Part 24 (1/2)

”Too late!” The tone in which this simple phrase was uttered was indescribable. Bertram slowly nodded his head.

”He had already disposed of all the papers, and favorably,” he said.

”But--”

”And not only that,” pursued Bertram. ”He had issued orders by telegraph, that it was impossible to countermand. It was at the Forty Second Street depot I found him at last. He was just on the point of starting for the west.”

”And has he gone?”

”Yes sir.”

Mr. Sylvester walked slowly to the window. It was raining drearily without, but he did not notice the falling drops or raise his eyes to the leaden skies.

”Did you meet any one?” he asked at length. ”Any one that you know, I mean, or who knows you?”

”No one but Mr. Stuyvesant.”

”Mr. Stuyvesant!”

”Yes sir,” returned Bertram, dropping his eyes before his uncle's astonished glance. ”I was coming out of a house in Broad Street when he pa.s.sed by and saw me, or at least I believed he saw me. There is no mistaking him, sir, for any one else; besides it is a custom of his I am told, to saunter through the down town streets after the warehouses are all closed for the night. He enjoys the quiet I suppose, finds food for reflection in the sleeping aspect of our great city.” There was gloom in Bertram's tone; his uncle looked at him curiously.

”What house was it from which you were coming when he pa.s.sed you?”

”A building where Tueller and Co. do business, shady operators in paper, as you know.”

”And you believed he recognized you?”

”I cannot be sure, sir. It was dark, but I thought I saw him look at me and give a slight start.”

Ah, how desolate sounds the drip, drip of a ceaseless rain, when conversation languishes and the ear has time to listen!

”I will explain to Mr. Stuyvesant when I see him, that you were in search of a man with whom I had pressing business,” observed Mr.

Sylvester at last.

”No,” murmured Bertram with effort, ”it might emphasize the occurrence in his mind; let the matter drop where it is.”

There was another silence, during which the drip of the rain on the window-ledge struck on the young man's ears like the premonitory thud of falling earth upon a coffin-lid. At length his uncle turned and advanced rapidly towards him.

”Bertram,” said he, ”you have done me a favor for which I thank you.

What you have learned in the course of its accomplishment I cannot tell.

Enough perhaps to make you understand why I warned you from the dangerous path of speculation, and set your feet in a way that if adhered to with steadfast purpose, ought to lead you at last to a safe and honorable prosperity. Now--No, Bertram,” he bitterly interrupted himself as the other opened his lips, ”I am in need of no especial commiseration, my affairs seem bound to prosper whether I will or not--now I have one more commission to give you. Miss Fairchild--” his voice quavered and he leaned heavily on the chair near which he was standing. ”Have you seen her, Bertram? Is the poor child quite prostrated? Has this frightful occurrence made her ill, or does she bear up with fort.i.tude under the shock of this sudden calamity?”

”She is not ill, but her suffering is undoubted. If you could see her and say a few words to relieve her anxiety in regard to yourself, I think it would greatly comfort her. Her main thought seems to be for you, sir.”

Mr. Sylvester frowned, raised his hand with a repelling gesture, and hastily opened his lips. Bertram thought he was about to utter some pa.s.sionate phrase. But instead of that he merely remarked, ”I am sorry I cannot see her, but it is quite impossible. You must stand between me and this poor child, Bertram. Tell her I send her my love; tell her that I am quite well; anything to solace her and make these dark days less dreary. If she wants a friend with her, let a messenger be sent for whomever she desires. I place no restrictions upon anything you choose to do for her comfort or happiness, but let me be spared the sight of any other face than yours until this is all over. After the funeral--it nay sound ungracious, but I am far from feeling so--I shall wish to be left alone for awhile. If she can be made to understand this--”

”I think her instincts, sir, have already led her to divine your wishes.

If I am not mistaken, she is even now making preparations to return to her relatives.”