Phoebe Daring

CHAPTER XXV
HOW TOBY WON HIS HERITAGE

Mrs. Ritchie was hoeing that afternoon in her vegetable garden, which adjoined the spacious farmhouse where she resided. She was attired in a faded calico dress and a weatherworn sunbonnet, and her heavy leather shoes were rusty and clogged by constant contact with the soil.

There were several servants upon the plantation, and they were afforded an excellent example of industry by their mistress, who “worked like a hired man” herself and made everyone around her labor just as energetically.

The arrival of Lawyer Kellogg on his bicycle, which he had ridden over from Riverdale, did not interrupt Mrs. Ritchie’s task. She merely gave her attorney an ungracious nod and said: “Well?”

“I’ve come over to see you about the trial,” he announced. “It begins next Thursday, at Bayport, and I must know exactly what you want to do about Toby Clark.”

“Give him a long sentence – the longer the better.”

“He is sure to get that if we prove him guilty.”

She looked at him suspiciously.

“Why do you say ‘if’?” she asked.

Kellogg smiled.

“Any trial is uncertain, Mrs. Ritchie,” said he. “Unexpected things are liable to happen to change the probable verdict. I think we have enough evidence against Toby to prove our case, but those terrible children have greatly influenced popular opinion by means of their parades and we can’t tell who the jury will be, or whether we can depend on them.”

“Can’t the jury be fixed?” asked the woman, after some thought.

“It would cost a lot of money, and it isn’t a safe thing to do,” returned her lawyer, standing beside her as she hoed. “And that reminds me to speak of my own expenses and fees.”

“Well, what about ’em?”

“You promised me a hundred dollars if I recovered the contents of your box. I’ve returned to you all your money, bonds and papers; but you haven’t paid me yet.”

“There’s a paper missing.”

“One. I do not suppose you intend to withhold my money on that account.”

“Why not?”

“Because I should then sue you for it and the court would award me damages.”

She gave a contemptuous snort.

“Do you want that matter of the box aired?” she asked.

“Do you want that will investigated – the paper which is missing?” he retorted.

Mrs. Ritchie laughed.

“I’ll give you fifty dollars now, and fifty when you get that last paper,” said she.

“You’ll give me a hundred now. The price of the paper was a thousand dollars.”

“Have you got track of it yet?” she asked quickly.

“No. I’m not going to undertake that trial for nothing, Mrs. Ritchie. There’ll be a lot of work and expense about it and, if you want Toby Clark imprisoned for stealing your box, you’ve got to pay handsomely for it.”

“How much?”

“I want a hundred dollars in advance and two hundred more if I win.”

“You’re a thief!” she snarled.

“No other lawyer would undertake the case at any price. It will make me very unpopular to prosecute Toby Clark.”

“You’re not much of a favorite now,” said Mrs. Ritchie. “Very well, I’ll give you a hundred dollars.”

“I want two hundred to-day. A hundred for recovering your property and a hundred in advance for the trial.”

She dropped her hoe and stared at him. Then she sighed.

“Come into the house. You’re a scoundrel, Abner Kellogg, and you ain’t earned half the money; but I’ll be generous.”

“No; you’ll be sensible,” he said, following her up the path. “You’ve got some secret that’s worth money to you, Mrs. Ritchie, and which you don’t care to have discovered; and it’s connected with Toby Clark.”

“That’s a lie.”

She ushered him into the front room and left him there while she went to get the money. When she returned she placed four fifty-dollar bills in his hand.

“Oh; cash, is it?” he said in a pleased tone.

“I don’t trust banks; they’re tricky. That’s all the ready money I’ve got in the house. The rest is in a new box with Miles Hubbard, over in Bayport.”

“Why didn’t you put it in my care?” asked Kellogg.

“Because you’re a dishonest cur.”

He reddened a little.

“Then why don’t you employ Hubbard to prosecute Toby Clark?”

“He wouldn’t take the case.”

“I see. Well, I’ve raised my price, Mrs. Ritchie. I want a hundred more in advance.”

“You can’t have it.”

“I think I can.”

“I won’t be bled, Abner Kellogg!”

“No; you prefer to bleed others.”

“You insolent pettifogger! What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that I want another hundred dollars – before I make a single move in this case.”

While she sat glaring at him an automobile stopped in the road before the house. The woman turned her head and through the window saw Phoebe Daring, Mr. Spaythe and a stranger alight and enter the gate.

“Tell ’em I ain’t at home, Kellogg,” she exclaimed in a half frightened voice.

“Better face the music,” said the lawyer, who had noted the arrivals. “If there’s danger, as I suspect, face it boldly. You can’t save the day by running away.”

“You stand by me, then, Kellogg. I’ll give you the other hundred when they’re gone.”

He smiled grimly, but there was no time for reply. The bell rang and Mrs. Ritchie went to the door.

“May we speak with you – on business – Mrs. Ritchie?” asked Mr. Spaythe.

“I’m busy with my lawyer. You’ll have to come again.”

“I’m glad your lawyer is here,” said the banker gravely. “I think you will need his advice.”

“What about?”

“If you will permit us to enter, I will explain.”

“Who’s this other man?” she asked curtly.

“The governor of the state.”

Mrs. Ritchie fell back and they all entered the parlor.

“Good afternoon, your Excellency,” said Kellogg, with a low bow. The governor did not know the man but he nodded to him.

“Well?” asked the woman in harsh, rasping tones.

“I have called to see you in regard to the Alonzo Clark will,” said Mr. Spaythe.

She sank into a seat, but the cold, hard look never left her face. If she was at all startled she retained her self-possession wonderfully.

“Who was Alonzo Clark?” she asked, as if to gain time.

“Toby Clark’s father; your second-cousin.”

“What about his will?”

“You are the administrator.”

“Well, that’s my business.”

“Not entirely,” remarked the governor, calmly. “Your letters of administration require you to fulfill the terms of the will – or the property will be taken out of your hands by the court. Also you are personally responsible for any – shall we say ‘irregularities’? – you have committed.”

“Well?”

“You have not fulfilled the terms of the will,” said Mr. Spaythe sternly.

“Who says so?”

“The will itself.”

“Somebody stole it.”

“That does not matter. There is a copy on file in the probate’s office. You have criminally disobeyed the injunctions of that will, Mrs. Ritchie, and applied such moneys as you have received, to your own personal use, instead of to the support and education of Toby Clark.”

“Toby Clark’s a thief, and he’ll go to prison for stealing my box,” she snapped.

“We will not discuss Toby now,” said Mr. Spaythe. “Your own case demands your first attention. The governor will tell you the legal penalty for embezzling trust funds.”

“State’s prison,” said the governor.

“Shucks! Tell him he lies, Abner Kellogg,” cried the woman.

“The governor is entirely correct, madam,” answered the wily attorney. “I trust, gentlemen,” he added, “you will acquit me of any complicity in this affair. I am merely hired by Mrs. Ritchie to prosecute the case of Toby Clark and know nothing of her past history or criminal acts.”

“Oh, you turn against me, do you?” she inquired angrily.

“I cannot defend you from so grave an offense, Mrs. Ritchie,” said Kellogg. “These gentlemen would not accuse you without proof, and the proof will send you to prison.”

She studied by turn the stern faces confronting her.

“What else have you got to say?” she asked. “If you wanted to send me to prison you would have me arrested, without taking the trouble to come here.”

“That is true,” returned Mr. Spaythe. “I will explain. By chance the will of Alonzo Clark fell into my hands and on behalf of Toby Clark I caused an investigation to be made. During the past seven years there has been paid to you, as administrator of the estate of Toby Clark, a minor, in dividends on stock, the total sum of forty-eight thousand, four hundred and eighty dollars, up to the first of last month. You were entitled to retain ten per cent of this, provided you had performed your duties according to law; but since you have failed to do this the entire amount must now be paid over to the new administrator whom the court will appoint. And this payment must be made whether you go to prison or not.”

Kellogg was amazed. He looked at Mrs. Ritchie with a glint of admiration in his eyes. Forty-eight thousand, and she still grubbing with a hoe! Phoebe was also amazed by the immensity of the sum. She had not thought it would be nearly so large. She mentally figured that it meant an income of about seven thousand a year, which would make Toby quite independent.

Mrs. Ritchie did not deny Mr. Spaythe’s assertion. She knew it would be useless.

“That will is my property,” she said sullenly. “I can have you arrested for stealing it.”

“I will return the will,” said Mr. Spaythe. “It is no longer of use to me – nor to you, madam. Unless you voluntarily resign your trusteeship it will be taken from you, after a rigid investigation which will prove you guilty of embezzlement.”

“Suppose I refuse to give up the money?” said she. “You don’t know where it is, and you can’t find it. You can take this farm away from me, if you like, but it’s only worth about fifteen thousand. If I go to jail I can keep the cash I’ve put away – and have it to use when I get free again.”

“I believe,” said the governor, “you might be able to do that, and so defeat justice. But let us consider what it would mean. My experience enables me to state that your term of imprisonment would be no less than twenty years, and perhaps more. I doubt if, at your age, you would live for twenty years in a prison – you who are so used to the open air. So your stolen money would be of no benefit to you. On the other hand, you might effect a compromise with us and so keep the matter out of court. You have here sufficient property for all your needs and the income from your plantation gives you more than a living. It occurs to me, Mrs. Ritchie, that you will find it more comfortable to end your days in freedom.”

She dropped her eyes in thought and stared at the carpet for a time. Then she asked gruffly:

“What do you demand?”

“First,” replied Mr. Spaythe, “you must resign as administrator and petition the probate court to appoint some one in your place. You must furnish an exact statement of the money received and turn over the entire amount to the new administrator, for the sole benefit of Toby Clark. In addition to this, we demand that you sign a statement, for publication, saying that your blue box was not stolen, but merely mislaid, and that you have recovered the entire contents. You will add that Toby Clark has been unjustly accused. I have prepared a statement to this effect which is all ready for you to sign, and the governor will witness it, so that it will never be questioned.”

“But somebody stole that box,” cried the woman, “and whoever it was ought to suffer for it.”

“Somebody stole Toby Clark’s inheritance,” replied Mr. Spaythe. “I do not think it necessary for one to suffer for either crime, if amends are fully made and no lasting evil can result.”

Mrs. Ritchie frowned. She looked from one to another and saw no signs of relenting in any face. Even Kellogg’s fat face wore a sneer as he regarded her.

So she surrendered.

“I’ll sign the papers,” she said.

CHAPTER XXVI
HOW PHOEBE’S CONSPIRACY TRIUMPHED

As they rode homeward Phoebe said thoughtfully:

“Who will break the news to Toby?”

Mr. Spaythe and the governor exchanged glances.

“I think that must be your task, Phoebe,” said the latter. “No one has done so much for Toby Clark as you, nor has anyone been so instrumental in establishing his good fortune.”

“I – I don’t think I could do it!” exclaimed Phoebe. “Toby is so proud and sensitive that he – he might make a fuss, and that would break me all up.”

Said Mr. Spaythe, after a moment’s thought:

“I’ll make it easy for you, Phoebe. I’ll give a little dinner party at my house, in Toby’s honor, on Wednesday evening and invite all those friends who have stood by him during his time of need. Then you can make a speech and announce the good news.”

“Just the thing,” commented the governor. “Wednesday. That will give me time to accomplish something I have in mind.”

And so the matter was arranged.

Toby Clark had grown more restless as the day approached when he was to be tried for stealing Mrs. Ritchie’s box. He knew of the recent evidence against him – the finding of the money and bonds in his house – and fully realized that his guilt would appear conclusive to a jury. He was ashamed to go out of the house except for a brief walk after dark and whenever he met Mr. Spaythe or Eric at mealtime he would study their faces for some sign that would indicate hope. They seemed cheerful enough and laughed and talked as if no tragedy was pending; but both father and son refrained from mentioning Toby’s trial in any way. The boy had not seen Phoebe since she had rescued him from the hoodlums; Sam Parsons kept out of sight; Mr. Holbrook, who used to visit him regularly, now remained absent, and so poor Toby imagined himself deserted and neglected by all his friends.

Wednesday noon the banker said at luncheon:

“Toby, I’m giving a little dinner party to-night and I want you to be present.”

“Oh, sir! I – I – ”

“Not a word, Toby. I won’t listen to any excuses. You will find the guests old friends and must be prepared to assist me and Eric to entertain them.”

The boy was astonished. He had never known Mr. Spaythe to entertain anyone before and this dinner party, given on the eve of Toby’s trial, seemed to him a cruel mockery. But he could not refuse Mr. Spaythe’s request, having been a guest in the banker’s house for so long and knew he must face these people as bravely as he could. He wondered, vaguely, who would come to the Spaythe dinner party, and toward evening grew very uneasy and despondent.

The first arrival was Janet Ferguson, and the sight of his old employer’s daughter did much to relieve his nervousness. Then came Nathalie Cameron and Lucy Hunter and following them closely he heard the eager voices of “the Daring tribe,” including Miss Eliot, Phoebe, Becky and Don. These were first greeted by Mr. Spaythe and Eric and then engaged Toby in conversation, surrounding him in a group – as if he were the hero of the occasion, he reflected bitterly, instead of an accused criminal in danger of a prison sentence!

From his seat in the long drawing-room Toby saw Mr. Holbrook arrive, and then Sam Parsons and Will Chandler – surely a mixed assemblage. Mr. Spaythe had refrained from inviting Hazel Chandler and Dave Hunter, thinking the ordeal would be too severe for them. Finally came Doris and Allerton Randolph and then Mr. Fellows, the editor, and with these the list of guests seemed complete, for they were all straightway ushered into the dining-room to partake of an elaborate feast.

Toby was in a daze. He could not understand it at all. On all sides were bright and happy faces and no one seemed to remember that on the morrow he was to be tried in open court as a thief.

With the dessert Mr. Spaythe looked up and said casually, but in a voice loud enough for all to hear:

“I believe Phoebe Daring has a few remarks to make to us, and this seems a good opportunity to hear her.”

Phoebe rose from her seat, rather red and embarrassed at first, as she marked the sudden silence around the table and the earnest looks turned upon her. But she resolved not to falter in the task she had undertaken.

“This is a joyful occasion,” she began, very solemnly – so solemnly that Becky giggled. “We have met, at Mr. Spaythe’s kind invitation, to extend congratulations to our friend Toby Clark.”

Don thought this a good time to yell “Bravo!” but the reproachful look of his sister promptly “squelched” him. Toby stared at Phoebe in wonder, but she refused to meet his pleading gaze.

“It is a joyful occasion,” she resumed, “because the absurd charge trumped up against Toby has been withdrawn, as perhaps you all know.” It was news to Toby, indeed! “Mrs. Ritchie has issued a signed statement, which Mr. Fellows is going to print in the paper, saying that she was mistaken about her box being stolen, as it was merely mislaid. Her property has all been recovered and she is very sorry that poor Toby was ever accused of a crime that neither he nor anyone else ever committed.”

There was something of a sensation around the table, for few had known of this statement until now. Toby was trying hard to comprehend his good fortune. He could no longer see Phoebe because his eyes were full of tears.

“Just before I came here this evening,” continued the girl, “I received a telegram from our governor, dated from the state capital. I will read it to you.” She unfolded a telegram and read in a clear, deliberate voice: “‘Probate Judge Fordyce to-day appointed Duncan Spaythe administrator of the estate of Toby Clark, and his guardian. Congratulations to all concerned.’”

An intense silence followed. A secret was here disclosed that had been unknown by any but Phoebe and the banker. Curious looks were cast upon the girl and then upon Toby. The lame boy half rose from his chair, pallid and shaking in every limb.

“I – I haven’t any estate,” he said. “It’s all a – a – cruel – joke! I – ”

“Sit down, please,” said Phoebe. “I believe you were as ignorant as the others – as we all have been until recently – concerning this estate, which was bequeathed you by your father, Alonzo Clark. The preposterous charge against you led us to a rigid investigation of the Clark family history, and we – your friends – discovered that a certain mining property once owned by your father and left to you by his will, had become very valuable and for the past seven years has been paying you big dividends. So in your case trouble has led to prosperity. As you are not yet of age, it was necessary that an administrator and guardian for you be appointed by the court. The governor kindly interested himself in this matter, with the result that Mr. Spaythe is now your guardian and the custodian of all the money belonging to you.”

Phoebe, quite breathless now, sat down. Mr. Spaythe rose from his chair and was greeted with cheers.

“Around this table,” said he, “are gathered only loyal friends of Toby Clark – those who have supported him and watched over his interests during the past two months, the darkest period in his young life. Especially do I wish to congratulate Phoebe Daring and the energetic organizers and officers of the Toby Clark Marching Club for their good work on behalf of our young friend, who has so unjustly suffered because of a false accusation. But Toby’s troubles are over, now; for all time, I hope. Once more his good name stands unsullied in the eyes of the world. He has proved his mental caliber and courage by the manly way in which he has faced the wicked charge brought against him. With ample means, such as he now possesses, to back his highest ambitions, I predict that Toby Clark will in time become a great man and a power in our little community.”

The banker stood bowing until the thunderous applause that greeted his speech subsided. Becky smashed a plate by pounding it upon the table and no one reproved her. Then she pinched Don’s leg and his howl merely increased the sounds of jubilation. When, at last, comparative quiet reigned, Mr. Spaythe said:

“We will now hear from Toby Clark.”

Toby, still bewildered but trying to grasp the reality of the good fortune that had befallen him, responded in a few broken words:

“You won’t hear much from me,” he said, “because my heart is too full for anything but gratitude for the kind friends who have done so much for me. I wasn’t worth all your interest in me and trouble on my account, you know; but I’ll try to be more worthy in the future. I – I’m very happy and – I – I thank you all!”

More wild applause, and then Don’s voice was heard asking:

“Say, who gave the Marching Club that fifty dollars?”

“I did,” replied Mr. Spaythe, “and it was the best fifty I ever invested. But,” he added with a smile, “I’ve an idea of charging it to the account of Toby Clark.”

Here Mr. Holbrook rose to his feet.

“Toby Clark once applied to me for a position in my office,” he said, “and I was obliged to refuse him. But as my business is growing nicely I would now like to have him for my clerk.”

“No,” said Toby, with something of his old-time whimsical humor, “I must refuse the nomination, with thanks. I’m going to college. Some day, though, I’ll be a lawyer, too, Mr. Holbrook, and then – who knows? – we may go into partnership together.”