Christopher And The Clockmakers Part 19

"You haven't told me anything about Graham."

"He was a nephew of Tompion and a very clever craftsman whose clocks did honor to his teacher. _Honest George Graham_, he was called--not a bad way to come down through history. Personally I would rather have that handle before my name than to have _Lord_ or _Duke_ precede it and I fancy George Graham was of a type who felt that way too! So devoted were he and Tompion and so closely linked was their work that when Graham died, the grave of Tompion was opened in order that the two men might be buried together. Then a stone was made reading:

Here lies the body of Mr. Tho. Tompion who departed this life the 20th of November 1713 in the 75th year of his age.

Also the body of George Graham of London watchmaker and F.R.S.

whose curious inventions do honour to ye British genius whose accurate performances are ye standard of Mechanic Skill. He died ye XVI of November MDCCLI in the LXXVIII year of his age.

"Now a bit of interesting history is attached to this stone. Several years after it had been put in place a younger generation came along who knew very little of either Tompion or his pupil Graham, and seeing the large tablet, some of them decided to take it up and put instead smaller stones with only the inscriptions:

Mr. T. Tompion 1713 Mr. G. Graham 1751

upon them. Perhaps the authorities felt the big stone took up too much room; or perhaps they felt it heaped undue honor on two men who in their estimation were really nothing but tradesmen; or, worse yet, perhaps they had forgotten all Tompion and Graham did for the rest of us.

However that may be, in 1842 a Bond Street watchmaker had loyalty and courage enough to protest, and through the late Dean Stanley the old stone, fortunately uninjured, was hunted up and reinstated in its original position, thereby proving that England does not after all forget her debt to these splendidly intelligent workmen."

"I'm glad the first stone was put back," Christopher a.s.serted. "Who on earth would ever know from the skimpy marking on the other one who Mr.

T. Tompion or Mr. G. Graham were?"

"Probably very few persons--only those, most likely, who had made a study of clocks. To my mind it is far better to remind the ignorant who perhaps never heard of Tompion or Graham, to hold their memory in grateful respect. Possibly, too, the inscription on the tablet may prompt the casual pa.s.ser-by to look up what these two men did, and if so a keener appreciation of them will be established."

"I shall go and see that stone if I ever go to London," Christopher declared.

"Do, laddie. And see some of their clocks, too. Graham was a clever, broadly educated man, who worked out many astronomical instruments in addition to his clockmaking. When you view either his handiwork or that of Tompion, you will see the product of master craftsmen. And in the meantime don't forget Daniel Quare, Samuel Knibb, or Ahasuerus Fromanteel, who although unhonored by stones in the Abbey, are well worthy of being remembered."

CHAPTER X

AN AMAZING ADVENTURE

Within a day or two Christopher was once more reminded of the diamond robbery by having Corrigan call up the firm and announce that Stuart, wanted in Chicago for the rifling of a safe, had been taken west under guard.

"As yet," concluded the inspector, "we have made no progress toward the recovery of the ring. It has neither put in its appearance at any of the p.a.w.nshops nor have we been able to trace the stones. We do not, however, despair of getting some clew and shall still keep on the lookout."

"I suppose you have no track of Tony--Stuart's accomplice, either?"

inquired Mr. Burton over the wire.

"None, I am sorry to say."

With a sigh of discouragement the senior partner hung up the receiver.

"I guess the incident is as good as closed," remarked he. "In my opinion we can bid good-by to those diamonds and accept our burglar insurance with thankfulness that our loss was not greater."

"But Stuart's pal may show up yet, Dad," ventured the optimistic Christopher, who chanced at the moment to be in the office.

"I doubt it." Skeptically Mr. Burton shook his head. "More likely he has decided New York is too hot for him and has left town for pastures new."

"He may be lying low," a.s.serted the habitually silent Mr. Norcross.

"Possibly."

Nevertheless, despite his acquiescence, Mr. Burton returned to his letters with an air indicative that at least, so far as he was concerned, the possibility he granted was an exceedingly remote one--too remote to merit further consideration.

And indeed it did appear to be so until one day, like a meteor out of the heavens, a grimy communication postmarked Chicago was brought to Christopher, who in a fit of boredom was roaming aimlessly about the lamp department.

"I guess this is meant for you, Mr. Christopher," announced the messenger, whose duty it was to distribute the store mail. "Funny way to address it, though. You'd take it for a valentine:

_Mr. Burton's son Care Burton and Norcross, Jewellers, New York City._"

"That's me all right," cried Christopher, forgetting in his excitement and curiosity such a trivial incidental as grammar.

He took the letter, regarding with amus.e.m.e.nt its disreputable appearance.

"Humph! They didn't waste very dressy stationery on me, did they?"

laughed he.

"It isn't deckle-edge paper with a ducal seal, if that is what you're expecting," grinned the boy, not unwilling to air his knowledge of such matters.

As with an impish grimace he disappeared Christopher tore open the envelope he held and drew from it a single crushed manilla sheet on which was scrawled:

I told you it was not impossible for a thief to be a gentleman, and to prove it, I am tipping you off about that ring. I wouldn't do this either for your father or for Corrigan, but you're such a decent little chap I'd like you to have the thing back again. Besides, as I am in quod for a long term, the sparklers will do me no good. At 184 Speedwell St. (Suite 6) I hold a room under the name of Carlton. You will find the loot hidden in the flooring under a narrow board between the radiator and the window. The police will be only too glad to help you reclaim it. There are a few other trinkets there too they will like to have. The stuff is all mine. I quarreled with my pal after the affair at your father's store, and since then have been playing a lone game. Good luck to you, little chap. Maybe if I'd started out with your chance, I should not be where I am to-day. I wish to Heaven I had.

Twice Christopher read the letter, his eyes wide, and his throat a bit choky with emotion. To say he was surprised at the contents of the strange communication would have been to put it mildly. Not only was he astounded, he was somewhat incredulous. And yet, overmastering this disbelief was a certainty that the writer of the letter was speaking the truth. Urged on by some whim of his own, some impulse so subtle it defied a.n.a.lysis, Stuart was returning the property he had stolen.

Perhaps remorse had overtaken him; perhaps shame; or possibly these gentler motives did but mingle with the realization that the gems, as he himself a.s.serted, would now be useless to him. At any rate, repentant or not, here he was giving them back to their rightful owner!

What wonder the letter needed neither salutation nor signature to identify its sender? That Stuart had penned the note and contrived to find some one he could trust to mail it was obvious. And yet Christopher, fingering it, could not but speculate as to how it had struggled to freedom. Through what strange hands had it pa.s.sed,--what mazes of strategy and concealment? Ah, it was futile to attempt to trace its devious trail. Here it was in his possession, and with a sudden inrush of joy, his bewildered senses stirred to action, and he hastened with his tidings to his father's office, where he burst in on Mr. Burton in the act of dictating a letter:

"Oh, Dad!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed he. "I've the biggest sort of a surprise for you.

He's written me! Think of that! Written to say where it is."

"Christopher!" thundered his father. "What do you mean by dashing in here like a madman and interrupting my work? Have you forgotten this is my private office? Offer your apologies to me and to Miss Elkins and then sit down and wait until I am at leisure."

"I'm sorry, Dad. I was so excited that--"

"There, there! That will do. You don't need to tell me you are excited.

Pray calm yourself and sit down quietly until I am at liberty to hear what you have to say."

"Yes, sir."

Crestfallen, the boy sank into a big leather chair in a dim corner of the room.

"and in reply advise you that shipment billed to us via S.S.

_George Washington_ has been received, and is in every way satisfactory. We will remit payment as usual through our Amsterdam brokers.