Helen Ford

Once Lewis ventured to suggest that it would be well to discontinue the advertisement.

“No, no,” said his uncle, “let it be continued while I live. And after that I depend upon you to leave no effort unmade to discover some trace of my lost son.”

“You know me too well, to doubt that I will follow your instructions to the letter.”

“Yes, Lewis,” said his uncle. “You have been very kind to me. You deserve all my confidence, and you possess it.”

So Lewis continued to keep watch by his uncle’s bedside, a daily witness of his restlessness and unhappiness, and knowing full well that in an hour’s space, he could bring peace and comfort to the dying man by restoring his son to him; even at the eleventh hour, he refused to speak the word that could have wrought the blessed change.

God grant that there be not many hearts as hard!

CHAPTER XXI.
A CONSULTATION

Mr. Sharp was seated in his office. A complacent smile played over his features. Perhaps he was thinking of the adroit manner in which he had secured one hundred dollars of the sum intrusted to him for Robert Ford. The bottle and glass, on the table before him, testified that his present occupation could hardly be considered of a professional character.

While Mr. Sharp was holding up the glass before him, and admiring the rich warm tint of its contents, Lewis Rand quietly opened the door of the office and walked in. Had Mr. Sharp been consulted, he would prefer to have been forewarned of the visit.

“Business driving as ever,” remarked Lewis, in his dry sarcastic way, taking in at a quick glance the scene before him.

“Well, yes,” said Mr. Sharp, in some embarrassment, putting down his glass, its contents untasted.

It may be remarked, that whenever Mr. Sharp was perplexed, it was his habit to run his hands vigorously through his blushing locks, till they stood upon his head erect, and bristled like so many porcupine quills. By the time this was well over his faculties returned, and “Richard was himself again.” To this he had recourse on the present occasion, immediately after which he resumed his usual air of easy assurance.

“I am, as you see,” he remarked affably, “taking my little symposium, in humble imitation of the ancient Greeks and Romans,—‘Champagne,’ as somebody has said, ‘is admirably calculated to clear cobwebs from the brain.’”

“In that case,” dryly returned his client, who could not resist the temptation of a hit at his coadjutor, “I advise you by all means to try it.”

“Truly,” replied Mr. Sharp, who was dimly conscious of the covert sarcasm, but deemed it politic not to notice it directly, “there is no profession that racks the brain like mine, sir. The mightiest intellects of ancient as well as of modern times–”

Mr. Sharp here assumed a standing posture, and was about to pronounce a eulogy upon the different great men who had, during the last twenty centuries, graced the profession which he adorned.

But the lawyer was saved the trouble of proceeding, by the expression of a wish on the part of Lewis to attend to business.

“Certainly, by all means,” said Mr. Sharp, briskly resuming his seat, and drawing before him a sheet of blank paper. “Business before pleasure, or rather, with me, business is pleasure.”

“I have, as you know,” Lewis commenced, “lent the sum of three hundred dollars to Robert Ford, through your agency.”

“And very liberal it was in you, I am sure,” said Mr. Sharp, with benignant approval.

“By no means. I never professed to be a philanthropist, and I freely acknowledge that in this act I was influenced by any but benevolent motives. It was done solely with a view to promote my own interests.”

Here he paused; and Mr. Sharp, while waiting for a further explanation, rubbed his hands and nodded genially, as if to indicate how thoroughly he indorsed the views of his principal.

“I need not remind you,” continued Lewis, not heeding this little manifestation, “of how great importance it is to me that Robert Ford, who is the only obstacle between me and his father’s fortune, should be kept entirely out of the way of any possibility of meeting his father. Such an encounter fortunately is not very probable, since neither is aware of the other’s presence in the city. When, however I consider how trifling a chance, such for instance as a glance at a Directory, might lead to that knowledge, I feel more and more how essential it is to my interests that some decisive step should be taken. I may say in confirmation of this, that my uncle, whose health is in a very critical state, has conceived a fancy, Heaven knows how, that my cousin is still alive, notwithstanding the evidence of his death in Chicago, which I placed in his hands.”

“That is awkward.”

“Yes, it is very awkward, especially as he has insisted on my drawing up an advertisement for this precious cousin of mine, and having it inserted in the daily papers.”

“And you have done so?”

“Not I. It would be suicidal. I drew up the advertisement, however, as he requested, and he supposes that it has been inserted.”

Mr. Sharp surveyed Lewis with a glance of approval. It was a tribute to superior rascality.

“Now I will explain to you,” pursued Lewis, “why I have lent money to Robert Ford. My uncle is dangerously ill; he cannot live many weeks at farthest. It is absolutely essential that some attempt should be made to place my cousin where he cannot do me any harm. If the laws permitted it, I would gladly have him imprisoned for debt. That is, unluckily, out of the question. I have it in my power, however, to annoy him in such a way as perhaps to drive him from the city.”

“What do you propose to do?”

“Seize the furniture in execution, either with or without legal sanction. Robert is far from being a man of the world, and there is no risk in going to lengths with him, which would be dangerous with others.”

“I have it,” said Sharp, eagerly.

“Well.”

“Your cousin is quite devoted to a heap of old machinery, out of which he expects to make a flying machine or something of the kind. To seize upon that would be the most serious blow you could inflict upon him.”

“I believe you are right. Robert was always a visionary. If that should prove insufficient to drive him away, I will authorize you to offer him some pecuniary inducements in a guarded manner—some remunerative employment which will call him elsewhere, and which he will be the more tempted to undertake if his present occupation is gone. Only let him be kept out of the way until–”

“You are called upon to lament the death of your venerable relation,” suggested Sharp.

“Then,” pursued Lewis, “he may go where he pleases, so far as I am concerned.”

“My dear sir, you should have been a lawyer. You would have been an ornament to the profession,” said Mr. Sharp, with complimentary emphasis.

“Rather an equivocal compliment, I am afraid,” returned Lewis, dryly. “But in order to carry out this plan of ours, beyond a doubt, we must ascertain that my cousin will be unable to pay the money when called upon.”

“I think I may pledge you,” said the lawyer, “that you need entertain no apprehensions on that score. From what I have seen I conjecture that at the time of your loan he had but little money on hand, and I know that he has expended a considerable sum since.”

“It is best to be certain, however.”

“Undoubtedly. I will myself call down there this afternoon, if you think best, and ascertain this point without exciting his suspicions.”

“Do so; and should you find the prospect favorable, take measures to have the demand presented to-morrow. If not discharged, you know how to proceed.”

“You may rely upon my following your directions to the letter,” returned the attorney, as sweeping his fingers once more through his blushing locks, he bowed his client gracefully out.

CHAPTER XXII.
PREPARING THE WAY

Promptness was one of the valuable characteristics of Mr. Sharp. But no general remark is without its exceptions.

On the present occasion our legal friend decided to call at once on Mr. Ford, in pursuance of the commission which he received from Lewis Rand. It involved a species of double dealing for which Mr. Sharp felt that he had peculiar qualifications.

Taking down from the nail his invariable white hat, he adjusted it somewhat jauntily upon his head, and walked forth with a benevolent smile irradiating his countenance, as if he were meditating some scheme by which he expected to add largely to the sum-total of human happiness. There are others than he who go out with a smile upon the lips, but an evil purpose in their hearts.

The lawyer took his way to Mrs. Morton’s lodging-house. He went up stairs, and entered Mr. Ford’s room without ceremony, knowing that Helen would be absent at that hour, and that the habitual abstraction of her father would probably prevent his knock being heard.

“Ah, good afternoon, Mr. Ford,” he said, with affability, cordially grasping the inventor’s hand. “Still at your work, I see. I could not resist the impulse to call and inquire after your progress. It seems such a welcome relief to come from the close, dusty court-room to this little retreat of yours. And how are you getting on, my dear friend?”

“I am advancing as rapidly as I anticipated,” said Mr. Ford, pausing in the midst of an intricate calculation. “I feel that I have every reason to be encouraged.”

“I am delighted to hear it,” exclaimed the lawyer, with friendly enthusiasm. “Then you really think that before many years we shall be able to skim from country to country on the wings of the wind, so to speak.”

“I have not a doubt of it,” answered the inventor, in a tone of quiet confidence. “We already know how great a degree of speed has been attained by our steamers and locomotives, in the face of far greater obstacles than are to be encountered in the case of aërial navigation. The great impediment to the speed of the locomotive is, as you are doubtless aware, the friction that necessarily results from its constant contact with the earth.”

Mr. Sharp nodded assent.

“While the speed of the ocean-steamer is in like manner very materially lessened by the resistance of the water.”

Mr. Sharp had often been struck by this very thought. Indeed, he had expended considerable time and thought in the leisure stolen from his professional cares in attempting to devise means for remedying to some extent these causes of loss. For, as he had before assured Mr. Ford, though a lawyer by profession, his tastes lay in quite a different direction.

“Now in traversing the air,” continued Mr. Ford, “we have the advantage of not being obliged to contend either with the friction generated by constant contact with the earth, or with the resistance of a foreign element like water. All that needs to be overcome is the resistance of the air, which is no greater than in the other cases, while the other obstacles are removed.”

“Very true,” said Mr. Sharp, with an air of profound conviction.

“All that is needed to establish aërial navigation on a firm basis is to find some means of steadying and regulating the motion, which no doubt would be incredibly rapid. It is intended that the machine shall partake of the nature of a balloon, as buoyancy will of course be requisite.”

“My dear sir,” said Mr. Sharp, warmly grasping the hand of the inventor, “nothing could be more clear and lucid than your explanation. The same course of reasoning, if you will permit me to say so, has more than once suggested itself to me, but, if I may be allowed the expression, it is an idiosyncrasy of mine to possess more theoretical than practical ability. Therefore even if my many engagements would suffer it, I doubt whether I should become a successful inventor. You, my dear sir, who so happily combine both, are admirably adapted to that high vocation.”

“I ought to succeed,” said Mr. Ford, with a little sigh, “if the labor and thought of many years employed in one direction can achieve success.”

“I hope,” said the visitor, as if the question had just occurred to him, “that you have made free use of the money it was my privilege to offer you recently.”

Mr. Ford replied gratefully, that he had expended about one half of it. He hoped to be able to repay it some day.

“Of course,” argued the lawyer to himself, “he could not pay it now. That is what I wanted to know.”

“I ought perhaps to mention,” he said, carelessly, “that having a large claim unexpectedly presented for payment yesterday, I raised money upon your note, expressly stipulating that you should not be called upon for it, as I should be able to redeem it in a day or two.”

“You are very kind,” said Mr. Ford. “Perhaps I had better return you the money yet remaining in my hands.”

“By no means, my dear sir,” exclaimed Mr. Sharp, almost indignantly; “shall I recall the humble offering which I have laid upon the altar of science? Nay, I am resolved that my name shall be humbly connected with yours, when the world has learned to recognize your genius, and numbers you among its benefactors.”

How was it possible to suspect a friendship so disinterested?

CHAPTER XXIII.
THE BLOW FALLS

The next morning found Mr. Sharp closeted with a brother practitioner equally unprincipled with himself. There was this difference between them, however, that while Mr. Sharp concealed his real character beneath a specious show of affability and suavity, his companion, whom, by way of distinction, we will call Blunt, was rough in his manners, and had not art enough to compass the consummate duplicity of the other. Indeed, so accustomed was Mr. Sharp to its use, that he did not lay it aside even where he knew it to be useless.

“My dear friend Blunt,” he exclaimed, with charming cordiality, “I am delighted to see you looking so well.”

“Humph?” was the somewhat dubious rejoinder.

“I should have called upon you instead of sending for you to my office, but I have really been so harassed by business that I could not get a single spare moment.”

“And you presumed that I was not overburdened in that way, eh?”

“My dear Blunt,” said Sharp, with wounded feeling, “how can you imagine such a thing?”

“I only judged from what you said. You hadn’t time to call upon me, but judged that I had plenty of time to spend in calling upon you.”

“My dear Blunt,” said Sharp, impressively, “if the extent of a man’s business were always commensurate with his merits–”

“We should neither of us stand a very good chance.”

“That was not exactly what I intended to say,” said Sharp, blowing his nose, “your modesty, my dear Blunt–”

“Modesty! I am sure you’re joking now, Sharp, and although my time is not particularly valuable, I don’t care to stand here discussing personal qualities; so if you had any object in sending for me, out with it.”

“You are somewhat abrupt in your speech, my dear friend; an evidence of your sincerity, for which no one has a greater respect than myself.”

“I have heard,” muttered Blunt, “that people are apt to set a high value on qualities which they lack.”

“However,” pursued Sharp, evading a reply to his last remark, “I have a little professional business to offer you, if your engagement will permit.”

“No fear on that score,” said Blunt, dryly; “but this business—why don’t you do it yourself? You needn’t tell me it’s on account of a pressure of the other engagements, for I know better.”

“That is not the reason, as with your usual penetration you have discovered, my dear Blunt. Do not for a moment think I would attempt to deceive you. With others it might do; but with you I know there would be no chance of succeeding.”

Mr. Sharp nodded with pleasant affability to his visitor, and resumed: “The fact is, it is a matter in which I do not wish to appear. One of my clients (Mr. Sharp brought out these words with an emphasis calculated to convey the idea that it was one of a very large number), for a reason which I need not mention, employed me some weeks since to lend a sum of money to a certain individual. This was only to establish a power over him which, some time, it might be convenient to use. That time has come; it is his desire that the note should be presented with a demand for immediate payment; in default of which a particular article in possession of the borrower should be seized in execution. This, as you may readily imagine, would have a tendency to harrow up my feelings, and–”

“Therefore you intrust the business to me, who have no feelings to be harrowed up.”

“My dear Blunt, I desire you to undertake this, because of your superior strength of mind. I am well aware of my own deficiency in that respect.”

“Well, well, have it as you will. I won’t trouble you to assign reasons for throwing business into my hands. I sha’n’t let any scruples stand between me and my own interest. Where’s the note!”

“One thing more,” said Sharp, slowly unclasping the wallet which contained the note. “This man—Robert Ford—thinks I lent him the money on my own responsibility, and naturally regards me as a firm friend. I called on him yesterday, and hinted that I had been forced to raise money to meet a pressing engagement, and had given up this note as collateral, on condition that it should not be presented. Very probably he may mention this. I don’t wish him to suspect that there is any understanding between us, as it will destroy what little influence I may have over him. You will be kind enough, therefore, to say nothing to undeceive him on that point, and if you could make it convenient to abuse me a little, just to show that there is no collusion between us, I should regard it as a particular favor.”

“Abuse you! I will do it with the greatest pleasure in the world.”

“I knew it, my dear Blunt; it was what I expected of your friendship. But I must give you his direction. Have you all necessary instructions?”

“You have not told me what I am to seize on execution?”

“Very true, an important omission. You must know that this Ford, an estimable man, by the way, has taken a fancy to invent a flying machine, and to that end has collected an odd jumble of machinery. This is what I wish you to seize. Here is the address.”

“And where am I to bring it?”

“You may as well bring it here.”

“How unfortunate that you cannot complete the invention,” said Blunt, dryly. “If it is just as convenient I shouldn’t mind receiving the pay in advance; not,” he continued, with a pointed imitation of his companion’s manner,—“not that I doubt in the least your high-souled integrity, my dear Sharp, but simply because, just at present, singularly enough, I happen to be out of cash.”

“I shall be most happy to discharge your claim forthwith,” said Sharp, rather ostentatiously displaying a roll of bills, and placing a five in the hands of his agent.

Blunt examined the bill with some minuteness, a sudden suspicion having entered his mind as to its genuineness. Satisfied on this point, he slipped it into his vest pocket, saying, “All right, you shall hear from me in the course of the day.”

An hour afterwards a loud authoritative knock aroused Robert Ford, who, it is needless to say, was employed after his usual fashion.

“Come in!”

The invitation was quickly accepted by a shock-headed man, stout and burly, who without ceremony drew out a note, and said, abruptly, “You are Robert Ford, I presume?”

“That is my name, sir,” said the inventor, in some surprise.

“Very well. Here is a note with your signature, payable on demand. I presume it will be perfectly convenient for you to pay it now.”

Mr. Ford took the note with an absent air, and said, glancing at the man before him, “Excuse me, but I do not recollect having seen you before.”

“Very probably,” said Blunt, with sang froid. “We never had the pleasure of meeting before.”

“Then,” said the inventor, “how comes it that you have a demand against me?”

“If you will take the trouble to examine the note, you will find that it comes through a third person, Richard Sharp. You probably remember him.”

“Yes, I know him.”

Mr. Ford glanced at the paper in his hand.

“I think there must be some mistake,” he said. “The sum should be two hundred dollars, not three.”

“There is no mistake,” said Blunt, positively. “It is just as he gave it to me.”

“Mr. Sharp mentioned yesterday,” said Mr. Ford, with a sudden effort at recollection, “that he had parted with this note to some one, but on condition that it should not be presented. You had better see him about it.”

“I have nothing further to do with him,” replied Blunt, “I believe he did mention something of the kind; but of course he cannot expect me to keep this note when I want the money.”

“Then, sir,” said Mr. Ford, “if, as you admit, Mr. Sharp made this condition, it is incumbent on you, as a man of honor, to keep it. I am sure it is very far from Mr. Sharp’s intention to trouble me for the payment of a sum which he loaned without the expectation of immediate repayment. I should wrong his disinterested generosity by harboring such a suspicion.”

“His disinterested generosity!” repeated Blunt, with a loud laugh.

“Sir,” said the inventor, with calm dignity, “I must request you to forbear insinuating by word or manner anything derogatory to a man who has proved himself my benefactor, and, solely impelled by his interest in science, has offered me the aid of his purse, without even an application on my part.”

“Very well,” said Blunt, “although it’s rather amusing to me to hear Sharp spoken of as interested in science, I won’t quarrel with your opinion of him, especially as his character isn’t in question just now. The main point is, can you pay this note?”

“I cannot.”

“Then I shall be under the disagreeable necessity of calling two of my friends in waiting.”

Two Irishmen, who appeared to have been waiting outside, entered at Blunt’s call.

“Take that machinery,” said Blunt, in a tone of command, “and carry it down stairs.”

“Stay!” said Mr. Ford, in alarm; “what do you intend to do?”

“I am only acting in self-defence,” said Blunt, doggedly. “You cannot pay your money. If I can’t get my pay in one way, I must in another; therefore, I take this machinery of yours in execution.”

The thought of this calamity nearly overcame Mr. Ford. He did not pause to consider whether the seizure was legal or illegal, but, in an agitated voice, urged, “Take everything else, but spare me this. It is to me of inestimable value,—greater than you can possibly imagine.”

“That’s the very reason I take it,” said Blunt. “All the rest of your trumpery,” glancing contemptuously at the plain furniture, “wouldn’t be worth carrying away.”

“At least,” implored the inventor, “wait till to-morrow, till I can see Mr. Sharp.”

“And where would you be?” sneered Blunt. “Don’t think to catch me with such chaff; I’m too old a bird. I will take it while it is here.”

“But,” urged Mr. Ford, “it can be of little value to you. You cannot sell it for one quarter of the debt.”

“Perhaps not. But that isn’t what I take it for.”

“What then?”

“As a pledge for its final payment. I care nothing for the trumpery, while you, I know, do. When you come forward and pay the note, you shall have it back again.”

“Do you promise that?” asked the inventor, more cheerfully.

“I will agree to wait a reasonable time.”

Little ceremony was used in the removal of the complicated machinery. Within ten minutes, all that had so fully occupied the thoughts of Mr. Ford, and furnished the pleasure and the occupation of his quiet life, was swept away, and he was left alone. That the labor was to no purpose, and the hopes which he cherished vain, imported little. To him, at least, they were realities, and upon them he had built a dazzling superstructure, which now suddenly crumbled into pieces at his feet.

Lewis Rand’s triumph was thus far complete.