Making Haste to Be Rich! CHAPTER 13.
Back to Making Haste to Be Rich
Riddell did not come home to dinner, a thing of rare occurrence, and his wife awaited the return of evening with feelings of anxiety which she could not shake off. A sense of coming evil oppressed her. A shadow was upon her heart, and a weight upon her bosom. When anyone rang the street door bell, her pulse would throb quickly, and she would wait and listen with an anxiety for which she could not account.
At length the dusky twilight came, adding fear to anxiety. She stood at the window of her splendid home, looking eagerly for the form, and listening for the step of her husband. But hundreds went by, yet he appeared not. As darkness took the place of twilight, and the troubled wife yet remained watching at the window, every throb of her laboring heart was, to her own ears, distinctly audible.
A man at last paused, looked up at the window where she stood, and then entered the marble portico which adorned the entrance of the dwelling. It was not her husband. The bell was rung, a servant went to the door, and then the man descended slowly, looked up again at the house, and passed on. There was something in the appearance of this individual, that Mrs. Riddell did not like. Why, was not even inquired. He passed from sight and from thought, but he had left an impression of concern on her feelings. Scarcely five minutes elapsed before she saw him again on the opposite side of the street, walking slowly along, and distinct to her eyes in the bright rays of a gas lamp. He was looking over at the house, and after passing a little beyond it, paused, turned, and walked slowly back to a point as far beyond on the other side, and then returned, still looking as if watching for someone. And then backwards and forwards he continued to walk, until Mrs. Riddell became so excited with a vague fear of something, she knew not what, that she was unable to stand, and sank almost fainting upon a couch near the window.
An hour longer, and still her husband was away; and still the strange man walked slowly to and fro, evidently awaiting his arrival, for he had asked whether he were at home.
By this time, the anxiety of Mrs. Riddell had become so intense, that she sent the waiter to ask her father if he would come immediately. Such a summons Mr. Ackland was not slow to obey, though he did it with a trembling heart. Ho had not seen his son-in-law since the painful interview held with him on that day, and, in fact, had not been out of his house since his return from the meeting of the Board of Directors, at which he had made the dreadful discovery of Riddell's guilt. He was not, therefore, apprised of the fact that a dozen startling rumors were afloat, alleging a most extensive system of forgeries.
On arriving at the house of his daughter, and while he yet stood within the portico waiting to be admitted, a man came quickly across the street, and, ascending the steps, said, with a decided tone and manner —
"Mr. Riddell, I believe, Sir."
"You happen to be in error," was replied. "My name is not Riddell."
The man looked at him doubtingly, for a moment or two, and then turned away as the servant opened the door. Mrs. Riddell met her father in the hall with an anxious face.
"Do you know where Franklin is?" she asked.
"Is he not home yet?" inquired Mr. Ackland, as they retired into one of the drawing-rooms.
"No, he has not been home since morning — "
"Indeed!" The way in which that single word was spoken, expressed more of surprise and anxiety than Mr. Ackland meant to betray.
"Have you seen him?" asked Blanche in a choking voice.
"I saw him about twelve o'clock today. Not since. Urgent business must keep him away. You know he has a great deal on his hands."
"Oh, yes! Far — far too much. He thinks of nothing but business through the day, and, to judge of the many words that fall from his lips in sleep, dreams of nothing else through the night. But business has never kept him away for so long a time before."
Mr. Ackland did not like the appearance of the man he had encountered as he came in. There was something about him that made him think of law, courts, and prisons — something that awoke in his mind, the fear of more imminent danger than he had supposed hung over their heads. But what he felt, he had to conceal.
"Mr. Riddell will certainly be home soon," he said, because he had to say something. "Business, of course, detains him. Hark! Someone is ringing now."
In a little while the door was opened — they listened breathlessly.
"Is Mr. Ackland here?"
The father of Blanche, on hearing his own name mentioned, stepped from the drawing room into the hall.
"Mr. Ackland! Good evening. Can we have a word or two with you?" said one of two men, both of whom he knew very well; but did not know how deeply they were involved with his son-in-law.
Mr. Ackland stepped out into the portico, and the servant left the door.
"Have you seen Mr. Riddell today?" one of the men asked.
"I saw him this morning," replied Mr Ackland.
"He is not at home now, I presume?"
"No. He has not come in yet."
"We called at your house and learned that you were here, and took the liberty of coming around. You are, of course, aware that there are rumors afloat, touching Mr. Riddell, of a very serious character."
"I have heard nothing," replied Mr. Ackland, a sudden tremor passing over his whole body.
"Nothing! Why it is in every mouth. You meet it at every turn."
"I have not been out until now, since morning. But tell me, for heaven's sake, gentlemen — to what you allude! What is involved in these rumors?"
"Extensive forgeries. Not only upon you, but upon many others."
Mr. Ackland leaned against a marble pillar to support himself.
"It is also said, that he was seen leaving the city by the afternoon train of cars."
"Whose name has he used besides mine?" asked Mr. Ackland, in a low, mournful voice.
"The name of Barker & Co.; Martin & Jones; Amos Avermore; and others that I do not recollect," replied one of the men.
"May there not be some mistake?" asked Mr. Ackland.
"No. We have seen the parties named, and all state that paper has been brought to them during this day to know if the endorsements thereon were genuine; and that they had pronounced them forgeries."
A deep groan escaped the lips of the unhappy man, upon whose ears this dreadful news smote.
"Gentlemen," he at length said, speaking with all the calmness he could assume, "if this is all true — for what purpose have you called upon me?"
"Simply in the hope that you could give us some testimony to put in the other scale. Have you any?"
"I have none," was the sadly spoken answer.
The men bowed and retired.
"Oh, father!" ejaculated Mrs. Riddell, falling into the arms of Mr. Ackland, as he came back into the hall. She had followed him from the drawing room, and standing near the door, heard the blasting accusation brought against her husband.
"It is all false! Speak, father! It is all fake!"
The mute lips of Mr. Ackland quivered — they would not, they could not give the lie to what was in his mind — nor utter a word of confirmation. But his silence was conclusive to the mind of Blanche. A faint cry of anguish, a deep shudder, a low choking sob — and the stricken wife lay in the arms of her father — pale, cold, and insensible.
Back to Making Haste to Be Rich