The Young Bank Messenger Part 54

"How?"

"By bringing you business. I can put in your hands now a will case involving an estate of fifty thousand dollars, and further on probably a much more important case."

"You seem to be a hustler."

"I am."

"Where has your professional life been spent?" asked Norcross.

"At Elmira. Now I wish to remove to this city. It will give me a larger and more profitable field."

"Give me some idea of the case you say you can put in my hands."

Bolton did so. His terse and crisp statement--for he was really a man of ability--interested the lawyer, and disposed him favorably toward the matter.

The result of the interview was that he engaged Bolton at a small salary and a commission on business brought to the office for a period of three months.

"Thank you," said Bolton, as he rose to go. "You will not regret this step."

The next morning Bolton brought his rail road acquaintance to the office, and Mr. Norcross formally undertook his case.

"I think we shall win," he said. "It is an aggravated case of undue influence. Mr. Bolton will from time to time communicate to you the steps we have taken."

It is unnecessary to go into details. It is enough to say that the will was broken, and a goodly sum found its way to the coffers of lawyer Norcross.

By this time Benjamin Bolton had established himself in the favor of his employer, who, at the end of three months, made a new and much more advantageous arrangement. Bolton had not as yet taken any steps in Ernest's case, but he now felt that the time had come to do so. He wrote to the postmaster at Oak Forks, inquiring if he knew a boy named Ernest Ray, but learned, in reply, that Ernest had left the place some months before, and had not since been heard from.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

THE RESULT OF AN ADVERTIs.e.m.e.nT.

The advertis.e.m.e.nt for Ernest in a St. Louis daily paper came about in this way:

Bolton was in the habit of inquiring from time to time, of Western clients, if they were acquainted with any persons bearing the name of Ray. One gentleman, who frequently visited St. Louis, answered, "Yes, I know a boy named Ray."

"Tell me all you know about him," said Bolton, eagerly.

"I was staying at the Southern Hotel last winter," answered Mr.

Windham, "when my attention was called to a bright-looking newsboy who sold the evening newspapers outside. I was so attracted by him that I inquired his name. He said it was Ray, and that he was alone in the world."

"What was his first name?"

"I can't recall. I am not sure that I heard it."

"Was it Ernest?"

"Very possibly. But, as I said before, I cannot speak with any certainty."

"How old did the boy appear to be?"

"About sixteen."

"That would have been the age of Dudley Ray's son," said Bolton to himself.

"I suppose you didn't learn where the boy lived?"

"No."

This was all the information Mr. Windham was able to impart, but Bolton felt that it was possibly of importance. It was, in fact, the first clue he had been able to obtain.

That Dudley Ray's son should be forced by dire necessity to sell newspapers was not in the least improbable. He went to an advertising agency, and inserted the advertis.e.m.e.nt already mentioned.

A few days later he received two letters post-marked St. Louis.

He opened them with a thrill of excitement.

He felt that he was on the verge of making an important discovery.

One letter was addressed in a school-boy hand, and ran thus:

DEAR SIR:

I saw your advertis.e.m.e.nt in one of the morning papers. I hope it means me. My name is not Ernest, but it may have been changed by some people with whom I lived in Nebraska. I am sixteen years old, and am a poor boy obliged to earn my living by selling papers. My father died when I was a baby, and my mother three years later. So I am alone in the world, and I am having a hard time. I suppose you wouldn't advertise for me unless you had some good news for me. You may send your answer to this letter to the Southern Hotel. The clerk is a friend of mine, and he says he will save it for me.

Yours respectfully, ARTHUR RAY.

"That isn't the boy," said Bolton, laying down the letter in disappointment. "The name is different, and, besides, the writer says that his father died when he was a baby. Of course that settles the question. He is a different boy."

He opened the second letter, hoping that it might be more satisfactory.

It was the letter of Tom Burns, setting forth his meeting Ernest at Oak Forks, and afterwards running across him at Oreville in California.

"Eureka!" exclaimed Bolton, his face beaming with exultation. "This is the boy and no mistake. I will at once answer this letter, and also write to Ernest Ray in California."

This was the letter received by Burns:

DEAR SIR:

I am very much indebted to you for the information contained in your letter of two days since. I have reason to think that the boy you mention is the one of whom I am in search. If it proves to be so, I am free to tell you that he will be much benefited by your communication.

There is a considerable estate, now wrongfully held by another, to which he is ent.i.tled. Should things turn out as I hope and expect, I will see that you lose nothing by the service you have rendered him and myself. I will write to him by this mail. Should you change your address, please notify me.

Yours truly, BENJAMIN BOLTON, 182 Na.s.sau Street, New York.

The letter written to Ernest ran thus: