Chapter 35

GILBERT�S TRIUMPH.

Shortly after the office opened on the following day, Simon Moore and John were disagreeably surprised by the entrance of Gilbert. He had found his witness, Tom, the boot-black, and requested him to remain outside, within call.

�What do you want here?� demanded the book-keeper, frowning.

�Has Mr. Sands returned?� asked our hero.

�No, he hasn�t,� replied Moore, with unblushing falsehood.

�I think you must be mistaken,� said Gilbert, composedly; �for I saw him getting on a street-car yesterday.�

�Then if you knew he was at home, why did you ask me?�

Gilbert did not think it necessary to answer this question.

�I will stop and speak to him,� he said.

�No, you won�t,� said Simon Moore, roughly. �I know what you want. You want to make him believe you are innocent.�

�You are right, Mr. Moore. I do wish to convince him of my innocence.�

�I guess you�ve got cheek,� put in John. �Didn�t I find the money that was lost, in your overcoat pocket?�

�Yes.�

�That�s enough, I should say,� said the book-keeper, dexterously availing himself of this admission. �You are a witness, John, that he has confessed the theft.�

�If you twist what I say in that way,� said Gilbert, indignantly, �there is no use in my saying anything.�

�That is true enough. There is no use in your saying anything. Now, I�ve got something more to say. You�ve no business in this office; and the sooner you clear out the better.�

�Yes, the sooner you clear out the better,� chimed in John. �You�ve come here to get away my place; but you�d better give up trying. Mr. Sands is not such a fool as to believe you.�

�Are you going?� demanded the book-keeper, menacingly. �John, put him out.�

John advanced cautiously towards our hero, who smiled unterrified.

�Come, go out!�do you hear?� he said.

�I won�t put you to the trouble of putting me out,� said Gilbert, good-naturedly. �I�ll step out for the present.�

�And go away from here,�do you hear? Don�t you hang around the office.�

Gilbert, however, did not see fit to obey this last order. He waited in the neighborhood for Mr. Sands to arrive.

�He means to make trouble, Cousin Simon,� said John, uneasily.

�He would like to, no doubt,� responded the book-keeper; �but it would be very strange if Mr. Sands believed him against us.�

�Well, I hope it�ll all turn out right,� said John; �but he�s got a lot of cheek�that boy has. I wish you�d had him locked up.�

�It might have been the best plan; but I think we can carry things through. Don�t you put in your oar, or you may spoil the whole thing. Leave it to me.�

�All right, Cousin Simon.�

At the corner of Wall and New Streets Gilbert met Mr. Sands, who had come down-town, in a Broadway stage.

�I see you are on hand,� said the broker. �Have you been to the office?�

�Yes, sir.�

�What sort of a reception did you get from Mr. Moore?�

�He ordered me out.�

The broker smiled.

�Perhaps it may be my turn to order out,� he said. �Come back with me.�

�Thank you, sir.�

Simon Moore was not over-pleased when he saw Gilbert entering the office with his employer, but he said nothing. He waited to see how the land lay.

�Mr. Moore,� said the broker, �I met Gilbert outside, and have brought him in to talk over the charge which you bring against him.�

�He has been here already,� said Moore, coldly, �and I ordered him out.�

�It appears to me that this is rather summary treatment.�

�I think I have treated him very indulgently. I might have had him arrested for theft, but I didn�t want to be too hard upon him.�

�You seem to take it for granted that he is guilty.�

�He must be. He will himself admit that the missing bill was found in his overcoat pocket; ask him, if you like, sir.�

Mr. Sands turned to Gilbert.

�It is true,� he said.

�That is all that need be said,� said the book-keeper, shrugging his shoulders.

�It does not necessarily follow that he put the bill in himself,� remarked Mr. Sands.

�Who else could have done it?� demanded Moore, triumphantly.

�I will answer that question,� said Gilbert. �John put the money in my pocket, in order to get me into a scrape.�

�Do you hear that, Cousin Simon?� exclaimed John, with virtuous indignation. �I didn�t think Gilbert could be so wicked as to say such things.�

�I expected it,� said Moore, regarding Gilbert maliciously. �A boy that will steal will lie also. Of course he only says it to screen himself.�

Gilbert listened to this outbreak very composedly. He knew that his employer was on his side, and did not think it necessary to contradict it.

�Have you any proof of your statement, Gilbert?� asked Mr. Sands.

�Of course he hasn�t,� said Moore, contemptuously. �It rests upon his word; and that is worth nothing. Ask him if he saw John put the money in his pocket.�

�No, I did not,� answered Gilbert, without waiting for Mr. Sands to put the question.

�I thought not,� said Moore, triumphantly. �You only suspected it.�

�Somebody saw it done,� said Gilbert. �Shall I call him?�

The question was addressed to Mr. Sands, who nodded his head.

Gilbert went to the door, and called Tom.

Tom, the boot-black, shuffled in, with his box strapped to his back.

�Tom,� said Gilbert, �did you, one day, see John�that boy there�putting a bill in my coat-pocket?�

�Yes,� answered Tom, �shure I did; but I thought it was his own, and it was no harm, till you told me how you�d lost your place.�

Mr. Sands put two or three questions, which Tom answered in a straightforward manner. Then he turned to the book-keeper.

�What do you say to this, Mr. Moore?� he asked.

�I say that it is all a lie,� returned the book-keeper, angrily. �How much are you paid for lying?� he demanded, sharply, of the boot-black.

�Not a cent,� said Tom, indignantly; �and it isn�t a lie either, you spalpeen! You knew all about it, too. I saw you lookin� at him when he did it.�

�I�d like to thrash you, within an inch of your life, you impudent young blackguard!� said Simon Moore, furiously.

�You�d better not try it,� said Tom, boldly.

�I hope, Mr. Sands,� said Moore, turning to the broker, �that you are not going to believe this young ragamuffin against me. It is a pretty state of things, if my word is to be disputed by such as he.�

�Mr. Moore,� said the broker, gravely, �I regret to say that, in this instance, I am forced to believe him rather than you. Wait a moment,��seeing that Moore was going to interrupt him,��it is only fair that I should give you my reason. Possibly you will remember one evening when, at an oyster-saloon, you and John concerted this very plot against Gilbert. I was in the next stall, and overheard all you both said. I was not, therefore, surprised to learn, upon my return, under what circumstances Gilbert had been discharged.�

Simon Moore and John looked at each other in silent dismay. Both remembered well the conversation alluded to.

�If I am the object of such suspicion,� blustered Moore, at length, �I don�t think I had better remain in your employ.�

�I approve your decision,� said the broker, gravely.

�I will leave at once, if you say so.�

Just then a young man entered the office.

�You are at liberty to do so,� said Mr. Sands. �I have already engaged this gentleman as your successor.�

�I guess I�ll go, too,� said John.

�You may. Gilbert, you will resume your old place.�

It would be difficult to paint the anger and mortification upon the faces of the two cousins as they left the office.

�This comes from trying to help you, you young loafer,� said Moore, savagely, turning upon John. �But for you I should have kept my place.�

�I�m sure I aint to blame,� said John, whining.

�You are wholly to blame. I shall thrash you some day.�

John thought this rather hard, since the plot was of his cousin�s contriving. I may remark here that months passed before Simon Moore obtained another situation.