Dean Dunham; Or, the Waterford MysteryAlger, Horatio, Jr.
General
Dean Dunham; Or, the Waterford Mystery
Alger, Horatio, Jr.
Boys -- Juvenile fiction; Mystery and detective stories
"I have, gentleman," answered Bates frankly, "but you know that
government bonds are not taxable."
That explained it. The board of assessors jumped to the conclusion that
Squire Bates had a large sum in government bonds, and did not pursue
their inquiries further.
There was one thing that puzzled Waterford people about the lawyer.
He often absented himself in a mysterious way, sometimes for weeks at
a time. He never told where he went, nor did his wife and son when
questioned appear to know. At any rate they never gave any information.
He would reappear, as suddenly as he had disappeared, and always
explain briefly that he had been away on business. What the nature of
the business was he did not state, a sensible thing probably, but his
reticence excited considerable remark among his fellow-townsmen, who
did not approve of it.
When Squire Bates re-entered the house he went up to his room—his
library was on the second floor—and locked the door. He sat down in a
rocking-chair, and seemed plunged in thought.
"A thousand dollars!" he soliloquized. "It is a good sum of money.
It would be a great lift to Adin Dunham. It would enable him to pay
off the mortgage on his place, and that would not suit me. I prefer
to foreclose by and by. Upon the whole the money will be better in my
hands than in his. It was well I suggested to him not to come home by
the creek road. That is too open, and would not suit my plans."
Lawyer Bates rose, and, taking a key from his pocket, opened the door
of a small closet. It was a clothes closet evidently, but its contents
were of a curious character. There was one suit that a fastidious
tramp would have scorned to wear. There were several masks. There were
disguises of different kinds, three wigs, one red, and false beards.
Of what earthly use could these articles be to a respectable country
lawyer?
Not even Mrs. Bates had seen the inside of this closet. Once she
suggested cleaning it, but the curt refusal with which her proposal was
received prevented her making it again.
"I keep my papers in there," said her husband, "and I am not willing
that they should be disturbed."
"I would be very careful, Renwick," said Mrs. Bates. "I would attend to
it myself."
"You will offend me if you say more, Mrs. Bates," said her husband,
looking displeased, and she took the hint.
Mrs. Bates was a pleasant, gentle woman who did not put on airs,
and she was much more popular in the village than her husband, whose
face had a singularly disagreeable expression, especially when he
smiled, for then he showed his long white teeth, which, as Mrs. Dunham
expressed it, were like the fangs of a wild beast.
His son Brandon was like his father, even to the teeth. He was a boy of
cruel instincts, haughty and imperious, and disposed to lord it over
his schoolmates and companions. He was heartily tired of Waterford, and
had more than once suggested to his father that it would be wise to
leave it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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