Aunt Jane's Nieces at Millville
Good morning, sir. I'll
see you again soon, Joe. Glad you're improving so rapidly. Let me know
if I can do anything to help you."
With these quiet words, he bowed and left the room, and when he had
gone, Joe said, in a deprecating tone:
"Poor Bob must be very unhappy about having lost my father's money in
that speculation, for he advocated the plan very strongly, believing it
was a good investment. I'm afraid your mistake about paying him all that
money upset him. Don't mind if he was a little brusque, sir. Bob West is
a simple, kindly man, whom my father fully trusted. It was he that
loaned me the money to get away from here with."
"Tell me," said Uncle John, thoughtfully, "did your father receive stock
in the Almaquo Timber Tract Company in exchange for his money?"
"Oh, yes; I have seen it in the steel cupboard," replied Joe.
"Where is that?"
"Why, it is the cupboard in the right wing of our house, which was the
Captain's own room. It was one of his whims, when he built, to provide
what he called his 'bank.' You may have noticed the wooden doors of a
cupboard built into the stone wall, sir?"
"Yes; I occupy the room."
"Behind the wooden doors are others of steel. The entire cupboard is
steel-lined. Near the bottom is a sliding-plate, which, when pushed
aside, discovers a hidden drawer--a secret my father never confided to
anyone but me. He once told me that if his heart trouble earned him off
suddenly I ought to know of the existence of this drawer; so he showed
me how to find it. On the day after his death I took the keys, which he
always carried on a small chain around his neck and concealed underneath
his clothing, and opened the cupboard to see if I could find anything of
value. It is needless to say, I could not discover anything that could
be converted into a dollar. The Captain had filled the cupboard with old
letters and papers of no value, and with relics he had brought from
foreign lands during his many voyages. These last are mere rubbish, but
I suppose he loved them for their association.
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There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
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