The Young Bridge-Tender Part 50

Fortunately a neighbor arrived just at this moment, and this good woman, aided by the squire, soon revived the widow. At the end of ten minutes she sat up in a chair, her face as white as a sheet.

"Tell me--tell me all," she gasped out.

"There is not much to tell, unfortunately," returned the squire, smoothly.

"I was up to the islands in company with others, and I found strong evidence that made me believe that Ralph fell over the cliff."

"Then he was killed!" burst out the neighbor.

"Most likely, Mrs. Corcoran. The cliff is more than a hundred feet high, and the rocks below are sharp."

"But his body--what of that?" asked Mrs. Corcoran, for Mrs. Nelson was unable to utter a word.

"His body must have been carried off by the current which sweeps around the island, especially during such a breeze as we had recently."

"It must be true," cried Mrs. Nelson, bursting into tears. "I found his fishing towel, and that was covered with blood. Oh, my poor Ralph!"

She went off into a fit of weeping, and in that state Squire Paget left her to the attention of Mrs. Corcoran. He had expected to go into the details of his search, but, evidently, they were not now needed.

"I guess my plan will work all right," he said to himself, as he walked home rapidly. "It's a pity I must hurry matters so, but unless I do that valuable piece of property may slip through my fingers."

Not for one moment did the squire's conscience trouble him for what he had done. He thought only of the end to be gained--of the money he intended to make.

Of course, he imagined that Ralph was really dead. He would have been furious had he known the real truth.

But an awakening was close at hand. It came on the following day, when the squire was at the post office.

He was standing in a corner looking over the various letters he had received when he heard Henry Bott, the clerk, address a few words to a laboring man who had come in to post a letter.

"Kind of mysterious about Ralph Nelson?" remarked the man, whose name was Fielder.

"It is," returned Bott.

"Any news of him yet?"

"None, excepting that he fell over the cliff on Three Top Island and his body was washed away."

"The widow must feel bad about it."

"Sure."

"I was going to stop at the cottage, but I must get over to Eastport."

"There's a letter just came in for Mrs. Nelson from New York," went on Bott. "I suppose I might send it to her. It might have some sort of news she might want to hear."

At these words the squire became more attentive than ever. Who knew but what the letter might refer to the missing papers that the widow had advertised for?

"Did you say you had a letter for Mrs. Nelson?" he asked, stepping to the window.

"Yes."

"I am going down to the place. I'll take it to her if you wish."

"All right, squire; here it is," returned Bott, and handed over the epistle.

Squire Paget at once hurried from the building, and in the direction of the Nelson cottage. But once beyond the village proper he turned into a by-path.

Here he stopped to examine the letter. It was not sealed very tightly, and by breathing upon the mucilage in the back he soon managed to get it open without tearing the envelope.

It was Ralph's letter to his mother, and for the moment Squire Paget was so stunned that he was in danger of collapsing then and there. He staggered to a stone and fell upon it.

"Alive!" he muttered to himself. "Alive! and the rascals said he was dead!"

He read the letter carefully, not once, but several times. He saw how Martin and Toglet had failed twice in their efforts to take Ralph from his path forever.

"The scamps! They knew he was alive when he boarded the empty freight car!

Why did they not come back and tell me! I suppose they expect to get that five hundred dollars out of me at Chambersburgh! Just wait till I see them!"

Squire Paget did not know what to do with the letter. If he destroyed it, might not the widow hear of his having a letter for her and ask him for it?

And yet if he gave her the letter, that would be the end of the plot against her--the whole cake would be dough.

Already a new plan to get Ralph out of the way was forming in his mind, based on the fact that Martin and Toglet had really tried to do as agreed.

Perhaps they would make another trial, if urged on.

"I'll fix this letter business," he said.

Among his own mail had been a circular from a New York dry-goods house, calling attention to a big midsummer bargain sale, and soliciting orders from out-of-town patrons. This circular the squire now thrust into the envelope which had contained Ralph's letter. To make the deception more complete, the squire drew out his stylographic pen and went over the address, altering the handwriting quite a little, so that it might not be recognized.

Then, stowing away the genuine letter among his own, he walked on to the Nelson cottage, where he left the bogus letter with Mrs. Corcoran, who came to the door.

"I thought I would bring it along, as it might have news," he said.

Mrs. Nelson was handed the letter. She gave it a hasty examination, and finding, to her great disappointment, that it was merely an advertis.e.m.e.nt, she threw it aside; and thus her son's communication, upon which so much depended, never reached her.

The squire found out that nothing could be done to further his plan just then, so far as the widow was concerned. So leaving the cottage, he took the evening boat for Chambersburgh.

He knew exactly where to look for Martin and Toglet, who had come down from an upper lake town by railroad. It was in a fashionable club-house, with a saloon attached, at which many of the sports of the city congregated.

He saw Martin sitting at a table playing some game of chance, and at once motioned him to come out.

"What is it?" asked Martin, but his face showed that he was much disturbed.

"You know well enough," returned the squire, sharply. "Ralph Nelson is alive and well!"

"Never!" cried Martin, in some surprise.

"It is so, and you know it," went on the squire, coldly.

"Why, he went over the cliff----"