the 
 lack of documentary evidence. That Harold Pierson 
 was young Dugdale seemed to depend entirely upon 
 Mr. Pie.rson s word, True, Mrs. Tornlinon CQU.14 
 
 14!
 
 142 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 prove the preliminary talks with Mrs. Pierson and the 
 subsequent call of Mrs. Pierson and her husband 
 upon Mrs. Tomlinson in reference to the adoption. 
 The fact that the child of Dugdale had been adopted 
 by someone could be easily established. So far as he 
 could see, the whole matter turned upon the point as 
 to whether Pierson could establish the fact that the 
 child adopted by him was the one confided by Mrs. 
 Tomlinson to the care of Mrs. Powers, for the purpose 
 of being adopted by someone whose name Mrs. 
 Tomlinson had forgotten. 
 
 Then it occurred to him that the box Mrs. Jenkins 
 had spoken of might contain the very proof desired, 
 and as well the papers which Pierson said Powers had 
 insisted upon retaining. Following up this thought, 
 he determined to write to Mrs. Jenkins, urging her to 
 make the search of the box and communicate its con 
 tents as promptly as she could. He went into the 
 library to write this letter, and while thus engaged, the 
 coaching party returned. 
 
 " Dick went out to meet Mr. Stanton at once, to tell 
 him he had reached important results, and to express 
 the opinion that the facts should be presented to Mr. 
 Hetlow without delay. As a consequence, a messen 
 ger was at once dispatched to Mr. Hetlow, asking if it 
 would be agreeable to receive Dick on a matter of 
 importance. 
 
 While waiting for the return of the messenger Dick 
 went back to the library to complete his letter to Mrs. 
 Jenkins, to which place Mr. Stanton soon followed. 
 
 "I hope you will go to Mr. Hetlow with me," 
 remarked Dick, as he closed and directed the letter. 
 "What I have to tell Mr. Hetlow is important in every 
 aspect. I will reserve my story until then, and I should 
 like to have your judgment upon it." 
 
 Mr. Stanton consented. In the meantime Dick s 
 
 rave and preoccupied manner had been observed by 
 oth Mrs. Stanton and Wallis.
 
 CONFLICTING INTERESTS. 143 
 
 By the latter, it was taken to mean that a point of 
 more than usual significance had been reached in the 
 search, but though burning with curiosity and greatly 
 desiring to ask if the heir had been found, she put a 
 curb upon herself and refrained from questioning. 
 
 Mrs. Stanton, however, took an entirely different vie w. 
 
 "Something extraordinary has happened," she said, 
 in whispered confidence to her niece. "Something 
 dreadful. It must be very bad if they are driven to 
 consult Mr. Hetlow. I have felt that something bad 
 would occur, ever since I saw that woman here yester 
 day. I cut the cards last night, and the heart woman 
 in a red shawl turned up every time." 
 
 "Nonsense, auntie," replied Wallis, with no little 
 vexation. "I do not doubt but that Mr. Mason has 
 found young Dugdale. From his serious manner, I 
 should not wonder if something is wrong about him, 
 now that he is found." 
 
 "Young Dugdale!" cried Mrs. Stanton, in supreme 
 contempt, too indignant to say more, as she swept 
 away, leaving Wallis to follow at her leisure. 
 
 The messenger returned, asking Dick to come over 
 immediately. Mr. Hetlow awaited his visitors in the 
 library, and as they entered, he exclaimed : 
 
 "O Mason! I see by your face you have made 
 the discovery." 
 
 "It would appear so," replied Dick gravely. 
 
 The three men gathered about the library table and 
 Dick began his tale. He was possessed of one of 
 those rare memories which carry words and incidents 
 with vivid photographic accuracy. He related his 
 experiences of the day clearly and minutely, omitting 
 nothing, however trivial. When he had finished, Mr. 
 Hetlow who, by the expression of his face, rather than 
 by any comments made, had shown his disappoint 
 ment, said: 
 
 "You express no opinion, Mason. What do you 
 thids of it?"
 
 144 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 "I am forced to the conclusion, sir, that young 
 Dugdale has been found," replied Dick firmly. 
 
 "I do not know that it is at all singular that a child 
 born twenty-seven years ago should be found alive 
 to-day," remarked Mr. Hetlow thoughtfully, as if in 
 answer to a question he had asked himself. 
 
 "I suppose, from the manner of your statement," 
 said Mr. Stanton, "you have attempted to give us a 
 literal description of your interview with Pierson, and 
 in the same order as it took place?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Dick, "so far as my memory has 
 permitted me, I have given you an exact statement of 
 the interview." 
 
 "Then it would appear, before you had declared the 
 purpose of your question, he had given you a state 
 ment of all the facts of which he was possessed, lead 
 ing to the conclusion that Harold Pierson was young 
 Dugdale?" pursued the lawyer. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "It appears to be conclusive," returned the lawyer. 
 "The fact I note would seem to make it so. Yet, 
 does it not seem singular to you this readiness of 
 Pierson to yield up the information without a single 
 question, and as well, his remarkable lack of curiosity 
 as to your motives in the inquiry?" 
 
 "Isn t that to be explained by his remark at the 
 close of the interview, that he had always expected 
 that something in the way of a legacy would turn up 
 some time for the child he had adopted?" 
 
 "Perhaps!" answered Mr. Stanton doubtfully. 
 "Did you give him your name? I don t recollect 
 that you did in your statement?" 
 
 Dick turned to the lawyer in a start of surprise. 
 The fact flashed upon him that he had given Pierson 
 neither his name nor that of the person whom he 
 represented. He told Mr. Stanton so. 
 
 "It is certainly very remarkable," continued the 
 lawyer. "It argues marvelous possession of self-
 
 CONFLICTING INTERESTS, 14$ 
 
 control, or extraordinary indifference. However, that 
 is not to say that his story may not be true." 
 
 "I ll confess to a feeling of disappointment, and to 
 & wish that the search had turned out differently," 
 said Mr. Hetlow. "However, I presume we have 
 nothing else to do but to retire and let him take the 
 property." 
 
 "When he has proved his identity, and not until 
 then," interposed Mr. Stanton energetically. "A 
 great deal must be done before he can become pos 
 sessed of the property. I admit that at present every 
 thing indicates that the young man has been found. 
 But it all wants confirmation and corroboration." 
 
 "Let me state the situation as it seems to me," he 
 continued, hitching his chair closer to the table and 
 placing his elbow upon it. "Samuel Dugdale dies 
 intestate. The next of kin is a son of Edmund Dug- 
 dale a grandson of whose existence, or, if alive, of 
 whose whereabouts, there is no knowledge sufficient 
 to form a belief. Failing his appearance, your daugh 
 ter is next of kin. In the absence of any knowledge 
 whatever, you would have been justified, both in 
 law and morals, in preferring the claims of your 
 daughter and in seizing the property, and maintaining 
 possession, until dispossessed by strong proof, were 
 the nearest claimant to appear. But you did not do 
 so. You set on foot an energetic effort to determine 
 whether the next of kin was alive or dead, and, if 
 alive, to inform him of the estate awaiting him. In 
 this I think you were right, both from a high moral 
 ground and from the lower one of expediency. Now, 
 as a result of that effort, you have found one who, 
 upon a first consideration of the matter, seems to be 
 the man. You have done your whole duty. No com 
 pulsion rested upon you to do what you have done. 
 It was merely an obligation of honor. You have 
 nothing more to do in this direction than to tell the 
 young man that, if he really is the son of Edmund
 
 I4<5 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 Dugdale deceased, and the grandson of Samuel Dug- 
 dale deceased, the Dugdale estate becomes his. 
 
 "Now, having done this, your attitude toward the 
 young man should change," continued the lawyer. 
 "You have a duty to perform to your daughter. You 
 must insist, both in the interest of your daughter and 
 of justice, that the identity of the young man should 
 be so well established, and the proof of his claim to 
 the estate made so strong, that it is beyond question 
 that the estate is really going into the hands of a 
 grandson of Samuel Dugdale. You must demand 
 proof. And it is no part of your duty to assist him to 
 proof. You have done your whole duty, when you 
 have hunted him up and asked him for proof." 
 
 "It seems to me, sir," said Dick deferentially, 
 "that any other course than that pointed out by Mr. 
 Stanton would be unjust to Miss Hetlow. And now, 
 when I say without reservation that there seems to be 
 no escape from the conclusion that young Dugdale has 
 been found, I may say that an impression, for which 
 strive as I may I can find no reason, was made upon 
 me that there is 1 cannot say wrong, for that would 
 be too strong well, that all was not satisfactory. I 
 think there should be a rigid investigation before 
 yielding to the irrevocable conclusion that Harold 
 Pierson is young Dugdale." 
 
 "What course would you suggest?" inquired Mr. 
 Hetlow of Mr. Stanton. 
 
 "The first thing I should do would be to communi 
 cate the facts Mason has presented, to your family 
 solicitor in London, with the request that he should 
 either himself come to this country, or send someone 
 qualified to act, in protection of the estate, and exam 
 ine the proof presented in behalf of Harold Pierson, 
 as we must call him until he has proved himself to be 
 Dugdale," said Mr. Stanton. "I should think it 
 would be a good thing for you to ask young Pierson
 
 CONFLICTING INTERESTS. 147 
 
 to come here, and you could then tell him what is 
 before him. Then we could all have a chance to see 
 and question him." 
 
 Mr. Hetlow was thoughtful for some time over this 
 suggestion. Finally he said to Dick: 
 
 "I presume you could communicate by letter with 
 him, Mason?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," replied Dick, "or, if not with him, with 
 the old man Pierson. " 
 
 Mr. Stanton, who had misunderstod the drift of Mr. 
 Hetlow s question, interposed: 
 
 "The more I think upon my suggestion, the more I 
 am convinced that it would be the better plan. I am 
 moved to this also, by a curious feeling that it would 
 be far better to have our first interview with the young 
 man at a place where Orton Pierson could not be pres 
 ent. This arises, of course, from the distrust I have 
 of that man." 
 
 "I agree with you," acquiesced Mr. Hetlow, reach 
 ing forward and touching a bell. "So, Mason, write 
 to this young Pierson and ask him to spend Friday 
 night with me." 
 
 A servant entered in response to the bell, and after 
 Mr. Hetlow had instructed him to ask Miss Hetlow to 
 come into the library, he continued: 
 
 "Of course, Mason, you will say enough to him in 
 your letter to indicate why he is wanted here, and will 
 also let him know what relations I bear to the Dugdale 
 family." 
 
 Dick had barely time to reply that he comprehended 
 his instructions, when Bessie entered. Dick rose has 
 tily and offered her a chair. 
 
 "Bessie, my child," began her father, somewhat 
 impressively, "I fear you will be compelled to steel 
 yourself against a great disappointment." 
 
 "Oh," laughed Bessie lightly, "the Dugdale is 
 found!" 
 
 J.
 
 148 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 As she said this she turned her eyes upon Dick and 
 dropped them quickly, a slight blush mantling her 
 cheeks. 
 
 "It would seem from all we have heard to-day that 
 he has been found," returned her father. 
 
 "I thought this solemn conclave argued as much," 
 returned Bessie. "I wagered a pair of gloves with 
 Lord Merrimount this morning that Mr. Mason" 
 she faltered a brief instant over the name "would 
 find the young man. I ve won. Well, it is proper. 
 Alive, the estate belonged to him. And for myself, 
 I feel a great relief that I am not to be burdened by 
 so much gold. Of course I know that I ought to 
 rave, and tear my hair, and gnash my teeth in rage 
 and disappointment in order to justify the belief of 
 some people that, with the prospect of so great a for 
 tune, of necessity I must have become sordid and 
 avaricious, but I can t. The relief is too great." 
 
 She could not deny herself this little feminine stab 
 at Dick, who did not fail to appreciate it, though her 
 father was aghast at the high spirits she manifested 
 over the loss of a fortune, and the sincerity, clearly 
 evident, of her self-congratulation over the escape 
 from it. With the assumption of increased dignity, 
 he replied: 
 
 "You go very fast, my daughter. The matter is 
 not determined. W T hile I think the chances are 
 largely that young Dugdale has been discovered, the 
 fact is not established." Then he added with some 
 sarcasm: "You may yet be burdened with the wealth. 
 I would not rejoice too soon. I felt it my duty, how 
 ever, to inform you as to the condition of affairs, im 
 mediately that I was made aware of it." 
 
 Feeling that she was rebuked, Bessie did not reply, 
 and Dick, to prevent embarrassment, made a move 
 ment toward the door, saying as he did so that he 
 would go to write the letter Mr. Hetlow desired him to 
 send to young Pierson.
 
 CONFLICTING INTERESTS. 149 
 
 Mr. Stanton rose at the same moment and the two 
 left the room, returning to Spring Hill. 
 
 Mr. Hetlow, thus left with his daughter, related to 
 her at length and in detail the results of Dick s visit 
 to New York during the day. When he had finished 
 Bessie replied: 
 
 "I don t doubt that I was frivolous in my reply to 
 you when you told me first, but yet my words repre 
 sented my feelings. I do not regret the fact that 
 young Dugdale is found. To have come into posses 
 sion of this great wealth would have been to take upon 
 myself a life and a career for which I am fitted neither 
 by training nor inclination. This may seem to you 
 like the confession of a lack of proper spirit but it is 
 the way I feel. I am content as things are." 
 
 "And there was no attraction in a brilliant social 
 prospect?" asked her father, rather proud of her than 
 otherwise. 
 
 "None. That was the heaviest burden, it seemed 
 to me." 
 
 "Nor in the possibility of high rank aad a distin 
 guished social position, by means of a marriage which 
 such wealth would justify you in expecting?" 
 
 "Nor that either. It may show little ambition, 
 But I am, you know, an American girl, and I am 
 patriotic enough to be satisfied with an American 
 husband " and she added gently, "of my own 
 choosing." 
 
 Her father smiled, and impressing a kiss upon her 
 forehead, led her toward the door. , 
 
 "After all," he said, "I am better pleased to have 
 you in this frame of mind than one of deep disap 
 pointment. I presume the person who will be the 
 most grieved will be Lord Merrimount." 
 
 Bessie bent her eyes keenly upon her father, think 
 ing he was about to reveal the exact nature of the young 
 noblemnn s proposition, and she determined to let her 
 father know then, that whatever it was, touching hs; ; 
 ^--
 
 15 THE DUG DALE MILLIONS. 
 
 she would not have accepted it. But he said no 
 more. 
 
 "I presume it was Mr. Mason who made this dis 
 covery," she asked, finding her father did not speak. 
 
 "Yes; he acted with great skill and caution." 
 
 "Is he convinced that the young man is the one?" 
 
 "Yes, convinced, but not satisfied. It seems con 
 tradictory does it not ? But he explained himself fully. 
 He is, however, very urgent that the investigation 
 should be of the most rigid character." 
 
 By this time they had reached the door leading into 
 the corridor, and Mr. Hetlow added: 
 
 "I must find Merrimount. He should know of 
 this." 
 
 At the moment Merrimount turned into the corri 
 dor, and Bessie slipped away, that she might not be 
 present when her father told the young nobleman. 
 
 Mr. Hetlow, taking Merrimount into the library, 
 closed the door, saying as he did so: 
 
 "I am afraid, my lord, that you will be greatly dis 
 appointed over the news I have to communicate." 
 
 Merrimount looked up at him quickly and said: 
 
 "You would tell me that young Dugdale has been 
 found?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I was prepared for it. I thought so when I heard 
 that Mason had returned so quickly. Of course I 
 regret it. I suppose the discovery turns my mission 
 to America into failure." 
 
 "Not necessarily," replied Mr. Hetlow. "First 
 let me say that as yet it is only strongly indicative. 
 The identity of the young man must first be proved. 
 It may yet turn out to be a mistake. But even if it is 
 found to be true, I do not see that thereby your mis 
 sion need necessarily be a failure. It may be, and 
 quite possibly is, that the young man will be as willing 
 to entertain the proposition as I would have been, had 
 the reverse been the case. Indeed, I am inclined to
 
 CONFLICTING INTERESTS. 151 
 
 believe that he will. I can see a great many reasons 
 why he should. You may rest assured that if he will 
 accept advice from me, advice will be given him to 
 accept your proposition." 
 
 "You gratify me greatly," said the young English 
 man, his face lighting up. "It is somewhat selfish in 
 me, to be so well pleased at a time when you must be 
 naturally disappointed." 
 
 "Oh, not at all," interrupted Mr. Hetlow. "I will 
 not attempt to conceal that I saw many advantages to 
 arise from this inheritance if it were to come into my 
 family. However, pardon the boast, poverty does not 
 be any means result from the discovery of the heir in 
 the direct line. As for my daughter, she is decidedly 
 pleased with the result. She says the wealth would 
 have given her a life for which she was not trained." 
 
 "Miss Hetlow will grace any rank of life," said the 
 young man sincerely. 
 
 "Thank you," said Mr. Hetlow proudly. "Miss 
 Hetlow is modest in her estimate of her own powers, 
 but it is not a modesty which arises from bashfulness. 
 However, what I want to suggest is that you still 
 remain a guest at The Larches until this matter is 
 finally determined, and I think I can pledge the assist 
 ance of Mr. Stan ton and Mr. Mason, as well as my 
 self, in furthering your interests in any negotiations 
 you may have with the heir of Samuel Dugdale, who 
 ever he may turn out to be." 
 
 "I am very grateful. I have been on the point sev 
 eral times of asking permission to make a confidant of 
 Mr. Mason on this subject. I like him very much and 
 have come to have great faith in his practical know 
 ledge of affairs." 
 
 "He deserves your faith and confidence," promptly 
 replied Mr. Hetlow, "but I would prefer that this 
 business should be finished before you make your 
 je^elation. This young Pierson is to visit me on Fri 
 day and stay the night."
 
 IS 2 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 "Of course it shall be as you wish," said Merrimount. 
 "I do not know that any interest will be served by my 
 seeing Pierson. And perhaps it would be as well that 
 I should not be in the way while he is here. So I will 
 submit what I have been proposing some days to do. 
 I do not want to return to England until I have vis 
 ited Niagara, and after that I ll go for a day or two to 
 Montreal and to Ottawa, where there is a fellow sta 
 tioned who was in the Guards with me a great chum. 
 Then I ll return here with your leave." 
 
 Thus it was that Merrimount left "The Larches" 
 the next day.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 DICK S PROGRESS. 
 
 DINNER and Wallis awaited the return of Mr. 
 Stanton and Dick, the latter with impatience. At 
 the table Dick s story was told again, and Wallis 
 curiosity was satisfied. Mrs. Stanton however was 
 not. She believed that the story of finding young 
 Dugdale was only a part of the scheme to shield her 
 husband and deceive her. Therefore, she broke into 
 the conversation with irrelevant remarks indicative of 
 her wonder over the gullibility of people who could 
 be induced to accept any statement, however absurd, 
 as the truth. 
 
 It was Mr. Stanton s habit to be patient with all of 
 Mrs. Stanton s peculiarities, attributing them to the 
 general irrelevancy and want of logic of the feminine 
 mind, against which there was little use in contending. 
 But on this occasion, her remarks were so frequent, 
 and seemed to be so inspired by purpose, that be 
 coming irritated, he exclaimed : 
 
 " What are you driving at ? " 
 
 " Oh, nothing," replied Mrs. Stanton, with a pro 
 voking assumption of indifference. " Oh, nothing at 
 all, my dear." 
 
 " Then don t interrupt the conversation with re 
 marks so foreign to the topics we are discussing," 
 sharply commanded hep husband. 
 
 "Oh, no doubt you would like to shape the conver 
 sation so as to avoid certain disagreeable topics," was 
 her answer. "You may delude Wallis, but not me." 
 
 " Now, for Heaven s sake," cried Mr. Stanton, put 
 ting aside his knife and fork and looking steadily at 
 
 153
 
 154 THE DUG DALE MILLIONS. 
 
 his wife, " please tell me what relevancy that has to 
 anything said here." 
 
 " Have you found that baby you and Mr. Mason 
 were planning to hunt for, on the veranda a few days 
 ago ? " she asked, with an expression of blended cun 
 ning and triumph. 
 
 The old lawyer looked with helpless wonder from 
 Wallis to Dick, both of whom were striving hard 
 to maintain their gravity. 
 
 " Mrs. Stanton is alluding to our conversation of a 
 few days ago, when we talked of the best means to be 
 employed in the search for the Dugdale child," inter 
 posed Dick, when he could control his voice and face. 
 
 "Oh?" ejaculated the lawyer, resuming his meal, 
 " Yes, that baby has been found, I imagine. He wil! 
 be at Mr. Hetlow s house next Friday." 
 
 It was now Mrs. Stanton s turn to be astonished. 
 
 " What !" she cried. "Mr. Hetlow will do that! 
 He is willing to receive that child into his own house, 
 his daughter living there too ! I would not have be 
 lieved it of him." 
 
 " What are you talking of now ? " demanded Mr. 
 Stanton, thoroughly mystified. 
 
 Wallis and Dick, unable to control themselves 
 longer, burst into loud laughter. 
 
 " Oh, it is very amusing, I have no doubt," exclaimed 
 the indignant lady sarcastically. " Though I question 
 the wisdom of his. act, I cannot but admire the friend 
 ship Mr. Hetlow displays toward Mr. Stanton. It is 
 an extraordinary thing to do, merely to shield him." 
 
 "Shield whom ?" cried Mr. Stanton, now thoroughly 
 exasperated. " What nonsense is this ? Have you 
 taken leave of your senses ? I have nothing to do 
 with it. It is his own act." 
 
 " Which makes it all the more generous," replied 
 the good lady complacently. " Who is to bring the 
 baby to him ? " 
 
 " Well," answered the old lawyer, with a grin. " I
 
 DICK S PROGRESS. 155 
 
 take it that a baby, twenty-six or seven years old, is 
 able to bring himself." 
 
 "Twenty-six or seven years old," repeated Mrs. 
 Stanton in deep disgust. " At least you might do me 
 the poor justice of treating me as a rational being. 
 A baby twenty-six or seven \cars old ! " 
 
 " However rational you may be, you are certainly 
 not talking rationally," retorted Mr. Stanton. "What 
 I say is true. On Friday night Harold Pierson, who 
 is supposed to be young Dugdale, the heir to the 
 Dugdale estates, and who was found by Mason this 
 morning, will visit Mr. Hetlow, to learn from Mr. 
 Hetlow s lips the prospect before him." 
 
 This was said with such angry emphasis that Mrs. 
 Stanton realized she had gone as far with her hus 
 band as she dared, and so she quietly remarked with 
 an air of resignation : 
 
 " I suppose it is my duty as a wife to believe this." 
 
 The explosion of laughter from Wall is and Dick, 
 following this wifely submission, ended the meal. 
 
 Later in the evening Wallis and Dick wandered 
 over to " The Larches," and found the family on the 
 lawn overlooking the river. Mr. Hetlow welcomed 
 them warmly, for it was evident he wanted to talk with 
 Dick upon Harold Pierson and his surroundings. 
 
 " I am conscious of great disappointment," said Mr. 
 Hetlow, after Dick had exhausted his stock of know 
 ledge, thought, and suggestion upon the subject. "I 
 did not know, until after your discovery, what strong 
 hopes I had entertained that nothing would come 
 of the search I myself instituted. I suppose there is 
 a point of morals in this. I presume it was wrong of 
 me to entertain such hopes, and wrong of me to feel 
 disappointment. I must have hoped for two things 
 one that young Dugdale was dead, or, that, if alive, 
 he could not be found. It really amounts to covet 
 ing for Bessie, my neighbor s goods." 
 
 44 Did you covet the estate for Miss Hetlow, before
 
 156 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 you knew she would be the heiress if young Dugdale 
 were not found ? " asked Merrimount. 
 
 " No ; I never thought of it," replied Mr. Hetlow. 
 " I thought Samuel Dugdale had made a will." 
 
 " I imagine your disappointment," continued the 
 young nobleman, " is due more to defeated anticipa 
 tions, than to a defeated desire to secure the property, 
 especially if it was to be possessed by keeping the real 
 heir in ignorance of his rights. I have not expressed 
 myself well. The distinction I try to draw is subtle. 
 I appreciate it, without being able to formulate it." 
 
 " The disappointment is natural," put in Dick. 
 " Nor is it to be condemned upon moral grounds. It is 
 not because the property is lost to Miss Hetlow by its 
 going into rightful hands, but that the conditions 
 have destroyed an anticipation. This brings you 
 back to the conditions. And these conditions are 
 that the natural heir is alive and known, instead of 
 being dead or lost to view. Your anticipations were 
 born at a time when there was every possible indica 
 tion that that heir had disappeared either by death or 
 lost identity. You were not responsible for that con 
 dition by any act, not would you have been, had the 
 search determined such to be the facts. You are re 
 sponsible for the present conditions, because you have 
 brought them about by your own honorable act. You, 
 yourself, destroyed your anticipations. To feel disap 
 pointed over the conditions for which you were not re 
 sponsible, but which were apparently true, is not to 
 have hoped from the beginning that they were true. 
 I rather think you accepted them as true, and took 
 precautions to determine they were, before you might 
 do possible wrong. 
 
 " That is what I mean," replied Merrimount, "there 
 is a nice distinction there. Had Mr. Hetlow seized 
 the property for Miss Hetlow, without effort to dis 
 cover whether or not she was the rightful heir, but 
 had, upon the appearance of the grandson, made an
 
 DICK S PROGRESS. 157 
 
 effort to resist his claim despite the proof, he might 
 have been blamed. But to feel a disappointment over 
 a defeated anticipation and charge it as immoral, or 
 ignoble, is rather finely drawn. 1 don t think myself 
 the millennium is here." 
 
 " No," said Dick laughing, " and so long as it isn t 
 here, the proper man of the time cries out oh hang the 
 luck, proceeds to no wrong-doing, but submits to the 
 inevitable." 
 
 " But Mr. Hetlow has been more than passively 
 right," urged Merrimount. " He has put forth all 
 power to find the young man, and finding him, pro 
 poses to call him up and say " There s the property, 
 prove your claim." 
 
 " But, Bessie," laughed Mr. Hetlow, highly pleased 
 over the discussion between the two young men, 
 " while these young moral philosophers are determi 
 ning exactly my moral status, you are dispossessed of 
 your property and career." 
 
 " Dispossessed of something she had never had or 
 desired, "replied Bessie, soberly lifting her shy eyes to 
 Dick. 
 
 " Well, daughter," said Mr. Hetlow, rising from his 
 seat, " if Harold Pierson is young Dugdale, he is my 
 grand-nephew and your second cousin, and must be 
 received accordingly. In the meantime I submit that 
 it is not conducive to health to sit here longer." 
 
 " Oh, don t let us be shut up so soon," cried Wallis. 
 " Let us go for a stroll," and then, with that audacity 
 which always took away Mr. Hetlow s breath and af 
 forded Merrimount much quiet amusement, she said to 
 the young nobleman, " Rise up, Mr. Lazybones, and give 
 me your arm, and we ll wander off under the moon, 
 like those rustic swains, with which your writing peo 
 ple are always peopling your quiet English lanes. " 
 
 The young Englishman quickly rose and, with as 
 courtly a bow as he might have given his queen, prof- 
 iered his arm and said :
 
 I$8 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 " I obey your commands, Miss Gladwin. I am al 
 ways willing to be your swain, but for how long shall 
 it be?" 
 
 " Poh ! " exclaimed the downright Wallis. " Com 
 pliments ! They are always insincere. I don t want 
 them. But I do want answers to some of ray questions. 
 You told uncle this morning, for I heard you, that I 
 was an amusing baggage ; and ever since I have been 
 dying to know whether I was a trunk or a valise. 
 Which is it ? " 
 
 Bessie and Dick, who were greatly embarrassed 
 when they realized how cleverly Wallis had maneuv 
 ered to throw them together, were relieved by their 
 laughter and Merrimount s astonishment at her ques 
 tion. 
 
 " A trunk or a valise ? " he asked. " Upon my soul 
 I don t know. If I were to regard you as a trunk it 
 would be because of the undiscovered possibilities that 
 might lurk within its recesses when searched ; if a 
 valise, because it usually contains so many things 
 indispensable to the comfort of the wayfarer." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " cried Wallis. " Come along, Bessie 
 and Mr. Mason. I ve fished for and obtained a 
 thoroughly unique compliment." 
 
 "But," inquired Merrimount innocently, "what has 
 a trunk or a valise to do with my calling you a bag 
 gage ? " 
 
 " Aren t trunks and valises baggage ? " 
 
 " We call them luggage at home." 
 
 " To be sure," laughed Wallis. " So I threw in my 
 hook and brought up a compliment rather than a joke." 
 She hurried Merrimount away so that Dick and 
 Bessie could follow leisurely. This they did, not 
 without a good deal of constraint and awkwardness. 
 They walked side by side for some distance in silence. 
 It was Dick who spoke first. 
 
 " When I parted from you the last time we talked 
 together alone, I said I would ask you again for an
 
 DICK S PROGRESS. 1 59 
 
 explanation of the offense I had given you, I do 
 now ask you." 
 
 " I think you then wanted an explanation of what 
 you were pleased to term my singular conduct," re 
 turned Bessie. 
 
 " For Heaven s sake ! " exclaimed Dick earnestly, 
 " do not let us again drift into misapprehension. I 
 have given you offense evidently. I am not conscious 
 of how or where. I ask you to tell wherein my of 
 fense lies that I may make reparation." 
 
 Bessie did not reply. Indeed she did not know 
 what reply to make. The situation was embarrassing. 
 That of which he had been guilty in her eyes was the 
 undertaking of the search for young Dugdale. And 
 that only because it argued an indifference to her. 
 If she were to give this as the offense, it would be 
 showing him that the sentiment with which he regarded 
 her was of great moment to her, and she was not yet 
 ready to confess that. 
 
 Dick waited patiently for her to reply, but as she 
 did not, he spoke : 
 
 "You are silent. Am I to understand you decline, 
 and I must remain in ignorance." 
 
 Fairly driven by desperation, Bessie harked back to 
 the old cry. 
 
 " Did you not say I was sordid and avaricious ? Is 
 that not enough to give offense ? " 
 
 " No, I did not," said Dick flatly. " That was a 
 construction I never intended, but put upon my words 
 by you. I have told you I never thought so, and do 
 not now. But since you insist upon the construction, 
 I here, now, make the most humble apology." 
 
 " I do not want you to apologize for what you think 
 you never did," said Bessie softly. 
 
 Dick pressed his advantage. 
 
 " Then you accept unreservedly my statement that 
 I did not mean such things ?" 
 
 " Yes, if you wish it ? "
 
 l6o THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 " But it is not to be as I wish it. It must be, if at 
 all, as you believe." 
 
 " I do so believe it." 
 
 " il am grateful," said Dick, so simply and so 
 sincerely as to touch a responsive chord in Bessie. 
 " But since you had apparently taken offense before 
 those words were uttered, I am justified in believing 
 that only a part of the offense was then given." 
 
 He was torturing her with his persistency. He was 
 so determined she could see no way of escape. If his 
 attitude was persistent and determined, he was yet re 
 spectful and tender. He compelled her admiration by 
 his strong self-control. 
 
 " Why will you be so persistent ? " she cried out. 
 " Why will you not see that I don t want to be driven 
 to confess my own weakness and silliness ? " 
 
 " Nothing you can say or do can be weak or silly in 
 my eyes," he urged. 
 
 " Well then, if you will," replied Bessie, abandoning 
 further struggle, " I was offended because you were 
 willing to undertake that search for young Dugdale." 
 
 " But you did not want the property ? " he said. " I 
 never believed you wanted it, if it were not yours to 
 take. You have shown since the search terminated 
 that you were glad it was not to fall to you." 
 
 " Neither did I. But but you had you had pre 
 tended to be friendly to me, and it looked as if you 
 didn t care whether good or ill came to me." 
 
 Wallis was right after all ! Her interpretation was 
 the true one. Dick trembled with joy. In these few 
 words was the confession he so much wanted to hear. 
 
 " Whether good or ill came to you ?" he repeated, 
 his voice tremulous with suppressed passion. " Oh ! 
 in my deep love for you, was the incentive for the un 
 dertaking. I will confess a wrong. Not the one you 
 thought. I feared this inheritance would carry you 
 beyond my reach, and I did not want it to fall to you. 
 I love you so deeply that I could seek to prevent those
 
 DICK S PROGRESS. 161 
 
 riches from coming to you. But say that you forgive 
 me. Say it now when you know that it was not because 
 of indifference to you." 
 
 Merrimount and Wallis were some distance in front 
 of them. Their outlines could be faintly seen against 
 the shrubbery, which darkened the way and threw 
 them into the shadow. Bessie made no reply, but Dick 
 thought, from the tremulous pressure of her hand upon 
 his arm, that she was not displeased. He took her 
 hand in his own. She did not repulse him. 
 
 At this moment Wallis uttered a shriek of alarm. 
 Dick saw the forms of two men struggling in the dark. 
 He ran forward, Bessie following closely. As he came 
 up, the man struggling with the young Englishman, 
 fell backward a step or two, uttering an oath, and 
 dashed into the shrubbery. A moment later the form 
 of another man was seen issuing from the shrubbery 
 on the other side. He cleared the open space at a 
 bound and followed the other. 
 
 As he did so Merrimount gave expression to an ex 
 clamation of surprise. 
 
 " What is it ? " asked Dick. 
 
 " I don t understand," said Merrimount. " I stum 
 bled over a fellow lying upon the ground, and he 
 jumped up and made at me. But the other one if 
 it were not impossible, I could have sworn he was a 
 fellow I once knew intimately, but who went wrong." 
 
 " And I could almost swear that the one who at 
 tacked you was the one who put me on the track of 
 young Dugdale," said Dick. 
 
 " Well," said Wallis, "it has been an adventure, but 
 rather an alarming one." 
 
 " Too much so," added Bessie. " Let us go back." 
 
 They returned to the house. The reconciliation be 
 tween Dick and Bessie was complete. But for the in 
 terruption it would have gone on to something more. 
 Perhaps both were disappointed, but Dick was happy 
 and so was Bessie.
 
 162 THE DUG DALE MILLIONS. 
 
 Wallis was not long in discovering the situation. 
 
 She whispered to Merrimount : 
 
 " I am a great diplomat." 
 
 Merrimount looked down upon her admiringly and 
 replied : 
 
 " I have no doubt you are everything you say you 
 are, but I don t understand." 
 
 " And I don t mean you shall," saucily said Wallis.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A BOX AND ITS CONTENTS. 
 
 LORD MERRIMOUNT left " The Larches" the fol 
 lowing morning on his trip to Canada, by the way of 
 Niagara. He had vainly endeavored to persuade 
 Dick, for whom it was quite apparent he had formed 
 a liking, to accompany him. But Dick had repre 
 sented that just at that juncture of affairs Mr. Het- 
 low would have need of his services, and so the 
 young Englishman went away alone. 
 
 He was greatly missed from the Hetlow household. 
 Simple in his manners, unostentatious in his bear 
 ing, presuming not at all upon his rank, indeed en 
 deavoring to put aside his title as much as possible, 
 and entering with spirit into the life about him, he 
 had made himself a favorite with all. It was not un 
 til after he was gone, that it was realized how easily 
 he had slipped into their home life. It is true Bessie 
 had never forgotten that there existed in him a possi 
 ble suitor for her hand. In any event, under all the 
 circumstances, she would have maintained a some 
 what distant relation to him, for she had firmly re 
 solved that if he should ever come to her as a suitor, 
 she would deny him. But she was further influenced 
 by what she considered to be unpardonable and cold- 
 hearted calculation, in that he should coolly and calmly 
 wait to know whether or not she was the Dugdale 
 heiress before he ventured on the step. She had 
 therefore never permitted herself to drift into any 
 thing like intimacy with the young nobleman, but had 
 borne herself with a reserve toward him not natural 
 to her. It was true that she had not been able to 
 
 163
 
 164 THE DUG DALE MILLIONS. 
 
 reconcile this cool calculation with his simple manly 
 nature, nor could she refrain from admitting that, in 
 every other way, he was admirable. She had finally 
 settled it by attributing his theory of the marital re 
 lation as one simply of conve nance to the training of 
 the world in which he moved. 
 
 Wallis, however, had formally accepted him as a 
 good fellow and had been one with him. She had 
 therefore gotten on famously with him. Her utter 
 want of deference to his rank, her frankness, startling 
 Bessie often, and her audacity of address, without 
 more respect than she accorded other young gentle 
 men of her acquaintance, amused and interested him, 
 though at first, having been accustomed all his life to 
 the greatest consideration, it made him wonder. 
 
 On the same morning Dick had accompanied Mr. 
 Hetlow and Mr. Stanton to the city, so the girls were 
 left alone to spend the day together. 
 
 They had gone for a stroll in the morning, and by 
 easy degrees reached that nook in the rocks on the 
 river shore where Dick had so unexpectedly declared 
 to Bessie his love for her. 
 
 Bessie was in gay spirits gayer than she had been 
 for many days lighter-hearted and more prone to 
 laughter. 
 
 As they were sitting together watching the river 
 with its ever changing face, Wallis abruptly said : 
 
 " Bessie, you are happier than you have been for 
 many days." 
 
 The other looked up quickly, her face beaming, 
 laughing to conceal her emotions, for she knew only 
 too well to what her happiness was to be attributed. 
 
 "I presume," she said, "that it is the relief I feel 
 from the weighty burden of riches and the awfully 
 narrow escape I have had from becoming Lady 
 Merrimount." 
 
 " Oh, that isn t it," said Wallis, rising from her seat 
 and perching herself upon a large rock, from which
 
 A BOX AND ITS CONTENTS. 165 
 
 she could look down on her companion, reclining in 
 an angle of two other rocks. " No, indeed. I know 
 better than that." 
 
 Bessie blushed and laughed again. 
 
 "Perhaps you will tell me what it is then. For if 
 it is not that I don t know." 
 
 " The fib is not becoming. No, no. It s Mr. Mason 
 Dick." 
 
 "Mr. Mason ! " 
 
 Supreme contempt and heightened color upon the 
 part of Bessie. 
 
 "The blushes are ! " commented the tormentor on 
 the rock. " Yes, Mr Mason. The quarrel, in which 
 you were so perverse and Dick so stupid, has been 
 settled." 
 
 "You can call Mr. Mason anything but stupid," 
 Bessie replied, very quick in defense. " Father says he 
 is one of the very brightest men he ever knew." 
 
 " Oh ! Does the father also say that he would like 
 that same one of the brightest men for a son-in-law ?" 
 
 " You are absurd." 
 
 "Of course Mr. Mason desires to personate that 
 character ?" 
 
 " How should I know? He has never informed me 
 as to his desires." 
 
 " Oh ! You do have a perverse streak, Bessie. Do 
 you mean to stand there and deliberately tell me that 
 Mr. Mason has not told you what all the rest of us 
 know that he loves you ?" 
 
 " Wallis, I am not standing, so I could not deliber 
 ately tell you anything that way. But I will not equivo 
 cate. Mr. Mason did on one occasion intimate some 
 thing of the kind, but " and she hesitated long enough 
 to recall, with a happy smile playing about her lips, the 
 picture of Dick standing in that very place, with 
 earnest face and in tones almost fierce, telling her of 
 his unconquerable love for herself, and then went on 
 ** but he has never asked me to be his wife."
 
 166 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 "You re trifling with me," said Wallis severely. 
 " Well, I know Dick Mason has told you that he loves 
 you deeply and desperately, and when a man does that 
 the other follows as a matter of course. If this 
 Harold Pierson turns out to be young Dugdale, 1 sup- 
 pose things will go more smoothly. Your father 
 would never have consented if all that money had 
 been coming to you." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " Because he would have had higher ambitions for 
 you." 
 
 " If all that money were mine, I would have been 
 in a position to have chosen my own husband with 
 out anybody s consent. So you know it would have 
 been better the other way." 
 
 Bessie did not appreciate that in this remark she 
 had in fact admitted all Wallis had been endeavor 
 ing to elicit. 
 
 " But the difficulty would have been that Mr. Mason 
 would not have been a suitor then," argued Wallis. 
 
 " Do you think so?" asked Bessie, much troubled. 
 
 " He would have thought you had gone beyond his 
 reach." 
 
 "Well then, perhaps it is better as it is," said Bessie 
 softly. The two were silent for some moments, when 
 Bessie said : 
 
 " Lord Merrimount will not be away long." 
 
 " I m glad. He s very nice." 
 
 " That is what he says of you." 
 
 " Present my thanks to Lord Merrimount and tell 
 him I prefer his other opinion of me that I am an 
 amusing baggage." 
 
 " Do you resent that ? " 
 
 " Not at all. I am overpowered with the knowledge 
 that so high and mighty a personage could have any 
 opinion at all of me." 
 
 " Wallis, everybody jumped to the conclusion that 
 Lord Merrimount wanted to marry me."
 
 A BOX AND ITS CONTENTS. l6? 
 
 " Yes ; if you were the Dugdale heiress." 
 
 " I don t believe it." 
 
 " Mr. Mason overheard him make the proposition 
 for your hand and came to me downright sick over it." 
 
 Blushes were on Bessie s cheeks again. 
 
 " Well, I don t care if he did," said Bessie. " I ve 
 an idea of my own." 
 
 " Really ! And it is ? " 
 
 " That Lord Merrimount is fond of you." 
 
 Wallis sat upright regarding Bessie with severity. 
 
 "Bessie !" 
 
 "I do indeed. When you are near, he rarely has 
 eyes for anyone else. And I have noticed that when 
 you are talking, he can t hear what anyone else is 
 saying. I am quite sure that before long I shall be 
 addressing you as my Lady Merrimount." 
 
 " That will b^ nice," replied Wallis, preparing to 
 climb down from the rock. " In the meantime, as the 
 most palpable effect of the reconciliation between 
 yourself and Dick Mason has been to leave you bereft 
 of the little sense you once had, let us go back out of 
 the sun. I think your head is slightly affected." 
 
 " But I am in earnest," persisted Bessie, rising and 
 picking up her s un umbrella. 
 
 "So am I," acquiesced Wallis. "But I am not 
 prevented from seeing that you have taken a very 
 ingenious method to put an end to conversation 
 about Mr. Mason." 
 
 "But wouldn t it be jolly if you were to marry 
 Lord Merrimount and I " 
 
 " Were to marry Dick Mason," said Wallis, com 
 pleting the sentence for the other. " Bah ! He s 
 poor." 
 
 " But think of the rank he d give you." 
 
 " Rank ! Can you tell me of anything worse than 
 genteel poverty ?" 
 
 "Yes poverty that is not genteel." 
 
 " Nonsense. You can marry poverty, because
 
 1 68 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 you re rich. I must marry riches because I m 
 poor." 
 
 " You re a mercenary little wretch." 
 
 They walked away together. Notwithstanding 
 Wallis had successfully shown her contempt over 
 Bessie s proposition, she was not a little flurried over 
 the suggestion. 
 
 " Pshaw ! " she said aloud to herself, after she had 
 parted with her friend, where their paths separated. 
 "Pshaw! why couldn t Bessie keep her thoughts to 
 herself. All the fun will be over with Lord Merri- 
 mount and, in spite of the nonsense of the idea, I ll 
 be playing Miss Propriety to him, when he comes back." 
 
 Dick returned in the evening with Mr. Stanton, 
 and was handed a letter which had been received 
 during his absence, and bearing the Philadelphia 
 postmark. 
 
 It was from Mrs. Jenkins. Evidently correspond 
 ence was not one of her accomplishments. From her 
 eccentric penmanship and obscure sentences, how 
 ever, he extracted the fact that the tin box, of which 
 she had spoken when he had seen her, had been 
 found. Moreover, when examined, it had yielded 
 some letters and papers bearing upon the adoption of 
 the Dugdale child. Of what importance these letters 
 and papers might be, however, she was unable to tell. 
 There was one letter, she said, which her husband 
 thought might be from the man who had adopted the 
 child. The name however Dick could not decipher, 
 for it had been written over and blurred, so as to be 
 come utterly indistinguishable. The letter closed 
 with the statement that Mrs. Jenkins and her hus 
 band were called the following week to New York, 
 and if Mr. Mason thought the box and its contents 
 of sufficient importance, they would bring it with 
 them and deliver it to him. 
 
 Since the discovery of the supposed Dugdale heir, 
 and Dick s visit to Orton Pierson, interest in what
 
 A BOX AND ITS CONTENTS. 169 
 
 Mrs. Jenkins might discover had been lessened. 
 This letter to some extent revived the interest, but 
 Dick did not think that the box would do more than help 
 to confirm Harold Pierson s claim to the estate. He 
 remembered that when he talked with Orton Pierson, 
 the old man had said that there were some papers 
 found among the effects of Edmund Dugdale, which 
 James Powers had insisted upon retaining, although 
 Orton Pierson had argued with him that they were 
 the property of the child and should go with it. He 
 now thought the papers spoken of by Mrs. Jenkins 
 were those alluded to by Orton Pierson, and he as 
 sumed that the letter referred to was one possibly 
 written by either Mr. or Mrs. Pierson. 
 
 He showed the letter to Mr. Stanton, who did not 
 regard it so indifferently as Dick had done. 
 
 " This may be very important," he said; "impor 
 tant in more ways than one, even if it does what 
 you think it does confirm the title of Harold Pier- 
 son to the estate." 
 
 " We might assume the position," said Dick laugh 
 ing, " that the burden of finding proof of his identity 
 should rest upon him and not upon us." 
 
 " Nevertheless," replied Mr. Stanton, " even if 
 neighbor Hetlow is not to have this property, there 
 will be a decided satisfaction in being assured that 
 it has gone into the hands of the proper person that 
 the proof was unmistakable. You will do well to 
 ask her to deliver the box to you." 
 
 Thereupon Dick sat down and wrote Mrs. Jenkins, 
 asking that she bring the box with her and deliver it 
 to him in person, and promising to reward her for her 
 trouble.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE DUGDALE HEIR. 
 
 THE intervening days were not marked by incidents 
 of moment. Though Dick had remained at Spring- 
 hill, no opportunity to renew his conversation with 
 Bessie had presented itself. They had met more 
 than once, but never alone or under such circum 
 stances as permitted him to press forward to the end 
 he so much desired to reach. The relations existing 
 prior to the rupture had been resumed, perhaps with 
 a little restraint upon Dick s part and shyness upon 
 that of Bessie. But he was in a far better frame of 
 mind. If he was eager for a definite understanding, 
 and chafed under the delay and suspense, he was yet 
 hopeful as to a result which would be all that he could 
 desire. So that he was comparatively happy. 
 
 It had been arranged that the Springhill people 
 were to dine with Mr. Hetlow on Friday, when Bob, 
 or Harold Pierson, as he must be known when at 
 "The Larches," would be present. After the dinner 
 it was proposed that Mr. Hetlow, in the presence of 
 Mr. Stanton and Dick, should communicate to Harold 
 Pierson the fact that he was supposed to be the Dug- 
 dale heir. 
 
 Friday afternoon arrived and with it Harold Pier- 
 son. His arrival at " The Larches " was soon made 
 known at Springhill, and Wallis entertained the 
 Stanton family with whimsical speculations as to what 
 he would be like. 
 
 Mrs. Stanton had steadfastly believed and insisted 
 that the story of the discovery of the heir, and of his 
 coming to visit Mr. Hetlow, was a mere device to mis-
 
 THE DUGDALE HEIR. tjl 
 
 lead her as to the movements of the three gentlemen, 
 engaged in an intrigue to shield her husband. When, 
 however, the hour drew near and no excuses for the 
 non-appearance of Harold Pierson were made, but on 
 the contrary the announcement that he had arrived, 
 she was much perplexed. Finally, she found a way 
 out of her perplexity by the ingenious imagining that 
 a young man had been employed to personate the 
 Dugdale heir for the time. This reasonable conclu 
 sion she communicated to Wallis, who, in her vex 
 ation, said : 
 
 " If you are driven to imagine things, auntie, I 
 should think it would be far more reasonable to sup 
 pose that Harold Pierson was really the Dugdale heir, 
 but in consideration of the great benefit Mr. Hetlow 
 is about to confer upon him, they will insist that he 
 must help them by personating the baby you are so 
 much troubled about. Such theory, at all events, 
 would have the advantage of plausability." 
 
 " That is the most sensible thing I have ever known 
 you to say," cried the delighted lady. " Undoubtedly 
 that is the very thing they have done. I have not 
 given you credit for such sense and shrewdness. Yes, 
 that is it. I am really obliged to you for thinking of 
 it." 
 
 " But I don t think it," protested Wallis. " I merely 
 suggest it as the least foolish of all the imaginings 
 you may engage upon." 
 
 But it was now a settled conviction with the good 
 lady, and she went away to prepare for the dinner 
 quite light-hearted over so great a discovery, as she 
 called it. 
 
 When the people from Springhill were ushered into 
 the drawing-room, the young man, to discover whom 
 Dick had spent so many anxious hours, was found 
 seated with Mr. Hetlow. Bessie had not yet come 
 from her room. 
 
 The young man was presented under his name of
 
 I?2 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 Harold Pierson. What they saw was a young man of 
 athletic figure and strong face, which might have 
 been pronounced handsome, were it not for a certain 
 hardness of outline which suggested faintly a latent 
 spirit of cruelty. He was unquestionably easy in 
 his surroundings, well mannered, well bred, and quite 
 evidently accustomed to the forms of polite society. 
 
 As Dick was presented as Mr. Mason, he looked 
 upon him with polite interest, asking : 
 
 " Am I mistaken in supposing you are the Mr. Mason 
 who called upon my father, a few days ago ? " 
 
 Assured that he was not, he added : 
 
 " Your call was the cause of much speculation upon 
 the part of Mr. Pierson." 
 
 Turning easily to Mr. Stanton he inquired if he 
 was one of the favored ones permitted to reside in the 
 locality, the beauty of which had been revealed to him 
 that day through the courtesy of Mr. Hetlow. 
 
 The whole manner of the man indicated one accus 
 tomed to the ways of the refined world. This sur 
 prised Dick, for he could not reconcile this easy and 
 graceful man of the world with the home he had been 
 reared in. Bessie now swept into the room and the 
 presentation followed, closely watched by Dick, who 
 again saw the man of the world, versed in its phrases, 
 showing society s deference to the sex. 
 
 Dinner was announced and an incident occurred, 
 small in itself, but which impressed and still further 
 perplexed Dick. As Mr. Hetlow rose, the young 
 guest, without a moment s hesitation, but with prompt 
 recognition of his own standing in the house, offered his 
 arm to Bessie, proceeding with her to the dining-room. 
 
 Dick muttered to himself, as he followed into the 
 dining-room, these were not the manners of i28th 
 Street or of Orton Pierson s home. 
 
 If the young guest did not particularly shine in the 
 light bright talk of the dinner table, he certainly bore 
 himself without reproach. And here Dick had full
 
 THE DUGDALE HEIR. I7J 
 
 opportunity to study the face of the supposed heir, 
 He was not favorably impressed with the man when 
 under bright lights. Traces of dissipation were notice 
 able, but what affected Dick the most was the total 
 absence of frankness or candor of look. But at all 
 times, even when talking directly to a person, young 
 Pierson evaded an open and direct look into that 
 person s face. When anyone, theretofore silent, 
 spoke, he turned a quick, though guarded and stealthy 
 look upon him. The entrances of a servant al 
 ways caused a slight start of surprise, quickly re 
 pressed. In nothing else, after the closest inspection, 
 could Dick find cause for criticism at the elegant table 
 of Mr. Hetlow. But he was not satisfied. 
 
 When dinner was over and the ladies had left the 
 table, and a few glasses of wine were taken, Mr. Het 
 low rose, saying that the coffee would be served in the 
 library. Thither went the gentlemen. 
 
 When the doors were closed, Mr. Hetlow proceeded 
 to the event of the night. 
 
 " Mr. Pierson," he began, "doubtless you were not 
 a little surprised that I should request you, with whom 
 I had no acquaintance, and in fact no knowledge of 
 until a day or two ago, to visit me." 
 
 " I confess to some surprise," said his guest smil 
 ing, "yet I connected it with the call of Mr. Mason 
 upon my father, that is to say, upon Mr. Pierson." 
 
 "You were quite right," continued Mr. Hetlow. 
 " The request was a consequence of Mr. Mason s call 
 upon Mr. Pierson. Under the supposition you were 
 the person for whom I have been searching many days, 
 I asked you to come to us that I might make a com 
 munication to you, which, if you are in fact the per 
 son and can establish your identity, it is your right 
 to receive." 
 
 Mr. Hetlow paused to observe the effect of his re 
 marks upon his guest and found him listening with in 
 terest and respect. Proceeding with the story of the
 
 174 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 death of Samuel Dugdale, and of the estate seeking 
 an heir, Mr. Hetlow told of the search set on foot by 
 himself and conducted by Dick. 
 
 " Now," he said, " while it is a fact that this search 
 seems to have resulted in an end which I am free to 
 confess I did not anticipate, still the indications are, 
 strongly, that you are the missing heir to the 
 Dugdale estate, for if Mr. Mason correctly understood 
 Mr. Orton Pierson he received you in adoption from 
 one James Powers, who declared you were a child of 
 Edmund Dugdale who had died in his house." 
 
 " Heir to the Dugdale estate ! " repeated the young 
 man, with an excellent assumption of bewilderment, 
 and turning to Dick, said : 
 
 " I thought father said you told him a legacy only 
 had fallen to me ? " 
 
 " That was an assumption of your father," returned 
 Dick smiling. " At that time I did not think it my 
 duty to undeceive him." 
 
 " No," said Mr. Hetlow, " if you are in fact the son 
 of Edmund Dugdale, you are the heir to all of Sam 
 uel Dugdale s estate, for he died intestate." 
 
 The young man did not reply for some time, remain 
 ing silent, as if he was too much astonished and be 
 wildered to speak. Dick, watching closely, could see 
 no elation in him ; indeed, his face and manner had 
 taken on a very sober air. Reaching forward, the 
 young man took a cigar from the table, lit it, smoked 
 it for a moment or two, as if unconscious of the act. 
 Then, with an air of slight embarrassment, which be 
 came him well, he said : 
 
 "If I have understood you aright, the discovery of 
 myself and the establishment of my identity deprive 
 Miss Hetlow of this fortune." 
 
 " Yes," replied Mr. Hetlow gravely ; " if it can 
 be termed depriving her of that which was never 
 hers, so long as the son of Edmund Dugdale ex 
 isted."
 
 THE DUGDALR HEIR. 175 
 
 " Is it considerable ? " he asked, modestly and rather 
 timidly. 
 
 "It is vast," answered Mr. Hetlow solemnly, as be 
 fitted so important a statement. " One of the great 
 fortunes of the world." 
 
 The young man seemed overwhelmed by amazement. 
 He did not reply but smoked for some moments, puff 
 ing vigorously as if it were an escape for suppressed 
 excitement. Perhaps there was real excitement, and 
 not all of it acting. 
 
 " Surely," he said at length, " you will pardon me, 
 if I seem to fail in a proper appreciation of your ex 
 traordinary statement. I am somewhat bewildered 
 and do not seem to think clearly." 
 
 All this seemed so proper to Mr. Hetlow that 
 he was strongly impressed in favor of the young 
 man. 
 
 " To be thus suddenly raised from a condition of 
 very limited means to the contemplation of the pros 
 pect of such wealth is confusing," he said, as if ia 
 apology. 
 
 Dick thought this was rather glib for a man pro 
 fessing to be so much amazed. 
 
 " Well," he went on, " really I do not know what to 
 say. I never knew until some six years ago that I 
 was the adopted son of Orton Pierson. At the time 
 of the telling of it to me, and growing out of it, differ 
 ences arose between my father and myself which sent 
 me abroad. I never knew until after Mr. Mason s 
 call that my name was Dugdale. And at this moment 
 I know very little more. Mr. Pierson is a singular man 
 in many respects, and I have learned more of my an 
 tecedents from you, Mr. Hetlow, than I ever knew 
 before, supposing always I am the person you sup 
 pose me to be." 
 
 This was so modest in statement that all his witnesses 
 were impressed by it. 
 
 " I am bound to admit," said Mr. Hetlow, " that the
 
 176 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 indications are that you are the one we have been 
 seeking." 
 
 " But/ broke in Mr. Stanton for the first time, 
 " you have a great deal to do before you can take 
 possession. Upon you must rest the burden of prov 
 ing your identity. 
 
 " I was coming to that," said Mr. Hetlow. " I as 
 sume I have done my whole duty in seeking out the 
 son of Edmund Dugdale. And while I shall not put my 
 self in an antagonistic attitude to you, it can hardly be 
 expected of me that I should labor to the establish 
 ment of your identity, or that I should yield up my 
 claim, on behalf of my daughter, before your right is 
 fully and legally established. Informing you of 
 the prospects before you, my duty ends." 
 
 " Of course, of course," said the supposed Dugdale, 
 so hurriedly and absently as to take on the ap 
 pearance of impatience. " I agree with you. You 
 are right very right. 
 
 After a silence of a moment or two, he spoke again 
 and with an air and tone almost courtly : 
 
 " My astonishment over this information sir, is fully 
 equaled by my admiration for your high-minded con 
 duct for your keen sense of honor. If I fail to show 
 you my gratitude now, it is because I am hardly capa 
 ble of thinking clearly to-night, but I am quite certain, 
 whatever may be the final result, in time I can show it 
 and show it to be sincere." 
 
 This speech also made a good impression. Bob 
 was doing famously. Ransom would not have known 
 him as the companion in his crimes and dissipations. 
 
 " I do not know how I shall go about the obtaining 
 of this proof," he went on, after a little while ; " I 
 must talk with Mr. Pierson. I don t even know what 
 he knows or how much he knows. I presume the 
 proper course would be to retain a lawyer and be 
 guided by him." 
 
 " That certainly would be your wisest course," in-
 
 THE DUG DALE HEIR. 1 77 
 
 terjected Mr. Stanton. "Retain a lawyer a reputable 
 lawyer." 
 
 Bob turned a brief, darting, suspicious glance on Mr. 
 Stanton a glance caught by Dick but he said in an 
 innocent air : 
 
 " You are a lawyer. Perhaps I can arrange with 
 you." 
 
 " I am retained by the other side," replied the old 
 lawyer curtly. 
 
 " I do not know that there is anything more to be 
 said upon the subject," said Mr. Hetlow. "We have 
 communicated the information to the family solicitor 
 in London, and have asked him to come here, or send 
 someone qualified to act, to conduct the investi 
 gation into your proof." 
 
 "I shall act upon it at once," said Bob. "Father 
 said something about some papers and articles which 
 would tend to the proof. I will return in the morn 
 ing and secure them. And with your permission I 
 will submit them early in the week." 
 
 " Do so," said Mr. Hetlow. " Run up here on 
 Wednesday for the night." 
 
 When the Springhill contingent were walking back 
 that night, Dick said to the lawyer : 
 
 " This young man perplexes me. He seems to 
 have mixed much with refined and polite society. 
 He is well acquainted with all its forms, even those 
 minute matters which argue being to the manner 
 born. Where did he acquire them ? Not in the 
 Pierson family, that I am willing to wager. Yet, not 
 withstanding his grace and polish and he seems to 
 carry with him the atmosphere of the great world 
 quite as much as Merrimount does his face makes me 
 distrustful. I am conscious of a feeling of suspicion." 
 
 " Oh, ho ! " exclaimed Mr. Stanton, "you noticed 
 those things, did you ? Well, I am with you in that. 
 The final impression upon me was that of distrust 
 and suspicion. Yet he bore himself well in the li-
 
 *7 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 brary. I cannot pick a flaw. The sensation is an 
 elusive one. I cannot fix it. There must be a rigid 
 examination." 
 
 " Yes ; an examination which leaves no stone un 
 turned," replied Dick.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 REBELLIOUS INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 SHORTLY after Harold Pierson had taken his de 
 parture from " The Larches," on the morning follow 
 ing the revelation to him, Mr. Hetlow and Bessie 
 went over to Springhill. 
 
 Wallis and Dick were languidly playing a game of 
 tennis, Mrs. Stanton watching them idly from the 
 veranda ; Mr. Stanton had gone into the village. 
 
 Mr. Hetlow quite evidently wanted to discuss the 
 claimant. Hence his visit so early in the morning. 
 Wallis and Dick came from the tennis-court, racket in 
 hand, and seated themselves upon the steps. 
 
 " What do you think of the young Dugdale, Mrs. 
 Stanton ? " asked Mr. Hetlow, opening the subject 
 nearest to his heart. 
 
 " Since you must lose the fortune, I think you should 
 be satisfied that it is to go into such excellent hands," 
 replied that lady. "I like him very much." 
 
 "Is that your opinion too, Wallis?" asked the mer 
 chant, turning to the young girl. 
 
 " No, it is not," decidedly replied that person. " I 
 am not able to express my opinion in words. I can 
 not say just what I feel. I distrust him, yet cannot 
 give a reason why." 
 
 " Do you mean you do not believe he is what he 
 represents himself to be?" anxiously inquired Mr. 
 Hetlow. 
 
 " Oh, dear, no ! Wallis hastened to exclaim. " I 
 suppose the facts are too strong for that. But it is 
 not that. Something whispers to me, when I think 
 of him, Beware ! Beware ! 
 
 179
 
 l8o THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 11 There," cried Bessie. " That just expresses my 
 feeling. He is polite, well-bred in his manners, ap 
 parently modest, but something whispers to me too, 
 Beware ! 
 
 " And you, Mason ? " 
 
 " I also distrust him, and also without good reason. 
 Indeed, I fear my reasons would be regarded as fan 
 ciful. I distrust him, because he appears to me to 
 distrust himself and all the world ; because, not that 
 he is polite, courteous, and refined, but because his 
 manners are those of a man accustomed to the most 
 polite and ceremonious world, from his childhood up 
 ward of a man accustomed to no other world, until 
 his manners had become fixed. Perhaps I do not 
 make myself clear. I am trying to make that distinc 
 tion which exists in the manners of a man who has 
 formed them after having known another kind of life, 
 and a man who knew no other life, until his manners 
 had become fixed into a habit. It is more easily 
 appreciated by me than stated." 
 
 " I understand you," said Mr. Hetlow. "The dis 
 tinction is somewhat subtle, but it does exist." 
 
 " Well then, if we are to accept his statement of his 
 upcoming, how are we to account for his minute and 
 spontaneous familiarity with the forms obtaining in 
 the ceremonious world ? The last place we would 
 expect a man so equipped to spring from, would be 
 the humble household of Mr. Orton Pierson." 
 
 " I fear your point would not be accepted by the 
 vast majority of people," replied Mr. Hetlow, with a 
 laugh. 
 
 " I don t expect it to be accepted, sir," replied 
 Dick soberly. " I do not think I should attempt to 
 urge it in another place. I did express it to Mr. 
 Stanton last evening, however, and found it received 
 by him." 
 
 " Does Mr. Stanton distrust him too ? " inquired 
 Mr. Hetlow.
 
 REBELLIOUS INDEPENDENCE. 181 
 
 "Yes. He says that on his part it is instinct 
 rather than reason. I watched Pierson closely last 
 night, for I have regarded him as a suspect from the 
 beginning, and I thought I discovered in him the 
 want of certain moral qualities, without which he 
 would be an undesirable friend." 
 
 " It is all prejudice," sharply interjected Mrs. 
 Stanton ; "prejudice without reason." 
 
 " That is what I fear," put in Dick earnestly. 
 " Indeed I think all of us with the exception of Mrs. 
 Stanton are inclined to regard Pierson as an inter 
 loper, forgetting that he is in the position he is, 
 through our own acts." 
 
 " Perhaps ! " remarked Mr. Hetlow, relapsing into 
 thought. 
 
 After a few moments, during which all had been 
 busy with their own thoughts, Dick said : 
 
 " You have not given us your opinion, sir." 
 
 " It is difficult for me to do so," rejoined Mr. Het 
 low, arousing himself. " I was favorably impressed 
 with him last evening very favorably impressed. I 
 thought he received the information, which was of so 
 much moment, most excellently. Yet I feel the same 
 mistrust you all say you feel. In trying to analyze 
 my sensations, I have reached the conclusion, however, 
 that it is distrust of the man himself, and not of the 
 claimant. I wish Stanton were here. He is so clear 
 headed." 
 
 The conversation dragged, and the players joined 
 by Bessie went back to their tennis. Mr. Hetlow 
 talked in a desultory way with Mrs. Stanton. Pres 
 ently the old merchant said, apropos of nothing : 
 
 " Mason is a fine fellow." 
 
 " Do you think so ? " asked Mrs. Stanton in return, 
 coldly. 
 
 " I do indeed," replied Mr. Hetlow. " I have 
 watched him grow up. He was a fine lad and has 
 fulfilled the promise of his boyhood. He has an ex-
 
 1 82 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 cellent future before him, for his morals are good and 
 his capacity for business far more than the ordinary." 
 
 Mrs. Stanton did not reply. 
 
 " He seems to be attentive to Wallis," continued 
 the merchant after a pause. " He would make her a 
 good husband. I think, were they to marry, it would 
 be a good arrangement." 
 
 Mrs. Stanton laid her work down and looked with 
 open astonishment at her visitor. 
 
 " Has it never occurred to you ? " asked Mr. Hetlow, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Occurred to me ! " repeated the lady. " Why, 
 bless you, he does not care for Wallis. Don t you 
 know his heart has long been lost to Bessie?" 
 
 Mr. Hetlow was so startled and amazed that he 
 turned almost fiercely upon Mrs. Stanton. 
 
 " To Bessie ! He ! He ! His heart lostto Bessie ! " 
 
 It was not Mrs. Stanton s purpose to make trouble, 
 and it was only when she perceived the effect 
 of her unguarded remark, that she recollected 
 that she had revealed what she had been expressly 
 cautioned to preserve as a secret. It was too late, 
 however, to recall her words. 
 
 " Is this matter then of such common notoriety 
 that it is surprising that I do not know it," he asked 
 angrily. " Has this love-making been going on under 
 my eyes and I not aware of it ? " He was so angry 
 that Mrs. Stanton was frightened. 
 
 " I I I did not say there had been love-making," 
 she stammered. " I don t understand there has been 
 any. I fear I have done wrong in saying a word." 
 
 " What am I to understand then?" demanded Mr. 
 Hetlow. " Does Miss Hetlow reciprocrate his affec 
 tion ? " 
 
 " No, no," cried the poor lady, much confused. 
 " We ve only noticed it here. I think he confessed his 
 affection for Bessie to Wallis. I am quite sure he has
 
 REBELLIO US INDEPENDENCE. I 3 
 
 said nothing to Bessie. And yes Wallis told me, he 
 believed that Bessie regarded him disdainfully. 
 
 " As was quite proper," said Mr. Hetlow loftily. 
 " There is a great difference between them a great 
 social difference. It is very presumptuous of him." 
 
 The poor lady in her fright and confusion stumbled 
 into the remark, which of all others was calculated to 
 allay Mr. Hetlow s anger. 
 
 " You shouldn t feel it that way," she said. "It is 
 only presumptuous of him to ask her to marry him. 
 Any man may love. It is when he tells of his love 
 that he is to be blamed. He thinks Bessie regards 
 him only as her father s clerk. You cannot blame 
 him for loving so beautiful a girl as Bessie. Were he 
 to make love to her then you might blame him." 
 
 Mr. Hetlow was placated. 
 
 " Oh ! " he exclaimed. " I understand the situa 
 tion to be then that he nourishes an undeclared pas 
 sion for Miss Hetlow. I have always believed him 
 to be a man of high honor. It seems he is guided 
 now by honorable purposes." 
 
 Mrs. Stantou heaved a hngh sigh of relief as she 
 caught at his words and said no more, leaving him to 
 his belief. Mr. Hetlow, however, was greatly dis 
 turbed. He fidgeted about for some time, and 
 finally, with a little asperity in his tones, called Bes 
 sie to him to return home. 
 
 His daughter obediently left the game and walked 
 away with her father. She noticed that something 
 had occurred to annoy him and also the coolness with 
 which he treated Dick when he parted from him. 
 
 As soon as they were out of earshot her father said 
 abruptly: 
 
 " I have heard an astonishing piece of news." 
 
 Supposing it to relate to the all-engrossing topic, 
 she asked indifferently : 
 
 " Something about Mr. Pierson ? "
 
 184 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 "No, about Mr. Mason." 
 
 " Mr. Mason ? " she repeated, her heart beating fast 
 and her color deepening. 
 
 " Yes, I learn he has had the audacity to lift his 
 eyes to you to permit himself the presumption of 
 loving you." 
 
 For a moment or two her head reeled, and she 
 walked on in great agitation. Her face was pale, and 
 her heart seemed to be in her mouth. When she 
 could control herself she asked : 
 
 " Where did you learn this astounding news ? " 
 
 " From Mrs. Stanton." 
 
 Anger came to her aid in controlling herself. She 
 said sharply, " Mrs. Stanton is meddling in affairs of 
 no concern to her." 
 
 " They are of concern to me," retorted her father. 
 "Is this so?" 
 
 " What ? That it is of concern to you, or that Mrs. 
 Stanton is a meddler in the affairs of others." 
 
 She was endeavoring to gain time. 
 
 " Do not trifle with me," commanded her father. 
 " Do you say that Mr. Mason has dared to offer him 
 self to you ? " 
 
 " No," she answered, now in possession of herself. 
 " Mr. Mason has not offered himself." 
 
 " Yet he loves you ? " 
 
 "That may be." 
 
 " Answer my question. Has he ever asked you to 
 be his wife ? " 
 
 " No," she replied firmly. " The first day Mr. 
 Mason came here he and I had a serious difference, 
 growing out of a misapprehension of mine. I thought 
 then, though I now know I misunderstood him, that 
 he presumed to lecture me. Since then, and indeed 
 until this week, our relations have not been pleasant. 
 So much is true. Until then I thought Mr. Mason 
 regarded me tenderly. Then \ believed the contrary
 
 REBELLIOUS INDEPENDENCE, 185 
 
 and did so believe until, in conversation with him, I 
 learned the mistake I had made." 
 
 Her words now came slowly, but only because she 
 was carefully selecting them. 
 
 " During that conversation I came to know," she 
 went on, " though I am sure Mr. Mason did not in 
 tend I should, that he loved me with a deep and en 
 during love. He was respectful and self-restrained. 
 He did not offer his love, did not ask me to return it, 
 did not ask me to be his wife." 
 
 She looked into her father s face and encountered 
 his eyes bent upon her earnestly. Without faltering in 
 her gaze, she went on : 
 
 " I do not know that he ever will. He believes I do 
 not reciprocate his passion. I think, no, I am sure, 
 he believes his love to be hopeless." 
 
 Her father s brow cleared as he listened to her, but 
 she went on now more rapidly and with greater firm 
 ness. 
 
 " But, should he ever pay me the compliment the 
 highest a woman can receive shall tell me of his 
 love, and ask me to be wife to him, I shall say yes." 
 
 She bravely encountered the anger of her father. 
 He stopped short in his walk, detaining her by grasp 
 ing her arm. They were standing in the middle of 
 the great field which separated Springhill from 
 " The Larches." 
 
 " You dare to say that to your father ? " he gasped 
 out, almost choking with rage. 
 
 She did not quail an instant before him ; but said 
 as firmly as he could have done : 
 
 " Your daughter dares to say that she claims the 
 right to choose her own husband, since she must live 
 with him all her life." 
 
 " And your father dares to say he claims the right 
 of bestowing his fortune where he chooses, since he 
 has made it himself," he shouted.
 
 1 86 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 " Threats are unnecessary," she replied calmly. 
 " I do not deny your right. Since I was a very little 
 girl I have loved Mr. Mason, and as I have grown 
 older, and have been able to better appreciate his 
 sterling qualities of heart and head, that love has 
 deepened and strengthened, until I can think of no 
 other man as my husband. Should you interpose 
 your parental authority well, I could only surfer. I 
 have come to know what it will mean to me, since I 
 have been forced to the belief that Mr. Mason will 
 never declare his love for me." 
 
 " What shield is there in that ? " contemptuously 
 asked her father. " Will not a woman find a way to 
 show her lover his love is not hopeless ? " 
 
 " Do not forget that, though confessing my love, I 
 am yet a woman." 
 
 The calm dignity of the reply confused the old mer 
 chant, and this made him angry. 
 
 " And you would make this clerk your husband ? " 
 
 " At his age Howard Hetlow was a clerk, yet he 
 presumed to love and marry his employer s sister." 
 
 " The case is not analogous." 
 
 " I cannot see why it is not," replied Bessie decid 
 edly. " Mr. Mason is a gentleman. He was the 
 nephew and adopted son of your warmest friend. He 
 is of strict honor, excellent morals, and of more than 
 usual ability, as I have heard you say a score of times. 
 As I have said, regardless of all consequences, were he 
 to ask me to be his wife, I would proudly and gladly 
 say yes." 
 
 Angered as he was Mr. Hetlow could not but admire 
 his daughter. She was displaying a spirit he had not 
 dreamed she possessed. In an instant, before his 
 eyes, she had been transformed from a weak, cling 
 ing, obedient girl into a strong, forceful, and charming 
 woman. He almost stood in awe of her, and wondered 
 what had caused the great and sudden change. He 
 did not know the test through which Bessie had re-
 
 REBELLIOUS INDEPENDENCE. 187 
 
 cently passed, silently working a revolution. He did 
 not understand that from having passed from a con 
 dition of doubt and uncertainty almost, if not wholly 
 despair into an assurance of Dick s strong love, she 
 was now rejoicing in the knowledge of it. He knew 
 neither how to reply, nor what to say. In argument 
 she had met him, and his covert threat of disinheritance 
 had fallen upon indifferent ears. Her allusion to his 
 own past had affected him more than he was willing 
 to admit. She had presented himself to himself, as a 
 purseproud man who wanted to forget his own upris 
 ing. The picture of his own youth and struggles was 
 vividly before him. He contrasted, involuntarily, the 
 past youth of Howard Hetlow with the present youth 
 of Richard Mason, and not wholly to the disadvantage 
 of Mason. He could not summon a single essential 
 fault against the man his daughter had so bravely as 
 serted she loved only one, and that, that at the age 
 of twenty-six his future was not assured. Yet he, 
 Hetlow, was two years older before his feet were 
 firmly placed upon the lowest round of that ladder 
 by which he had mounted to riches and power. 
 Through his mind flitted the vexing idea that it was 
 within his power to place the feet of Mason on the 
 same ladder, the mounting of which, he could not 
 but confess, could be safely left to this able and ener 
 getic young man. 
 
 As he was thus thinking they had reached the stile 
 which let them into their own grounds. 
 
 Suddenly Bessie spoke. 
 
 "This is a useless discussion. After what has 
 passed between us, Mr. Mason will never make a 
 tender of his love for me. But I shall regret very 
 much, and it will add to the sorrow and distress 
 under which I am now, if you permit this frankness 
 of mine to interfere with Mr. Mason s relations to 
 your business." 
 
 " I think I know how to separate my business
 
 1 88 THE DUG DALE MILLIONS. 
 
 interests from my domestic affairs, without instruc 
 tions from my daughter," answered Mr. Hetlow 
 grimly. " My partners would not accept, as a suf 
 ficient justification for the dismissal of a valued 
 assistant, the fact that he aspired to the hand of my 
 daughter. Over my house, however, I am absolute, 
 and Mr. Mason must no longer be received here." 
 
 Bessie made no reply and they walked on in silence. 
 At the door of the library they parted ; Mr. Hetlow 
 entered that room by no means satisfied. It was true 
 he had asserted his authority as the master of his 
 home, but he was not at all certain that he had asserted 
 his authority as a parent in that forceful and impres 
 sive manner he was wont to employ. He had 
 been astonished and somewhat confused by his 
 daughter s sudden display of spirit and firmness. 
 Her attitude did not seem to admit of argument, and 
 she did not admit his right to interfere. The revel 
 ation of this new phase of her character had so 
 amazed him that, in his endeavor to comprehend it, 
 he had neglected to combat it, and it was now a ques 
 tion whether he had not permitted the opportunity 
 to exert his authority to pass from him. He was also 
 influenced by another consideration. From what 
 Bessie had said,. Mason had made no proffer of his 
 love. After all he could not expect to control 
 emotions, for men could not control them themselves. 
 So long as Mason refrained from tendering his love 
 to Bessie, he could not see how he could interfere. 
 The trouble was that Bessie, by her own confession, 
 was ready to yield when asked. Would she not find 
 a way to elicit that tender ? True, Bessie had rebuked 
 him for suggesting that she would. The more he 
 thought of it all, the more perplexed he grew. He 
 could not bring himself to the determination to warn 
 or threaten Mason. He might be told to wait until 
 cause for admonition presented itself. What he 
 could do, and this he would, would be to put an end
 
 REBELLIOUS INDEPENDENCE. 189 
 
 to Dick s visits to " The Larches." As for the rest 
 he would await developments. 
 
 Having made her brave declaration and defiance, 
 Bessie s courage failed her. Once safe in her room, 
 she began to torture herself with the fear that she had 
 by her boldness involved Dick in trouble. But above 
 all she feared that in his present vexed temper, her 
 father would put some indignity upon Dick, should 
 he appear at "The Larches"; so, acting upon im 
 pulse, she indited this note to Dick : 
 
 " Please do not come to The Larches until I can 
 see you. This is not an idle request. I wish to save 
 you from embarrassment. I will soon seek a meeting 
 with you." 
 
 She hastily dispatched it, failing to appreciate the 
 construction that might be placed upon it until it 
 had passed beyond her power to recall it. Then 
 only she realized the position she had placed herself 
 in. 
 
 Vexed with herself, she could think of no other 
 course than to fling herself on her lounge and have 
 a good cry.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 DICK S DISCOVERY. 
 
 DICK remained at Springhill until Monday. He 
 had hoped to have an interview with Bessie and an 
 explanation of her mysterious note. But he was com 
 pelled to depart without a word from her. Wallis 
 had gone to " The Larches," on Sunday morning, 
 promising to bring him information, but upon her re 
 turn, she was mysterious and uncommunicative. 
 Pressed for an explanation, she replied that her 
 mouth was sealed and she could tell him nothing. 
 She assured him, however, that there was in the note 
 no cause for despair, and that he ought to know that 
 only a sincere interest in himself dictated its writing. 
 Further she insisted that he must obey the note liter 
 ally and wait for the chance of a meeting with Bessie, 
 when she would explain everything to his satisfaction. 
 Forced to be content with this Dick went away early 
 Monday morning. 
 
 In the meantime Bob had conferred with his co- 
 conspirators. He had related to them all the details 
 of his visit and had made them understand that the 
 success of their scheme depended upon their ef 
 forts ; that with having found the supposed Dugdale 
 and informed him of his prospects the Hetlow party 
 would do no more in helping him to possession, but 
 would from thence out assume the attitude of insist 
 ing upon absolute proof of identity before foregoing 
 Miss Hetlow s claims upon the property. 
 
 That which troubled Orton Pierson and Moore 
 most was the knowledge that the fact of the dis- 
 
 19*
 
 DICK S DISCOVERY. 191 
 
 covery of the supposed heir had been forwarded to 
 the London solicitor, with the request that he would 
 come to the States and take charge of the exami 
 nation. 
 
 It was Moore, who, after prolonged discussion, 
 summed the matter up. 
 
 " We must expect, from this out, opposition from 
 the Hetlow party," he said. " Probably it will be the 
 passive one of questioning proof, but it will be opposi 
 tion all the same. Now it seems to me that we 
 are not going to drift into this thing, as it seemed at 
 first. This London solicitor will come here to make 
 a searching examination, and this thing we want to 
 stop. The way to do it, it seems to me, is to produce 
 the strongest kind of proof and submit it to the Het 
 low party proof so strong that they will be con- 
 vinced. This must be done before the London 
 lawyer arrives, so that, when he does come, he will 
 find those most interested in having the proof fail 
 ready to yield up all claim. This will prejudice him 
 in our favor." 
 
 This seeming to be the wisest course it was agreed 
 upon, and the duty of determining what proof was 
 necessary, and of concocting it, was imposed upon 
 Moore and Pierson. 
 
 " That proof must be ready by Wednesday," said 
 Bob, " for I have promised to go up there on that 
 day and submit what we have." 
 
 " That is all right," said Orton Pierson. " You 
 can carry up all the proof we have then, and we will 
 give you enough for the first step. It will be the 
 better way to convince them gradually. From what 
 Bob says," he continued to the others, "I think 
 they are really convinced now, and proof is all that is 
 wanted to make them throw up their hands." 
 
 " All are convinced except Mason," replied Bob. 
 " That fellow doesn t believe in me. I feel that he
 
 19* THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 distrusts and suspects me. He doesn t know what to 
 take hold of, but he suspects something, and we can 
 expect a fight from him." 
 
 " We must silence him then," remarked Ransom 
 grimly. 
 
 " Nothing violent," protested Pierson quickly. "If 
 there is to be anything of that kind, I m out of the 
 matter at once." 
 
 " No, no," put in Moore. " Nothing of that kind." 
 
 " There are more ways of silencing him than cutting 
 off his wind, isn t there? "asked Ransom contemp 
 tuously. " You can make it worth his while to drop 
 the business, can t you ? " 
 
 " You can t get enough money to make him do that, 
 Ransom," said Bob quietly. 
 
 " Well, there is some way," returned Ransom. 
 " I ll make it my business to look after my friend 
 Mason." 
 
 While the precious quartette were scheming and 
 Ransom was devising some plan to neutralize Dick as 
 a suspicious and dangerous person to them, Dick was 
 devoting himself to his duties at the office, long neg 
 lected. He had returned to them, on the whole, in a 
 contented frame of mind. He was under no deubt 
 that the meaning of the writing of the note was that 
 in some way Mr. Hetlow had discovered his love for 
 Bessie and had threatened to deny him the house. 
 And while that seemed to promise obstruction to his 
 suit, the fact which \ras important to him was that 
 Bessie had shown a deep interest in himself and his 
 well being and had promised to see him and explain. 
 There was such assurance of her love in this that Mr. 
 Hetlow s opposition seemed insignificant beside it. 
 So he took up his duties quite cheerfully. 
 
 While he had been devoting himself to the search 
 for young Dugdale, the interests of his department 
 had been largely confided to an assistant. Growing 
 out of some differences between this assistant and
 
 DICK S DISCO VER Y. l 93 
 
 Certain of the subordinates, irregularities in a ware 
 house of the concern, immediately under Dick s 
 charge, had become apparent. This warehouse was 
 situated in Jackson Street, on the east side of the 
 city, not far from the East River. One of the first 
 things he found to do was an investigation of these 
 irregularities, and on Monday morning he had gone 
 thither for that purpose. 
 
 Adjoining this warehouse was a small hotel, largely 
 patronized by longshoremen, and also frequented by 
 ethers, whom the police believed to be connected with 
 river piracy. It could hardly be said that the place 
 was under surveillance. No disturbances occurred 
 there calling for police interference, nor was it charged 
 that crime was committed there. Order was main 
 tained among a class of customers prone to turbulence 
 by the proprietor, who when occasion occurred could 
 and did exercise a physical power that made all stand 
 in awe of him. While crimes were not charged 
 against this man, and while he avoided violations 
 of the law, yet vague rumors were afloat as to a 
 former life led by him, when such could not have been 
 said of him. 
 
 The first floor of this house was largely given up to 
 the liquor business, which evidently was the largest 
 source of profit to the establishment. In the rear of 
 the bar-room was a small room containing chairs and 
 tables and little else, which was called the reading- 
 room. This room was lit by two windows one upon 
 the side looking out upon the alley way which sepa 
 rated the hotel from the warehouse owned by Het- 
 low, Altmount & Co., and the other looked out upon 
 a small yard behind the house, which was filled with 
 dog-kennels. 
 
 In the rear of the warehouse was an office which 
 was also lit by a window looking out upon the alley 
 way spoken of above. This office room was located 
 in a part of the warehouse, far back of the rear line
 
 194 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 of the hotel. At a certain period of the day before 
 noon, the sun, when well advanced toward meridian, 
 shone directly through the rear window of the read 
 ing-room of the hotel, filling it with light. At such a 
 time it was possible for one standing at the window 
 of the office of the warehouse to see into the reading- 
 room and distinctly recognize those who occupied it. 
 
 Dick, who had been engaged for some time in the 
 office on this Monday morning examining the books, 
 finally rose from the desk at which he had been at 
 work, and went to the single window of the room. 
 As he looked out engrossed in thought, he was 
 startled by recognizing in the reading-room of the 
 hotel Harold Pierson, as he knew him, otherwise 
 Bob, and Ransom, the man who had given him the 
 information which led to the discovery of the sup 
 posed Dugdale heir. A second glance showed him 
 that these two, with two others, were gathered about 
 a table, and of the other two, one seemed to be a man 
 employed by Mr. Hetlow at " The Larches" ; the 
 other he did not know. 
 
 He peered through the window earnestly. There 
 could be no doubt they were the men he supposed 
 them to be. What startled him was, not that they 
 were in that place, but that Ransom and Harold 
 Pierson should be together. Ransom had pretended 
 to have no acquaintance with either Orton or Harold 
 Pierson. And in his conversation with him, Orton 
 Pierson had denied knowledge of Ransom. 
 
 While he was thus looking upon them earnestly, he 
 saw the fourth man, whom he did not know, look up and 
 discover him. The attention of the others was directed 
 to him. He stepped back quickly so quickly that 
 the other three, who sprang to their feet immediately, 
 were not able to see him. The incident took complete 
 possession of him. The more he thought of it, the 
 more perplexed he became. Morever it unfitted him
 
 DICK S DISCO VER Y. 19$ 
 
 for the duty which had taken him to the warehouse. 
 After a vain endeavor to give his attention to his busi 
 ness, he postponed further labor until the next day, and 
 taking his hat went out into the street. 
 
 As he stepped from the door of the warehouse he 
 perceived Ransom in conversation with the fourth 
 man, on the pavement in front of the hotel. His first 
 impulse was to go back and thus avoid a meeting. A 
 second thought, however, determined him to go forward 
 and pass the two without recognition. But as he at 
 tempted to do so, Ransom stepped in front of him, 
 and in his dulcet tones said : 
 
 " This is Mr. Mason, I believe ? " 
 
 " Yes," Dick replied curtly. 
 
 " I thought so. I m not often mistaken in faces. 
 Did you ever find the man you were looking for ? 
 Was the man I told you of the one ? " 
 
 These questions were asked with an excellent as 
 sumption of interest. 
 
 " Yes," replied Dick coldly, with a grave face, main 
 taining a reserve amounting to severity. "Yes, I 
 found the man, and I saw him a short time ago in a 
 room in this place with you." 
 
 " In there ? " said Ransom, with well assumed as 
 tonishment. " You are mistaken, surely. A few 
 minutes ago I was in the reading-room of this hotel 
 with three men, whom I met on business here. This 
 gentleman," indicating the one whom he had been 
 talking with and who was still standing by, "was one 
 of them. He s the captain of a stone scow. The 
 others were contractors for cut stone. I m in the 
 quarry business. Their names are Johnson and Nes- 
 mith partners. No, you are mistaken." 
 
 The guilelessness with which this was said staggered 
 Dick and for the time induced him to believe that he 
 was mistaken. So he bowed slightly but still haughtily, 
 and went his way.
 
 196 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 Ransom watched him turn the corner. Apparently 
 satisfying himself that Dick had really gone, he went 
 into the hotel where he was joined by Bob. 
 
 " Has he gone ? " Bob asked. 
 
 " Yes, he s off." 
 
 " Did he see me ? " 
 
 "Yes ; but I think I drove him out of that idea. 
 What infernal luck ! This is the last place in which I 
 would have expected to meet him." 
 
 " Didn t you know that this warehouse belonged to 
 Hetlow, Altmont & Co. ?" asked Bob complainingly. 
 
 " No, I only knew a warehouse was here." 
 
 " It s a fine kettle of fish to put before Pierson and 
 Moore," said Bob, as they walked away. 
 
 In the meantime Dick had gone directly to the Cliff 
 Street office. As he walked along the street, he 
 thought upon the incident, returning to the belief that 
 Harold Pierson was in that room, and he determined 
 that Ransom had purposely put himself in his way to 
 throw him out of that belief. 
 
 Arriving at the office, and, upon inquiry, finding 
 that Mr. Hetlow was in his room, Dick went to him. 
 
 Dick was keenly observant when he entered the 
 room, for he expected to find something to confirm his 
 theory as to Bessie s note. A slight chilliness of de 
 meanor and some little constraint was all he could 
 observe. 
 
 Having related the incident of the morning, he 
 waited for some comment from the merchant. 
 
 " But it seems from the man Ransom s statement 
 you were mistaken." was Mr. Hetlow s first remark. 
 
 "I don t think I was," replied Dick positively. 
 " The more I think of it the more I am satisfied I was 
 not." 
 
 " How much of a trick has your imagination played 
 you?" asked Mr. Hetlow. "You know your mind 
 has been upon this matter and its associations for 
 many days, to the exclusion of ever " he stopped
 
 DICK S DISCO VER Y. 1 97 
 
 suddenly as he thought of the story of Dick s love for 
 Bessie. 
 
 "Of everything else, you would say," Dick went 
 on, completing the sentence. "I m not particularly 
 imaginative, sir, and I am quite certain my imagination 
 has not tricked me. I am positive I saw Harold Pier- 
 son with Ransom, and I would so testify under oath 
 before a jury." 
 
 " Well, suppose you did ? " asked Mr. Hetlow in a 
 controversial tone. " Of what significance would it 
 be?" 
 
 " Well, sir," replied Dick thoughtfully " under all 
 the circumstances, it seems to me, it would be of the 
 greatest significance. Let me argue it, if you please. 
 We put an advertisement in the papers asking anyone 
 having knowledge of Edmund Dugdale to commu 
 nicate with me. In the course of time Ransom ap 
 pears, assuming to have knowledge of him, of Powers, 
 of the child, and of its adoption but and here is the 
 first point he has no recollection of the person or 
 persons adopting the child. Subsequently, after a 
 reasonable time, he writes a letter in which he says he 
 has recollected the name and it is Pierson, which let 
 ter and here is the second point is couched in such 
 terms as to convey the idea that he has no knowledge 
 of, or acquaintance with, the people. Yet, notwithstand 
 ing all this, the next time I see him, I find him in com 
 pany with Harold Pierson, who purports to be young 
 Dugdale, and when I intimate I have seen him in 
 such company he denies it. Now, sir, if there was no 
 significance in these facts, if he had made Dugdale s 
 or Harold Pierson s acquaintance subsequent to his 
 calling upon me, either by accident, or by open effort, 
 if he did not want to still leave me in the same mind 
 that he did not know him, why did he deny it ? Now, 
 sir" continued Dick, growing more argumentative, 
 "the place, which I know is not a reputable place, 
 is the last place a man of the breeding of Harold Pier-
 
 198 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 son would think of visiting this also is suspicious 
 and significant." 
 
 " You do not deny that Harold Pierson is, so far as 
 we can judge, from manner and breeding, a gentle 
 man ? " 
 
 " No, sir," replied Dick, " I do not ; yet I know that 
 on seeing him I was instinctively filled with distrust." 
 
 Mr. Hetlow had felt something of this and was silent 
 for some time. 
 
 " Then there is something else," Dick went on after 
 awhile. " The day I arrived at Springhill the day. 
 I mean, you were upon your yacht I wandered to the 
 river and watched from the rocks a boat pulling for 
 the shore to land a man. This man seemed to me to 
 be one in your employ. The man pulling the boat 
 was Ransom, I thought. The man landing and in 
 your employ was in this group to-day. Again, the 
 night that Lord Merrimount was attacked on your 
 grounds, when he, Miss Hetlow, Miss Gladwin, and 
 myself were walking, I thought, as I ran to Merri- 
 mount s assistance, that the man attacking him was 
 Ransom. He was running away at the time and 
 it was dark, to be sure, but I said at the time I 
 thought it was he." 
 
 " You make a strong case," said Mr. Hetlow smil 
 ing, " but after all, is it not based upon unsubstantial 
 grounds ? It seems so to me." 
 
 "It may be," replied Dick. "But I am very 
 strongly impressed that something is wrong." 
 
 " Let us assume," suggested Mr. Hetlow, "that all 
 these things are really as you suppose them to be and 
 they actually are your conclusion would be what ? " 
 
 " That there is a conspiracy on foot to possess them 
 selves of this great wealth. That is the logical con 
 clusion we must come to." 
 
 The old merchant seemed shocked by Dick s words 
 and manner. 
 
 " Your conclusion is a startling one," he said. " I 
 cannot follow you in it."
 
 DICK S DISCO VER Y. 1 99 
 
 " Well, sir, starting with the assumption you yourself 
 made, there can be no other outcome," replied Dick, 
 firmly but respectfully. 
 
 " Your grounds are too vague, too unsubstantial," 
 said the old merchant sharply. 
 
 Dick did not reply for a time. Both were thinking 
 on their own lines and both would have been startled 
 had each given the other his thoughts. 
 
 Finally Dick broke the silence by asking: 
 
 " Mr. Hetlow, if you assume that Harold Pierson is 
 in fact young Dugdale, the search for Dugdale is 
 ended, and the commission I received at your hands 
 six weeks ago is accomplished." 
 
 " I presume so," replied the merchant indifferently. 
 
 " If that view is taken by you I will ask to be re 
 lieved from further charge of the matter, and beg to 
 be permitted to return to the duties of my department. 
 In some things it is suffering for want of proper at 
 tention." 
 
 The old merchant was now interested. 
 
 " But I don t think the matter has reached the point 
 where we can assume that. I think you should still 
 devote some further time to the matter." 
 
 " Then, sir, I should ask to be permitted to pursue an 
 investigation on the lines I have suggested this morn 
 ing." 
 
 " You seem strangely persistent in this." 
 
 " Perhaps I am, As I have said I am strongly im 
 pressed. My suspicions have been aroused and are 
 alert. There is, however, another matter influencing 
 me. It was pointed out to me by Mr. Stanton, though 
 it had never been in my mind until then, that in view 
 
 of the " he brought himself up with a round turn, 
 
 for in his earnestness he was about to admit to Mr. 
 Hetlow his fondness for Bessie, but recovering quickly 
 on thinking that if ever there was an issue to be 
 made between Mr. Hetlow and himself on this matter, 
 there could be no better time, he went on "that in 
 view of a certain fact, the mention of which is not es-
 
 200 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 sential to my point, I might be open to the charge of 
 producing a Dugdale in any event. Since that might 
 occur, and since I did find a supposed Dugdale in 
 Harold Pierson, it behooves me, in protection of my 
 own honor, to be sure the real Dugdale is found." 
 
 Mr. Hetlow had instinctively felt that Bessie was in 
 some manner involved in this point, but how he could 
 not see. If Dick had hopes of securing his daughter s 
 hand, he might naturally wish her to have all the money 
 she could have. Perhaps this was the motive of 
 Dick s persistency he thought, but he evaded the issue 
 presented. He was not ready for the struggle. 
 
 " Well, Mason, perhaps there is a great deal in what 
 you say" he said, after some thought. "To be frank 
 with you, I must say I don t think there is. Suppose 
 we postpone any conclusion until we can consult Stan- 
 ton. I shall not go to Dobbs Ferry to-night. I have 
 a meeting to attend this evening. But I ll go up 
 to-morrow. You come up too. Wednesday you know 
 Harold Pierson is to come to us, and I want you to be 
 
 there. So you come up and " he in his turn 
 
 brought himself up short, for he was heedlessly rush 
 ing in to do what he had only two days ago declared 
 he would not do, but went on " and we ll talk it over." 
 
 "Very well," said Dick. "Until then we ll leave 
 matters as they are." 
 
 He left the apartment puzzled by Mr. Hetlow s 
 contradictory attitude.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE TIN BOX. 
 
 THOUGH he had acquiesced in Mr. Hetlow s sug 
 gestion that no action should be taken until Mr. 
 Stanton should be consulted, Dick was not satisfied. 
 The incident of the day grew in importance the more 
 he considered it. The companionship of Harold 
 Pierson and Ransom might be satisfactorily ex 
 plained, but at present in his eyes it had a decidedly 
 sinister appearance. Mr. Hetlow s disinclination to 
 accord any importance to his theory nettled him, and 
 he was doubtless influenced to some extent by his 
 chagrin, when he finally determined to get certain in 
 quiries on foot without further delay. 
 
 Accordingly he sought Captain Lawton in his 
 office. To that celebrated detective he related the 
 events with which the reader is familiar, closing with 
 his experience of the morning. 
 
 "Now," continued Dick, "this may or may not 
 appear significant to you, but to me it seems most 
 important." 
 
 " It seems so suspicious to me," replied the cap. 
 tain, "that I think an investigation should be begun 
 without delay." 
 
 " I am very glad to hear you say so," said Dick, 
 highly pleased to have his judgment confirmed. 
 " Mr. Hetlow evidently regards my suspicion and 
 theory as fanciful. But I think he is influenced by a 
 matter, not even remotely connected with this case, 
 but which disposes him to look upon me with some 
 disfavor." 
 
 " I do not know that upon the grounds you present
 
 202 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 I should be disposed to accept your theory, but the 
 facts you have presented certainly justify examina 
 tion," remarked the captain. 
 
 " Perhaps I am influenced to a degree by the im 
 pressions the young man Pierson has made upon 
 me," returned Dick. " These I cannot communicate 
 to you, but if I could, 1 think you would see that I 
 have some justification for my theory. However, I 
 want to know all I can know about Ransom, Orton 
 Pierson, and Harold Pierson, and what, if any, relation 
 or acquaintanceship exists between them, how close 
 it is, and how long it has existed. To know that 
 these inquiries are being made would give me an 
 ease of mind 1 would not have if they were not on foot." 
 
 Captain Lawton promised to make the investiga 
 tion and report as promptly as he could. 
 
 The following day brought forth nothing, and Dick 
 without interruption devoted himself to the duties 
 of his department. On Wednesday morning, however, 
 he received a message -from Captain Lawton which 
 caused him to felicitate himself for having set the 
 inquiry on foot. The captain s message was to the 
 effect, that while he had not been able to progress 
 very far, he had yet learned that Ransom was a fre 
 quent visitor at Orton Pierson s house ; that, in com 
 pany with a Tombs lawyer named Moore, he waited 
 at Pierson s office for Harold Pierson s return on 
 Saturday morning. The significant point of the 
 message was, that Captain Lawton had come to know 
 that Dick was himself followed by a man wherever 
 he went, and had been since Monday night. For 
 what purpose the captain could not determine, but 
 he warned Dick to govern himself by the knowledge 
 and not betiay any recognition of it, because that 
 shadow was shadowed by one of Captain Lawton s 
 men, charged with the duty of finding out its mean 
 ing. 
 
 It was shortly after he received this information,
 
 THE TIN BOX. 203 
 
 that Dick set out for Springhill in conformity with 
 the desires of Mr. Hetlow that he should be present 
 at the time of Harold Pierson s second visit to " The 
 Larches." 
 
 No sooner had he entered the car which was to 
 convey him to Dobbs Ferry, than his eyes fell upon 
 young Pierson, who recognized him at once with a 
 courteous bow. Dick returned the salutation some 
 what coldly, hoping thereby to be left to himself. 
 But he had not seated himself before Bob moved 
 across the car and taking a seat in front of him, 
 saying : 
 
 " We are fellow-travelers." 
 
 " Yes, you of course are bound for The Larches. * 
 
 The purpose young Pierson had in talking with 
 Dick, and as well the policy which had been deter 
 mined upon by the conspirators as to the awkward 
 discovery by Dick of Harold in Ransom s company, 
 was made apparent. 
 
 " I am going to The Larches, " replied Bob, 
 " rather in obedience to the understanding of last 
 week than in any belief that I shall advance my claim. 
 Father has found something which my lawyer says is 
 proof, but which I am bound to confess does not ap 
 pear conclusive to me. He says there are other 
 papers which he may be able to find and which he 
 says are much stronger. Were it not that it is at Mr. 
 Hetlow s suggestion, and that it would seem childish 
 and discourteous to refuse, I would not think 
 of submitting this stuff. It is really embarrassing 
 to go to The Larches, for I cannot divest my 
 self of the idea that I am seeking to deprive the Het 
 low family of an estate that belongs to it by right. 
 Indeed this feeling was so strong upon me that I was 
 disposed to hunt you up in the city and ask you to 
 convey the proof to Mr. Hetlow." 
 
 " I saw you on Monday," said Dick coldly, eying 
 him keenly.
 
 204 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 " Indeed, where ? " asked Bob, apparently much 
 interested. 
 
 " In Jackson Street, in a hotel adjoining our ware 
 house." 
 
 " Oh, yes, did you indeed ? Rum place, isn t it ? 
 I never was there before." 
 
 His frank admission actually confounded Dick, who 
 had prepared himself for a courteous denial. 
 
 " So that big building is your warehouse ? " returned 
 Bob. " It is not particularly ornamental, but it cer 
 tainly is substantial and extensive. I don t remember 
 to have ever been in that part of the town before. A 
 man named Ransom hunted me up, declaring that he 
 knew my father that is Dugdale, if I am Dugdale 
 this having two fathers is confusing where was I ? 
 Oh, he hunted me up and said he could help me 
 prove my identity, and carried me over to that place to 
 see a man who could give me proof. I don t know 
 whether there is anything in it or not, but he says he 
 can substantiate father s statement, that is Mr. Pier- 
 son s statement, that he received me from Powers, 
 and that the child given up by James Powers was a 
 child of Dugdale the dead lodger of Powers." 
 
 " I saw Ransom ; he denied that you were there," 
 said Dick, hardly yet recovered from his confusion. 
 
 " Denied it ? What for ? " Bob s innocence was ini 
 mitable. 
 
 " I am unable to tell." 
 
 " That is singular," mused Bob. " Why should he 
 deny my being there? There was no reason for se 
 crecy. Perhaps he thought you were antagonistic 
 to me and that he was serving me in denying my pres 
 ence there." 
 
 " Perhaps ! " Dick said, and asked, " How long 
 have you known Ransom?" 
 
 " Since last Saturday or Sunday which was it ? 
 Saturday, that was the day." 
 
 Dick s house was a house of cards and was tumbled
 
 THE TIN BOX. 205 
 
 to the ground, if this were the truth. Under the in 
 fluence of Bob s frankness, Dick thawed and actually 
 became genial. The conversation drifted into other 
 channels, and they conversed easily until they reached 
 the station where they were to leave the cars. 
 
 Mr. Hetlow had sent his carriage to meet Harold 
 Pierson. As the latter undertook to enter it, he asked 
 Dick if he would not ride with him. Dick, however, 
 in no mood to accept the hospitality of Mr. Hetlow, 
 and especially by proxy, made some excuse and turned 
 away. As he did so he saw Wallis leaning from her 
 carriage, endeavoring to attract his attention. 
 
 " I fancied you would come by this train, so I drove 
 down for you," she said, as he approached. " 1 want 
 to talk with you. I was afraid you might do or say 
 something that would prevent you from doing what 
 we want you to do." 
 
 " And who may this we be ?" asked Dick. 
 
 ; Bessie and myself. Mr. Hetlow expects you to 
 go over to The Larches with us to-night. And 
 Bessie got into a state of mind over the fear that be 
 cause of her letter you would refuse to come. Now, 
 since Mr. Hetlow has never carried out his threat, 
 you see it would look as if Bessie had communicated 
 it to you, if you refused to go." 
 
 "Oh, so Mr. Hetlow did threaten to deny me the 
 house ? " 
 
 Wallis laughed merrily. 
 
 " That is one little kitten out of the bag." 
 
 " Perhaps you ll let enough other little kittens out 
 to make a whole cat," said Dick, " so as to relieve me 
 from my distressful condition." 
 
 " If you are patient and very watchful perhaps they 
 may come," replied Wallis. " I see that Mr. Pierson 
 came up in the same train. Do you know anything 
 more ?" 
 
 " Little going to prove his identity a great deal 
 toward setting up doubts and suspicions,"
 
 206 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 Then he told her the occurrences of the day and 
 added : 
 
 " The man puzzles me. There is so much about 
 him that is suave and persuasive, contradictory and 
 distrustful, that I am perplexed. I doubt my con 
 clusions and sensations when I am with him. I dis 
 trust him most strongly when I am not. And so I 
 swing between distrust and confidence." 
 
 Their talk had brought them to Springhill, where 
 they found Mr. Stanton awaiting them at the front 
 entrance. 
 
 " Get out, Wallis," he exclaimed, as they drove up. 
 " You stay in, Mason. I want to go to the village. 
 Drive with me, so 1 can talk to you." 
 
 Thus commanded Wallis dismounted, and Dick 
 drove off with Mr. Stanton. 
 
 It was yet quite early in the afternoon, and Wallis 
 thought she would run over to "The Larches" and 
 relieve Bessie from her apprehensions as to Dick s 
 conduct. 
 
 There was another passenger upon the cars, un 
 noticed by Dick, who, if he had seen her, would have 
 undoubtedly altered the course of this story very 
 considerably. Hardly had Mr. Stanton turned out of 
 one gate, than another carriage drove in the other gate. 
 
 From it, at the front entrance alighted Mrs. Jen 
 kins bearing in her hand a tin box. As before she 
 wore the red shawl, the vivid color of which caught 
 the eye of Mrs. Stanton, who was in the hall. 
 
 She hurried forward to meet the newcomer, much 
 excited and flurried. Curiosity struggled with anger 
 for her possession, but curiosity won the day, and 
 under its influence she was enabled, with comparative 
 calmness, to meet the woman whose existence, first in 
 her dreams, and then in the flesh, had given her so 
 much uneasiness. 
 
 " I wish to see Mr. Mason," said Mrs. Jenkins. 
 
 "He is not here," said Mrs, Stanton, "although he 
 is expected this afternoon,"
 
 THE TIN BOX. 207 
 
 In this she was truthful, for she did not know that 
 Dick had arrived. 
 
 " Is Mr. Stanton here then ? " 
 
 " No, he is not here. I heard him say he was going 
 to the village." 
 
 Mrs. Jenkins seemed to be greatly disappointed. 
 Indeed she said so, and added : 
 
 "I have come all the way from Philadelphia to 
 bring this box." 
 
 Mrs. Stanton, who was trembling with excitement 
 and hesitation over the fact that she was alone with 
 the woman and on the eve of making a great dis 
 covery, could not control herself for the moment. 
 Mrs Jenkins went on. 
 
 " Are you Mrs. Stanton ?" 
 
 " I am," said that lady. "And I am glad you rec 
 ognize it." 
 
 Mrs. Jenkins looked up at her astonished, but went 
 on : 
 
 " No doubt you know what my business is here ? " 
 
 " I know well enough what it is, and that it is not 
 what they say it is." 
 
 Again Mrs. Jenkins looked at her, astonished more 
 at her tone than her words. 
 
 " Oh, then, if that is so I can talk about it." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; you can talk. I wish you would. Where 
 is the baby ? " 
 
 " That I don t know," said Mrs. Jenkins seriously, 
 "but I am quite certain that this box tells all about 
 it, and my husband thinks so too." 
 
 " Oh, you have a husband then ? " 
 
 "Certainly I have. I ve been married seven 
 years." 
 
 " Oh, you hare. Does he agree to all this busi 
 ness ? " 
 
 " Why, yes, why should he not ? " 
 
 "Some husbands might object ; yours seems very 
 complacent." 
 
 " He is a good man very good to me."
 
 2c8 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 " He must be. Are you the woman who put the 
 baby away for adoption ? " 
 
 " Why, no ; of course not. I am a daughter of the 
 woman." 
 
 Mrs. Stanton stared and murmured : 
 
 " Worse and worse. But the cards and my dreams 
 said it was a blonde woman in a red shawl." Then 
 suddenly she asked : 
 
 " Was your mother a blonde woman, and did she 
 wear a red shawl ? " 
 
 "Why, yes," replied Mrs. Jenkins; "my mother 
 was a blonde, and she did wear this very shawl." 
 
 Mrs. Stanton was so relieved and confirmed that she 
 was quite happy and changed her tone toward Mrs. 
 Jenkins. 
 
 " It is all right then. Well, what more have you to 
 say ? " 
 
 " 1 have nothing more to say than I have told you. 
 All I can tell and perhaps more is to be found in this 
 box. I am sorry not to have seen Mr. Mason, but he 
 will know all about it. My mother was Mrs. Powers. 
 She cared for the baby of Mr. Dugdale after Mrs. 
 Tomlinson gave it up, and she gave it out for adop 
 tionshe and my father that is and it is all to be 
 found there in this box." 
 
 She rose to her feet and, handing the box to Mrs. 
 Stanton, she said : 
 
 " I cannot wait, for I want to go back on the next 
 train to meet my husband. Will you hand that box 
 to Mr. Mason ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Mrs Stanton grimly, " I ll hand it 
 to Mr. Mason," and she added in an under breath, 
 " when I ve examined the box myself." 
 
 She accompanied Mrs. Jenkins to the veranda and 
 saw her drive off. Then returning she caught up the 
 box, which she had laid on the table, exclaiming : 
 
 " Now, we ll get at the bottom of this mystery. 
 Dugdale, indeed ! How they do try to deceive me.
 
 THE TIN BOX. 209 
 
 And how well they ve trained this woman to carry out 
 the deceit." 
 
 She tried to open the box. It was locked. 
 
 "Ah ! it is locked," she cried, in bitter disappoint 
 ment. " That is another of their tricks. I suppose 
 Mr. Mason has the key. Well," she cried, with 
 sudden determination, " that won t save them. They 
 will not see the inside of it until I have, key or no key." 
 
 She hurried off to conceal the box. 
 
 When Wallis returned she found her aunt greatly 
 excited, but was unable to obtain any reason, beyond 
 some mysterious hints as to having the key to the 
 mystery which had for so long a time baffled her.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 MRS. STANTON S INTRIGUE. 
 
 ON this occasion the Stanton family was not asked 
 to dine with the claimant. Consequently before the 
 people from Springhill reached " The Larches," dinner 
 had been dispatched. Mrs. Stanton and Wallis sought 
 Bessie in the drawing-room, while Mr. Stanton and 
 Dick went into the library, where Mr. Hetlow and 
 Harold Pierson were smoking. 
 
 Dick had hoped for a meeting with Bessie if only 
 for a moment, and indeed Wallis had endeavored 
 to bring one about, but Mr. Stanton had prevented it, 
 by insisting that Dick should accompany him at once 
 to the library. 
 
 Whatever fear Bob might have entertained as to the 
 effect of the discovery made by Dick on the previous 
 Monday, it was quite apparent that he had been re 
 assured by the welcome accorded him by Mr. Hetlow. 
 When Mr. Stanton and Dick entered he was enjoying 
 his cigar with a serene confidence that greatly im 
 pressed Dick. 
 
 Before he took a seat, Dick asked a few moments 
 private conversation with Mr. Hetlow. 
 
 The old merchant was not a little astonished at the 
 request, but nevertheless accorded it. To him Dick 
 related the conversation with Harold Pierson on the 
 cars, and concluding, said : 
 
 " I feel I have unduly prejudiced you by what I told 
 you on Monday, and it seemed to me due to young 
 Pierson that I should, before you go on with this talk 
 to-night, tell you this." 
 
 " I am very glad you have," warmly replied Mr.
 
 MRS. STAN TON S INTRIGUE. 21 1 
 
 Hetlow. " But your fair-mindedness does not as- 
 tonish me. This conversation puts the suspicion you 
 entertained to rest." 
 
 This was not the effect Dick desired to produce. 
 But he could not change it now, and they returned to 
 the others. 
 
 It was Bob himself who opened the subject : 
 
 " When I was last here," he said, " it was understood 
 that I should return to-day and present such proof as 
 was at my command, going to establish my identity as 
 young Dugclale. I am here for that purpose, and I 
 have here " 
 
 " One moment," interrupted Mr. Stanton. " Mr. 
 Hetlow, it is but just that Mr. Pierson should be ac 
 quainted with the fact that we are, in the nature of 
 things, antagonists, and that there is no obligation 
 resting upon Mr. Pierson to disclose his proof to you 
 to the other side, who might thereby take an advantage 
 of him. Since he is not represented or advised by 
 counsel, it is but fair to say so." 
 
 " That is true, Mr. Pierson," promptly said Mr. 
 Hetlow. 
 
 " I understand the spirit of fairness which prompts 
 the remark," said Bob, " and I thank you. But I do 
 not apprehend that an unfair advantage will be taken 
 by anyone who can preface a consultation by such a 
 warning. However, I desire to say that, if this prop 
 erty is ever to come to me, I want it to come with the 
 full acquiescence of all here. Therefore I propose to 
 show you here to-night all the proof I have. I am 
 bound to say that it does not appear to me to be 
 much." 
 
 He took from his pocket a package, which he un 
 wrapped. 
 
 " Here," he said, " is a ring which my father says was 
 taken from my father s hand I beg pardon I will 
 phrase it this way ; which Mr. Pierson says was taken 
 from Edmund Dugdale s hand after death. It is
 
 2 1 2 THE D UGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 much worn as you will perceive ; also that the seal is 
 so battered that the insignia is almost undecipher 
 able. I am well enough acquainted with these things 
 to know that it is a ring of rare make, but I cannot 
 see that any proof exists in it." 
 
 It was passed from hand to hand and returned to 
 him. 
 
 "Then," he went on, "there is here a bit of poetry 
 addressed to one Loie/ whoever that may be, which 
 seems to have been keyed in the sentiment that the 
 world s well lost for love. It intimates that that is 
 what the writer has done, yet is well content." 
 
 This was passed around. 
 
 As Dick took it he said : 
 
 " Loie was the given name of Edmund Dugdale s 
 wife." 
 
 " Ah ! It is proof then, to a certain degree," said 
 Mr. Stanton. 
 
 " Then here is another bit of poetry in the same 
 hand, addressed to a newly-born babe, wherein the 
 writer upbraids the father for having forfeited the 
 place in the world which he received at his birth, so 
 that he could not transmit it to the child for whose 
 existence he was responsible." 
 
 " It can be made to work into the proof effectively," 
 remarked Mr. Stanton. 
 
 "Here is a sheet of paper," he went on, "upon 
 which was begun a statement, in which evidently the 
 writer proposes to give the essential particulars of his 
 life. It begins : 
 
 " I propose, while strength is yet permitted me, to set 
 down the important facts and events of my life. My 
 days are numbered upon this earth. I am convinced 
 that I shall soon follow in the way of my wife, await 
 ing me, who is in Heaven, where so good a woman 
 must be. "
 
 MRS. STANTON S INTRIGUE. 213 
 
 Dick was struck by the resemblance of this sentence. 
 to one used by the old man Pierson, in his conver 
 sation with him, applying it then to Mrs. Pierson. 
 
 " Must be [went on Bob, reading]. I leave my only 
 child to the tender mercies of a world which for the 
 past years has been cold and heartless to me. 
 
 " My name is Edmund Dugdale. I am now twenty- 
 six I am a son of Samuel Uugdale, a man of great 
 wealth and a merchant of London. I have named 
 my child after him, though I have been discarded by 
 him since I crowned my follies in his eyes by marry 
 ing a public dancer. I had given myself up to the 
 frivolities and gayeties of the world, refusing to ac 
 knowledge the traditions of my house, which, if fol 
 lowed, would have led me into the counting-room of 
 Samuel Dugdale & Son and into a commercial career. 
 But these my father forgave, believing that in time I 
 would tire of them and devote myself to business. 
 When, however, I married my poor 
 
 " Here," said Bob, " the manuscript stops suddenly, 
 an interruption having occurred, for the sheet is not 
 wholly covered. I have also, and finally, this begin 
 ning of a letter, undated : 
 
 * My dear Father : In the agony of distress, weep 
 ing over the body of my wife, starved before my eyes 
 without my ability to avert it, clasping my offspring 
 in my arms, your grandson, I have determined to 
 make one more appeal to you ; not in my own 
 behalf, for I care not now how soon death may over 
 take me, but for the sake of this dear motherless 
 child, innocent of any wrong toward you. 
 
 "And here again," said Bob, "this ends abruptly." 
 
 " If the handwriting of these scraps," said Mr. 
 
 Stanton, " were to be compared with that known to be
 
 2 1 4 THE D UGDA LE MILL TONS. 
 
 Edmund Dugdale s, it would be strong proof indeed. 
 You have some in your possession, I believe, Hetlow." 
 
 Bob with this looked up keenly at Mr. Hetlow and, 
 as Dick thought, with a frightened expression on his 
 face, but only for an instant. 
 
 " I have such letters," replied Mr. Hetlow, looking 
 at one of the scraps, " and, as I recollect the writing, 
 this seems to be the same." 
 
 " Now to close," continued Bob. 
 
 "I have Mr. Pierson s statement that he received 
 me from the hands of James Powers and his wife, 
 both dead I understand, who said that I was the 
 child of a lodger who had died in his house, named 
 Dugdale. When I have added that, on Saturday last, 
 a man named Ransom came to me offering, for a con 
 sideration, to take me to a man who could give me 
 certain facts, which I saw at once would substantiate 
 Mr. Pierson s statement, I have submitted all the 
 proof at present in my possession." 
 
 All were silent for some time. Finally Mr. Hetlow 
 said : 
 
 " It seems to me to be conclusive." 
 
 " No," remarked Mr. Stanton, " it is not conclusive. 
 It is not weak, however, and is capable of being 
 turned into strong proof." 
 
 " Well, be it strong or weak," said Bob, with a half 
 laugh, as he gathered the papers together and made 
 them into a little package, " it is all I have, though 
 Mr. Pierson says he is certain there were other papers, 
 but he has failed to find them as yet." 
 
 Then turning to Mr Hetlow, he said : 
 
 " Shall I leave them with you ?" 
 
 As he asked this question Dick, closely observant, 
 thought he perceived an eagerness, almost anxiety, 
 for the answer. 
 
 " No, no," quickly responded Mr. Hetlow, " they 
 are far too important to you to permit them to go 
 out of your hands. I thank you for the opportunity 
 of permitting me to see them."
 
 MRS. STAN TON S INTRIGUE. 215 
 
 Again Dick was certain he saw an expression of 
 relief flit over Harold Pierson s face at this answer, 
 but he said : 
 
 "I should not have feared to trust them to the 
 keeping of Mr. Hetlow." 
 
 Then he added quickly, as he bowed courteously to 
 Mr. Hetlow : 
 
 " If you will permit me, I will withdraw and seek 
 the ladies. You will of course wish to discuss these 
 papers." 
 
 He was gone before a protest could be uttered. 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Hetlow, as the door closed on 
 Bob, to Mr. Stanton, " what do you think of this ? " 
 
 " I don t know, " promptly answered the lawyer. 
 "I want time to think it over. It looks right; indeed 
 it looks strong. On the face of it, I would say there 
 was a reasonable presumption, amounting to a moral 
 conviction, that Harold Pierson is young Dugdale." 
 
 " I should think so," said Mr. Hetlow, in a tone of 
 profound confidence. 
 
 " But it is not yet legal proof. However, I do not 
 understand that he puts it before us as such. There 
 have been such things as doctored documents 
 forged papers." 
 
 " Oh," said the merchant, " it is the habit, if not the 
 practice, of you lawyers to be suspicious over every 
 thing." 
 
 " Not a bad failing," replied Mr. Stanton coolly. 
 " The habit has prevented the consummation of many 
 a fraud. Now, Hetlow, don t jump to a conclusion so 
 hastily. It is not yet time to give up Bessie s claims. 
 If you will take my advice, you will stop right here. 
 File your claim, so as to preserve your status, in any 
 proceedings that may be brought on behalf of this 
 young man, and force him into action. Let it be 
 dealt with in England. Stop where you are. You 
 have done your whole duty. Let him do the fighting." 
 
 " Do you mean to say that you are not convinced?" 
 Mr, Hetlow asked indignantly.
 
 sao THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 " If I had not heard what Mason learned on Mon 
 day, perhaps I might have been," calmly replied the 
 lawyer. " Notwithstanding Pierson s explanation of 
 it, I am not yet satisfied, and still distrust. You 
 must stand upon your rights, defending them until the 
 last." 
 
 The three rose and went to the drawing-room, 
 where they found Wallis and Bessie at the piano in the 
 music-room, and Harold Pierson engaged in conversa 
 tion with Mrs. Stanton. 
 
 At once Dick noticed that Mrs. Stanton s face was 
 flushed and that she seemed to be the prey to strong 
 emotions, and that Bob looked troubled and anx 
 ious. 
 
 Bob indeed had reason to be troubled. He had 
 obtained a fact from Mrs. Stanton which almost threw 
 him into a panic. 
 
 Mrs. Stanton, in pursuing her delusion that her 
 husband was unfaithful, had persuaded herself 
 that Mason s frequent visits were solely due to 
 an effort to shield her husband. She had there 
 fore conceived a great dislike for him. And be 
 cause she had frequently heard Dick express his dis 
 trust of Harold Pierson, she had perversely taken a 
 fancy to the young claimant. By an illogical process 
 of reasoning she had come to believe that, in the en 
 deavor to shield her husband, the three Dick, Mr. 
 Hetlow, and Mr. Stanton were sacrificing Harold Pier- 
 son and were engaged in an intrigue to deprive him of 
 his inheritance. Having reached this conclusion, it 
 was an easy step to the other, that her interests were 
 bound up with those of Harold, and thus was to be ex 
 plained why she had, in opposition to all about her, 
 advocated Harold s claim. 
 
 When therefore the opportunity presented itself she 
 opened her conversation with Harold Pierson, by 
 offering him her friendship and sympathy. As a 
 matter of course, Bob only too warmly accepted it.
 
 MRS. STANTOX S INTRIGUE. 2 1? 
 
 He felt that Mr. Hetlow was inclined to accept him 
 for what he represented himself to be ; that Wallis 
 and Bessie regarded him with an indifference that was 
 almost void of interest, a fact which puzzled him so 
 far as Bessie was concerned, since she had so much 
 to lose by his success, and that Mr. Stanton and Dick 
 looked upon him with distrust and suspicion. There 
 fore to have one of the group, even if her influence 
 upon the situation must be slight, his friend was an 
 opportunity not to be lost. 
 
 Finding that her proffer of friendship was eagerly 
 accepted Mrs. Stanton proceeded to confidences. She 
 related her reason for belief in her husband s in 
 fidelity, dilating upon her dreams and the cards which 
 had confirmed her belief, and closing with the state 
 ment that she was a miserable and wronged woman. 
 Bob thought at first Mrs. Stanton was not altogether 
 sound in her mind, although he listened attentively 
 aud respectfully. When, however, she passed on to 
 her description of the way Mason had conspired with 
 her husband, drawing in Mr. Hetlow, to cloak his 
 wrong-doings, under the specious device of a search 
 for the Dugdale heir, he began to believe that there 
 was some purpose in what she was saying. When the 
 blonde woman in a red shawl made her appearance, 
 and he began to realize that a factor in his conspiracy 
 was presented, he was no longer indolently interested, 
 but somewhat alarmed, for it was an element not con 
 sidered or known in their intrigue. But when the 
 event of the afternoon was recited, and the blonde 
 woman in a red shawl was discovered to be a daughter 
 of James Powers, that she had brought a tin box, in 
 which was the evidence of the adoption of Dugdale s 
 child and of the person to whom it was given, but 
 which Mrs. Stanton firmly believed contained the evi 
 dence of her husband s moral turpitude, Bob was 
 panicstricken, and his first impulse was to fly from 
 the house and put himself in a place of safety.
 
 218 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 Mrs. Stanton had told this with a great deal of heat 
 and excitement. For the first time since she had 
 entertained the idea of her husband s unfaithfulness, 
 she had found someone who apparently believed her 
 story. Having submitted her facts, Mrs. Stanton pro 
 ceeded to an argument sustaining her belief. And 
 while she talked Bob was thinking deeply. Learning 
 that this box was still in her possession, and had not 
 been seen by either Dick or Mr. Stanton, he grew 
 more composed and could think more calmly. He 
 appreciated the danger to its fullest extent. Should 
 this box reveal the facts the truth not only would 
 the enterprise they had engaged upon fail, but the 
 four of them would be liable to arrest and prosecution. 
 The situation was critical and called for prompt 
 action. But what action ? He had neither time nor 
 opportunity to consult. What was to be done must 
 be done at once. With more vigorous mental action 
 than any of his associates would have credited him 
 with, he formulated his plan and proceeded to carry 
 it out. 
 
 "You are evidently entirely right," he said. "The 
 proof against your husband is strong, and the con 
 tents of that box undoubtedly complete it over 
 whelmingly. You must see that neither Mr. Stanton, 
 Mr. Mason, nor Mr. Hetlow, are permitted to see the 
 contents of that box, or they will seize the papers and 
 make away with them, when you will have lost your op 
 portunity to confound your husband. Of course you 
 know my position. I think, myself, that they are not 
 disposed to yield me my right in this matter of the 
 succession to the Dugdale estates. Your husband, 
 only this evening, intimated to me that my proofs 
 were not strong legally. You and I are involved in 
 the one thing by being made the victims of a con 
 spiracy. 
 
 " That is what I said at once," interrupted Mrs. 
 Stanton.
 
 MRS. STAN TON S INTRIGUE. 219 
 
 " It is very clear," continued Bob eagerly. " They 
 desire to shield Mr. Stanton. He means to face his 
 deceit out with you. Mr. Hetlow naturally does not 
 want me to prove my identity, while Mason is in 
 love with Miss Hetlow and does not want the prop 
 erty to pass away from her. They make common 
 cause together, and the result is that we are the 
 victims. It is, therefore, necessary for us to join 
 hands in defense of our respective rights. There 
 may be papers in that box that will throw light npon 
 my case." 
 
 "That is why I tell you," exclaimed Mrs. Stanton. 
 
 " Then keep that box secure until you can let me 
 have it. When I can take it I will give it to my law 
 yer, who will be able to understand the papers better 
 than you or I can." 
 
 Mrs. Stanton, however, shrank from this proposi 
 tion, but Bob continued to skillfully play upon her 
 delusion, until she finally yielded and promised to 
 deliver it to him in some way. 
 
 " I do not see how I can give it to you unob 
 served," she said. 
 
 " It will never do for you to hand it to me," replied 
 Bob. " If that were seen suspicion would be excited 
 at once." 
 
 " But how can you get it ? " she asked. 
 
 " It must be stolen from you," said Bob, after some 
 reflection, "so that there will be no responsibility rest 
 ing upon you." 
 
 " But how ? " she inquired eagerly. 
 
 " Can you not place it where it can be taken to 
 night?" he asked. 
 
 To the desire, ardent and real if mistaken, to ob 
 tain proof of her husband s infidelity, was now added 
 all the fascination of the mystery and the intrigue 
 she had entered upon. She thought awhile and 
 then said : 
 
 " I have concealer! the box imong a number of
 
 220 THE DUGDALE MILLION S. 
 
 others, into which my husband does not look in these 
 days. I could not tell you how you would know it." 
 
 " But can you not put it in a place where it could 
 be easily got ?" urged Bob. 
 
 The foolish woman thought awhile and then said : 
 
 " I will place it on the table next to the window of 
 the library which looks out upon the veranda, which 
 is on the river side of the house. You can raise the 
 window, which I will leave unfastened, and take it 
 from the table." 
 
 "But which room is the library?" asked Bob. 
 " You know I have never been in your house." 
 
 " It is the room on the river side of the house on 
 the corner nearest Mr. Hetlow s house." 
 
 " That will do well. Leave it all to me." 
 
 It was at this point that the three who had been 
 consulting in the library appeared, putting an end to 
 further conversation between Mrs. Stanton and Bob. 
 
 Immediately thereafter the Springhill people took 
 their leave. Somewhat to their astonishment Bob 
 asked to be permitted to walk with them, saying that 
 he would return at once. There was no opposition, 
 as there could not be ; and Bob walked with Dick and 
 Wallis. 
 
 They had hardly reached the confines of the Het- 
 low grounds, when Bob suddenly exclaimed, " What 
 a lovely night ! and immediately his voice, in pure 
 strong baritone, rolled out with the air of " Oh, lovely 
 night ! " He sang but a stave or two, when he began 
 to talk rapidly as to the pleasure he took in country 
 life and the joy he would experience could he live in 
 such a place. 
 
 As the party reached the fence which surrounded 
 the grounds in which Mr. Stanton s house was, he 
 bade them good-night and abruptly left, going back 
 over the path they had come. 
 
 His purpose in his sudden outburst of song was 
 made apparent when he approached the Hetlow
 
 MKS. STANTON S INTRIGUE. 221 
 
 grounds. Ransom rose up out of the ground appar 
 ently. 
 
 " I heard you sing, and took it for a call for me," 
 he said. 
 
 "You re right. The devil is to pay," replied Bob. 
 * Listen close and don t talk, for I must get back be 
 fore suspicion is aroused." 
 
 Then, briefly, he told Ransom what he had learned 
 from Mrs. Stanton as to the tin box, and the ar 
 rangement he had made to secure it. 
 
 Ranson was as badly frightened as Bob had been. 
 
 " But will she stick ? " he asked. 
 
 "It was the best I could do," replied Bob. "We 
 must take the chance. You must get the box to 
 night." 
 
 " I ll get -it if it is there to get." said Ransom. 
 
 "We must, or we are done," said Bob, "and let 
 me know if you ve got it, for if you haven t I must 
 see the old woman again." 
 
 " If a man, no matter who, stands before you to 
 morrow morning, the first time you show your head 
 ut of doors, and tears a large piece of paper up and 
 throws the pieces into the air, that means I ve got it." 
 
 Ransom slunk away into the darkness, and Bob 
 went back into the house of " The Larches."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 A BURGLARY. 
 
 ON returning to Spring-hill Mr. Stanton, to his 
 wife s infinite distress, led Dick into the library. As 
 Wallis immediately retired to her own room the poor 
 woman was given an opportunity to think over the 
 enterprise she had engaged upon, alone. 
 
 "Mason," said Mr. Stanton, as he closed the door 
 after them, " in looking over some of my old papers 
 with a view of destroying those of no value, I came 
 across some papers belonging to the estate of Thomas 
 Mason your uncle. I cannot tell how they got 
 among my private papers, I suppose they did when I 
 was settling it. I recently had my boxes removed 
 from the office to this place. There they are, ten of 
 them," pointing to a shelf, on which a number of tin 
 boxes were ranged together. " I am weeding out the 
 unimportant papers. I don t think they are of any 
 value I mean those belonging to the Mason estate 
 but you should look at them." 
 
 With this he rose from his chair and, going to the 
 shelf, took down one of the boxes, bringing it to the 
 table. On opening it, however, he said : 
 
 " This is not the one. Someone has been interfer 
 ing with these boxes. The girls have had a dusting 
 fit, I suppose, and upset things. 
 
 He took down another and indeed others, until he 
 had six upon the table, without rinding the one he was 
 looking for, until at last he took down one to find it 
 was locked, 
 
 " This is locked," he said, in surprise. "Which one 
 h this? I don t remember it."
 
 A BURGLARY. 223 
 
 It was in fact the Jenkins box, which Mrs. Stanton 
 thought she had so safely hidden. There would have 
 been much trembling among certain people if they 
 could have known that, at that moment, Mr. Stanton 
 and Dick had the means within their own hands of 
 definitely determining who was the real Dugdale heir. 
 
 But saying that it was not the one he was looking 
 for, he took down another. Thus he had seven boxes 
 on the table, and the seventh proved to be the one he 
 wanted. 
 
 He handed the papers to Dick, who saw by the 
 most cursory examination that they were of no value 
 whatever. 
 
 " I will destroy them," he said. 
 
 " Put them back in the box," said Mr. Stanton, 
 "and when I come to them in my weeding-out process 
 I will get rid of them." 
 
 He lifted the box, as Dick did as he was bid, with 
 the view of putting the box back, but Dick promptly 
 interfered, and taking the box from his hand said : 
 
 "Sit down, i \vill put the boxes back." 
 
 He had restored two to their places, when Mr. 
 Stanton, going over to the shelf, took down the Jenkins 
 box and, taking a bunch of keys from his pocket, tried 
 to find a key that would unlock it. 
 
 " Strange," he muttered. " I have no key that fits 
 it. I can t imagine what box this is." 
 
 While he was thus engaged Dick had put back 
 three more. Mr. Stanton laid the box down on the 
 table and Dick picked it up to replace it. 
 
 "Leave the others," said Mr. Stanton. 
 
 Misunderstanding his remark, Dick laid the box 
 down again on a part of the table remote from the 
 others. 
 
 The two talked a little while longer and then went 
 to bed, leaving the three boxes on the table. 
 
 In the meantime Mrs. Stanton, having had ample 
 time to reflect, began to shrink from the dishonorable
 
 224 THE DUG DALE MILLIONS. 
 
 intrigue into which she had been led by Harold Pier- 
 son. And the morr she pondered upon the scheme 
 the more detestable it appeared to her. Finally, with 
 a firm determination, she resolved to go no further in 
 the matter. Could she have communicated with 
 Harold Pierson she would have done so, but the 
 hour was too late and so she went to bed, proposing 
 to let Bob find out that she had retired from the 
 scheme by finding that the window had not been pre 
 pared for him as she had promised, and expecting to 
 explain to him, upon the first opportunity, her reasons 
 for abandoning the scheme, even though it promised 
 to give her proofs of her husband s infidelity. 
 
 There were occurrences during the night, however, 
 which threw her plans into confusion. Early the 
 next morning she was awakened from her sleep by 
 excited poundings on the door. She opened it to be 
 informed that during the night the house had been 
 broken into. 
 
 With a consciousness of guilt and trembling with 
 excitement, she hastily threw on a dressing-robe and 
 descended the stairs. She knew that the event was 
 the outcome of her talk with Harold Pierson, and 
 though she had not been told that it was in the 
 library that the attempt had been made, she went 
 directly to that apartment. The window was open, the 
 shutters thrown back, and the cool morning air was 
 pouring through the room. On the table she saw the 
 Jenkins box. With a devout sense of thankfulness 
 she recognized it and, hardly knowing why, she hast 
 ily caught it up and placed it in an unused drawer, 
 drawing some papers over it. She had barely ac 
 complished this when Mr. Stanton entered the room. 
 
 He was too intent upon the burglary to notice his 
 wife s agitation, and if he had, he would probably have 
 attributed it to the event itself. He went over to the 
 window and discovered that the shutters had been
 
 A BURGLARY, 2* 
 
 pried off. Drawing down the sash he saw a hole had 
 been cut through one of the panes by which an arm 
 could be thrust through and the catch slipped back. 
 
 "It is burglary, sure enough!" he exclaimed. 
 M What has been stolen ?" 
 
 Aroused by the confusion in the house Dick and 
 Wallis came from their rooms, hastily dressed. 
 A systematic search was entered upon. Then they 
 began to wonder. Not an article was missing. The 
 plate was in its place in the dining-room ; the safe in 
 the library had not been tampered with ; and opening 
 it, its contents were found to be secure. There was no 
 indication that the burglar had gone beyond the library. 
 They were stupefied all but Mrs. Stanton who, if she 
 were minded, could have explained. But she main 
 tained a guilty silence. They gathered in the library 
 again after the examination of the house. 
 
 " A most singular burglary," said Mr. Stanton, " I 
 do not understand it. Not a single article taken." 
 
 Dick was looking at the table. 
 
 " Has anything been removed from this room since 
 the discovery that the house had been entered was 
 made ?" he asked suddenly. 
 
 " Nothing," replied Mr. Stanton promptly. 
 
 " Then," said Dick, " the boxes left on the table 
 last night were stolen." 
 
 Mr. Stanton counted the boxes on the shelf. There 
 were eight of them. 
 
 "True," he said. "Two of them are missing." 
 
 Mrs. Stanton was conscience-stricken, but silent. 
 This then was what her foolish conduct had resulted 
 in. Two boxes containing her husband s private 
 papers had been taken away. Of course it was a mis 
 take Harold Pierson did not want those. The box 
 he did want was within his reach, but he had missed 
 it. She determined that she would compel him to re 
 turn them.
 
 3 a6 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 In the meantime the others were speculating as to 
 what was the meaning of the desire to take these 
 boxes. 
 
 " I presume," said Mr. Stanton at length, " some 
 evil fellows were lurking about when we were 
 handling these boxes last night, Mason, and 
 saw us. Supposing them to contain valuables, they 
 have broken into the house to get them. Well, they 
 will make nothing by it. The sole result will be to 
 incommode me." 
 
 Having reached this result, they separated to pre 
 pare for breakfast. 
 
 With the breakfast hour came the mail. There was 
 a letter for Dick, from which as he opened it dropped 
 a small key. The letter was from Mrs. Jenkins and 
 informed him that she had forgotten to give the key 
 of the tin box, which she had left with Mrs. Stanton, to 
 the lady, a fact she discovered on arriving in New 
 York, and had therefore mailed it to him. 
 
 Dick, much surprised, looked up from his letter and 
 addressed Mrs. Stanton : 
 
 " Was Mrs. Jenkins here yesterday ? " 
 
 The suddenness of the question, which seemed to 
 reveal her wrong-doing, utterly confounded the lady. 
 Her face flushed, and she trembled visibly. 
 
 Wallis, whose attention was caught by the question 
 Dick had put, was astonished at the demeanor of her 
 aunt, who after several efforts finally stammered out : 
 
 " Why, yes yesterday afternoon. I forgot to tell 
 you about it." 
 
 " Did she leave a box, of which this is the key, with 
 you ? " 
 
 He held up the key for her to look at. 
 
 By a violent effort Mrs. Stanton took possession of 
 herself, realizing that the fact of Mrs. Jenkins visit 
 and her delivery of the box was now known, and, as 
 well, that she was in a most unpleasant predicament.
 
 A BURGLAR Y. 22? 
 
 " Yes," she replied, as promptly as she could. " She 
 did leave a box and I put it on the library table, for 
 getting all about it." 
 
 She was not reassured by finding Wallis s dark eyes 
 bent upon her keenly, and, she thought, suspiciously. 
 
 Dick leaped to a sudden conclusion, that took such 
 fast hold of him that he failed to notice Mrs. Stanton s 
 singularity of manner, 
 
 "Do you take this in, sir?" he asked, addressing 
 Mr. Stanton, who had been apparently engrossed in 
 his own thoughts. 
 
 Mr. Stanton looked upon Dick inquiringly. 
 
 " I fancy we have an explanation of the burglary of 
 last night," continued Dick, unmindful of the percept 
 ible start of Mrs. Stanton, which however was care 
 fully noted by Wallis. "It seems that Mrs. Jenkins 
 came here with that tin box she promised to bring 
 and left it with Mrs. Stanton, who says she received 
 it and, carrying it to the library, placed it on the 
 table." 
 
 Mr. Stanton was aroused. He addressed his wife 
 sternly : 
 
 " What ! You forgot to mention it ? That was ex 
 ceedingly thoughtless indeed it was reprehensible 
 so important a matter as that." 
 
 Mrs. Stanton quailed before the harsh and stern 
 looks of her husband. 
 
 " Mrs. Jenkins came in just after you and Mr. 
 Mason had gone into the village," replied Mrs. Stan- 
 ton in an endeavor to defend herself. 
 
 " Where were you, Wallis, that you should have for 
 gotten it too ? " asked Mr. Stanton of his niece. 
 
 " I knew nothing of any box until now," returned 
 Wallis. " When you drove off with Mr. Mason, I went 
 over to see Bessie." 
 
 " Mason," said the old lawyer, turning to Dick, 
 who began to regret he had been so precipitate, since
 
 228 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 he had brought reproof on Mrs. Stanton, " Masoa 
 that box I found locked must have been the one. But 
 it was on the shelf." 
 
 " I left it on the table," said Mrs. Stanton, very red 
 of face. 
 
 " It certainly was on the shelf when I saw it first," 
 continued Mr. Stanton. " I think, wife, you must have 
 put it there, without being conscious of your act. 
 But, Mason, why do you say it explains the bur 
 glary?" 
 
 " That was a sudden and thoughtless conclusion," 
 replied Dick. " When I m called upon for argument 
 to sustain it, I find myself in difficulty. But here are 
 several facts. A burglary was committed. The house 
 maid, under your questioning, distinctly recollects 
 closing the shutters and fastening the sashes last night. 
 This morning the windows show a burglarious entrance. 
 A searching examination of the house shows no pur 
 pose of robbing generally, since articles of value, easy 
 of reach, were not touched. Hence we may conclude 
 that behind the entrance was a specific purpose. But, 
 what ? That question brings me to my conclusion. 
 If you will recollect though you took down eight 
 boxes, five were replaced and three left on the table. 
 These three boxes have disappeared. And these 
 boxes were the specific purpose of the burglary." 
 
 " There were ten of my boxes on the shelf. This one 
 brought by Mrs. Jenkins would make eleven," inter 
 rupted Mr. Stanton, as he hurried out of the room. 
 He was back again in a moment. 
 
 " There are but eight left," he said, as he returned. 
 " So three were taken." 
 
 "Now, sir, continued Dick, "let us assume for the 
 sake of :ny argument, that there is a relation between 
 the disappearance of the locked box brought by Mrs. 
 Jenkins, which is among the three, and the claim of 
 Harold Pierson to the Dugdale estate."
 
 A BURGLARY. 2*9 
 
 Both Mr. Stanton and Wallis were startled by the 
 boldness of the proposition. Mrs. Stanton, however, 
 very red of face and in an alarmed tone, cried out : 
 
 " I do not know why you should do that." 
 
 Her husband and her niece, surprised at her tone 
 and manner, looked at her keenly and curiously. 
 
 " Merely as a starting-point, Mrs. Stanton," said 
 Dick, bowing deferentially to her, and continued : 
 " There are certain facts of which we have been 
 cognizant since the beginning of our search. When 
 I called on Mrs. Tomlinson 1 learned that a middle- 
 aged man had seen her upon precisely the same 
 errand, before I got to her, while if he did not repre 
 sent his name to be Mason, he at least left her under 
 the impression that he was the Mason upon whose 
 behalf Barber had seen her the previous day. Again, 
 when we employ detectives to trace Powers, we are in 
 formed that they were preceded in every place they 
 went by a man making precisely the same inquiries. 
 The description of this man coincides with the descrip 
 tion of the man calling upon Mrs. Tomlinson." 
 
 " I recollect," interjected Mr. Stanton. 
 
 " There must have been a purpose in all this," Dick 
 went on, " and the purpose must have been to reach 
 the end we were seeking. Now, grant me a single 
 supposition. Suppose that having learned of the ex 
 istence of a daughter of James Powers, as we did, and 
 that there was in her possession a tin box, the con 
 tents of which might reveal the truth as to the adoption 
 of Edmund Dugdale s child, as we did, is it a violent 
 assumption that this person, tracing the box to this 
 house, adopted the felonious means of burglary to 
 secure its possession ? " 
 
 " It is all nonsense," suddenly ejaculated Mrs. 
 Stanton. 
 
 " Why, auntie ! " cried Wallis, and not without pur 
 pose, " what do you know of it ? "
 
 23 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 Mrs. Stanton was brought to a recognition of her 
 own heat by the question. She replied hastily : 
 
 " I know nothing, but the argument is absurd." 
 
 " Not by any means," interposed Mr. Stanton. 
 "It is very strong and plausible, and it only misses 
 being conclusive." 
 
 " I have not finished," said Dick. " I connect Harold 
 Pierson with this matter, by a slight and perhaps 
 weak thread. Notwithstanding the apparent frank 
 ness of his explanation as to being found in the com- 
 pany of Ransom, I am not satisfied and I cannot di 
 vest myself of the idea that, though he pretended to 
 the contrary, Ransom was, in fact, in collusion with 
 Harold and Orton Pierson before he came to me 
 in answer to my advertisement. Then there is the 
 further fact that I am almost certain that prior to 
 last Monday, I have twice seen Ransom about these 
 grounds. If I cannot present a conclusive argu 
 ment," he concluded with a laugh, " I can build a 
 very complete theory." 
 
 " So complete a theory," said Mr. Stanton, in a tone 
 which showed how greatly impressed he was by Dick s 
 talk, " that it demands thorough investigation, until 
 the theory is confirmed or destroyed." 
 
 " I am glad you have reached such a conclusion," 
 said Dick almost gratefully. " I will present these 
 facts to Captain Lawton to-day." 
 
 " Not until we have first consulted Mr. Hetlow," 
 said Stanton. 
 
 Thus it was that immediately after breakfast the 
 two sought Mr. Hetlow. They found Harold Pier- 
 son preparing to depart in high spirits. A man had 
 appeared before him throwing bits of paper into the 
 air. 
 
 Mr. Hetlow listened attentively. He discussed 
 Dick s theory as more ingenious than probable, but on 
 Mr. Stanton s urgency he gave a reluctant consent 
 that the facts should be presented to Captain Lawton.
 
 A BURGLARY. 231 
 
 Dick could not avoid traveling to the city in the com- 
 pany of Harold Pierson, though he tried not to do so. 
 Bob had known of the brief conference between Mr. 
 Hetlow and Mr. Stanton and Dick, without knowing 
 its subject, but he surmised it had relation to the box. 
 He was therefore persistent in clinging to Dick in the 
 hope that he might elicit something. 
 
 At first Dick avoided mention of the theft of the 
 boxes, but the idea occurred to him that he might 
 surprise Harold Pierson into some indication of a 
 knowledge of it. 
 
 " Springhill was entered by burglars last night," 
 he said abruptly, 
 
 " By burglars?" repeated Bob incredulously. 
 
 "The house was broken into, the shutters being 
 pried open and the glass cut, and certain tin boxes, con 
 taining papers, stolen," he added. 
 
 Bob was now sincerely astonished. His face showed 
 it. It was genuine and unmistakable ; this was not 
 according to the programme. He thought that Mrs. 
 Stanton had failed and that Ransom, finding that the 
 window was not prepared as promised, had entered by 
 force and carried off all the boxes he could find. 
 Dick was misled. He thought Harold Pierson had 
 no acquaintance with the act. He wondered if the 
 young man could be the dupe of other men, for he 
 had great faith in his theory. 
 
 " Were these boxes of value that is, their con 
 tents ? " asked Bob innocently. 
 
 " Two of them were of no value at all. The third only 
 reached the house yesterday, and contained matters 
 which might have gone to the proof of the heirship to 
 the Dugdale estates," said Dick, upon sudden im 
 pulse to test Bob. 
 
 It failed, however, for Bob was busy with another 
 thought. 
 
 "The old woman has squealed," he thought, " but 
 Ransom has got the box,"
 
 832 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 As the two parted at the station in the city, Bob 
 said with a laugh: 
 
 " I leave The Larches this morning without an 
 invitation to return." 
 
 Dick thought that Mr. Hetlow was becoming sus 
 picious. Aloud he said : 
 
 " A relative of the family does not need an invita 
 tion to visit at will." 
 
 The sneer accompanying these words was so evi 
 dent that Bob did not fail to notice it and marked id 
 for further thought
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 PUZZLED CONSPIRATORS. 
 
 DICK immediately called upon Captain Lawton. 
 No sooner had he entered his office than that official 
 called out: 
 
 "Ah! I have just sent to your office. I have 
 some information. Ransom is a man without visible 
 means of support, yet seems to be always in funds. 
 He is a sporting man. Nothing is known to his dis 
 credit save that he seems to have an extensive ac 
 quaintance with crooked people. For six months a 
 young man named Bob Brown has been his constant 
 companion. Beyond this companionship nothing is re 
 ported against him. Just about the time that Orton 
 Pierson s son Harold made his appearance in Harlem 
 after a long absence, this young man disappeared 
 from the haunts of Ransom and his companionship. 
 The description of one may be taken for the descrip 
 tion of the other. There is a point for you to con 
 sider. I have learned that Ransom and Orton Pier- 
 son have been long acquainted, and many years ago 
 were closely connected. A lawyer of rather shadf 
 reputation, named Moore, meets with the three I have 
 named, at Orton Pierson s house in i28th Street, 
 nearly daily. I know this man." 
 
 "All of this supports my theory," said Dick 
 musingly. 
 
 "Your theory?" inquired the captain. 
 
 "Yes, my theory," replied Dick; "but before I tell 
 it, please describe this man Moore." 
 
 The captain did so minutely. 
 
 "It is the same," exclaimed Dick excitedly. "Ho
 
 234 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 is the man who visited Mrs. Tomlinson and afterward 
 pushed his inquiry in Newark for knowledge of James 
 Powers. This is growing warm. " 
 
 He then related to the captain the story of the bur 
 glary on Mr. Stan tori s house the previous night, and 
 afterward explained his theory. The captain listened 
 attentively. When Dick had concluded his story he 
 said: 
 
 "Then your belief is that the scheme is a fraudulent 
 attempt to palm off the adopted son of the elder Pier- 
 son as young Dugdale." 
 
 "Yes; either with or without the knowledge and 
 consent of Harold Pierson." 
 
 "With his knowledge," exclaimed the captain. "I 
 do not believe that Harold Pierson is the adopted son 
 of Orton. He is Bob Brown in my opinion. It is a 
 deep plot, which must be closely looked into. Your 
 theory is excellent and I will work on its lines." 
 
 While this conference was going forward in Captain 
 Lawton s office, another was in progress at Orton 
 Pierson s house, in an upper room. 
 
 Ransom had arrived early in the morning and was 
 awaiting Bob s appearance impatiently. He had told 
 the story of the previous night s experience to Moore 
 and Orton Pierson. Both were well frightened. 
 They were not at all reassured by Ransom s emphatic 
 statement that Bob was convinced that no one but 
 Mrs. Stanton had knowledge of the box. Moore had 
 urged that the Hetlow people knew the woman Jen 
 kins and could obtain knowledge of its contents from 
 her. When Bob appeared he was eagerly plied with 
 questions. 
 
 "You are all off the track," he said. "The story is 
 serious enough, I can tell you, without making it more 
 so. Mrs. Stanton says, and I believe her, that no one 
 knew that the box had been received at the Stanton 
 house but herself. She is a jealous old fool, and 
 believes the box contains evidence by which she can
 
 PUZZLED CONSPIRATORS. 235 
 
 convict her husband of some intrigue she thinks he 
 has been engaged in. She says the box belonged 
 to James Powers and that his daughter the Jenkins 
 woman does not understand the papers in it. So far 
 as that goes it is all right. Ransom," he said, sud 
 denly breaking off and turning to that person, "how 
 many boxes did you get?" 
 
 "Two." 
 
 "Holy smoke! Three were taken, or were missing 
 this morning." 
 
 The two stared at each other in blank amazement. 
 The others looked upon them with frightened interest. 
 
 "I took two," at length said Ransom. "All I saw. 
 When I reached the window I found it tighter than a 
 drum and I thought, if the old woman hadn t weak 
 ened at the end, she had forgotten the window in 
 her flurry. So I went in anyhow. When I got in, 
 there were two boxes on the table, and I took them 
 both to make sure, and made off." 
 
 "Well," said Bob, after a moment s reflection, 
 "I m afraid the old woman has squealed, and not any 
 further than to tell about the box. I came down on 
 the cars with Mason. He said three boxes had been 
 taken, two containing private papers of Mr. Stanton 
 and one papers going to the proof of the heirship to 
 the Dugdale estates what the proof was he did not 
 know. Now you see that though Mrs. Stanton told 
 me last night that no one but herself knew the box 
 had been received, yet this morning Mason knew it. 
 She must have squealed." 
 
 "Perhaps," said Moore, "they came to know that 
 this Jenkins woman had been there and she was com 
 pelled to admit the box." 
 
 "But about the three boxes?" said Ransom. "I 
 got but two." 
 
 "We must examine those boxes at once," said 
 Orton Pierson. "We are getting into shallow waters 
 and must be cautious in every movement we make."
 
 236 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 Ransom produced a large paper box from which he 
 took the tin ones he had stolen the night previous. 
 In the first there were nothing but the private papers 
 of Mr. Stanton relating to transactions long since 
 closed and of no significance. The other was filled 
 with receipted bills, many of them of ancient date. 
 
 The conspirators were dumfounded. The box, to 
 secure which a burglary had been committed, had not 
 been obtained. They were in great danger as great 
 as when Dick first learned of its existence. Worse, 
 indeed, for now burglary had been added to compli 
 cate the situation. 
 
 They stood blankly looking at each other. Ransom 
 broke the silence by cursing the woman who had 
 misled them. 
 
 "We are in great danger," said Moore. 
 
 "And because we don t know where the box is and 
 what is in it," added Orton Pierson. 
 
 "Because we don t know what they know," 
 growled Ransom. 
 
 "You all forget that Mason says that three were 
 taken," suggested Bob. 
 
 "I ll swear I took but two," protested Ransom 
 "all there was there." 
 
 "Well," said Bob thoughtfully, "this is the point. 
 Mason says three boxes are missing. Ransom says 
 there were only two there these are the ones. It 
 seems to me that Mrs. Stanton either weakened or 
 something interfered to prevent her carrying out her 
 agreement with me. She may have that box con 
 cealed and is giving it out that it went with the rest. 
 They knew the box, for Mason spoke of it. If she has 
 got it she will keep it concealed." 
 
 "But you don t know," insisted Ransom, "and our 
 hands are tied until you do." 
 
 "Here is my point," continued Bob, "this Mrs. 
 Jenkins lives in Philadelphia. Let Moore go and 
 find her out. It ought not to be much of a hunt and
 
 PUZZLED CONSPIRATORS. 2tf 
 
 perhaps he can learn what is in the box from her, 
 though Mrs. Stanton says she doesn t know. Any 
 how he may get at something to show us how to go." 
 
 "That s a good suggestion," said Orton Pierson. 
 "I see no other course." 
 
 "I ll set out this very afternoon," said Moore, 
 "and I ll learn enough to know whether we are to go 
 on or take to the woods." 
 
 "What are we going to do with these bloody 
 boxes?" asked Ransom. 
 
 "Send them back again by express," said Moore. 
 
 Ransom laughed incredulously. 
 
 "I mean it," said Moore. "It will take any per 
 sonal reason out of this affair, Stanton may have for 
 pursuing seriously the discovery of who committed the 
 burglary." 
 
 "It is a good idea," acquiesced Orton Pierson. 
 
 "Very well," said Ransom, "they will go back. 
 But isn t this Mason piling things up pretty strong? 
 He is the one who is doing the fighting." 
 
 "Yes," said Bob, "he is the one, d him." 
 
 Ransom looked at the others significantly, but said 
 nothing. Neither did the others. 
 
 Moore broke the silence by saying to Bob: 
 
 "Bob, you ought to get into communication with 
 that woman Stanton." 
 
 "How can I until we know the ground we stand 
 on?" asked Bob. "It would be dangerous to go 
 there now. And besides I have no excuse." 
 
 "She may have squealed on the whole affair," said 
 Ransom. 
 
 "I don t think she has," said Orton Pierson. "If 
 she had the box wouldn t be missing. It isn t likely 
 that anybody else went into that house that night. If 
 it is missing, it is because she has got it in hiding. 
 We can t tell that, nor can we know, until she has 
 been seen." 
 
 Ransom, looking to Bob, said;
 
 238 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 "I can take you up there so you won t be seen, 
 We can lay quiet for a chance to meet her, or to sea 
 her somehow." 
 
 Bob shook his head. 
 
 "There is no risk in going up there, urged Ransom. 
 
 "See here, Bob," put in Moore, "the more I think 
 of it the clearer it is to me, that you ought to do as 
 Ransom says. If Mrs. Stanton made that arrange 
 ment with you, she knows what that burglary, as they 
 call it, meant. If she has squealed at all, she would 
 have given you away before you left Hetlow s house. 
 The fact that you were permitted to leave is proof to 
 me that she hasn t. There is something in her failure 
 to carry out the scheme with you, and in the box 
 being missing, that we don t understand." 
 
 "By George! that is so," exclaimed Bob, caught 
 by the argument. 
 
 "Well then, you do what Ransom says. Go up 
 there under cover and I will go to Philadelphia 
 to-night. We were all ready for the next move but 
 everything must stop now until we know the grounds 
 we are on." 
 
 Bob yielded, and the worthies -fell to making plans 
 as to the course to be pursued in reaching Mrs. Stan- 
 ton. Orton Pierson was called out of the room. He 
 returned shortly, much alarmed, exclaiming: 
 
 "Mason went straight from the station to the police 
 headquarters." 
 
 "Well," said Ransom, "that ought not to frighten 
 you. It was the famous burglary that sent him there." 
 
 "Ah, but if that were all," returned Pierson. "The 
 last place he visited before he left town was police 
 headquarters." 
 
 "D Mason!" cried Ransom. "He is getting 
 
 too fresh. He must be stopped. Bob, meet me at 
 the old place to-night, at eight o clock, togged up. 
 I m off." 
 
 And thus the conference ended.
 
 CHAPTER XXY. 
 
 COMPLICATIONS. 
 
 DICK S startling theory, by which he connected the 
 burglary at Springhill with the pretensions of Har 
 old Pierson to the Dugdale estates, had caused the 
 possibility of what the contents of the tin box might 
 have revealed to be lost sight of. 
 
 It was Mr. Stanton who first recalled what might be 
 lost in this theft of the box. Accordingly he wrote to 
 Dick urging that steps be taken, if not to recover the 
 box, which of course would be more desirable but 
 naturally more difficult, to at least endeavor to ascer 
 tain what the contents consisted of. He suggested, as 
 the only means he could think of, that Dick should go 
 to Philadelphia to see Mrs. Jenkins. 
 
 Dick had just returned from a visit to Captain Law- 
 ton when he received this letter from Mr. Stanton. 
 The detective had said that Bob, on parting with Dick 
 on the day previous, had gone straightway to Orton 
 Pierson s house, where Ransom and Moore were 
 awaiting him, and to which place Ransom had gone 
 early in the morning carrying a large bundle. The 
 detective further told Dick that, after a long stay, the 
 three, Ransom, Moore, and Bob, had left at different 
 times, and gone in different directions; that trace had 
 been lost of Ransom and Bob, but that the officer fol 
 lowing Moore had tracked him to the Pennsylvania 
 railroad station and saw him buy a ticket for Philadel 
 phia, when, having no instructions to leave the city, 
 he had returned and made his report. 
 
 "That bundle carried by Ransom," said Dick 
 eagerly, "contained the boxes stolen from Springhill."
 
 240 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 "That is mere guessing," returned the captain. 
 
 "True," replied Dick, "it is guesswork, but I am 
 certain that to examine the contents of those boxes 
 was the meaning of the gathering that morning." 
 
 "When Ransom went away he carried the same 
 bundle with him." 
 
 "And trace was lost of him," said Dick thought 
 fully, "that is bad, for I fear the boxes have been 
 made away with." 
 
 "I fear so," said the captain, showing no little 
 chagrin. "It was very stupid of my men to let them 
 slip, but I imagine that they disguised themselves, and 
 my men were not looking for that." 
 
 "Well," said Dick, as he rose to take his departure, 
 "the events of the day have justified to some extent 
 my theory, and at all events give good reasons for 
 proceeding upon the basis that Harold Pierson s claim 
 is a fraudulent one." 
 
 "The matter will be pursued with all the skill and 
 energy of which I am capable," said the captain, with 
 considerable reserve in his manner. 
 
 Dick waited a moment or two for the captain to go 
 on, hoping that he would indicate what methods he 
 would employ in his farther inquiry, but as the detect 
 ive did not seem disposed to gratify his desire, Dick 
 bade him good-by and went away. 
 
 On reaching his office, he found Mr. Stanton s let 
 ter. Immediately on reading it he exclaimed aloud: 
 
 "That fellow Moore has gone to see Mrs. Jenkins." 
 
 He resolved to set out for Philadelphia at once. 
 Assuring himself that he had barely time to catch the 
 next train he hurried off. 
 
 While these events were occurring in New York, 
 Mr. Stanton, at Springhill, was wondering over the 
 receipt of a package containing the two boxes filled 
 with his private papers which had been stolen on the 
 previous Wednesday night. There was nothing to 
 indicate from whence they had come. An examina-
 
 COMPLICA TIONS. *4* 
 
 tion revealed that none of the papers had been 
 extracted. 
 
 "This goes to the proof," he said, thoughtfully to 
 himself, "that the Jenkins box was the one the thieves 
 were after, and that in their haste they took the three 
 to make sure of the right one. They have returned 
 these two because they were of no use to them. There 
 is something in young Mason s theory after all." 
 
 He called his wife and Wallis to tell them the extra 
 ordinary occurrence. Mrs. Stanton was much agi 
 tated when she saw the two stolen boxes returned, for 
 knowing that they were the only ones taken, she 
 feared that their return was preliminary to either a 
 confession or a revelation on the part of Harold Pier- 
 son, which would expose her own guilty part in the 
 intrigue in which she had become involved, and from 
 which she had receded at the last moment, but which, 
 nevertheless, had led to the burglary. She was on 
 the point of confessing to her husband that thejenkins 
 box had not been taken with the others, but was 
 hidden by her on the morning after the burglary. She 
 was restrained, however, by the fear of her husband s 
 anger and of the humiliating position she would be 
 placed in before Wallis and their neighbors of "The 
 Larches." 
 
 "Mr. Mason was right," exclaimed Wallis, "in say 
 ing that it was the Jenkins box that was wanted." 
 
 "So I think," replied her uncle, "but I am puzzled 
 to know how these boxes were sent back. They must 
 have uncovered their tracks in returning them in some 
 way. They were brought here by the expressman. I 
 am going into the village to make inquiries. I ought 
 to be able to learn from what place they were shipped 
 and by whom." 
 
 He left them to carry out this intention. Wallis 
 waited until her uncle was gone from the house, when 
 she turned to her aunt and said most pointedly: 
 
 "The theft of that box is most unfortunate. If any-
 
 24 2 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 one interested in our affairs is in any way responsible 
 for it, such person can have the satisfaction of feeling 
 that he may have contributed to Bessie s loss of her 
 fortune." 
 
 Mrs. Stanton s face flushed deeply as she encoun 
 tered Wallis s dark eyes bent keenly upon her. She 
 was confused, and averted her head. Her manner 
 troubled Wallis. From the beginning, her suspicions 
 as to her aunt s relation to the matter had been 
 aroused. It was difficult for her to believe that Mrs. 
 Stanton had anything in common with those who had 
 broken into the house. But, as a matter of fact, she 
 did not believe that those who had done so were com 
 mon burglars. She had given an implicit faith to 
 Dick s theory, believing in it even more firmly than 
 Dick himself. Therefore, influenced by him to sus 
 pect Harold Pierson, remembering her aunt s long 
 and confidential conversation with that young man at 
 Mr. Hetlow s house on the night of the burglary, the 
 evident agitation of both, and, knowing Mrs. Stan- 
 ton s absurd and unreasonable jealousy of Mrs. Jen 
 kins, she had come to believe that in that conversation 
 her aunt had told Harold Pierson that the box had been 
 received that afternoon. She did not believe that her 
 aunt had told this with any view of committing wrong, 
 but she was influenced thereto by the fancy that the box 
 did not contain anything relating to the Dugdale heir- 
 ship, but to the imaginary child she insisted Mr. 
 Stanton was hunting for. Her conclusion had been 
 that her aunt having told of the box, Harold Pierson, 
 becoming alarmed as to the effect its contents might 
 have on him, had resolved upon the desperate means 
 of securing it, by entering the house, having first 
 obtained from her aunt knowledge as to its location, 
 and that Mrs. Stanton, recognizing in the morning the 
 meaning of the burglary, had maintained silence, hoping 
 thereby to conceal the fact that she had in the first 
 instance secreted it. The letter from Mrs. Jen-
 
 , 
 COM PLICA TIONS. 243 
 
 kins to Dick, transmitting the key, had forced her to 
 the admission of Mrs. Jenkins s visit, but the box 
 then having disappeared, as the result of her indis 
 creet revelation to Harold Pierson, she was compelled 
 to deny further knowledge of it than that she had 
 placed it on the library table and forgotten it. In 
 short, she thought her aunt was less guilty than indis 
 creet, and that the trouble which had followed was 
 the outcome of her absurd jealousy which, up to 
 that time, had been only amusing to Wallis. 
 
 Mrs. Stanton, recovering from the confusion into 
 which she had been thrown by Wallis s barbed speech, 
 replied: 
 
 "A great deal of unnecessary fuss is made about 
 that box. Your uncle is annoyed only because he 
 thinks he is prevented from finding that child. The 
 woman in a red shawl is the mother of Mrs. Jenkins. 
 I found that out. The affair is much further back 
 than I thought it was." 
 
 "Pshaw," cried Wallis contemptuously, and much 
 vexed, "one would suppose that with the trouble it 
 has led to, you would give up that absurd notion." 
 
 She turned on her heel and walked away. She 
 went out of the house, going in the direction of "The 
 Larches," her purpose being to tell Bessie of the 
 return of the boxes. As she walked along she tried 
 to think of the course she ought to pursue with refer 
 ence to her aunt s conduct. She was much perplexed, 
 but her final conclusion was that, were she to tell her 
 suspicions, it would be only to involve her aunt in 
 trouble without leading to the restoration of the box. 
 But there was this consideration. Were her suspicions 
 correct, and having concealed the box, had her aunt 
 informed Harold Pierson as to it and could she be 
 forced to admit such to be the case, there would then 
 be certain proof that Harold Pierson was intimately 
 connected with the burglary. Her determination as 
 she reached the house was that she would^say nothing
 
 244 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 to her uncle, or to anyone else except Dick. And, 
 as soon as she could send him word, she would ask 
 him to come to Springhill that she might consult him 
 as to what should be done. 
 
 The fact that Mr. Stanton and Wallis had left the 
 house and that Mrs. Stanton was alone, was immedi 
 ately conveyed to Bob and Ransom, who were in hid 
 ing in the neighborhood. As soon as it was safe for 
 Bob to make his appearance at Springhill he boldly 
 entered. He was fortunate in finding Mrs. Stanton 
 in the hall. She was surprised upon seeing him but 
 nevertheless greeted him with an exclamation indica 
 tive of her satisfaction. Bob did not wait for her to 
 ask any questions, but abruptly said: 
 
 "You did not keep your engagement of Wednesday 
 night; nor have we had the box which you promised 
 we could secure." 
 
 "It was not my fault," replied Mrs. Stanton. 
 "The tin box was upon the same table as the ones you 
 took were." 
 
 "You are mistaken as to my having taken them," 
 replied Bob. "The person I sent found on his ar 
 rival that the window was not arranged so that he 
 could lift it, and he was forced to break it open. 1 
 would not have permitted that had I known it, but 
 when he did enter in this forcible manner, he found 
 upon the table two boxes, the only ones that were 
 there, and carried them off. As you must know they 
 contained nothing of importance to us." 
 
 "They have been returned," said Mrs. Stanton. 
 "Mr. Stanton has now gone to the village for the 
 purpose of making inquiries as to where they came 
 from." 
 
 "He will not find out," said Bob. "I know they 
 v/ere returned and I know the sending of them cannot 
 be traced. However, it is not to talk about those 
 boxes that I have come to you. I am here secretly, 
 for I do not wish anyone to know I have seen you.
 
 COM PLIC A TIONS, 245 
 
 But I do want that box you promised I should secure, 
 and I must have it." 
 
 This was said in so threatening a manner that Mrs. 
 Stanton was not a little alarmed. From the moment 
 Bob appeared she had, however, determined not to 
 yield the box to him. Her fright had been too great 
 over the events resulting from the discovery of the 
 burglary of Thursday morning and the attitude of 
 those about her. Although she persisted in her absurd 
 delusion as to what the contents of this box would 
 show, as incriminating her husband, still the conver 
 sation between Mr. Stanton and Dick, and the very 
 pointed remarks only half an hour previous of VVallis, 
 had somewhat shaken her in her belief. 
 
 Though frightened by Bob s determined manner, 
 she had no mind to go further than she had already 
 gone. Prudence, however, dictated to her to equivo 
 cate, and so, when Bob repeated his remark, she told 
 him that it was impossible and that the box was no 
 longer under her control. 
 
 "Then it has passed into the hands of that man 
 Mason," exclaimed Bob, very much alarmed. 
 
 "No," Mrs. Stanton replied, "neither he, nor Mr. 
 Stanton, nor indeed Mr. Hetlow, have the box nor 
 will they have it. While it is not in my power to give 
 it to you, you can rest assured that it is safe, where 
 neither they nor anyone else will be able to obtain it. " 
 
 Bob looked at her suspiciously and reflected a mo 
 ment or two. Then he said as if a new idea had 
 broken upon him: 
 
 "You did not intend then to arrange that window 
 as you had agreed upon?" 
 
 "I had no opportunity," replied Mrs. Stanton. 
 "Mr. Stanton and Mr. Mason on our return went 
 immediately into the library, where they remained so 
 long that I was compelled to abandon any attempt. 
 Nevertheless, the man you sent to get the box having 
 broken through the window could easily have obtained
 
 246 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 it. It stood upon the table with the others. The 
 next morning I was the first to enter the room after 
 the alarm was given that the house had been entered, 
 and, seeing the box, disposed of it before any of the 
 others could see it. But in such a manner that I can 
 not get it for you." 
 
 "But Mason knew tha* Mrs. Jenkins had left it 
 with you," rejoined Bob. 
 
 "That is true," replied Mrs, Stanton, "but it was 
 purely by accident. When Mrs. Jenkins left the box 
 with me she forgot to leave the key. Returning to 
 New York, and discovering that she still had it, she 
 inclosed the key in a letter to Mr. Mason, which in 
 formed him that she had left the box with me. I was 
 therefore forced to admit that such was the case, but 
 all rest under the belief that at the time the two boxes 
 were taken the Jenkins box was also carried off. You 
 are quite as secure from anything occurring to interfere 
 with your matters as coming from that box, as if it 
 were already in your hands, Mr. Stanton says that 
 the contents might go to the proof of your claim, but 
 I know better. I am certain Mr. Stanton s desire for 
 that box is to destroy proof against himself." 
 
 At this moment a long low whistle sounded not far 
 from the door. Upon hearing it Bob started and said 
 hastily: 
 
 "Can I rely upon your assurance that that box will 
 not go into the hands of anybody?" 
 
 "You can be. sure that it will not go into the hands 
 of anyone who can harm or interfere with you," 
 replied Mrs. Stanton. 
 
 "I presume," said Bob, "that I must rest content 
 with this. I cannot remain longer without being dis 
 covered. That whistle was a signal for me to depart. 
 I shall rely upon your promise." 
 
 With this he walked out of the door opposite to that 
 by which he had entered, descended to the lawn, and 
 Striding rapidly across it disappeared in the shrubbery
 
 COMPLICA TIONS. 247 
 
 upon the other side, leaving Mrs. Stanton in much 
 agitation, gratefully thankful that the ordeal she had 
 so much dreaded when she saw Bob enter, had passed 
 so quickly. 
 
 He had hardly passed out of sight when Mr. Stan- 
 ton entered. He was too much engrossed in the busi 
 ness he had been upon to notice his wife s evident 
 confusion, and said abruptly: 
 
 "I have not been able to ascertain a single fact con 
 cerning the shipment of that bundle. It came to the 
 station addressed to me prepaid and the way-bill does 
 not discover who the shipper was. The expressman 
 who brought it here was the local man, directed to do 
 so by the station agent. The more I consider this 
 matter, the more convinced I am, that young Mason 
 was correct in saying that a close relation exists 
 between Harold Pierson s claim to be young Dugdale 
 and the burglary of Wednesday night. You see," he 
 went on, in an argumentative tone, "either young 
 Pierson, or those acting for him, must have known of 
 Mrs. Jenkins coming to this house, and that she car 
 ried with her a box, the contents of which related in 
 some degree to the adoption of Edmund Dugdale s 
 child. Now I am not quite prepared to go so far as 
 young Mason does in assuming that it is proof positive 
 that the claim of Pierson is necessarily thereby a 
 fraudulent one. It is quite possible that he has been 
 persuaded to believe, although Mr. Hetlow s treat 
 ment of him would not justify the conclusion, that if 
 the contents of this box were to prove his claim they 
 would be concealed from him by Mr. Hetlow and 
 those acting for him, and that therefore he was justified 
 in resorting to such desperate means to obtain posses 
 sion of it." 
 
 "I don t see any reason why Mr. Mason should 
 regard Mr. Pierson with such enmity," replied Mrs. 
 Stanton, now quite composed, finding, that her hus 
 band had not noticed traces of agitation in herself.
 
 24 8 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 "I think Mr. Mason regrets very much his efforts in 
 discovering the Dugdale heir. You know he is in love 
 with Bessie and doubtless has received assurances from 
 her that his love is returned, and that being the case, 
 he is now regretting that the large amount of money 
 which would fall to her, if the real heir was not found, 
 is in danger of going elsewhere." 
 
 "Oh, nonsense," returned Mr. Stanton contemptu 
 ously, "young Mason is a very straightforward, well- 
 meaning young man. I think it very probable that I 
 am wholly responsible for Mason s condition of mind 
 with reference to these suspicions of his." 
 
 "I have no doubt of that," replied Mrs. Stanton. 
 "That has been my belief from the beginning." 
 
 Mr. Stanton, who had turned to go into the library, 
 wheeled about and said sharply: 
 
 "Now, what do you mean by that? You certainly 
 don t understand what I intended to say. Sometime 
 ago I told Mason that in view of the fact that he was 
 a suitor for the hand of Bessie, and that believing as 
 he had said that the inheritance of such an estate 
 would lift her into a rank of life beyond his preten 
 sions he would be in danger of being charged with 
 presenting a Dugdale heir whether the true one was 
 found or not. Since that time I have noticed a mor 
 bid sensitiveness on his part, and a determined per 
 sistency in urging that Harold Pierson s claim should 
 be most rigidly examined. He is quite right in this, 
 for the search has been wholly under his charge and 
 he is responsible for having presented Harold Pierson 
 to the attention of Mr. Hetlow. That is all I mean, 
 and I have no further connection with it than that, 
 so don t give me another exhibition of your silliness." 
 
 With that he turned into the library, leaving Mrs. 
 Stanton alone. 
 
 While these events were taking place at Springhill, 
 Dick was in Philadelphia bent on his interview with 
 Mrs. Jenkins. Having her address he found her
 
 COM PLICA TIONS. 249 
 
 without difficulty. She was, of course, astonished to 
 see her caller, and listening to his reasons she abruptly 
 said: 
 
 "Why, Mr. Mason, a person was here last night to 
 inquire as to the very same thing." 
 
 This did not surprise Dick, for when he left New 
 York he was satisfied that Moore had preceded him. 
 He asked Mrs. Jenkins for a description of the person 
 who had called upon her the previous evening, and 
 found it agreed with the description given by Mrs. 
 Tomlinson as to the one who had called upon her in 
 the very beginning of the search, and also with Cap 
 tain Lawton s description of Moore. 
 
 "Well," he said anxiously, "did you give him all 
 the information you could?" 
 
 "It was very little I could give him," she replied. 
 "Though I looked over the papers I could not under 
 stand them. My husband, however, understood them 
 better than I did, but he was not at home nor is he 
 to-day. He has gone out of town for some days, so 
 that the person really went away without anything 
 being told him." 
 
 While this was satisfactory to Dick, so far as it 
 showed that Moore s errand had been fruitless, it was 
 not satisfactory as it evidenced that it would be impos 
 sible for him to obtain the information as to the con 
 tents of the box. He, however, questioned Mrs. Jen 
 kins very closely, but all that he could elicit was that 
 there were four letters which were evidently from the 
 person who had adopted the child, and a paper which 
 set forth the fact that the child had been adopted and 
 had been received from Thomas Powers. Whether 
 this paper was signed, or if signed, by what name, 
 Mrs. Jenkins was wholly unable to state. Indeed she 
 seemed to be in a somewhat muddled condition con 
 cerning it, and so at last Dick was compelled to forego 
 further effort and departed. 
 
 After he left the house, hoivever, the thought
 
 *5<> THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 occurred to him, that if the box contained the papers 
 which Mrs. Jenkins said it did and if they revealed 
 the truth as to the adoption of the child, it was strange 
 that Moore should have taken the trouble to have vis 
 ited Mrs. Jenkins in the quest of further information. 
 So strong was his thought as indicating that either the 
 papers did not reveal the whole truth, or that after 
 all the box had not been secured by the conspirators, 
 that he returned to Mrs. Jenkins to question her more 
 particularly as to what had occurred between herself 
 and Moore. 
 
 The second interview with her was somewhat more 
 satisfactory. Mrs. Jenkins was quite certain that 
 Moore had told her that Mr. Mason had learned that 
 the box had been delivered, only to learn at the same 
 time that it had been stolen, and that he had come 
 in the endeavor to inform himself as to its contents, 
 because, having been stolen, Mr. Mason had not been 
 able to do so. This seemed to show to Dick that the 
 conspirators were not themselves acquainted with the 
 contents, but he could arrive at no conclusion which 
 seemed probable as to why this should be, once having 
 had it in their possession. He thought perhaps that 
 in the hurry it had been lost, but as it was a mere 
 matter of speculation he thought that he could indulge 
 himself in a dozen different ways without arriving at 
 anything definite. On the whole his expedition to 
 Philadelphia only seemed to make the case more mys 
 terious and more complicated. On his arrival in the 
 city he hastened at once to Captain Lawton, who told 
 him that no trace had been recovered as to Ransom or 
 Bob, and that Moore had appeared at Orton Pierson s 
 house quite early in the morning, and after a brief inter 
 view with Pierson had left, going about his ordinary 
 pursuits. The detective told him that he had made com- 
 
 Kratively little progress in establishing the theory he 
 d accepted from Dick, and apprehended that it would 
 be a work of considerable time to gather the infonna-
 
 COMPLICATIONS. *5 
 
 tion necessary to direct action. He volunteered the 
 statement, that so far as he had gone it was indicated 
 that the four people under surveillance were all shady 
 characters, and that he was making a very rigid ex 
 amination into their past with the hope of connecting 
 them with something that would justify him in coming 
 into closer quarters with them, and which he could 
 use as a lever to force one, or all of them, to confess 
 the parts they were playing. 
 
 Dick went away from this interview much perplexed. 
 It seemed to him that so far from light being shed 
 upon the case it was growing darker and darker. All 
 that seemed to him at all clear was that Harold Pier- 
 son was not young Dugdale, and yet, if something more 
 definite than had yet been secured which would enable 
 them to make the charge that a conspiracy existed 
 was not obtained, and if Pierson continued to pile up 
 proofs of his being a son of Edmund Dugdale, the 
 property might pass into his hands before the theory 
 concocted by him, and adopted by Captain Lawton- 
 could be turned into fact.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 A BURST OF SUNSHINE. 
 
 As Wallis had promised herself, she wrote to Dick 
 that she was anxious to see him on a most important 
 matter. This letter Dick received at his room, after 
 leaving Captain Lawton. Wallis seemed to be so 
 urgent that he determined to go to her at once, and on 
 alighting from the cars at the station at Dobbs Ferry, 
 he found her awaiting him. 
 
 "I made a good guess," she said. "Uncle told me 
 that he thought you had gone to Philadelphia last 
 evening and that you would return to-day, so I sent 
 my letter to your home address, rather than to the 
 office, and I thought that, upon receiving it, you would 
 come up in this train. I wanted to have the chance 
 for a talk with you before we got home." 
 
 She then told Dick all that had occurred since he 
 had left Springhill, and as well her suspicions as to 
 her aunt s connection with the burglary. 
 
 It was difficult for Dick to believe that Mrs. Stan- 
 ton had been led by her jealousy into such a compli 
 cation. When he found that Wallis had nothing sub 
 stantial upon which to base her suspicions he was at a 
 loss as to what course to suggest, but the final conclu 
 sion between them was, to do nothing in the way of 
 making any charge against Mrs. Stanton, but to watch 
 carefully as to what relations she might have with 
 Harold Pierson and to prevent any further intriguing 
 between them. "To be sure," argued Dick, "all the 
 damage she can do has been done. If your theory is 
 correct the whole extent of the intrigue was the 
 obtaining of that box. It was when she told him of it
 
 A BURST OF SUNSHINE. 253 
 
 that he, undoubtedly alarmed as to what its content: 
 might be, determined to get possession of it, and he has 
 made her a victim in the matter. Having obtained k 
 of course he is through with Mrs. Stanton, but I ani 
 disposed to believe from what I heard in Philadelphia, 
 that either the box did not reveal anything conclusive, 
 or it has been lost before an examination could be 
 made. I am led to believe that the sole purpose of 
 Moore s visit to Philadelphia was to discover whether 
 Mrs. Jenkins knew anything more than the box told." 
 
 "Auntie has been very silly," replied Wallis. "She 
 has been misled by her absurd jealousy of uncle and 
 has fallen into the trap which Harold Pierson laid for 
 her. But I do not want to bring her into any trouble, 
 and I would not tell it to uncle, fearing his anger. I 
 had no one else to consult but you. I am glad you do 
 not think it necessary to do anything more, but I 
 think I will have a plain talk with auntie and tell her 
 what my suspicions are." 
 
 "I do not believe that anything can be accom 
 plished now in the way of restoration," said Dick, 
 "but if she will talk to you, we may be satisfied as to 
 just what her connection with Harold Pierson was. 
 It would settle the question as to whether or not our 
 suspicions of Harold Pierson are true." 
 
 "I will endeavor to make her tell," said Wallis, 
 "and now let us drop the topic, while I tell you that 
 Lord Merrimount has returned. He came quite un 
 expectedly this morning." 
 
 Dick was by no means pleased with this information. 
 He had persuaded himself that the young Englishman 
 would remain a\vay a much longer time. He had 
 hoped during his absence to arrive at an understand 
 ing with Bessie. He now realized, as he had not done 
 before, that he was no farther advanced than he had 
 been at the time of the young nobleman s departure, 
 indeed, he had seen Bessie but for a brief moment on 
 the last night that Harold Pierson was at "The
 
 254 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 Larches." The note which he had received from 
 Bessie had still been unexplained and the attitude 
 assumed by Mr. Hetlow toward himself, which, result 
 ing in nothing overt, had, nevertheless, erected a bar 
 rier intangible yet actual. While he had been in a 
 fairly contented frame of mind regarding Bessie s 
 feeling toward himself, he had, by reason of the events 
 so rapidly treading on each other s heels, permitted all 
 other things to drift. Now, however, on learning that 
 Lord Merrimount had returned, and so much sooner 
 than was expected, he fell back into that condition of 
 mind in which he had been, when he first believed 
 that Merrimount s purpose in his visit to America was 
 to sue for Bessie s hand. 
 
 The acute Wallis quickly perceived the anxious ex 
 pression vrhich had settled upon his face. So she 
 said : 
 
 "Does my news give you alarm? Well, rest assured 
 you are in no danger. I think that I can tell you, with 
 out betraying confidences, that no matter whether Bessie 
 does or does not inherit the Dugdale estates, she will 
 not accept Lord Merrimount." 
 
 "Since you have told me so much," said Dick. "I 
 think you might relieve my suspense with regard to the 
 other matter I have asked you." 
 
 "Oh, no," laughed Wallis, "I cannot tell you that. 
 Bessie will not allow me to do so. I do not think it is 
 because she does not want you to know, but because 
 she wants to tell you it herself." 
 
 "You promised me an interview with her which you 
 did not give me," said Dick. 
 
 "I promised you," repeated Wallis. "It was Bes 
 sie who promised you the interview. I merely carried 
 the message, but I will be gracious. I will tell you of 
 an inference I have drawn from a conversation with 
 Bessie, and that is that whoever may come a-wooing 
 to The Larches there will be but one who will 
 receive the favor of the daughter, no matter how he
 
 A BURST OF SUNSHINE. *S5 
 
 may be regarded by the father, and that one is a very 
 conceited and stupid gentleman of your intimate 
 acquaintance." 
 
 "Ipresume," said Dick, "your loyalty to confidence 
 will not permit you to tell who that very conceited and 
 stupid gentleman is?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, and if he was not as stupid as I have said 
 he was, he would have guessed immediately that I 
 meant none other than Mr. Richard Mason." 
 
 "Wallis," said Dick, with somewhat of his old man 
 ner, "you know that I have a very great admiration 
 for your acuteness, but if you would cultivate a little 
 more directness of speech you would be a great deal 
 more comforting." 
 
 "Well, then," said Wallis laughingly, "I will be 
 direct and tell you that Bessie has left me in no doubt, 
 though not intentionally, that her heart is solely given 
 to yourself. It only remains for you to secure an 
 interview with Bessie and assure yourself." 
 
 "But oh when, and oh where," cried Dick. "I 
 have sedulously sought one ever since I received her 
 mysterious note, but either she avoids, or her father 
 very skillfully prevents one." 
 
 "Well," said Wallis, "I can easily relieve you as to 
 that. This evening, as it has been arranged, Bessie 
 and Lord Merrimount are coming over to Springhill 
 and we are to go over the tunnel for a row on the 
 river. Uncle and Mr. Hetlow propose to enact the 
 part of American citizens this evening and go to a 
 political meeting in the village. So as no one knows 
 that you are coming to Springhill I do not know that 
 it is necessary to send a telegraphic message to The 
 Larches of the fact of your arrival. There; there is 
 your interview ready-made. I will be your good ally 
 to-night, as I have been in the past, and help you to 
 secure it." 
 
 This conversation brought them to the door of 
 Springhill and was -interrupted by the appearance of
 
 256 THE DUG DALE MILLIONS. 
 
 Mr. Stanton, much surprised to see Dick, whom he 
 imagined could hardly have returned from Philadel 
 phia. 
 
 Anxious to learn the result of Dick s hurried trip to 
 Philadelphia, the old lawyer carried Dick into the 
 library to listen to the tale. That which seemed to 
 him the most significant was the discovery that Moore 
 had preceded Dick in his visit to Mrs. Jenkins. 
 
 It was quite evident from his talk that he did not 
 anticipate that Dick would learn much that was impor 
 tant from Mrs. Jenkins, but that he had urged him to 
 go upon the principle that no stone should be left 
 unturned. He argued as to Moore s trip, as Dick had 
 done, that it indicated that the conspirators had not 
 secured the information they desired in securing the 
 box, and that the sole purpose of Moore s effort was 
 to supplement such information as they had obtained 
 by a personal interview with the daughter of James 
 Powers. 
 
 "In short," said the old lawyer, concluding his 
 remarks, "I do not believe we have lost very much in 
 losing that box. If its contents were conclusive as to 
 the adoption of the child, Moore would not have gone 
 to Philadelphia." 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed Dick, struck by anew thought 
 which had not until then occurred to him, "suppose 
 the information is conclusive, would it not have been 
 the part of wisdom for them, before proceeding further, 
 to have attempted to learn how much Mrs. Jenkins 
 knew as to the contents? And was not that the pur 
 pose of Moore s call?" 
 
 "You are quite right," said Mr. Stanton promptly, 
 "that did not occur to me. To be sure Moore did not 
 learn anything from Mrs. Jenkins but he did, on sec 
 ond thought. He did learn that Mrs. Jenkins knew 
 nothing about it and so, if the information disclosed by 
 the contents of the box is conclusive as to the person 
 adopting Edmund Dugdale s child, then their position
 
 A BURST OF SUNSHINE. 357 
 
 is greatly strengthened, for they now know that the only 
 connecting link we have with James Powers is without 
 the knowledge which is within their possession. Yes, 
 they are now in a position to go on boldly to the end, 
 knowing just what to avoid. Such further proof as 
 they may submit we will be unable to combat. There 
 will be a fight before us, and I doubt whether we can 
 get Hetlow to make that fight, because he seems to b 
 strangely inclined to submit to what he calls the 
 inevitable." 
 
 "Then we must rely wholly upon Captain Lawton s 
 efforts," said Dick. "He is now engaged in hunting 
 up the antecedents of the men who are in relation to 
 this matter, and if he can find, as he expects to, that 
 they have been connected with some wrong-doing in 
 the past, he will use those crimes as levers to compel 
 them to confession as to this intrigue." 
 
 "We do not want to rush into the irrevocable con 
 clusion that Harold Pierson s claim is fraudulent, " re 
 plied Mr. Stanton warningly. "It may be that, notwith 
 standing what seems to be suspicious associations } 
 Harold Pierson may be all that he pretends to be. 
 However, you can rely that there will be a demonstra 
 tion of strpnger proof very shortly." 
 
 Further conversation on the topic was interrupted 
 by a summons to dinner. When the meal was con 
 cluded, Mr. Stanton announced that he was going into 
 the village to attend a meeting in company with Mr. 
 Hetlow and that the hour had already arrived. As he 
 was about to leave the house, Wallis said to him that 
 it was not necessary for him to tell of the arrival of 
 Mr. Mason at Springhill. In answer to her uncle s 
 wondering inquiry as to why he should not, she said 
 that she wanted to reserve the knowledge of Dick s 
 presence as a surprise to Lord Merrimount and Bessie, 
 whom she was expecting momentarily. So promising 
 that he would not inform them her uncle went off. 
 
 Indeed he met the two on their way to Springhill.
 
 5 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 With the single exception of the meeting on the pre 
 vious Wednesday night, Dick had not seen Bessie since 
 the day of her spirited scene with her father, and, 
 consequently, he awaited her coming with no little 
 nervousness. He was anxious to know how she would 
 meet him, and he thought from the manner of her 
 greeting he would be enabled to judge to some extent 
 of the meaning of her mysterious note. If she were 
 cold and constrained, did she endeavor to put a guard 
 upon herself and try to hold him at a distance, he 
 thought he would be confirmed in his belief that her 
 father had forbade further intercourse with him and 
 that she had determined to obey the parental man 
 date. When, however, she met him, although much 
 surprised to see him, her manner was graciousness 
 itself. Indeed it was even more than gracious, for her 
 cheeks flushed deeply and into her eyes leaped a glad 
 light, unmistakable and most reassuring to him. 
 There was no constraint in her manner, but a soft shy 
 ness which became her well. 
 
 Lord Merrimount s greeting was most cordial. He 
 evidently was glad to see Dick, and, not expecting a 
 meeting, was moved to a little more warmth than he 
 usually displayed. 
 
 After some little conversation, which treated solely 
 upon Merrimount s visit to Canada, Wallis suggested 
 that, as darkness fell early at that time of year, they 
 should be off on their excursion. Taking possession 
 of the young Englishman s arm without giving lnrn a 
 choice as to which of the ladies he would offer it, an 
 act, however, which seemed to be entirely agreeable to 
 the young nobleman, she led him away, and by quick 
 ening her own step compelled him to walk rapidly. 
 She was thus making good her promise to Dick that 
 she would be his good ally. Perceiving her pur 
 pose, Dick moved along at a correspondingly slow pace. 
 Thus he was enabled to secure the interview he had so 
 long and so fruitlessly sought for. And having ob 
 tained it, he did not waste his precious moments.
 
 A BURST OF SUNSHINE, 259 
 
 "Ever since I received your note," he said, "I 
 have been in a state of suspense quite hard to bear. 
 You promised you would explain its meaning, but an 
 opportunity has not presented itself until now." 
 
 "I fear I made a mistake in writing that letter," re 
 plied Bessie hesitatingly, as they walked across the 
 lawn. "It was written upon the impulse of the mo 
 ment, and I now doubt whether the occasion for its 
 writing ever really existed. I feared at the time you 
 would be subjected to some embarrassment, perhaps 
 humiliation, and I sought to save you from it." 
 
 "I thank you for the intent and the kindness which 
 dictated it," replied Dick, "but I imagine the cause 
 has not yet passed away." 
 
 Bessie looked up at him quickly, a slight blush 
 spreading over her face as she said hastily, a note of 
 alarm in her tones: 
 
 "Why, you do not know what it was!" 
 
 "I think there must be some Yankee blood in my 
 veins," laughed Dick lightly, "I am a good guesser. 
 Your father forbade me the house." 
 
 His abrupt center shot startled and confused Bessie. 
 She did not reply but walked on, her head bent to the 
 ground. 
 
 "I see I have struck the truth," continued Dick. 
 
 "Not quite," said Bessie, in alow voice, "he did 
 not forbid you the house." 
 
 "Only threatened to?" he asked. 
 
 "He did not mean it," admitted Bessie, uncon 
 scious of the admission. "He was quite angry at the 
 time. I had made him so, and I think he regretted it 
 as soon as he made the threat. You know that, with 
 in two or three days after, he especially requested you 
 to come to the house." 
 
 "And you were afraid that I would refuse," laughed 
 Dick; "but then the request was to a conference and 
 not as a guest. However, we will not discuss it further. 
 Only let me tell you how grateful I am and what assur 
 ance it gives me to find that whether or not I am to be
 
 260 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 subjected to humiliation is a matter of such concern to 
 you that you could seek to save me from it." 
 
 This was coming to rather closer quarters than Bes 
 sie desired. Perhaps it is not correct to say that she 
 did not desire it, but, nevertheless, she recognized 
 something in Dick s tone and manner which made her 
 believe that, now the opportunity presented itself, he 
 was not disposed to let it pass by without bringing mat 
 ters to an issue between them. . From this she shrank, 
 more perhaps by reason of her maidenly modesty than 
 from an intention to deny him. Dick grew bolder 
 as he went on. 
 
 "Miss Hetlow Bessie I will not pretend that I 
 do not comprehend what lay back of that note. But 
 whatever it was it cannot prevent me now, no matter 
 what may be the attitude of your father toward me 
 and nothing compels me to ask or to seek to learn 
 from asking to know how it stands with me. You are 
 under no doubt as to the state of my feelings with 
 regard to you. On that day by the riverside when my 
 passion love for you broke its bounds, I told you 
 how deep and unconquerable it was. And when you 
 averted your face from me and I believed your heart 
 was cold, and crushed and stricken I left you, it was 
 with the promise to myself, expressed to you in words, 
 that I would seek you again and tell you of it. The 
 time is here; I do tell you of it. I tell you that that 
 love possesses me that it is deep, enduring, and un 
 conquerable. I could not control it if I would. I 
 know that I am bringing all my fortunes nay, my life 
 and my future, to the test. And I know that having 
 done so, if you are to say me nay, all the joy, all the 
 purpose of my life will be taken from me. I cannot 
 recollect the time since you were a little girl, not more 
 than a babe, and I but a boy, when I did not love you. 
 To grow, to work, to make myself worthy of the time 
 when I could lay my heart and myself at your feet has 
 been the incentive of all these years. Well, the time
 
 A BURST OF SUNSHINE. z6l 
 
 is here. I go to the test. I am not so worthy as in 
 those boyish dreams I promised myself I should be, but 
 here I am before you, pleading, ready to accept what 
 may follow, seeing hope, brightness, happiness in the 
 one event; despair, darkness, and a life before me 
 from which the light is quenched, in the other." 
 
 They were moving slowly across the grass as Dick 
 talked, his voice trembling with the intensity of his 
 passion, and Bessie with her cheeks aflame. Her eyes 
 were cast upon the ground and Dick s head bent for 
 ward toward her in an anxious endeavor to discover 
 the effect his words were producing. Trembling so 
 much that she did not dare trust herself to speak, and 
 indeed not knowing what reply to make, were she to 
 give herself tongue, she was silent. Her face 
 was not averted this time, it had been bent when he 
 began to talk and she had not lifted it. Dick waited 
 for some reply, but none being forthcoming he went 
 on, and this time with some uncertainty in his tone, 
 as if he were making great effort to keep himself 
 within bounds. When his voice again fell upon her 
 ear there was in it a quality of pathos which touched 
 her. 
 
 "Of course," he said, "I cannot expect you to com 
 prehend what this means to me. It is life, it is every 
 thing." He hesitated a moment and then, as if he 
 could no longer control himself, he exclaimed: "O 
 God ! Have I been living in a fool s paradise? Have 
 I been taking the mere kindness of a womanly heart 
 for tenderness? Is my life s dream at last at an end?" 
 
 Bessie lifted her head with a quick, impulsive 
 motion and turned her shining blue eyes upon him, 
 those eyes in which Dick saw not only the tears 
 trembling, but the lovelight dancing. He impulsively 
 caught her hand, fully satisfied and overwhelmed with 
 joy, though she had spoken never a word. Merri- 
 mount and Wallis had now passed over the brow of 
 the hill. They were out of sight of the house, but if
 
 26* THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 they had not been, and if their companions were still 
 in view, it is doubtful whether Dick, so suddenly lifted 
 from the depths of despair, could have restrained his 
 actions. He stopped short, caught Bessie in his arms, 
 and impressed upon her lips that first kiss which as he 
 had said had been the dream of his life. And the 
 truth compels the statement that Bessie made no effort 
 to escape from the embrace, at least, not for some 
 moments. They stood for some time, both of them 
 giving themselves up to the delirious joy of love de 
 clared and love reciprocated. It was Bessie who first 
 recovered possession of her senses, and who brought 
 them both down from the clouds in which they had 
 been floating. 
 
 "This is not the way I intended it should be," she 
 said, laughing almost hysterically. "We have begun 
 at the wrong end. I meant to have told you what 
 occurred between my father and myself, but you did 
 not give me time to do so." 
 
 "It matters little now," cried Dick valiantly, "since 
 I know that you love me I care not what he thinks or 
 says." 
 
 "But I have not told you I love you," replied Bes 
 sie, demurely and mischievously. 
 
 "Not in words, to be sure, but in the most eloquent 
 of ways, by eyes beaming and face glorified," replied 
 Dick earnestly and irrationally, growing maudlin in his 
 joy, "but no matter what your father may say, or 
 think, or do, crowned with your love I am strong 
 enough to battle a regiment of opposing fathers, 
 though they all deny me the house and forbid inter 
 course with the daughter." 
 
 "He did neither one nor the other," she replied. 
 "I will tell you all, which I ought to have done at 
 first, though I don t see when I think of it how I could 
 have done so, but that day when we came over to 
 Springhill and you were playing at tennis, Mrs. Stan- 
 ton told father that you had well, that you did not
 
 A BURST OF SUNSHINE. 263 
 
 dislike me, and when father called me from the game 
 and made me go back with him he asked me if that 
 were so and I was not satisfactory, and so he asked 
 me if I loved you " 
 
 Bessie hesitated. The eager Dick could not wait 
 for her to go on and said : 
 
 "And you told him of course that you did not." 
 
 "No, I did not tell him that," answered Bessie, 
 lifting beaming eyes to him shyly, "I could not tell 
 him that." Her words came slowly and hesitatingly 
 now, but after some struggle with her modesty she 
 went on: "I told him that if you were to pay me that 
 highest compliment a man can pay a woman, and 
 should ask me to be wife to you, I should say yes." 
 
 It is well they were in the shrubbery and out of 
 sight. 
 
 When Dick released her again, she looked up at 
 him with burning cheeks and a merry twinkle in her 
 eye: "But," she said, "I was safe in doing so, for 
 you see you have not asked me, and so father was not 
 in such danger after all." 
 
 It is needless to say that Dick determined immedi 
 ately to put her father in all possible danger, and to 
 the question Bessie replied softly that she would be, 
 out that she would not marry him until her father 
 gave his consent or, she added by way of amendment, 
 until he had been given ample opportunity to consent. 
 
 By this time Wallis was evidently of the belief that 
 Dick had been given all the time he was entitled to, 
 for her voice was heard calling to them. They now 
 hastened on. But Wallis, had a purpose other than put 
 ting an end to the interview she had promised Dick, 
 and was seeking on her own account a diversion. 
 
 Certain events which had occurred had proved Bes 
 sie to be a prophet.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 IN IMMINENT PERIL. 
 
 WHILE Bessie and Dick Avere thus engaged, as de 
 scribed in the previous chapter, Lord Merrimount had 
 been telling Wallis of his excursion into Canada, and 
 had been saying that, notwithstanding he had met a 
 number of friends from the other side, he had found 
 Canada very dull; that he was very glad to return and 
 he was astonished to find how attached he had become 
 to "The Larches" and the people about it. And he 
 concluded by saying that the desire to see them all 
 again had been the chief reason for cutting his trip so 
 short. 
 
 "And I think," he said, looking down upon Wallis 
 with an expression in his eyes she had never before 
 noticed, "and I think the chief desire was really to see 
 again a single person." 
 
 Wallis looked at him quickly and sharply, and, with 
 a little trace of sarcasm in her tone, replied: 
 
 "Indeed, the single person so favored ought to be 
 flattered." 
 
 "I don t want her to feel flattered," returned Mer 
 rimount. "If she will accept the statement in the 
 sense I intend it, I will be only too well pleased." 
 
 "Oh, it is a she then," answered Wallis. "Please 
 don t give me your confidence on the matter. I have 
 been standing the guardian angel over one love affair 
 for the past few weeks, and I don t want another on 
 my hands." 
 
 Merrimount, looking upon her as a smile played 
 about his lips and an increase of tenderness came into 
 his tone, remarked : 
 
 264
 
 IN IMMINENT PERIL. 263 
 
 "Perhaps you might be induced to assume a differ 
 ent position in this affair." 
 
 Wallis noticed both the increase of tenderness of 
 tone and the significance of his words. Alarmed and 
 annoyed, she replied, and this time with some asperity 
 in her tone : 
 
 "Now don t be foolish, Lord Merrimount, and 
 spoil good friendship by trying to be gallant. You 
 are much more endurable when you are simply an 
 English gentleman." 
 
 "I don t want you to regard me as anything else," 
 he replied very soberly. "I am both earnest and 
 truthful when I tell you that it was a charming little 
 person, with a ready tongue and bright eyes, who was 
 the chief cause of my quick return. I never knew 
 until I had gone a\vay how much her companionship 
 was to me." 
 
 By this time they had left Bessie and Dick far 
 behind and reached the roof of the tunnel. Wallis 
 cast a swift upward glance at him; encountering his 
 dark brown tyes keenly scrutinizing her, she suddenly 
 left his side and walked hastily to the platform from 
 which she could look down upon the railroad tracks 
 below. Merrimount followed her and taking place 
 beside her laid his hand upon hers as it rested upon 
 the rail. He said kindly and indeed earnestly: 
 
 "Do not misunderstand me. I am very much in 
 earnest. Regarding you as I do, the last thing I 
 should attempt to do would be to trifle with you! I 
 am in no trifling mood. During all my journey, when 
 my face was turned in this direction, I thought of little 
 else than the approaching time when I could say these 
 things to you and " 
 
 "Stop!" cried Wallis, interrupting him and drawing 
 her hand hastily from under his, as she turned upon 
 him sharply and squarely, her eyes flashing and her 
 face suffused. 
 
 You have no right to say these things to me. Surely
 
 266 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 you have seen nothing in my conduct justifying you 
 in the belief that I would listen to anything of this 
 kind. I have accepted you as the guest of our neigh 
 bor, and had begun to treat you as a friend. I do not 
 know why you should seek to deliberately affront me." 
 
 "It is no affront for a man to say to the woman he 
 loves, that he does so love her," returned Merri- 
 mount. "The woman may not return that love, but 
 whether she accepts it or not she cannot say there is 
 an affront in the telling." 
 
 "It is an affront," replied Wallis hotly, "when the 
 man, coming with the avowed intention of marrying 
 another girl, thinks he can, while waiting for the fav 
 orable issue of one suit, induce the friend of that girl 
 to listen to him when she is not by." 
 
 The young Englishman was amazed. Drawing 
 himself up coldly, he said sternly: "You mystify me. 
 You have made a charge which you must explain." 
 
 Wallis was not to be awed by his manner. She re 
 plied to him with even more indignation: 
 
 "You shall have the explanation, and my opinion as 
 well. You came to this country with the proposition 
 to Mr. Hetlow to marry his daughter, provided she was 
 indeed the heir to the Dugdale estate. And you have 
 been waiting before making your suit to Bessie, to 
 learn whether or not Harold Pierson was the heir, or 
 whether Bessie would not in the end inherit those 
 millions. And if you desire it, you may have my 
 opinion of the cold-hearted calculation of such a 
 course. Even in practical America, where we are all 
 tradesmen, we stop in our pursuit of dollars to infuse 
 a little warmth and a little love-making into our mar 
 riage. But I don t want to criticise you, yet I do 
 want you to understand that while you are thus wait 
 ing for one affair to end, you cannot amuse yourself 
 with me." 
 
 As Wallis talked she grew more angry, because she 
 saw the expression of wonder and amazement chased
 
 IN IMMINENT PERIL. 267 
 
 from the face of the young Englishman by one of 
 intense amusement. When she had concluded, she 
 looked him fully in the eyes, and was not unconscious 
 of the look of deep admiration with which he was 
 regarding her. So angry was she on perceiving this, 
 that she turned to go from him, but was detained by 
 his next speech. 
 
 "One moment," he said. "You have made your 
 explanation and I thank you." He bowed to her in 
 his most courtly manner. "Let me make my answer 
 now. I did not come here as a suitor for the hand of 
 Miss Bessie. I never made such a proposition to Mr. 
 Hetlow, I never dreamed that anyone would suppose 
 or did suppose that such was the purpose of my visit. 
 It never occurred to me that anyone could think so." 
 
 "Why persist in such folly?" cried Wallis indig 
 nantly. "I am very young, I know, but that fact 
 should entitle me to the forbearance of a man of the 
 world." 
 
 "You need forbearance for something else," replied 
 Merrimount quietly. "You are very irritating, but 
 also very charming." Wallis gave an indignant toss 
 of her head. 
 
 "Did not Mr. Mason hear you make such a propo 
 sition to Mr. Hetlow?" 
 
 "No," said Merrimount slowly, "he did not. Mr. 
 Mason may have overheard, and I think he did, the 
 concluding portion of a conversation relating to a 
 proposition I submitted to Mr. Hetlow. But it had 
 nothing to do with marrying or with proposing to 
 marry." 
 
 Wallis looked upon him with deep incredulity. 
 Smiling over it the young nobleman went on: 
 
 "I see that you are under a very grave misappre 
 hension," he laughed. "Be patient with me, and I 
 will tell you. My father, the Duke of Mountchessing- 
 ton is much embarrassed. The revenues of the estates 
 have been greatly reduced, and portions of them must
 
 268 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 be sacrificed unless some other source of revenue can 
 be obtained. So, when Mr. Dugdale died, and it was 
 believed by the solicitor that the estate would pass into 
 the hands of a young girl who would have no wish to 
 conduct, or continue the wool business, it was pro 
 posed, by that solicitor, that I should proceed imme 
 diately to America with an offer from my father to 
 purchase as large an interest in that business as the 
 duke could buy, and that I should begin a career as a 
 woo) merchant. When I reached here I found that 
 Mr. Hetlow was engaged in a search for the son of 
 Edmund Dugdale, with a prospect of finding him, 
 who, if found, would become the heir. Because of 
 this Mr. Hetlow said it would be useless to consider 
 the duke s proposition, and he kindly invited me to 
 remain here a guest, until such time as this search 
 might result in something definite." 
 
 Wallis was covered with confusion. All her anger 
 and indignation faded away as she realized how they 
 had all been misled. 
 
 "What a lot of fools we have all been," she ex 
 claimed. 
 
 The young nobleman laughed aloud at her confu 
 sion, enjoying the joke hugely, now that he appre 
 ciated from Wallis s words how his errand to America 
 had been misapprehended. 
 
 "Miss Hetlow would indeed be inducement for any 
 man to cross the water as her suitor," he said. "But 
 as attractive as she may be, there is one who is still 
 more attractive to me." 
 
 Wallis s cheeks were covered with blushes. The 
 spirit with which she had faced the young Englishman 
 had fled, and she was seeking somewhere to place her 
 eyes where they would not encounter those dark kindly 
 ones of Merrimount resolutely determined to find hers. 
 
 "Well," he went on, after a moment or two, "have 
 I not earned the right to say these things to you?" 
 Wallis could not reply. All her readiness was gone. 
 For a brief and insane moment, she contemplated a
 
 Iff IMMINENT PERIL. 369 
 
 leap over the rail to the rocks below. A train thun 
 dering out of the tunnel, with a screaming whistle, put 
 an end to the idea and gave her, while its noise lasted, 
 an opportunity to repossess herself. Merrimount, 
 finding that he had obtained an advantage, pursued it. 
 
 "I have not affronted you, have I?" he asked, smil 
 ing tenderly upon her. 
 
 "No," Wallis replied, but in such low accents that 
 he could but barely hear her. 
 
 "And I do have the right to say to you that I love 
 you and that almost from the beginning I have loved 
 you?" He looked to her for some response, but none 
 was made. "It is true," he went on, "I did not 
 know how deeply I did love you until after I had 
 parted from you and realized how much I missed your 
 bright presence. And then I made up my mind to 
 come back so that I could tell you of it." 
 
 Still Wallis could not find that tongue usually so 
 ready with sharp retort and quaint conceit. She had 
 been humbled too much in her own estimation to 
 recover quickly, and was too busy with thinking how 
 absurd she had been in thus presuming to lecture the 
 man, who was so earnestly pleading his own cause with 
 her, for something of which he was not guilty. She 
 was not then, by any means, the frolicsome sprite. 
 Though she would not answer, Merrimount guessed 
 why, and was determined that he would not let her 
 escape. 
 
 "Am I to understand that my suit finds no favor 
 with you? Or may I take silence for the consent I so 
 much desire?" 
 
 "Oh, no, no, no!" cried Wallis hastily, refusing to 
 be carried away in so summary a manner. 
 
 "Do you mean to tell me," he persisted, "that you 
 have no regard for me?" 
 
 "No, I do not mean that," replied Wallis, looking 
 first on one side and then the other for a way to escape. 
 
 "Then you do like me?" 
 
 "No yes. oh, I don t know what I mean," cried
 
 270 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 Wallis irritably, angry with herself that she was not 
 under better control. 
 
 "Then let me tell you," said Merrimount, posses 
 sing himself of her hand again. "Let me speak for 
 you, as I want you to speak. Let me say that you do, 
 and let me make you Lady Merrimount." 
 
 Wallis stole a glance at him from under her dark 
 lashes and saw the deep, earnest love shining in his 
 eyes. She knew that he was sincere, and she was 
 touched by his simple and unaffected pleading. She 
 did not take her hand from him, although she sud 
 denly came into self-possession. 
 
 "This has been so unexpected," she said, "that I 
 do not know what to reply. I am so confused by my 
 blunder and by my presumption in lecturing you and 
 I have been so mistaken and have done you such wrong 
 that I can t think. You know I never thought of 
 this. I always thought you meant to marry Bessie if 
 she" had the money. I do like you, but I liked you as 
 a friend and I wanted to like you, if you were going 
 to be the husband of my dear friend. But you see I 
 don t know." 
 
 She withdrew her hand not unkindly, and walked 
 away a step or two. Merrimount followed her. 
 
 "Then I will not press my suit to-night," he said 
 tenderly, "but I will not deny myself hope. I will 
 come again and again to you until I get my answer." 
 
 "But I am so poor!" cried Wallis. 
 
 "So am I," laughed Merrimount. "I have only a 
 beggarly thousand. But you know I am going into 
 trade, so I can make enough." 
 
 "And I said I d never marry a poor man," said 
 Wallis, looking up at him with a laugh. 
 
 Then she ran away from him and called for Bessie. 
 Her call had interrupted the love-making of the others, 
 and they came to her quite hurriedly indeed quite 
 shamefacedly but Merrimount and Wallis were too 
 much interested in their own affairs to notice acutely 
 the manner of the others.
 
 IN IMMINENT PERIL. 271 
 
 "You have loitered so long," said Wallis, endeavor 
 ing to conceal her own confusion, "and it is growing 
 so late, I fear we cannot go on the water." 
 
 "Oh, yes, we can," interposed Merrimount. "If it 
 is only for a short pull." 
 
 "Well, then, let us go at once," said Wallis, walking 
 off in the direction of the steps with Merrimount. 
 
 "But, Bessie," suddenly cried Dick, "you have no 
 wrap with you. You cannot go on the river without 
 one." 
 
 "I left it on the veranda," replied Bessie, "but 
 never mind. I will not need it." 
 
 "But indeed you will," persisted Dick; "go on with 
 Merrimount and Wallis, and I will run back to the 
 house for it." 
 
 Before Bessie could interpose an objection, he was 
 off and away. She therefore joined the other two, and 
 *ogether the three descended the steps that led to the 
 water s edge. 
 
 The boat was in readiness for them at the beach, 
 and in charge of the man who was the one Dick had 
 supposed he had seen more than once in the compan 
 ionship of Ransom. He got up from the stone upon 
 which he was sitting and, taking off his cap, said to 
 Bessie: "Am I to go with you?" 
 
 Bessie told him that the gentlemen would row. 
 Saying that he would be back to take care of the boat 
 when they returned, the man walked away up the 
 shore. Wallis had wandered to the rocks in the 
 direction of the railroad track, and was now descend 
 ing to the level of the track itself. Merrimount called 
 the warning after her, that she might find some cars on 
 the line, as he termed it. By this time she had 
 reached the tracks, and she called back for Bessie and 
 Merrimount to come down, that she had a sight to 
 show them. 
 
 Bessie and the young nobleman followed her. She 
 pointed out to them the headlight of a locomotive just 
 entering the other end of the tunnel. It was running
 
 2? 2 THE DUGbALE MILLIONS. 
 
 with considerable rapidity, and the three standing upon, 
 the track watched the light growing larger and larger 
 as it approached. 
 
 While they were thus occupied they heard a shout, 
 and looking up they saw Dick on the roof of the tun 
 nel, at that point where it was guarded by a rail, 
 struggling with two men. For a moment the three did 
 not realize what the struggle meant. Soon, to their 
 horror, they discovered that the two men were endeav 
 oring to thrust Dick over the precipice. Immediately 
 that Lord Merrimount realized what they were trying 
 to do, he shouted to Dick: 
 
 "Fight the beggars hard. I am coming to you!" 
 
 With this he rapidly began the ascent of the rocks, 
 not waiting to take the easier but longer means of the 
 stairs. 
 
 Dick was making a gallant struggle with the two 
 men. He was holding his own, though his assailants 
 redoubled their efforts when they saw Merrimount 
 climbing rapidly to his assistance. 
 
 Horror-stricken, and Bessie almost frantic in her 
 fear, the two girls watched from below the varying 
 chances of the unequal struggle above. The train in 
 the tunnel was approaching them, its thundering noise 
 falling more loudly upon their ears. They heeded it 
 not, so intently were they watching Dick s fierce 
 struggle for life. 
 
 Merrimount had climbed two-thirds of the distance, 
 and was rapidly gaining the top, when a third man 
 appeared and threw himself upon Dick. Against him 
 Dick could not prevail. Inch by inch the three forced 
 him to the edge of the rocks. Wallis screamed as she 
 perceived that Dick was lost, but Bessie, in whom the 
 blood had ceased to flow as she saw the lover, who but 
 a brief half hour previous had imprinted his first kiss 
 upon her lips, surely forced to his death, could utter 
 neither moan nor shriek. The agony of years was 
 crowded into a brief moment. She was conscious of
 
 IN IMMINENT PERIL 273 
 
 nothing, but that the man to whom she had given all 
 the love of her soul was being murdered in her sight 
 the man for whom she would have gladly yielded up 
 her own life, but for whom she could do nothing. 
 The struggle lasted but an instant and Dick toppled 
 over. Lord Merrimount saw him fall, and cried out: 
 
 "O God, he s gone!" 
 
 At the same moment the wild, warning screech of 
 the approaching train reached his ears. 
 
 A new horror ! 
 
 Wallis and Bessie were on the track, unconscious of 
 its coming. Clinging desperately to the trees by which 
 he was climbing, he yelled to Wallis and Bessie to get 
 off the track. 
 
 Wallis heard him and, realizing her own danger, tried 
 to drag Bessie from it. But Bessie, with her eyes 
 riveted upon Dick, possessed by the horror of the 
 scene, paid no attention. She was rooted to the 
 ground. 
 
 As Dick was overcome, he had fallen only a few feet 
 when he caught a small bush with both hands, thus 
 arresting his fall. The bush, however, gave away 
 with his weight and Bessie, who had one wild and 
 delirious moment of joy, as she saw his fall arrested, 
 was filled with horror a second time as she saw the 
 bush torn out by its roots, and Dick again plunged 
 downward. 
 
 He struck a projecting ledge and caught again. 
 The rock crumbling under his hands, he slipped down 
 to another projection where, for a moment, he secured 
 another hold, only to find it broken under his hands, 
 and to be precipitated downward again. 
 
 Bessie, who had been passing rapidly through the 
 alternations of joy and despair, shrieked aloud, but 
 changed her shrieks to heartfelt thanks to God, as she 
 saw him finally and securely clutch a small but stout 
 hemlock. 
 
 This time indeed he had secured a firm hold, but it
 
 *74 THE DUGDALE MILLIOXS. 
 
 was by his hands alone. His feet were dangling over 
 the open cut of the tunnel, twenty feet from the 
 ground. 
 
 A new danger presented itself! 
 
 Now Bessie became keenly aware of the approach 
 of the train. She did not know that the alert engineer 
 of the approaching locomotive had seen her upon the 
 track and was reversing his engine. All she did see 
 was that Dick, who had gallantly struggled for his life 
 on the top of the roof, and had not lost his head when 
 falling, but had endeavored manfully to seize every 
 advantage, was now in imminent danger of being 
 struck by the stack of the locomotive, as it issued 
 from the tunnel. 
 
 She screamed aloud. She frantically cried to Dick 
 tc make him aware of his danger. She could not 
 make him understand. 
 
 With a wild scream she rushed from the track, hast 
 ily climbed the rock in the path of Merrimount, who 
 was now as rapidly descending, and, without regard 
 for her soft white hands, climbed with all the energy 
 of desperation, and reached a point nearest to Dick s 
 dangling feet. At the risk of being dashed to the 
 ground beneath, she reached forward and caught his 
 feet, pulling them as far toward her as her strength, 
 that of a giant in her excitement, would permit her. 
 
 At this moment Merrimount reached her, and throw* 
 ing himself on his face, until more than half his body 
 projected over the rocks, grasped her about the waist, 
 holding her securely while she maintained her grasp on 
 Dick s feet. In the instant the stack of the locomo 
 tive passed within an inch of Dick s legs, the fumes 
 and the gases therefrom almost stifling her, as it 
 passed under. 
 
 But now the engine came to a stop, with the roof of 
 the cab immediately under Dick. 
 
 Merrimount saw this and, calling to Bessie that Dick 
 was now safe, bade her let go of hii feet, and cried to
 
 7.V IMMINENT PERIL. 27$ 
 
 Dick to let himself drop on to the roof of the cab, 
 which he did, falling weak and exhausted. 
 
 The danger that Merrirnount and Bessie were now 
 in was more real than appeared from below. 
 
 Bessie, while grasping Dick s feet, had maintained 
 her hold by her right hand clinging to a small tree. 
 When Merrimount had bade her let go her hold on 
 Dick, she had obeyed, and at the same time relaxed 
 her grip upon the tree by which she had supported 
 herself. The consequence was, she was wholly borne 
 up by Merrirnount, who was almost thrown over the 
 rocks by this additional weight. 
 
 He sjioke to her calmly, telling her to take hold 
 again, but, receiving no reply, he found that she had 
 fainted in his arras, in that extraordinary position. 
 The passengers had poured out of the train, and every 
 thing was confusion below, as Dick was lifted from 
 the cab. Merrimount could not make himself heard 
 by those beneath, and so, knowing that he must either 
 push himself back, or finally succumb to the dead 
 weight of Bessie s body, momentarily growing heavier 
 and heavier, began a desperate effort to wriggle back 
 ward to a position where he would have a greater 
 leverage. 
 
 He received unexpected assistance. It was Wallis 
 who. perceiving his predicament, when recovering 
 from the partial swoon inro which she had been thrown 
 by fright, had come to his assistance, and grasping 
 him by the ankles was puiling him backward. As 
 slight as the assistance was, it was just sufficient, and 
 in a moment he was safe on secure rock wita Bessie 
 stiil in his arms. 
 
 She recovered almost immediately, and their descent 
 to the track was quickly accomplished. 
 
 Making their way tc Dick they found him standing 
 in a group of curious people who were endeavoring to 
 tiicit some explanation from him, ragged and torn, 
 >*ith blood OQ ius face and hands, dazed by the wecka
 
 27 6 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 he had received. Singularly, during all his struggle 
 and his fall, Bessie s wrap, for which he had gone back, 
 had clung to him. He did one of those strange things 
 which, when misunderstood, are called bravado. 
 
 He looked at Bessie stupidly, and extending tbr- 
 garment to her said : 
 
 " Here is your wrap "
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE. 
 
 THE excursion upon the river was abandoned. 
 
 Lord Merrimount led Dick away, as soon as he was 
 permitted to escape from the crowd, anxious to know 
 the cause of the excitement, followed by Bessie and 
 Wallis, still greatly agitated by the ordeal through 
 which they had passed. Though much bruised and 
 cut Dick recovered quickly from the dazed condition 
 which immediately followed his rescue, and was soon 
 enabled, as they walked toward Springhill, to tell 
 how he had been attacked. 
 
 He told them that as he reached the roof of the 
 tunnel, hurrying rapidly with Bessie s wrap thrown 
 over his shoulder, two men sprang out from behind a 
 clump of low trees, and without word or threat seized 
 him upon either side and rushed him toward the edge 
 of the precipice. His surprise at this attack had been 
 BO great that it was not until he was on its very brink 
 that he made effort to resist them. He thought he 
 would have succeeded in his struggle, had it not been 
 for the aid given his assailants by a third man, who 
 approached from behind and whose added strength 
 forced him over. 
 
 Notwithstanding the nervous condition he was 
 naturally in, he did not fail to note with secret joy 
 in his heart that Bessie made no effort to conceal her 
 eir of proprietorship of him, though apparently it was 
 unnoticed by either Lord Merrimount or Wallis s preter- 
 eaturally sharp as the latter always was. It is doubt 
 ful whether Dick at that time reasoned upon the matter, 
 \i he had it is probable he would n&vs hscri 
 
 877
 
 2 7$ THE DUG DALE MILLIONS. 
 
 their failure to perceive this to the absorbing interest 
 in the exciting event through which they had all 
 passed. Of course he did not know what had passed 
 between Merrimount and Wallis before he and Bessie 
 had come up to them. 
 
 When they reached the veranda of Springhill Mr. 
 Hetlow came out hurriedly from the hall, followed by 
 Mr. Stanton. It was now almost dark, but yet all 
 could notice upon the face of Mr. Hetlow an expres 
 sion of anger and stern resolve, and one of anxiety 
 upon that of Mr. Stanton. Dick s appearance quite 
 evidently changed their mood into one of astonished 
 curiosity, and whatever it might have been that Mr. 
 Hetlow intended to say when he came out to meet 
 them was lost in the desire to know what had occurred. 
 Bessie and Wallis attempted to tell it at the same 
 time, and succeeded only in impressing upon the 
 minds of the two elderly gentlemen that something 
 of a horrible nature had occurred, without giving them 
 a very clear understanding as to what it was. Finally, 
 having exhausted themselves, Lord Merrimount said 
 to Mr. Stanton, noticing that Dick had seated himself 
 upon the steps with the air of one very weak and in 
 great pain, that the first thing to be done was to take 
 Dick to his room where he could receive the attention 
 he needed, and he thought it would be wise to send 
 for a surgeon at once. While he did not believe that 
 the injuries received by Dick were of a serious nature, 
 nevertheless, as a matter of precaution, an examination 
 ought to be made as quickly as possible. 
 
 Whereupon Dick was carried to his room and made 
 comfortable, while Mr. Stanton dispatched a servant 
 for a physician. While he was thus engaged Merri 
 mount told in a circumstantial manner what had oc 
 curred, modestly leaving himself and his own achieve 
 ments out of the account, and giving great praise to 
 the brave efforts of the young ladies. He grew pos 
 itively enthusiastic, however, as he recounted the 
 gallant struggle of Dick for his life.
 
 THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE. 279 
 
 When Mr. Hetlow learned from Mr. Stanton that 
 Dick was at Springhill, and had gone upon a rivet 
 excursion with Bessie and the others, he had insisted 
 upon returning immediately. He had erroneously 
 jumped to the conclusion that it was a part of a plan 
 between his daughter and Dick to get together a 
 plan entered into surreptitiously and without his 
 knowledge. This had made him angry and he had 
 returned full of wrath, determined upon a vigorous 
 policy, which would leave neither his daughter nor 
 Dick in doubt as to his feelings upon the subject. 
 The event of the night, however, had made his pro 
 gramme impossible. And when Mr. Stanton returned 
 from Dick s bedroom, saying that the latter expected to 
 be down in a short time, and began to comment upon 
 the effort to take Dick s life, going to the conclusion, 
 vigorously expressed, that the event could not be 
 separated from the Harold Pierson claim, Mr. Hetlow 
 was greatly troubled. 
 
 He had combated from the first what he called the 
 extreme theories of Mr. Stanton and Dick, but here 
 was an overt act, for which there seemed to be no 
 good reason unless one was to be found in the ur 
 gency of the old lawyer. He had pointed out to Mr. 
 Hetlow that Dick had been, from the time of the dis 
 covery of Harold Pierson, energetic in insisting upon 
 a strict examination into his claims, that he had dis 
 covered the young claimant in suspicious surround 
 ings, that he had employed the detective force, and had 
 been instrumental in seeking out Mrs. Jenkins, and 
 had only recently returned from a journey to Phila 
 delphia where he had been preceded by Moore on pre 
 cisely the same errand, all of which was undoubtedly 
 known to these men whom Mr. Stanton now called 
 boldly the conspirators. 
 
 Mr. Stanton was very much in earnest, not to say 
 excited, and he delivered his arguments and piled up 
 his evidence with such vigor that Mr. Hetlow vvas over 
 borne and made no attempt to answer. Indeed he
 
 aSo THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 was much agitated over the idea that Dick, who had 
 engaged in this work through no desire of his own, 
 but at his employer s solicitation, should have been 
 injured and put into such imminent peril of his life in 
 his service. Therefore he did not reply, although he 
 by no means acquiesced in all the old lawyer in 
 sisted upon. 
 
 The surgeon soon arrived, and Bessie and Mr. Het- 
 low waited for his report. Perhaps a half an hour 
 passed, during which time the party on the veranda 
 discussed the attempt, before the physician descended 
 the stairs. When he did so Dick accompanied him. 
 
 The surgeon s report was that no bones had been 
 broken ; that he did not believe Dick had sustained 
 any serious internal injuries ; but that he naturally 
 had been much bruised, and had received several 
 contusions which would give him some trouble for a 
 time, and that for several days he would be sore and 
 stiff. But that which he thought was most serious 
 was the nervous shock which he had sustained, and 
 he advised quiet and rest for a time, and said upon 
 his return to the village he would send him some 
 medicines which he thought would help him to a 
 speedy recovery. Mr. Stanton thereupon emphatic 
 ally said that Springhill was the place for that rest 
 and quiet, and that Dick must remain there until 
 recovered. 
 
 Thereupon, expressing the hope that nothing seri- 
 ious would result, Mr. Hetlow proposed to return to 
 " The Larches." Bessie rose to accompany him, and 
 cast upon Dick a look of divine pity and affec 
 tion which did not escape her father. Lord Merri- 
 rnount said that he would remain awhile with Mason 
 and return later. So Mr. Hetlow led his daughter 
 away. As soon as they were out of earshot of the 
 house he asked his daughter sternly what it all 
 meant 
 
 " It means/ said Bessie, " that Mr. Mason escaped 
 being murdered by the merest chance."
 
 THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE. 281 
 
 "I know that," replied her father sharply, "and I 
 regret it as much as any man can, since it is sup 
 posed, although I do not believe it, that this mishap 
 occurred in our service. I do not mean that. 1 
 want to know what was the meaning of this meeting 
 without my knowledge." 
 
 " I presume you mean between Mr. Mason and my 
 self," replied Bessie, not evading the issue her father 
 sought. "That was purely accidental. Until I went 
 to Springhill with Lord Merrimount, I did not know 
 that Mr. Mason was there. He had come up quite 
 unexpectedly, although Wallis had written for him to 
 come. Not knowing whether he was in town, she 
 had not informed anyone that he might possibly 
 arrive/ 
 
 This was true, as Mr. Hetlow had learned from Mr. 
 Stanton earlier in the evening. It was a moment or 
 two before he spoke again. 
 
 " I should have supposed," he said, "that, after our 
 conversation upon this topic some time ago, you would 
 have refused to go upon the river with him." 
 
 " I should have done so, had the proposal been for 
 me to go with him alone," she replied. " But there was 
 nothing in our conversation which was anything like 
 a command from you that 1 was not to talk with him 
 when we met. You had threatened to forbid him the 
 house, but subsequently you asked him there, and 
 you saw me meet him and talk with him, briefly to be 
 sure." 
 
 " But that was in my presence," replied her father 
 sternly ; " you know very well, if I did not put my 
 thought in the form of a command, that what I sought 
 to do was to put an end to the relation between you, 
 and especially after your unwomanly declaration that, 
 if he were to offer himself, you would accept him." 
 
 The use of the word " unwomanly " aroused Bessie s 
 spirit. 
 
 " After what I have passed through this evening," 
 she said, " I do not feel like entering into a contest
 
 282 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 of words with you. Indeed I am not equal to it, for I 
 have been more shocked than you evidently under 
 stand ; I am very weak. Your use of that word is 
 unlike you. In nothing that I said to you is there 
 any justification for its use. But I do not propose to 
 evade the responsibilities or consequences of my acts. 
 I will tell you frankly, so that neither of us shall be 
 under any misapprehension, that to-night Mr. Mason 
 asked me to be his wife. And I said yes." 
 
 " You did ? " almost shouted Mr. Hetlow. 
 
 " Yes, I told him so," she replied quietly. " I think I 
 told you I would ; but I further told him that I would 
 not marry him until I had gained your consent." 
 
 Mr. Hetlow stopped, so great was his astonishment 
 at this concession of his daughter. Ever since their 
 previous conversation, when she had turned from a 
 child into a strong, determined woman displaying a 
 spirit as firm as his own, he had stood somewhat in awe 
 of her. That she had done that which she said she 
 would do, and yet had made this concession to him, 
 left him almost speechless, and he hardly knew how to 
 meet the situation. 
 
 " I am glad you have considered me," he said, in a 
 strangely altered tone, " and I will insist that you 
 keep to your promise, that you have thus made with 
 out its exaction on my part. This is a serious matter, 
 and I freely confess that I do not know how to deal 
 with it. Until I shall have had time to reason coolly 
 and without prejudice upon it, I do not think it is too 
 much to ask of you that you will keep it." They 
 walked on for some distance in silence. At length 
 Mr. Hetlow spoke again : 
 
 " This matter is full of embarrassments, and I think 
 that I have the right to exact the further promise from 
 you that, until such time as I can arrive at a conclu 
 sion as to the proper course to pursue, Mason shall 
 not be received at my house, and that you shall cease 
 all intercourse with him."
 
 THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE. 
 
 " As to his being received at your house," replied 
 Bessie, " I can say nothing. You are master there 
 and may say who shall enter and who shall not, but as 
 to my intercourse with the man whom I have accepted 
 as my lover, and whom I have promised to marry when 
 your consent is obtained, I shall refuse to make any 
 such promise. Do not fear," she added hastily, " that 
 I will seek to meet him secretly, or that I will make 
 appointments to meet him. I have too much pride for 
 that. Bat when I do meet him, I shall not avoid him. 
 I shall be glad when such meetings occur and I shall 
 not alter the daily course of my life in order to avoid 
 him. I will make no such promise." 
 
 By this time they had reached the house. As they 
 entered the door Bessie, who had borne up under 
 this added strain of a contest with her father, could 
 stand it no longer, and without warning reeled and 
 fainted. Mr. Hetlow caught her as she was falling, 
 loudly calling for assistance. As he bore her to a 
 lounge he blamed himself for his cruelty in forcing this 
 issue upon her at such a time. 
 
 She recovered shortly. But an end was put to 
 further discussion of her engagement.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE DECISIVE BLOW. 
 
 WHILE all of these events were occurring the four 
 conspirators were having frequent consultations as to 
 the course to be pursued under the developments of the 
 week. There was division in the councils. Orton 
 Pierson was inclined to the belief that no further dem 
 onstration should be made until time had elapsed 
 to allow the people at Dobbs Ferry to recover from 
 their wonder and excitement over the burglary. They 
 had all concluded, since there had been no showing to 
 the contrary, that they could rely upon the truth of 
 Mrs. Stanton s statements that she had so disposed of 
 the box that she could neither give it to them nor ob 
 tain it herself. Although Mrs. Stanton had undoubt 
 edly conveyed that impression to Bob, it had not in 
 fact been her intention to do so, nor was she aware at 
 the time, or subsequently, that she had done so. That 
 Bob believed it, however, was a strong point in the 
 consideration of their future movements. 
 
 Moore was strongly of the opinion that they should 
 go forward with all possible rapidity. He argued 
 that the box was out out of the way with its contents 
 whatever it might show, and was as far away from Mr. 
 Hetlow and Mr. Stanton as it was from them. He 
 pointed out that Mrs. Jenkins was totally ignorant as 
 to the meaning of the contents, and that if it did not 
 argue there was little of value or significance to be ob 
 tained from them, at least the people at Dobbs Ferry 
 were estopped, by her ignorance from arriving at the 
 truth. The arrival of the London solicitor, he urged, 
 could not be long delayed, and it was necessary for
 
 THE DECISIVE BLOW. 285 
 
 them to appear before Mr. Hetlow with such indubi 
 table proof as would not only put an end to any sus 
 picion he might have but put him into a condition of 
 mind to say to that solicitor, when he did arrive, that 
 there was nothing to be gained by struggling against 
 the plain facts. 
 
 " In short," he said, " we will gain nothing by wait 
 ing but to prolong the effort and permit suspicion to 
 harden into belief." 
 
 In this he was supported by both Ransom and Bob. 
 When, however, the news was brought to them that 
 the men placed at Springhill by Ransom had at 
 tempted the life of Mason there was consternation. 
 Ransom was bitterly blamed by the other three for 
 having attempted a plan, which, even if successful, 
 could have done no more than to have gotten out of 
 the way a man who was giving them trouble by reason 
 of his determined suspicions and his efforts to prove 
 them, and who, being killed, would have had his place 
 supplied by someone else, with even a stronger motive 
 for arriving at knowledge. But having failed, it was 
 even worse, and Mason would now have added to his 
 former suspicions the conviction that the attempt 
 upon his life was because he had entertained such 
 suspicions. 
 
 Ransom denied energetically that he had given such 
 instructions to his men, and declared that they had 
 exceeded them. He said the part that they were to 
 play was wholly that of spies. While there was no 
 expression on the part of anyone present indicating 
 that they doubted his word, nevertheless all of them 
 were filled with disbelief. 
 
 It was Bob who now urged immediate action. 
 
 "Whatever truth there was in Moore s argument 
 before," he said, "it is doubly true now. I must sub 
 mit those proofs at once. To delay now would be to 
 confirm all the suspicions they may have. To go 
 
 ere now, right on the heels of this affair, would carry
 
 i86 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 the idea that I, at least, was not a party to it. I con* 
 fess I have no particular desire to go there. The 
 probability is that my treatment will not be such as to 
 make it particularly pleasant, but I sec no way of 
 escaping it. It is a time when we must put on our 
 boldest front, play our game out to the end, leading 
 the trump card." He was silent for a moment, and 
 then added, " I wonder who that fellow was who 
 went to his assistance. Do your men not know, Ran 
 som ? " 
 
 Ransom replied that he did not know of any man 
 being there, saying probably that it was someone 
 visiting there temporarily. 
 
 " Well," said Bob, " it is not a matter of importance ; 
 only I like to know whom I am to meet there." 
 
 The course suggested by Bob was agreed upon 
 by all, aven Orton Pierson, who had said that since 
 the attempt on Mason they must either do as suggested 
 by Bob, or give the whole affair up. Whereupon the 
 proofs which had been prepared by Pierson and 
 Moore were produced and discussed. 
 
 These papers were, of course, all forgeries. 
 
 And it was proposed that Bob should represent to 
 Mr. Hetlow and the others that, in a search for further 
 proof, Orton Pierson had found these papers among 
 the effects of his deceased wife. 
 
 The letter purporting to have been written by 
 Edmund Dugdale was the boldest of all, for it was 
 known that Mr. Hetlow had in his possession a num 
 ber of letters unquestionably written by Edmund Dug- 
 dale. When Mr. Hetlow, at a time when neither Dick 
 nor Mr. Stanton were present, had shown to Harold 
 Pierson the papers he had received from the London 
 solicitor, Bob had slipped, when unobserved, a small 
 scrap of paper from among them into his pocket a 
 scrap containing writing, which he had quickiy judged 
 upon a hasty examination to be the same as that ot the 
 Dugdale letters. They were not certain that it was.
 
 THE DECISIVE BLOW*. 287 
 
 but arguing themselves into the belief, they had 
 entered upon this risky venture. Accordingly Bob 
 addressed a note to Mr. Hetlow, saying that some 
 further proof had come to light, which he wished to 
 submit and to consult him about, especially with a 
 view to a comparison with some of the papers in the 
 hands of Mr. Hetlow. And he said, in this letter, 
 that unless he heard to the contrary from Mr. Hetlow, 
 he should visit him at " The Larches " on the follow 
 ing afternoon at three o clock. 
 
 " He will not be able, under this short notice," said 
 Bob grimly, " to deny me admittance. I will take 
 good care not to be in the way of any message to the 
 contrary." 
 
 This was considered by all to be the decisive blow 
 of their enterprise, and they departed from the place 
 of meeting with no little degree of anxiety as to the 
 outcome. 
 
 While this enterprise was going forward Mrs. Stan- 
 ton at Springhill was in great trouble. She had 
 been greatly shocked by the attack made upon Dick 
 and its consequences. Moreover she had been 
 greatly frightened, as she listened to her husband s 
 argument that the assault came from those who were 
 connected in some way with Harold Pierson. While 
 she endeavored to persuade herself that such could 
 not be the case, nevertheless the fear that it might be 
 so was giving her many uneasy moments. She bit 
 terly regretted that she had entered into any arrange 
 ment with Harold Pierson. It seemed to her that, 
 from that moment, nothing but trouble and disaster 
 had followed. More than once she had been upon 
 the point of confiding in Wallis and asking her ad 
 vice as to what she should do. But she had been 
 deterred through fear of her husband s anger, and 
 therefore had refrained from even giving any infor 
 mation as to the box, She had gone to great lengths
 
 288 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 in endeavors to have the box found. She had fre 
 quently slipped into the library alone, and as fre 
 quently drawn out the drawer in which it was, leav 
 ing it open in the hope that someone would discover 
 it. But as frequently someone had gone in and 
 closed it. She had even taken precautions on one 
 occasion to take out all of the old papers with which 
 she had covered it in order that it might attract at 
 tention, resting alone in the drawer. But even then 
 someone had closed the drawer without seeing the 
 box she so much desired to be discovered, through 
 no agency of hers. Yet notwithstanding her inge 
 nious efforts the box remained persistently hidden. 
 
 During the afternoon of the next day Lord Merri- 
 mount and Bessie came over to Springhill, the 
 avowed purpose of their call being to inquire after 
 Dick and his injuries. As subsequent events de 
 veloped it was shown that each had a purpose care 
 fully concealed from the other. Notwithstanding Mr. 
 Hetlow s opposition, Bessie had accompanied Lord 
 Merrimount at the latter s request. Her father, in 
 deed, had made no objection at the time of Merri- 
 mount s suggestion, that is, in words, although the 
 cloud that gathered upon his brow showed Bessie he 
 was much displeased. She was not deterred, how 
 ever, and promptly supported the young noble 
 man s proposition, and together they walked away, 
 leaving her father to deal with his wrath as best he 
 might. 
 
 On arrival at Springhill, they found the family 
 gathered on the veranda. Dick was bearing the 
 marks of his fall, shown in severe cuts on his face 
 and hard bruises, while he was so stiff and sore he 
 could move only with difficulty. Their conversation 
 dealt with the events of the preceding day, and Mr. 
 Stanton again argued his belief that the assault upon 
 Dick was in some way to be traced to Harold Pierson 
 or those associated with him. As they talked Bessie
 
 THE DECISIVE BLOW. 289 
 
 took her place beside Dick, and assumed a relation to 
 him which made Wallis open her black eyes in wide 
 wonder. It seemed to her that the interview for 
 which she had maneuvered had borne its fruits. So 
 much engrossed had she been with the exciting scene 
 of Dick s fall and the previous one of Merrimount s 
 love-making, that she had utterly forgotten the one 
 to which she had said she was the guardian angel. 
 
 When she saw Merrimount appear, she experienced 
 a nervousness quite unusual. Indeed her face 
 flushed, much to her annoyance, and there was a 
 marked air of constraint in her manner toward the 
 young Englishman. With extreme care, she placed 
 herself as remote from him as possible, and was dis 
 tinctly conscious that she talked in a most spasmodic 
 way, jerky as she described it afterward, sometimes 
 voluble beyond her wont and at others strangely 
 silent. 
 
 After they had conversed for possibly a half an 
 hour, Merrimount, to her great alarm, asked Mr. Stan- 
 ton if he would grant him a few moments of private 
 conversation. Intuitively grasping his purpose she 
 rose from her seat half in protest, but sank back 
 again, realizing the impropriety of assuming to know 
 what that purpose was. Her action was not noticed 
 by anyone else, nevertheless she felt the hot blood 
 rushing to her face, as she imagined that everyone 
 had noticed her action and knew its meaning. 
 
 The old lawyer, acceding to Merrimount s request, 
 led the way into the library, supposing the conference 
 requested bore some relation to the matter which was 
 uppermost in the minds of all. His astonishment was 
 vast, and even ludicrous, when the young nobleman 
 abruptly announced that he had done himself the 
 honor to declare his love for Wallis. Mr. Stanton fairly 
 fell back in his chair limp through amazement. So 
 ludicrous indeed was his appearance that Merrimount 
 Struggled hard to conceal his desire to laugh.
 
 290 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 " I do not know your customs in the affairs of the 
 heart," he went on, "but I conceive that the duty rest 
 ing upon a man who has placed himself in the position 
 I have, is the same here as at home. Therefore I 
 feel that I should not go further without acquainting 
 you of what I have done and asking your acquiescence 
 in further proceedings." 
 
 "I never was so much astonished in my life," said 
 the old lawyer, recovering himself. " I suppose since 
 you have made the declaration to Wallis that there 
 is little need of coming to me. Young ladies in this 
 country seem to have taken it to themselves to settle 
 these matters without the advice or assistance of 
 their elders. But we all supposed here that Hetlow s 
 daughter was the one you sought." 
 
 " So I learned from Wallis," replied Merrimount. 
 " But it is not so. The proposition which I had the 
 honor to submit to Mr. Hetlow, knowledge of which 
 seems to have gone beyond us, has been wholly mis 
 apprehended. It had no relation to my choice of a 
 wife." 
 
 " Ah! " exclaimed Mr. Stanton. After a moment s 
 hesitation, he added, " I presume Wallis has given her 
 consent ? " 
 
 "Upon the countrary," replied Merrimount, "she 
 has not. She has left me to sue again. She did not 
 deny me, nor did she forbid me to talk with her again 
 upon the matter. Indeed I may say that she gave me 
 permission to hope for a favorable response." 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Stanton, "I doubt very much 
 whether my consent, or the withholding of it, would be a 
 factor in the problem. If Wallis wants to marry you 
 she will, and if she don t she won t, and whatever side 
 of the case I might be on I would exert no influence 
 upon it. I am free to say to you I have never fancied 
 the idea of our American girls marrying foreigners, or 
 into a rank of life so far removed from the habits and 
 ideas they are accustomed to. The training and as-
 
 THE DECISIVE BLOW. 291 
 
 sociations, shaping and formulating as they must be, 
 obtaining in your walk of life, are as different, I take it, 
 from anything this country affords as they well can be. 
 I have doubted the advisability of these international 
 marriages and the resulting happiness. That however 
 has been a general reflection on my part. Treating you 
 as a man, apart from any other consideration, I can say, 
 sincerely, 1 have a very great regard for you, and can 
 see no possible objection to you as a husband for 
 Wallis." 
 
 " It is as a man I desire to be judged," interjected 
 the young nobleman, bowing in a rather stately manner 
 to the lawyer. 
 
 " If you were a producer, a laborer with hand or 
 head," pursued Mr. Stanton, " I should be better 
 pleased. I suppose you will call that sturdy de 
 mocracy. But it is not, it is only the result of my ed 
 ucation." 
 
 " I am seeking to be just that," replied Merrimount 
 smiling ; " to seek to enter commerce is the purpose 
 of my visit to America." 
 
 The old lawyer looked at him keenly for a moment 
 or two without speaking, and then said : 
 
 " Ah ! well. I cannot offer any objections to you 
 as a man ; such as I have go wholly to your rank. I 
 presume, however, it is that very rank which will make 
 you successful with Wallis." 
 
 " Upon the contrary," laughed the young nobleman, 
 " I fear that very rank is one of the obstacles. Evi 
 dently Miss Gladvvin is as strong a republican as the 
 fiercest democrat could wish. That, and the fact that 
 I am not rich, seem to be the stumbling-blocks." 
 
 The old lawyer laughed heartily. 
 
 " Do not believe her for a moment," he said ; " that 
 is so far as money is concerned. It is merely a caprice 
 of hers to talk that way." 
 
 "So I supposed," replied Merrimount. " But I find 
 that if I win her, I must do so as Eric Lacey and not
 
 292 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 as Lord Merrimount. I must win her as a commoner 
 without reference to my rank and station, and solely 
 by reason of my ability to impress my qualities upon 
 her. I am very much pleased that it is so, and," 
 rising as he spoke, " I know that if I am successful in 
 my suit, I shall have won a heart of gold as well as a 
 most charming companion." 
 
 Mr. Stanton rose at the same moment and said 
 feelingly : 
 
 " Wallis is a good girl, true and loyal, and will make 
 any man a good wife. What she may be in the rank 
 of life to which you propose to transplant her, the 
 future alone can tell." 
 
 Placing his hand upon the shoulder of the young 
 nobleman, he added : 
 
 " Well, sir, you have my consent if such is necessary. 
 God speed you." 
 
 They walked out into the hall together and joined 
 the others. Wallis watched their coming with much 
 agitation, which she tried hard to conceal, and success 
 fully. To Mr. Stanton the incident seemed to afford 
 much quiet amusement, although he said nothing as 
 to what had passed between himself and the young 
 Englishman. Mrs. Stanton, during this interview in 
 the library, had left the veranda, and so, when the old 
 lawyer, remarking that he thought he would stroll over 
 to " The Larches," strolled away the four young people 
 were left together. 
 
 Lord Merrimount rose from his chair and going to 
 Wallis, bowing, offered her his arm. There was so 
 much determination in his manner that, without real 
 izing what she was doing, she rose and took it. He 
 led her to the other end of the veranda, where he said: 
 " I thought it my duty to say to your uncle that 
 yesterday 1 declared my love to you." 
 
 Wallis looked up at him quickly and sharply. 
 " Who gave you permission to do so ?" she asked. 
 i " No one, indeed," he said with a smile, " I 
 thought it my duty. I did not tell him that you had
 
 THE DECISIVE BLOW. 293 
 
 given me permission to do so. Nor did I tell him 
 that you had accepted my suit. Upon the contrary I 
 said that you had given me no more assurance than 
 permission to hope." 
 
 " He must have thought then," replied Wallis nerv 
 ously, " that you came to him on a very slight founda 
 tion." 
 
 " Do not say that it is slight, " he implored earnestly. 
 
 Something in Wallis s manner made him add 
 quickly : 
 
 " I do not intend to press my suit to-night ; I do not 
 want to frighten you, nor do I wish you to think that 
 my conference with your uncle was an endeavor to 
 coerce you, but I felt that I ought to make my 
 intention known, so that there would be no misappre 
 hension as to my purpose. While your uncle was 
 pleased to say that he saw no objection to me as a 
 man, he did as a nobleman " 
 
 "That is just it," interrupted Wallis impulsively. 
 
 Then, perceiving the significance that might be given 
 to her words, she tried to withdraw them, but Merri- 
 mount pursued the advantage she had given him. 
 
 " It is my misfortune," he said, " not my fault. I 
 cannot very well divest myself of the station into 
 which I was born. But I would willingly try, if it 
 were to stand between us. I beg you will look upon 
 it as something inherent to my birth, as you would 
 look upon some slight deformity, and not be cruel be 
 cause of it." 
 
 He took her hands in his and looking down upon 
 her tenderly, without speaking for a moment or two, 
 finally said : 
 
 " Wallis, I doubt if it is in my power to make you 
 know how sincere and earnest is the love I bear you. 
 I have looked deeper into your nature than you think. 
 I know the sterling- quality of your heart and mind. 
 I know how true, how loyal, how unselfish you are, 
 and if you will but permit ir.t, I will make you my 
 fc and bear you in triumph, proudly, to those W he
 
 294 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 love me, and who will love you not alone for the sake 
 of me, but for those qualities which have won my love. 
 O Wallis ! I am not a carpet knight, dancing at 
 tendance upon my lady, and perhaps I have not those 
 graces which easily win a woman s heart ; but I can 
 promise you a deep devotion, a protecting care, and a 
 loving heart. I ask you only to think of me, as your 
 uncle says, as a man. I beseech you to cast aside 
 every consideration other than that I will be a true 
 lover and a good husband to you. I cannot promise 
 you a grand life. That is not in my power. At the 
 very best I am a younger son, but I can promise you 
 a never failing love. I shall not worry you. I shall 
 not again speak of my love for you, until a little time 
 hence, when I will come for my answer. And by that 
 answer, be it for good or for evil, I will abide." 
 
 He drew her hand within his arm and, without wait 
 ing for a remark from her, led her back to the others, 
 trembling and quite subdued. 
 
 At this moment Mr. Stanton returned from " The 
 Larches," and approaching the group upon the ver 
 anda, said : 
 
 " Hetlow has just received a note from Harold 
 Pierson, announcing his intention to call upon him 
 to-morrow afternoon, for the purpose of submitting 
 some new proof he has just discovered. It is either an 
 exhibition of impudent audacity, or else we are mis 
 taken in supposing him to be connected with the assault 
 upon Mason." 
 
 Then he turned to Dick, and with a grim significance, 
 which was noticed by all, said : 
 
 " Mr. Hetlow, Mason, expects you to go over to 
 morrow afternoon the hour is three and after get 
 ting through with Pierson, he desires an interview 
 with you." 
 
 If the others did not understand what was meant 
 by this, Dick and Bessie did. 
 
 A few moments later Merrimount and Bessie left 
 leaving Dick anxious and Wallis very much disturbed.
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 HAROLD S PROOF. 
 
 MRS. STANTON was much alarmed by the an 
 nouncement that Harold Pierson was again to visit 
 "The Larches." During the morning she was so pre 
 occupied and nervous that, she attracted the attention 
 of Wallis. As much troubled as Wallis had been over 
 the suit that Merrimount was making, and all the 
 more troubled because she had discovered that she 
 had a much greater regard for the young English 
 man than she was willing to admit, she finally asked 
 her aunt what it was that was giving her so much dis 
 tress. The good lady prevaricated, denying that 
 anything extraordinary was occupying her mind. 
 The shrewd Wallis, however, believing that her aunt 
 was not dealing sincerely with her, determined that 
 she would not permit an interview with Harold Pier- 
 son if she could prevent it. Thus it was that, in her 
 endeavor to frustrate a meeting between her aunt and 
 young Pierson, she was prevented from going to 
 Bessie, a visit to whom she had promised herself on 
 that morning, in order to consult her as to the offer 
 she had received from Lord Merrimount. 
 
 The impending" interview with Bessie s father occu 
 pied Dick s thoughts duringthe morning. Bessie had 
 whispered to him the previous evening that when her 
 father called her to account for going upon an ex 
 cursion of which Dick was a party, she had told her 
 father that she had pledged herself to be Dick s wife, 
 and that her father was very angry, therefore Dick 
 had no doubt as to what the subject of that interview 
 would be. He felt that the issue had come and that he 
 must meet it. He speculated upon the effect it would
 
 296 THE DUG DALE MILLION S. 
 
 have upon himself and Bessie. He was sure of her. 
 That she would be true to him he did not doubt. He 
 determined that, notwithstanding what demand Mr. 
 Hetlow might make, he would refuse to give up the 
 promise of her hand, and that he would abide by 
 such refusal and its consequences. He made no doubt 
 that in the event of such refusal Mr. Hetlow would 
 insist upon the severance of their business relation. 
 While he recognized this was in a measure greatly to 
 be regretted, nevertheless, he felt that it was not wholly 
 a disaster, for his reputation in the trade was high, 
 and that he could quickly establish a new relation, 
 which, if it did not promise as well for the future, 
 would be immediately as advantageous. 
 
 Its effect upon Bessie, however, was what troubled 
 him most. Whether she would be willing to accept 
 disinheritance and leave her home he had grave 
 doubts. He recognized that it was a serious situa 
 tion for her, and felt it would be too much to ask 
 of her immediately. He therefore determined that 
 he would go no further with Mr. Hetlow than to 
 refuse to break his relations with Bessie, to promise 
 nothing, and then to be guided by future develop 
 ments. During the morning Mr. Stanton had 
 wandered about in a moody frame of mind, unable to 
 settle himself upon any occupation. As the hour ap 
 proached for them to go to "The Larches "he said 
 to Dick : 
 
 " I bound myself by a foolish promise not to say 
 anything to you about an event which will occur, i 
 have made up my mind that I will not violate that 
 promise in any way, by warning you to be prepared 
 for an attack upon yourself in a matter which, I pre 
 sume, is nearer your heart just at present than any 
 other thing in the world." 
 
 "I understand you, sir," replied Dick, "and 1 
 thank you for the warning. I knew quite as well 
 what it will be, as if you had told me, I have been
 
 HAROLD S PROOF. 297 
 
 thinking about it all the morning. And I have firmly 
 determined upon my course, let the consequences be 
 what they may." 
 
 " I would like to give you some advice upon the 
 situation," said Mr. Stanton, " but that would involve 
 the breaking of my promise. And yet I feel that you 
 are in need of cool advice, perhaps as much at this 
 particular time as you ever have been or will be, in 
 your life. Let me say but just one word. Do nothing 
 rash." 
 
 " I can do nothing rash," replied Dick, " for I 
 enter upon the matter after cool reflection and ample 
 deliberation. I have laid out my programme and 
 will strictly adhere to it." 
 
 He turned upon Mr. Stanton with sudden energy 
 in his voice and determination in his face : 
 
 " Nothing will make me consent to give up Bessie." 
 
 The old lawyer looked at him for a moment, a 
 gleam lighting up his eyes, and then turned away 
 from him with the remark : " Well, it is time to go 
 over. Do you think you are able to walk, or shall I 
 have the carriage brought up for you to ride?" 
 
 Dick replied that a carriage was not necessary, and 
 providing himself with a walking-stick the two set 
 out. They had not gone far, before Wallis called 
 after them to wait for her, saying, with a laugh, that 
 she had been at all of the seances touching the Dug- 
 dale claim, and could not miss the present one. 
 
 " Besides," she said, with a gay laugh,"! have a 
 iover there, and I must look after him." 
 
 Dick did not take this in, but her uncle looked 
 down upon her curiously, laughing the while. 
 
 Arriving at the house they found Harold Pierson 
 had not yet arrived ; that Lord Merrimount after 
 lunch had gone out for a row upon the river; and 
 that Bessie was in her room. To her Wallis went 
 immediately. Mr. Hetlow was in the library, and 
 thither Mr. Stanton and Dick went. In his greeting
 
 298 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 of Dick, Mr. Hetlow was ceremoniously polite, formal, 
 cold, and precise. They were hardly seated when 
 Harold Pierson drove up to the door. A moment 
 later he was announced in the library. There was 
 nothing to be noticed in his manner differing from 
 that which had marked it on previous occasions. 
 Noting upon the face of Dick marks of his previous 
 day s experience he inquired if Dick had met with an 
 accident. Mr. Stanton broke in, before Dick could 
 reply, with the remark : 
 
 " Nothing less than an attempt at murder." 
 
 If it was his intention to throw Harold Pierson off 
 his guard he signally failed. With an assumption of 
 extreme solicitude Harold inquired anxiously for the 
 particulars, manifested deep interest in the recital, 
 expressed detestation over the deed, and wondered 
 what could be the motive of it. 
 
 Mr. Stanton, with increased sharpness and asperity 
 of tone, said : 
 
 " We connect it with an event which has absorbed 
 a great deal of our thought and time." 
 
 Harold Pierson looked at him wonderingly, and 
 with the air of a man too polite to inquire as to the 
 the meaning of his speech so purposely guarded. 
 
 Mr. Hetlow prevented further conversation in this 
 direction by saying to young Pierson that he had re 
 ceived his note, and was ready to look at the proof 
 which he had asked to submit. 
 
 The young man thereupon took from his pocket a 
 package, which he laid on the table before him, say- 
 ing : 
 
 " I do not know how you will regard this, but it 
 seems to me far more important than anything I 
 have yet laid before you. I think it is well worthy 
 your consideration ; my counsel insists that it is well- 
 nigh, if not wholly, conclusive. If the comparison 
 which I desire to make is permitted me, and the 
 proof should stand the test of such comparison, I
 
 HAROLD S PROOF. 299 
 
 shall myself be disposed to believe that the proof is 
 made and the end is reached." 
 
 As he talked he unwrapped the package and laid 
 out the papers. No remark was made by anyone 
 when he concluded. He added in a somewhat disap 
 pointed air : 
 
 " Of course I know it is a great favor I ask, to com 
 pare the letters of Edmund Dugdale received by his 
 father, and unquestionably authentic, with the note 
 we have here purporting to have been written by him. 
 I quite understand that, occupying the position you do, 
 insisting that the burden of proof rests upon our 
 shoulders, nothing compels you, even from a moral 
 standpoint, to accede to my request. I therefore 
 want to say, as I said upon a previous occasion, that 
 one of the chief desires I have is to assure you of the 
 truth of my claim, and that I will be content with 
 nothing short of a full acquiescence upon your part 
 that I am indeed the son of Edmund Dugdale. I ask 
 it, therefore, more with the idea that you should be 
 satisfied by such comparison than that I should grat 
 ify myself by making it." 
 
 Mr. Hetlow, rising from his chair, said hastily and 
 warmly : 
 
 " Of course your request is granted. It never en 
 tered into my head to deny it. I conceive it to be 
 very proper." 
 
 Mr. Stanton, however, interposed by saying : 
 
 " In a strict legal proceeding, Mr. Hetlow, one oc 
 cupying the position you do would use a document, 
 such as you have in your possession, in an attempt 
 to confound rather than to assist the other side." 
 
 " But this is not a strict legal proceeding," said 
 Mr. Hetlow rather irritably. "If Mr. Pierson has a 
 letter written by Edmund Dugdale that fact can be 
 established as conclusively here as in a court of law." 
 
 The merchant went to a cabinet in the corner of 
 the room, and taking from it a bundle of papers came
 
 300 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 back to the table. Running over the end of it, he 
 drew out a paper which he laid before him and re 
 sumed his seat. 
 
 Laying his hand upon this paper he said : " I have 
 here a letter written by Edmund Dugdale during 
 the year of his death, concerning the authenticity of 
 which there can be no doubt." 
 
 " Then we can proceed," said Harold Pierson. 
 
 He lifted the first letter at his hand. It was the 
 one purporting to be addressed by James Powers to 
 Mrs. Orton Pierson. 
 
 " Quite evidently," he said, " Mr. Powers was not 
 an educated man. His writing is somewhat hard te 
 decipher. The letter tells its own story." 
 
 He read : 
 
 n. y. Sept 10, 1856. 
 " Mrs. pierson 
 
 " madam : 
 
 " My Wife has fond a Shirt what 
 belongs to the child you have Adopt i sind it you how 
 is the child gitting on i hope is good and is a komfort 
 to you he is a quite child it has a good whome and i 
 hope its so you will be good to it its father Edmund 
 dugdale was a genleman and a good man. 
 " Yours &c., 
 
 "JAMES POWERS." 
 
 He laid it down, looking to the others for comment. 
 None was made. Dick reached forward, took the 
 letter, inspected it closely, turned it over, and observed 
 the paper upon which it was written. The paper bore 
 every appearance of age, and the letter of having been 
 penned by an illiterate man. He thought that if the 
 letter was a forgery it was a most skillful one. 
 
 He laid it back on the table. 
 
 Harold Pierson took up another paper. It was a 
 certificate signed by James Powers and his wife, set-
 
 HAROLD S PROOF. 301 
 
 ting forth that the child taken by Mrs. Orton Piersou 
 on August 29, 1856, was the child of Edmund Dug- 
 dale, who was a lodger with them, and who had died 
 on July 8, 1856, in their house. 
 
 Dick examined this also, comparing its signature 
 with the one of the letter. Even to his practiced eye 
 the two seemed to be exactly the same. This one 
 Mr. Stanton examined. Harold Pierson this time did 
 not wait for comments when he had perused it, but 
 hurried on to the next. 
 
 This was one purporting to be a letter written by 
 Edmund Dugdale to Mrs. Tomlinson. 
 
 " This letter," he said," we can give no explanation 
 of. It was found among Mrs. Orton Pierson s papers 
 with the two I have just read. It is supposed, how 
 ever, that it was written a day or two before his death 
 but never dispatched. It is briet and pathetic." 
 
 " MRS. TOMLINSON : 
 
 " I do not think I will last long. I am growing 
 weaker hourly. I want to see my child once more 
 and clasp him in my arms before I die. Will you 
 not bring him to me ? 
 
 " Yours thankfully, 
 
 "EDMUND DUGDALE." 
 
 Dick thought he observed signs of anxiety and 
 nervousness in young Pierson s manner while he was 
 reading this letter. But the thought was driven from 
 his mind by another and that was, that the letter fitted 
 in well with the story Mrs. Tomlinson had told him. 
 
 Mr. Hetlow took up the letter of Edmund Dugdale 
 lying before him, an action noticed by Harold Pier- 
 son. 
 
 " One moment," he said. " Before any comparison 
 is made, let me dispose cf the remaining paper." 
 
 He then read an affidavit made by Thomas Full- 
 grave, setting forth in that verbose phraseology lawyers
 
 302 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 so delight in, that he was cognizant of the facts of the 
 adoption of the child of Edmund Dugdale, and that of 
 his own knowledge he knew that the child delivered, 
 by James Powers and his wife to Orton Pierson and 
 his wife was the child of Edmund Dugdale. 
 
 Having finished he returned all of the papers to 
 his pocket, save the one purporting to have been 
 written by Edmund Dugdale, and passed around to 
 the side of the table where Mr. Hetlow was sitting, 
 and laid it before Mr. Hetlcw. 
 
 Dick and Mr. Stanton rose and took positions 
 behind Mr. Hetlow, over whose shoulders they could 
 observe the comparison between the two letters. 
 
 A glance was sufficient to determine the similarity 
 of the hand. The chance taken by the conspirators 
 in writing this letter was determined in their favor. 
 They had made no mistake. It would have required 
 eyes more expert than were in Mr. Hetlow s library 
 to have determined which one was the forgery. By 
 one of those singular chances that are continually 
 turning up to confound the theory of probability, the 
 papei, upon which these separate documents were 
 written, was so nearly alike that it seemed as if they 
 had come from the same ream. 
 
 Mr. Stanton was dumfounded. The proof seemed 
 to be complete. 
 
 Dick could pick no flaw, and he appealed to Mr. 
 Stanton to make the objection he looked for but could 
 not find. So in fact did Mr. Hetlow. Finding that 
 Mr. Stanton made no remark, Mr. Hetlow said : 
 
 "Your proof is conclusive. It would appear I must 
 accept you in fact as the heir to the Dugdale estates." 
 
 " Yes," said the old lawyer, more to himself than to 
 the others, " the establishment of these proofs would 
 settle the question." 
 
 Dick, deeply disappointed, acquiesced in the judg 
 ment of Mr. Stanton. 
 
 " Mr. Pierson, or Mr. Dugdale, as we will have to
 
 HAROLD S PROOF. 303 
 
 undoubtedly call you after this," said the old lawyer, 
 " your proofs are strong. I confess recently I have 
 not been of the opinion that you were the heir. 
 Certain facts, gathered chiefly by Mr. Mason here, 
 led me to believe that either you, yourself, were a 
 victim, or that you were a swindler. It now appears 
 that I have wronged you in my thoughts. Indeed I 
 became convinced, when the assault was made upon 
 Mason, that in some way it was connected with your 
 claim." 
 
 "Great God!" exclaimed young Pierson, leaping 
 from his chair in which he had seated himself, his 
 manner and voice representing well simulated horror, 
 "you surely did not believe me guilty of such an 
 act ? " 
 
 His manner made a profound impression. 
 
 " For a time I did," said Mr. Stanton coolly. 
 
 " Great God ! " repeated young Pierson, seating him 
 self again. 
 
 It seemed as if he were horror-stricken with the 
 idea. So deceived was Dick by his manner that he 
 said : 
 
 "I am sure, Mr. Pierson, that Mr. Stanton believes 
 so no longer." 
 
 Harold looked at him gratefully. Turning to Mr. 
 Stanton, he said : 
 
 " You say certain facts, gathered by Mr. Mason, had 
 led you to be suspicious. Will you not question me 
 as to them ? I will reply frankly, and as fully as I 
 can. Perhaps I may entirely satisfy you." 
 
 " The first is," said Mr. Stanton, grasping eagerly 
 at the opportunity, " that running parallel with our 
 search was another one, which we finally discovered 
 to be conducted by persons with whom you were in 
 close association. When Mr. Mason first found Mrs. 
 Tomlinson he also found that a man had preceded 
 him with precisely the same inquiry. When agents 
 were employed in Newark to find trace ot James
 
 304 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 Powers, it was learned that the same man had pre 
 ceded them. When within a week Mr. Mason went 
 to Philadelphia to consult a certain Mrs. Jenkins, 
 again he found that the same man had preceded 
 him there. And this man was one you met daily. 5 
 
 " Only recently," exclaimed Harold Pierson hastily, 
 and. as Dick thought, with some alarm. " I can ex 
 plain this to yOur satisfaction. A man named Ran- 
 son, with whom until quite recently I had no ac 
 quaintance the one whose communication to Mr. 
 Mason found me out had some knowledge that the 
 Dugdale estate would fall to the child of Edmund 
 Dugdale, if he could be found. It was he who insti 
 tuted this search you speak of. He employed a man 
 named Moore to visit Mrs. Tomlinson and also to 
 search in Newark for trace of Jarnes Powers. It was 
 when he had determined that I was the child for 
 whom they sought that he went to Mr. Mason. Al 
 though he assumed to Mr. Mason to have little 
 knowledge of me, for he is a man of indirect methods, 
 his purpose was to induce Mr. Mason to make the ex- 
 animation himself and thus help him in the search he 
 was making. Subsequent to all this he presented 
 himself to me, and it was after I had been sent for by 
 Mr. Hetlow, offering to assist me to the proof of my 
 identity. But he bargained fcr a considerable sum- 
 in payment before he would give me such proof. 
 Since that time he has been officious, and indeed 
 pertinacious, in attendance upon us, forcing himself 
 upon Mr. Orton Pierson and myself both he and 
 Moore both of whom expect considerable sums 
 upon the successful establishment of my claim. 
 And I am bound to say that his knowledge gained 
 by inquiry, and as well his recollection, have been 
 of the greatest value. And I must further concede that 
 it is very doubtful whether I would have been identi 
 fied as the person sought for, had it not been for 
 his efforts "
 
 HAROLD S PROOF. 305 
 
 This was plausible and apparently said in the frank 
 est manner. Mr. Stanton was imposed upon, as was 
 shown by the weak manner in which he touched upon 
 Dick s discovery of young Pierson in. the company of 
 Ransom in Jackson Street. 
 
 " It was to obtain the very affidavit that I read here 
 to-night, that I accompanied Ransom to that place," 
 replied Harold promptly. 
 
 " Then," said Mr. Stanton, " Mason is quite cer 
 tain that he has seen Ransom more than once in this 
 neighborhood, in relation with at least one of Mr. 
 Hetlow s employees." 
 
 Dick thought he saw an expression of alarm flit over 
 the face of the young man. It was but for an instant 
 however, for he replied calmly : 
 
 " Quite possibly. As I say, he is given to indirect 
 methods and evidently is fond of mysterious proceed 
 ings. I know that he haunted this neighborhood upon 
 some theory that you were opposed to my claim, and 
 that he might find something of importance to us. I 
 cannot say I admire these methods or justify them in 
 deed I have more than once put my foot upon some of 
 them. Yet he has been very valuable to us." 
 
 " Then there is that attempted burglary upon my 
 house," suggested the lawyer. 
 
 " I know absolutely nothing about it. Had Ransom 
 been concerned in that, and I do not want you to be 
 lieve for a moment that I think so, I would have been 
 the last person he would have let know. For he knows 
 well I would not have countenanced it. I can only 
 tell you that Ransom reported to me that Mrs. Jen 
 kins had come with a box to your house. He already 
 knew that Mrs. Jenkins was the daughter of James 
 Powers." 
 
 " And the assault on Mason ?" 
 
 " I know no more of that than the other. Fot 
 Heaven s sake, why should that attack have been made 
 upon my account ? " he continued. " What was to
 
 30(5 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 be gained by it ? What end would have been served? 
 If I was, in fact, Edmund Dugdale s child, Mr. Mason s 
 opposition would not have prevented the proof of my 
 claim. If I was not, the sacrifice of his lite would 
 not have supplied my want of proof." 
 
 It was Mr. Hetlow now who thought young Pierson 
 was too glib and too well supplied with argument, 
 
 " I shall be prepared to be questioned on anything 
 touching Ransom s acts," continued Harold ; " he has 
 been very busy, very active, and he is deeply con 
 cerned for the money he has been promised in the 
 event of my succession to the Dugdale estates. He is 
 thoroughly convinced that I am the heir, and he 
 works hard that there may be no failure in the proof." 
 
 So frank had he been that there was no effort made 
 by anyone to combat his statements.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 DETECTED AND CAPTURED. 
 
 WHILE this conference was going forward at " The 
 Larches," Mrs. Stanton was in a condition of mind 
 bordering on the frantic at Springhill. 
 
 From time to time she walked to the end of the 
 veranda from which a view of "The Larches " could 
 be had, to watch for the return of her husband. She 
 feared Harold Pierson would confess his participa 
 tion in the burglary and, thus involving her, expose 
 her to her husband s anger. At one time she wished 
 she had accompanied the others sc that she could 
 have escaped the suspense she was now suffering 
 from, while at other times she was glad she had not, 
 for had the revelation been made in her presence, she 
 felt she would have been covered with confusion and 
 humiliation before the others. 
 
 In this most uncomfortable frame of mind she wan 
 dered about the house. She went into the library and, 
 taking the box out of the drawer in which she had 
 placed it, tried without success to open it. 
 
 Suddenly it occurred to her that when that morn 
 ing she had gone into the room occupied by Dick, to 
 see that it had been properly cared for, she had seen 
 & small key lying upon the dressing-case. 
 
 Fired by the thought, that it might possibly be the 
 key tc the box, and that if it were, she could obtain 
 the information therefrorr by which to confound her 
 husband, were he to come home with the know 
 ledge of the foolish confidence she had given to Harold 
 Pierson, she hastened, upstairs. She found the key 
 still lying en the case, and securing it hurried back to 
 
 3f>?
 
 08 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 the library. It fitted the lock. With trembling fin 
 gers she threw the box open. A few papers were in 
 side. She opened and read the first one at hand. It 
 caused her to exclaim aloud. Hurriedly she ran over 
 the others. As she read her agitation increased. 
 
 The information she was gathering seemed to over 
 whelm her. Her breath came fast, and her heart beat 
 hard. For a moment she thought she would swoon. 
 She clasped her head with one hand, and tried to still 
 the beating of her heart with the other. What it 
 all meant suddenly burst upon her, and with it the 
 recognition of the necessity for action. 
 
 Tumbling the papers back into the box she clasped 
 it in her arms and hurried out in the direction of " The 
 Larches," without waiting for bonnet or shawl. 
 
 Arriving at the entrance of the house she entered 
 out of breath, too much excited to return the saluta 
 tion of Lord Merrimount, who was returning from the 
 river by another path. 
 
 In the hall she encountered a servant and inquired 
 for her husband Being told that he was in the 
 library with Mr. Hetlow, she implored the servant to 
 go to him immediately and tell him that she must see 
 him at once. 
 
 She seated herself upon a hall chair, exhausted by 
 her agitation and rapid run from Springhill. When 
 her husband came to her he perceived her agita 
 tion and, alarmed, inquired as to its cause : 
 
 " Here," she cried, " is the Jenkins* box." 
 
 " Heavens ! where did you find it ? " he asked. 
 
 " Don t ask me," she gasped out ; " don t wait to 
 know. Open it look at it ! " 
 
 Wondering at her emotion Mr. Stanton took the 
 box from her, and seating himself beside her, opening 
 it, leisurely began an examination of its contents. 
 
 His leisurely manner however quickly disappeared. 
 He read the first paper he took out with increasing 
 interest and excitement. As Mrs. Stanton had done
 
 DETECTED AND CAPTURED. 309 
 
 he hurriedly snatched the others, and with rapid 
 glances caught their sense and realized their impor 
 tance. 
 
 As he read he ejaculated unintelligibly, while his 
 excitement grew with every moment, until he ex 
 claimed aloud : 
 
 " Great God ! What a revelation ! " 
 
 He tossed the papers back into the box, closed it 
 with a loud noise and, thrusting it under his arm, 
 rapidly strode into the library. 
 
 The three were upon their feet. 
 
 Harold Pierson was about to depart, satisfied that 
 he had allayed all suspicion, that all had succumbed 
 to the strength of the proof he had submitted, and 
 that it was now only a question of time when he 
 would secure the estates, unopposed by Mr. Hetlow. 
 
 As he entered, Mr. Stanton cast upon him a glance 
 of stern severity. 
 
 " One moment," he said. " We have not done with 
 you." 
 
 Young Pierson saw the box under his arm and was 
 immediately filled with alarm. The blood fled from 
 his face as he leaped to the conclusion that the box 
 was the Jenkins box, to obtain which the burglary 
 had been committed. 
 
 " You say," said Mr. Stanton, " that you are the son 
 of Edmund Dugdale ? " 
 
 Harold made a mighty effort to control himself, 
 while Mr. Hetlow and Dick looked with surprise upon 
 the excitement of the old lawyer, usually so self- 
 possessed. 
 
 "I say that I am," replied Harold, "and you know 
 I am, from the proofs I have this day submitted." 
 
 " They are false," cried the lawyer. " You are a 
 swindler. This box the Jenkins box for which 
 you robbed my house, proves you are." 
 
 Moved by sudden fright and anger Harold threw 
 himself forward, as if he would either strike the old
 
 3io THE DUG DALE MILLIONS. 
 
 man, or wrest the box from him. Thinking that he 
 meant to strike Mr. Stanton, sore and bruised as he 
 was, Dick stepped in between them to prevent it. 
 
 But Harold controlled himself in time. 
 
 " Are you wild ? " cried Mr. Hetlow to Mr. Stanton. 
 
 " No, I am not. I have become suddenly possessed 
 of the proof as to who is the real Dugdale. Here ! 
 here it is ! " tapping the box. " It is not Harold Pier- 
 son but " 
 
 He hesitated a moment as with an impressive ges 
 ture he swept his arm up, and exclaimed, pointing to 
 him : 
 
 It is Richard Mason ! There ! He h the true 
 heir ! " 
 
 Dick, utterly overwhelmed, dropped into the chair 
 behind him, as if he were shot. 
 
 Mr. Hetlow, amazed, thought the lawyer had been 
 suddenly bereft of his senses. He stared at him al 
 most stupidly. 
 
 In the meantime, attracted by the confusion, Bessie 
 and Wallis who, in the hall, had vainly endeavored to 
 obtain from Mrs. Stanton its meaning, entered the 
 library in time to hear Mr. Stanton s announcement 
 and Mr. Hetlow s contemptuous reply of : 
 
 " Pshaw ! man ! " 
 
 " Do you not believe it ? " asked the old lawyer 
 energetically, throwing the box on the large table in 
 such a manner that it slid over its smooth surface di 
 rectly to the hand of Mr. Hetlow. "Then examine 
 the contents of that box." 
 
 Mr. Hetlow opened the box, and looking at the 
 papers, became convinced as quickly as the lawyer 
 had been. 
 
 During this exchange Harold Pierson had been anx 
 iously looking from one to the other. He did not 
 know what those contents were, nor how strong the 
 proof of the announcement Mr. Stanton had made
 
 DETECTED AND CAPTURED. 311 
 
 was, nor whether he could combat it, nor indeed 
 whether the day was lost to him or only endangered. 
 
 He made a gallant effort. 
 
 " Sir ! " he said to the old lawyer, " you are hasty 
 with your epithets. In a court of law you will be 
 given an opportunity to sustain them." 
 
 " I will sustain them," excitedly exclaimed the law 
 yer. " The proof in that box is conclusive." 
 
 All of this time Harold Pierson had been standing 
 immediately in front of the fire blazing openly upon 
 the hearth. 
 
 When Mr. Stanton made this declaration, he tossed 
 the papers which he had brought with him as proofs, 
 deftly, without being observed, into the fire. He had 
 hardly done so when Lord Mernmount entered the 
 room. Turning to see who it was, Harold started 
 back so violently in his surprise that he nearly fell. 
 
 " Eric Lacey ! " he exclaimed aghast. 
 
 " Great God ! Allan Mark Everard ! " 
 
 " Who ? " crisd rather than asked Mr. Stanton. 
 " That man claims to be young Dugdale, and to be 
 named Harold Pierson." 
 
 " He ! " cried Merrimount. " He ? Nonsense ! He 
 is Allan Mark Everard. He was my fag at Eton. I 
 have known him since he was a lad, and his family as 
 well." 
 
 Mr. Hetlow and Dick had risen from their seats. 
 They were regarding the two young men with interest 
 the most intense. 
 
 Mrs. Stanton sat in a chair trembling with excite 
 ment, while Bessie and Wallis, hardly grasping the 
 situation, were supporting each other. 
 
 " That man," said Mr. Stanton, pointing to Harold, 
 now standing with bended head, shamestricken be 
 fore his old schoolmate, all his assurance gone, know 
 ing full well that his game was lost, " that man is the 
 one who has claimed to be Harold Pierson, adopted
 
 3* ^ THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 by Orton Pierson as the child of Edmund Dugdale, 
 and pretends that he was born in New York in 1856. 
 He is the claimant to the Dugclale estate." 
 
 Merrimount cast upon the poor wretch a look of 
 bitter contempt. 
 
 " That man," he said slowly, " is Allan Mark Ever- 
 ard of the Everards of Lancashire, the banking family. 
 He comes from the same county as my family. 
 We were at Eton together, where he was my fag. He 
 was at Cambridge too, when I was there. I have 
 known him since he was a little lad. He went wrong 
 early. He was put in the Paris branch of his family s 
 bank and was caught in theft and forgery. French 
 justice dealt with him and he was put in prison there, 
 ifrom which, as I heard some time ago, he fled. He is 
 an escaped convict, a disgrace to his name and aban 
 doned by his family ! " 
 
 " Are you satisfied at last ? " asked Mr. Stanton of 
 Mr. Hetlow. 
 
 Overwhelmed by the proof he could no longer com 
 bat Mr. Hetlow meekly replied that he was. 
 
 " The next thing to do is to put this scamp, who has 
 hesitated at neither burglary, nor murder, to secure 
 his ends, into the hands of the law," said Mr. Stanton. 
 " Someone send a servant to the village for an officer." 
 
 Harold Pierson was aroused by this command. He 
 lifted his head and looked boldly at Mr. Stanton, who 
 had thus taken direction of affairs. 
 
 " It is all up," he said. " The game is lost. It was 
 worth playing for. The stakes were large. I confess. 
 Everything is true except the attempt at murder. I 
 did not commit the burglary, but it was done at my di 
 rection. I knew of the box brought by Mrs. Jenkins." 
 He looked at Mrs. Stanton trembling in her seat, mo 
 mentarily expecting exposure, and laughed scornfully. 
 " I learned it from Mrs. Stanton, who was silly enough 
 to tell me of it. But the attempt on Mason I am not 
 responsible for. Certain men stationed here as spies by
 
 DETECTED AND CAPTURED. 3 J 3 
 
 Ransom did make the attack without our knowledge. 
 How much Ransom knew of it or was a party to I 
 can t tell. But I knew nothing of it until yesterday 
 morning. You may believe this or not, as you see fit; 
 but it is true. Now, do with me as you will. I have 
 played my part, and if it were not for an accident, and 
 the appearance of Eric Lacey, I would have won. So 
 you ve come into a title, old man ? You are the Lord 
 Merrimount, eh ? I had forgotten it was in the family." 
 
 Merrimount went to him and, standing before him, 
 said earnestly : 
 
 "Do you say on your honor pshaw ! You have 
 none but are you telling me the truth when you say 
 you knew nothing of this attempt on Mason s 
 life?" 
 
 " I tell you the exact truth, Lacey." 
 
 " How am I to believe you ? " 
 
 " Because you never knew me to lie to you in the 
 eld fag days." 
 
 " That is true. You never did." 
 
 The young nobleman strode across the room, threw 
 up the sash of the window looking upon the lawn, and 
 pushed open the outer blind. 
 
 " I do not want to be, and will not be, responsible 
 for the arrest and imprisonment of the old school 
 fellow whom I have exposed." 
 
 He looked sternly at Harold Pierson. 
 
 " In the belief that you have told me the truth, and 
 that you had no part in the cowardly attack on Mr. 
 Mason, I tell you to fly." 
 
 He pointed to the open window. Looking at the 
 others in the room, he said : 
 
 " We ll give the poor beggar a chance for his liberty. 
 He ll be hunted down quickly enough, God knows ! " 
 
 Then turning to Harold Pierson again, he said, point 
 ing at the window : 
 
 " Go ! " 
 
 Harold cast a quick glance at Mr. Stanton, then at
 
 314 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 Mr. Hetlow, and again at Merrimount still pointing at 
 the open window. 
 
 He rushed rapidly to it, stopped as he was about to 
 plunge through it, and said : 
 
 " Thank you for the chance, old man. You are the 
 same Eric of the old days never a sneak, and with 
 always a helping hand for the poor devil in the 
 race." 
 
 He leaped lightly through the window, ran hastily 
 across the lawn, and disappeared into the shrub 
 bery. 
 
 " That was very wrong, my lord," said Mr. Stanton 
 sternly. 
 
 "I think not," replied Merrimount quietly. "You 
 could not have put him under arrest but for my ex 
 posure of him, and I do not want the weight upon 
 me of having been responsible for the imprisonment 
 of a poor devil who had been my schoolmate, and 
 with whom I had slept and ate and sported and 
 studied." 
 
 Wallis crossed the room shyly, her eyes shining and 
 wet with tears. She placed her hand in that of 
 Merrimount and pressed it, but did not speak. 
 
 Merrimount having it, would not let it go. 
 
 Mr. Stanton strode angrily into the hall, where he 
 bade a servant to tell the coachman to saddle a horse 
 and come at once to the house. Then he hastily 
 wrote a telegram to Captain Lawton, asking him to 
 arrest Orton Pierson, Dennis Moore, Oliver Ransom, 
 and Harold Pierson, saying that they had been de 
 tected in fraud, forgery, and conspiracy. 
 
 He called Dick to him and asked him to sign the 
 dispatch, who demurred as to Harold Pierson because 
 of Merrimount, but was finally persuaded to do so 
 by the old lawyer, who insisted that he was only doing 
 his duty. 
 
 When they returned to the library they found Mr. 
 Hetlow examining the proofs contained in the tin
 
 DETECTED AND CAPTURED. 3*5 
 
 box, the others watching him eagerly. As Dick 
 entered, Mr. Hetlow exclaimed : 
 
 " Mason, these proofs are conclusive. Here is the 
 receipt given by Thomas Mason, whose hand I know 
 as well as my own, for the child of Edmund Dugdale, 
 clearly setting forth the story as to how he came to 
 adopt him, and how it came about that the child was 
 in the hands of James Powers. There is no question 
 that the child of Edmund Dugdale was adopted by 
 Thomas Mason, the one who reared and educated 
 you. I have known you from your childhood, and I 
 know that you are the one who is the adopted child 
 of Thomas Mason. You are indeed the heir to the 
 Dugdale estates." 
 
 All of these things had occurred with such rapidity 
 that Dick could hardly comprehend that it was upon 
 him that this great fortune had descended. He 
 said : 
 
 " I can hardly comprehend it, sir. I know I was 
 adopted by Thomas Mason, but how could I have 
 been the son of Edmund Dugdale, and at the same 
 time the nephew of Thomas Mason, who was not of 
 kin of the Dugdales by marriage or otherwise." 
 
 "Heavens!" exclaimed Mr. Stanton, "but that is 
 so." 
 
 " No," replied Mr. Hetlow. " I can explain that. 
 Tom Mason grew to be very fond of you, and when 
 he believed it was his duty to tell you that you were 
 his adopted son he could not bring himself to have 
 you think you were not of his own blood. So he in 
 vented the fiction that you were a nephew. I knew 
 it at the time. I have respected his wish in this 
 matter as Mrs. Mason did in her life. I never did 
 know, however, the circumstances surrounding your 
 adoption." 
 
 Dick was silent a long time, a multitude of thoughts 
 rushing over his brain. The future was so vast he 
 could not comprehend it. One thought, however,
 
 316 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 burned brightly above all the rest, standing out most 
 vividly. His next speech was a commonplace: 
 
 " Then, when I set out upon that search for the 
 child of Edmund Dugdale, I was in fact looking for 
 myself." 
 
 He saw Bessie s eyes upon him beaming with love. 
 He went to her and, bowing before her, said : 
 
 "Though it has been determined that young 
 Pierson is young Dugdale, yet a young Dugdale 
 has been found. It is I who deprive you of these 
 millions. Well, I restore them to you. At your feet 
 I lay them all. They are yours everything. But 
 there is an incumbrance upon them it is myself. 
 You cannot take the one without the other. Do you 
 accept them ?" 
 
 He had no need to ask. The love and consent were 
 in her eyes. He took her hand, gently drawing her to 
 him that hand cut and torn through her efforts to 
 save his life, and led her to her father. " Sir," he said, 
 " I present you the Dugdale heiress. I have bestowed 
 all the wealth upon her with an incumbrance to be 
 sure myself. Do you consent that she accept 
 them ? " 
 
 " The wind sets from a different quarter than last 
 night, neighbor Hetlow," laughed Mr. Stanton. 
 
 Mr. Hetlow, secretly pleased in his heart, ashamed 
 now of his previous opposition, and greatly annoyed 
 by Mr. Stanton s remark, did not withhold his consent. 
 
 He had hardly given it when Dick was addressed 
 by Lord Merrimount, who said : 
 
 " Mason, I came here the bearer of a proposition 
 from my father to Mr. Hetlow, but as events have 
 turned, it is to you I must make it." 
 
 " I know what it is," cried Dick, for Wallis had 
 informed him only that morning. " The offer is ac 
 cepted," extending his hand to the young English 
 man. " It shall be as you wish, and I will be only 
 too glad to have you as a partner in the largest wool 
 house in the world."
 
 DETECTED AND CAPTURED. 317 
 
 He looked at the young nobleman beamingly and added, 
 for he had a glimmer as to the truth, with a strong press 
 ure of his hand : 
 
 "And I hope your other desires will be as successful as 
 this has been." 
 
 The young nobleman returned the pressure of his hand 
 with a grateful smile, and then crossed to the window, 
 where Wallis was standing, apparently absorbed in some 
 thing upon the lawn. 
 
 "Wallis," he said, "did you hear? I am a merchant 
 now. I am in trade. The title is only a little bit of an ob 
 jection. I have come for my answer." 
 
 Wallis flirted her shoulders, and would neither turn nor 
 reply. 
 
 "My answer, please ! I must have it. Your duties as 
 the guardian angel of one love-affair have come to an end. 
 Be the guardian angel of mine." 
 
 She whirled about; and extending her hand, blushes on 
 her cheeks, a merry twinkle in her eyes, exclaimed in a 
 tone of irritation utterly at variance with the expression 
 of her face : 
 
 "I suppose I must, then. I never saw such a persistent 
 man. I can get rid of you no other way. There ! And 
 much joy may I be to you." 
 
 Merrimount led her to her uncle. 
 
 "I am a producer now, Mr. Stanton. May I have her?" , 
 
 "This baggage?" asked the old lawyer, much amused, 
 and looking kindly upon them. "Oh, yes, I suppose I 
 must give her up." 
 
 "The dearest, the most pr,ecious and valuable baggage in 
 the world," said Lord Merrimount amidst much laughter. 
 "My American valise full of all the comforts." 
 
 "What?" cried Mrs. Stanton, who had been sitting quiet 
 ly by, devoutly thankful she had not been exposed, "Wallis, 
 Lady Merrimount?" 
 
 "Oh, no; I am Wallis yet," cried that young lady, with 
 her cheeks aflame, and her eyes dancing as she looked up 
 into Merrimount s face, with a glance that, despite her 
 tongue, told him his heart s desire was accomplished. 
 
 "And ever will be," cried Dick. "Wallis the true friend 
 and the loyal heart." 
 
 I suppose, auntie," said Wallis, in an endeavor to cover 
 her confusion, "you will not forgive me for throwing my 
 self away, but then I couldn t help it. And oh, dear, I al 
 ways promised myself a rich husband !" 
 
 The servant announced dinner at this point, and Mr.
 
 318 THE DUGDALE MILLIONS. 
 
 Hetlow insisted that all should remain and celebrate the 
 engagements at his table. 
 
 The interview he was to have with Dick after the confer 
 ence with Harold Pierson was forgotten in the superior 
 interests. 
 
 Dick accompanied Lord Merrimount to England a few 
 weeks later, to take possession of his estates. After arrang 
 ing for Lord Merrimount s admission as a partner in the 
 business he returned. 
 
 In June of the following year Lord Merrimount crossed 
 to America, and he and Wallis were married, at the same 
 time that Dick and Bessie were, at "The Larches." They 
 went to England immediately thereafter, where the inter 
 ests of the newly made husbands lay. 
 
 Wallis, as her husband had predicted, was accepted by 
 his family, not alone because she was Merrimount s wife, 
 but for her own true self. Her bright, independent person 
 ality made her a petted favorite, and in her husband s 
 circle she was soon known as "the terrible Radical who 
 disdained rank and desired wealth." 
 
 Bessie is known to London as "the beautiful American," 
 a title of which Dick is very proud. 
 
 Captain Lawton captured all the conspirators except 
 Harold Pierson, on the day he received the dispatch sent 
 by Mr. Stanton. In the following July, in Chicago, Harold 
 Pierson was found, but when the officer took him in charge, 
 before he could be prevented, he shot himself through the 
 heart, preferring death to imprisonment. 
 
 Orton Pierson and Moore were acquitted for want of 
 sufficient evidence when placed on trial in the fall, but 
 Ransom, perhaps as much for other crimes as for his 
 participation in the conspiracy, was sentenced for a term 
 of ten years in the State s prison. 
 
 And thus ended the fraudulent effort to seize "The 
 Dugdale Millions." 
 
 THE END.
 
 THE STORY OF A FIGHT FOR A THRONE 
 
 D Artagnan, the 
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 By ALEXANDRE DUMAS. 
 
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 i2mo., Illustrated. Price, $1.00. 
 
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 QUEER PEOPLE 
 
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 Bits of .... 
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 Toothsome Tales 
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 PING PONG 
 
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