Bound To Succeed Part 37

"Oh, no! no!" panted Purnell. "Let me hide my head with shame--let me die. In your home--under the roof of the people I ruined--robbed! Heaven have pity on me!"

"Don't think about that," said Frank soothingly. "We have tried to make you comfortable. In the morning we will get a doctor."

"Not a doctor, boy, no, but a lawyer," spoke Purnell in broken tones.

"Boy, the meanest thing I ever did was to rob your mother of her fortune. Let the last thing I can do on earth be to give it back to her."

Frank remained by the side of the sufferer until early morning. Then Bob Haven came with a telegram from Stet.

"Hurrah! Markham is found!" cried Frank, reading the message. "Stet found him in a coal mine. He was a prisoner."

"Good for Stet!" said Bob.

"Just what I say. Markham is coming here. Bob, the skies are clearing, it would seem."

"I am glad of it, Frank."

The news about Markham was indeed true. He had been kept a prisoner in an abandoned mine by an old man who was a tool of Wacker. The old man had been well-thrashed by Stet and had fled to parts unknown. Markham had quite a story to tell, as we shall soon see.

CHAPTER XXIX

CONCLUSION

There was no regret with Frank for the kindness he had shown Gideon Purnell. That man had died three days after Frank had removed him to the little cottage, leaving a signed confession that meant the defeat of Dorsett in his suit at law.

Markham referred to the matter of his disappearance, but in a vague, constrained way.

He stated that Dale Wacker had a certain power to do him great harm. So great was his dread, that he had consented to accompany Wacker away from the town. He had managed, however, first to drop the two hundred dollars where it was later recovered by Frank.

"Never mind what it was," explained Markham, "but that boy could do me great harm. I hoped to temporize with him. He took me to a lonely farmhouse. Here he had a friend as bad as himself. They locked me up, took the mailing lists away from me, and said I should never go free till I told what I had done with your money, which, somehow, Wacker knew I had in my possession when he first overtook me. It was at the farmhouse that I made up that letter to Haven Brothers. I dropped it next day from a wagon in which they drove me to the mine."

"All right, Markham," said Frank, "there's more to tell I know, but you'll tell me when the right time comes, I am sure."

"The right time will soon be here, never fear," declared Markham, with emotion. "I have written a letter that will bring me a friend who will quickly clear up all this mystery."

The old office had been cut up into four rooms. A young lady kept the books. Frank had engaged a crippled young man as a stenographer, and he was a good one. Markham and himself had each an office to himself.

Upstairs was the stock and shipping rooms employing four boys.

"System and sense" had been Frank's watchwords--the mail order business was a p.r.o.nounced success on that basis.

"A gentleman to see you," spoke the stenographer, arousing Frank from a most pleasing day dream.

Frank looked up to greet a bronzed, earnest-eyed man of middle age. He was erect and military in his bearing.

"Is a young man named Markham employed here?" inquired the stranger.

"He is interested in the business here, yes," said Frank.

This would have been news to Markham himself. The wire puzzle had brought in lots of money. Frank had planned to tell Markham that very evening that the latter should have a settled, tangible interest in the mail order business.

"I did not know that," said the visitor, with a quick sparkle in his eyes that Frank could not at all understand. "I very much wish to see him."

"He is away on some business," explained Frank, "but I think he will return within an hour."

"May I wait?" politely inquired the gentleman.

"Certainly," said Frank, "just step into his office."

Frank ushered the stranger into the next office, pulled a chair near the window, and handed him the daily paper from the city.

He resumed his work. Engrossed in this, he almost forgot about the waiting stranger. Frank finally discovered that over an hour had gone by. He stepped to the door of the adjoining office.

"I am sorry for your long wait, sir," he said, "but I feel certain Markham will be here soon. Is it anything I can attend to for him?"

"No," was the definite reply.

Just then Frank heard some one inquiring for him in the outer office.

This seemed to be a day for strangers. Two men whom he had never seen before entered his room.

One free and easy of manner at once addressed Frank.

"Is your name Newton?"

"Yes," responded Frank, none too well pleased at the man's familiarity.

"Believe you telegraphed to the reformatory at Linwood some time since about a boy named Welmore--Richard Markham Welmore?"

Frank started. He was greatly taken aback.

"Did I?" he said simply.

"You did," a.s.serted the stranger promptly. "You've given us some trouble running you down. Welmore, under the name of Markham, is now in your employ."

"What of it?" inquired Frank, with dire forebodings of trouble.

"We want him, that's all, my dear young friend," broke in the other man.

"Dangerous character, escaped criminal. This is an officer of the inst.i.tution."

"What is your interest in this matter, may I ask?" demanded Frank.

"Distant relative, guardian, best friend. Sad case. Left on my hands, cared for him, spent my means educating him. Repaid kindness by robbing me."

"That is a falsehood!"

Like a thunder clap the words sounded out. The waiting stranger in the next room spoke them. As he appeared in the open doorway, the man whose veracity he challenged looked as though confronted by an accusing nemesis.