The Forged Note Part 59

CHAPTER FIVE

_The Time Limit_

"What is the total, Constance?" her brother inquired wearily, as his sister poured over a long list of figures on a balance sheet before her.

"In a minute," she said and continued her figuring. Presently, with a sigh she straightened up, and handed him a sheet, showing a list of names, at the right of which was registered various amounts.

"Seven thousand six hundred fifty-nine dollars and fifteen cents," he repeated, half aloud. He looked at his sister, and saw in her tired eyes, failure staring them in the face. Unless something extraordinary occurred, the chances of securing a Y.M.C.A. for the colored youth of the city was doomed to failure. He laid the sheet down, and picked up another piece of paper--a letter. He had read it several times, but now he read it again. He didn't want to believe what was written upon it, and signed by the Jew philanthrophist. But it was before him in plain, typewritten words, and was to this effect:

_Mr. Wilson Jacobs_, _Secretary Y.M.C.A._

MY DEAR SIR: Receipt of your letter of December 1, is here acknowledged. I note carefully what you say in regard to your efforts in relation to the securing of funds for the Y.M.C.A. for the colored youth of your city.

You are of course aware that my offer, made five years ago, in which I agreed to give the sum of $25,000 to any city, where an additional sum of $75,000 was forthcoming from other sources. The time I made that offer was five years ago January of the coming year. Therefore, the time will expire at twelve, December 31, this month.

With regard to extending the time limit on these gifts, I regret to say that I have made no such provision. Moreover, with the present condition of the financial outlook, I cannot see my way clear to do so. However, all cities that report favorably up to that date, I will fulfill my agreement.

Regretting that I cannot write you more favorably, but hoping it will be possible for you to comply with my offer, I beg to remain,

Very truly, J. ROSENTHAL.

He laid the letter aside. He had known before he wrote, what to expect, for announcements had come from Grantville, that the philanthropist would not extend the time on his gifts for this purpose. Hard times had spread over the country, until not enough was being collected to maintain the cost of the office and advertising, notwithstanding the fact that they secured it at the smallest possible rate. Both were compelled to acknowledge now that a failure seemed imminent. To secure the gift of the Jew, it was necessary for them to raise still more than twenty-seven thousand dollars.

Could he raise such a sum in view of prevailing circ.u.mstances?

"Have you received a decision from the railroad president, who personally contributed five hundred dollars, Wilson?" Constance now inquired.

"The hoped for appropriations for such purposes have been deferred indefinitely," he replied. "So there is no hope now, only from the local interests, and they, I fear, are hopeless."

"And you see no place where such a sum might be raised--in so short a time?" she asked again, a trifle nervous.

"Only to go north, and try to enlist the sympathy of other philanthropic persons."

"And--will--you go?" She looked at him now, anxiously.

"Yes, I will go," he returned.

"May G.o.d be with us!" she sighed, and picked up the afternoon paper. She glanced over it, and saw the usual accounts relating to the shutting down of various industrial concerns, and, as she looked further, there were the same accounts regarding the colored people. The business of fighting and stealing and getting drunk went on more actively than usual, if such were possible. She laid it aside presently, and picked up her subscription list. She was still selling the book, and had a great many sales for the holiday trade.

When she paid the charges on a consignment of books a few minutes later, and unwrapped them, she thought of her dear friend who had brought her attention to the work. How much she would have liked to see her, she did not conjecture; but she was glad now she had taken up the work. The returns from the sale of it, had meant a great deal to the home in the past months. Wilson, who usually made some money otherwise than what he received from the church, which was small, had been unable to look after or give his time to anything but the work of the Y.M.C.A. Therefore, the money from the sale of the book had come in at an opportune time.

As for Mildred, the earth seemed to have swallowed her, insofar as they had been able to ascertain. Wilson had worried to a point where he now looked ten years older than he had six months before. Grantville had given up in despair. Five thousand dollars was all they had been able to raise, and, therefore, realized how useless it was to continue the effort, which had subsequently come to an end. She believed in her brother; she was confident he could raise the amount necessary, if he had the time. If the gift from the Jew could have been possible a year hence, she was confident he could raise the balance; but, with less than four weeks, it seemed hopeless.

And yet, "as long as there is life there is hope!" He would go north the coming Monday--this was Friday--and she hoped he would be successful.

Until he returned, she would not despair. She made preparations for his departure, by packing his steamer trunk, washed his handkerchiefs, purchased many little necessities from her own purse, and placed them along with the rest of his belongings.

"Will you go to New York or Chicago?" she inquired as they sat at dinner.

"I suppose the chances are better beyond New York. I shall, of course, go directly to New York, but from there I will go into New England. I have credentials from several well known white people, as well as letters from the secretary of the white Y.M.C.A. here, and at Effingham and Attalia, so I think that part is quite sufficiently looked after."

When Reverend Wilson Jacobs had dined, he felt like walking, and, drawing on a light overcoat and cap, he strolled out into the chill December night. The air was still, and the stars gleamed brightly, as he strolled down the street in the direction of the river. When he had gone three blocks, he decided to walk to the river, and look out upon its water for a spell. So, increasing his speed, he walked briskly in that direction.

To reach the river by the street he was following, it was necessary to pa.s.s through a district of the town that had not the best reputation. It was a part of the town, inhabited in former days by denizens of the underworld, and was interspersed with many halls and buildings that had been built for such purposes. Since liquor had been voted out of the state, and the city likewise, while the women had also been forced to scatter, due to the enforcement of the law relative to their profession, the neighborhood had been given over largely to bootlegging. Places operating under the guise of soft-drink shops, sold liquor as freely as the saloons had, when they operated in the same places a year ago. And, in this district, holdups and other cases of outlawry were a common occurrence.

He had arrived, and was pa.s.sing leisurely through this part of the town, when, ahead of him, a figure crossed the street, and entered one of the dives. Something about the swing of the arms, made him recall that he had seen that person before. He thought it over, as he approached the place the other had entered. He had not reached it, when the other emerged, and made his way up the street ahead of him, only a few yards.

He studied the character, and when he turned into another place a few doors up, he recalled where he had seen him. It was the man who had paused before his gate months before, and whom he had started to follow, but who had eluded him. He saw no reason for paying him further attention now, and pa.s.sed on to the river.

He returned by the same street, and as he came abreast of an open door, he overheard voices and caught a glimpse of the man again. He halted, and leaned beside the door in the shade of the building a moment, out of sheer curiosity. The voices came to his ears plainly, as he stood there.

"I have reason to believe she has money," said one, whom he surmised was that of the man he had seen.

"If she has, you have spoiled your chances of getting hold of any of it."

"How do you figure that out?" said the other gruffly.

"Well, what you should have done was to have communicated with her while she was stopping up here with that preacher and his sister, and made her come across to keep you from putting them next. Now, 's I figure it out, you blows in on her with your recognition game, and frightens her out of her wits, and she flies the coup. And then, to make matters worse, you trail her across town to where she 'beats' it, and, instead of using a little diplomacy, you blow in on her and frighten her away from there.

You played a deuce of a game, you did." The tone was impatient, and, from the way the other shifted, it was quite obvious that he was not playing a clever one either.

"Well, she was such a good looking little wench that, to be truthful, I lost my head over her," the other laughed a low, hard laugh, as he said this.

"Lost your head, hump!" growled another. "I can't get into my nut, how you blame n.i.g.g.a's get in your ugly knots, that a gal that's got the sense you say this gal has, is going to fall to a cheap n.i.g.g.a like yourself." The voice showed that the speaker was plainly disgusted.

"Aw, old shine, I've had some a's good looking a gals as her on my string, don't fool yourself 'bout that," the first speaker retorted.

"How much sense did they have in their nuts? None! If they had, they'd a never fooled with you."

"Well, I'm still trailing her. I ain' give up yet. I'm determined I'll bring her to time, or I'll know the reason why," the other declared, determinedly.

"Don't the ole cat down where she was roosting, know where she has gone?" inquired the other now.

"Don't know a thing. Swears that she don't, and I b'lieve her. She's a little sore 'cause I blew in and scared her away. Funny, too, 'cause that old woman's so crooked she cain' lay straight in bed. And, say, you know Lizzie, the good looking black gal that comes over to Dago's place, and licks up so much booze?"

"Who, Slender Liz? Sure! Why?"

"That's her ma."

"The d.i.c.kens!"

"Sure is!"

"That beats the devil. I know her; but I didn't know until this minute that Liz was her brat. And you mean to say this little gal what you lost your head about and chased away, was stopping with the old woman?"

"That was where she slapped me blind at."

"Well, I'll be darned. I shouldn't have thought she'd have stayed around her very long, when she got next to what was going on."

"Well, the little wench was so frightened when she left this preacher up here, that she didn't know where she was going, and she got into the place hurriedly, and then after she had got tied up there, she seemed to have decided to stick it out until she could do better. Then, besides, the old woman told me that she don't think the gal knew she sold liquor, and ran a c.r.a.p game every Sat.u.r.day night. Her room was so located that the gamesters came and went without going near her room. Then, the gal kept herself shut in like a prisoner, when she was around, besides."