The Daughter of Anderson Crow
be found, and then to see to it that our grandfather did not succeed in
changing his will. Moreover, he was bound and determined that he himself
should be named as trustee--when the fortune came over at Lord Brace's
death. That part of it turned out precisely as he had calculated. Let me
go on a few months in advance of my story. Lord Brace died, and the will
was properly probated and the provisions carried out. Brace Hall and the
estates went to your father and the bequest came to me, for you were
considered dead. My stepfather was made trustee. He gave bond in England
and America, I believe. In any event, the fortune was to be mine when I
reached the age of twenty-one, but each year the income, nearly
twenty-five thousand dollars, was to be paid to my stepfather as
trustee, to be safely invested by him. My mother's name was not
mentioned in the document, except once, to identify me as the
beneficiary. I can only add to this phase of the hateful conspiracy,
that for nineteen years my stepfather received this income, and that he
used it to establish his own fortune. By investing what was supposed to
be my money, he has won his own way to wealth.
"Mr. Banks decided that the operations were safest from this side of the
Atlantic. He and my mother took up their residence in New York, and it
has been their home ever since. He spent the first half year after your
suspected death in London, solely for the purpose of establishing
himself in Lord Brace's favour. Within a year after the death of Lord
Brace your father was killed by a poacher on the estate. He had but
lately returned from Egypt, and was in full control of the lands and
property attached to Brace Hall. If my stepfather had designs upon Brace
Hall, they failed, for the lands and the title went at once to your
father's cousin, Sir Harry Brace, the present lord.
"So much for the conditions in England then and now. I now return to
that part of the story which most interests and concerns you. My poor
mother was compelled, within a fortnight after we landed in New York, to
give up the dangerous infant who was always to hang like a cloud between
fortune and honour. The maid-servant was paid well for her silence. By
the way, she died mysteriously soon after coming to America, but not
before giving to my mother a signed paper setting forth clearly every
detail in so far as it bore upon her connection with the hateful
transaction. Conscience was forever at work in my mother's heart; honour
was constantly struggling to the surface, only to be held back by fear
of and loyalty to the man she loved.
"It was decided that the most humane way to put you out of existence was
to leave you on the doorstep of some kindly disposed person, far from
New York. My stepfather and my mother deliberately set forth on this
so-called mission of mercy. They came north, and by chance, fell in with
a resident of Boggs City while in the station at Albany. They were
debating which way to turn for the next step. My mother was firm in the
resolve that you should be left in the care of honest, reliable,
tender-hearted people, who would not abuse the trust she was to impose.
The Boggs City man said he had been in Albany to see about a bill in the
legislature, which was to provide for the erection of a monument in
Tinkletown--where a Revolutionary battle had been fought. It was he who
spoke of Anderson Crow, and it was his stories of your goodness and
generosity, Mr. Crow, that caused them to select you as the man who was
to have Rosalie, and, with her, the sum of one thousand dollars a year
for your trouble and her needs.
"My mother's description of that stormy night in February, more than
twenty-one years ago, is the most pitiful thing I have ever listened to.
Together they made their way to Tinkletown, hiring a vehicle in Boggs
City for the purpose. Mr. Banks left the basket on your porch while
mother stood far down the street and waited for him, half frozen and
heartsick. Then they hurried out of town and were soon safely on their
way to New York. It was while my stepfather was in London, later on,
that mother came up to see Rosalie and make that memorable first payment
to Mr. Crow. How it went on for years, you all know. It was my
stepfather's cleverness that made it so impossible to learn the source
from which the mysterious money came.
"We travelled constantly, always finding new places of interest in which
my mother's conscience could be eased by contact with beauty and
excitement. Gradually she became hardened to the conditions, for, after
all, was it not her own child who was to be enriched by the theft and
the deception? Mr. Banks constantly forced that fact in upon her
mother-love and her vanity. Through it all, however, you were never
neglected nor forgotten. My mother had your welfare always in mind. It
was she who saw that you and I were placed at the same school in New
York, and it was she who saw that your training in a way was as good as
it could possibly be without exciting risk.
"Of course, I knew nothing of all this. I was rolling in wealth and
luxury, but not in happiness. Instinctively I loathed my stepfather. He
was hard, cruel, unreasonable. It was because of him that I left school
and afterward sought to earn my own living. You know, Rosalie, how Tom
Reddon came into my life. He was the son of William Reddon, my
stepfather's business partner, who had charge of the Western branch of
the concern in Chicago. We lived in Chicago for several years,
establishing the business. Mr. Banks was until recently president of the
Banks & Reddon Iron Works. Last year, you doubtless know, the plant was
sold to the great combine and the old company passed out of existence.
This act was the result of a demand from England that the trust under
which he served be closed and struck from the records. It was his plan
to settle the matter, turn the inheritance over to me according to law,
and then impose upon my inexperience for all time to come. The money,
while mine literally, was to be his in point of possession.
"But he had reckoned without the son of his partner. Tom Reddon in some
way learned the secret, and he was compelled to admit the young man into
all of his plans. This came about some three years ago, while I was in
school. I had known Tom Reddon in Chicago. He won my love. I cannot deny
it, although I despise him to-day more deeply than I ever expect to hate
again. He was even more despicable than my stepfather. Without the
faintest touch of pity, he set about to obliterate every chance Rosalie
could have had for restitution. Time began to prove to me that he was
not the man I thought him to be. His nature revealed itself; and I found
I could not marry him. Besides, my mother was beginning to repent. She
awoke from her stupor of indifference and strove in every way to
circumvent the plot of the two conspirators, so far as I was concerned.
The strain told on her at last, and we went to California soon after my
ridiculous flight from Tinkletown last winter. It was not until after
that adventure that I began to see deep into the wretched soul of Tom
Reddon.
"Then came the most villainous part of the whole conspiracy. Reddon,
knowing full well that exposure was possible at any time, urged my
stepfather to have you kidnaped and hurried off to some part of the
world where you could never be found. Even Reddon did not have the
courage to kill you. Neither had the heart to commit actual murder. It
was while we were at Colonel Randall's place that the abduction took
place, you remember. Mr. Banks and Tom Reddon had engaged their men in
New York. These desperadoes came to Boggs City while Tom was here to
watch their operations. All the time Mr. Crow was chasing us down
Reddon was laughing in his sleeve, for he knew what was to happen during
the marshal's absence. You know how successfully he managed the job. It
was my stepfather's fault that it did not succeed.
"My mother, down in New York, driven to the last extreme, had finally
turned on him and demanded that he make restitution to Rosalie Gray, as
we had come to know her. Of course, there was a scene and almost a
catastrophe. He was so worried over the position she was taking, that he
failed to carry out his part of the plans, which were to banish Rosalie
forever from this country. You were to have been taken to Paris, dear,
and kept forever in one of those awful sanitoriums. They are worse than
the grave. In the meantime, the delay gave Mr. Bonner a chance to rescue
you from the kidnapers.
"Shortly after reaching New York I quarrelled with Thomas Reddon, and my
mother and I fled to California. He followed us and sought a
reconciliation. I loathed him so much by this time, that I appealed to
my mother. It was then that she told me this miserable story, and that
is why we are in Tinkletown to-day. We learned in some way of the plot
to kidnap you and to place you where you could not be found. The inhuman
scheme of my stepfather and his adviser was to have my mother declared
insane and confined in an asylum, where her truthful utterances could
never be heard by the world, or if they were, as the ravings of a mad
woman.
"The day that we reached New York my mother _placed_ the documents and
every particle of proof in her possession in the hands of the British
Consul. The story was told to him and also to certain attorneys. A
member of his firm visited my stepfather and confronted him with the
charges. That very night Mr. Banks disappeared, leaving behind him a
note, in which he said we should never see his face again. Tom Reddon
has gone to Europe. My mother and I expect to sail this week for
England, and I have come to ask Rosalie to accompany us. I want her to
stand at last on the soil which knows her to be Rosalie Brace. The
fortune which was mine last week is hers to-day. We are not poor,
Rosalie dear, but we are not as rich as we were when we had all that
belonged to you."
CHAPTER XXXVI
Anderson Crow's Resignation
Some days later Anderson Crow returned to Tinkletown from New York,
where he had seen Rosalie Bonner and her husband off for England,
accompanied by Mrs. Banks and Elsie, who had taken passage on the same
steamer. He was attired in a brand-new suit of blue serge, a panama hat,
and patent-leather shoes which hurt his feet. Moreover, he carried a new
walking stick with a great gold head and there was a huge pearl
scarf-pin in his necktie Besides all this, his hair and beard had been
trimmed to perfection by a Holland House barber. Every morning his wife
was obliged to run a flatiron over his trousers to perpetuate the
crease. Altogether Anderson was a revelation not only to his family and
to the town at large, but to himself as well. He fairly staggered every
time he got a glimpse of himself in the shop windows.
All day long he strolled about the street, from store to store, or
leaned imposingly against every post that presented itself conveniently.
Naturally he was the talk of the town.
"Gee-mi-nently!" ejaculated Alf Reesling, catching sight of him late in
the day. "Is that the president?"
"It's Anderson Crow," explained Blootch Peabody.
"Who's dead?" demanded Alf.
"What's that got to do with it?"
"Why, whose clothes is he wearin'?" pursued Alf, utterly overcome by the
picture.
"You'd better not let him hear you say that," cautioned Isaac Porter.
"He got 'em in New York. He says young Mr. Bonner give 'em to him fer a
weddin' present. Rosalie give him a pearl dingus to wear in his cravat,
an' derned ef he don't have to wear a collar all the time now. That
lawyer Barnes give him the cane. Gee whiz! he looks like a king, don't
he?"
At that moment Anderson approached the group in front of Lamson's store.