Produced by Taavi Kalju, Janet Blenkinship and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS, OR, JACOB MARLOWE'S SECRET. BY HORATIO ALGER, JR. AUTHOR OF "THE ERIE TRAIN BOY," "FROM FARM BOY TO SENATOR," "THE YOUNG ACROBAT," ETC. NEW YORK HURST & COMPANY PUBLISHERS * * * * * CHAPTER I. A NEW ARRIVAL IN LAKEVILLE. Slowly through the village street walked an elderly man, with bronzed features and thin gray hair, supporting his somewhat uncertain steps by a stout cane. He was apparently tired, for, seeing a slight natural elevation under a branching elm tree, he sat down, and looked thoughtfully about him. "Well," he said, "Lakeville hasn't changed much since I left it, twenty years since. Has there been any change among those who are near to me? I don't know, but I shall soon find out. Shall I receive a welcome or not? There ought to be two families to greet me, but----" Here a boy appeared on the scene, a boy of fifteen, with a sturdy figure and a pleasant face, whose coarse suit indicated narrow means, if not poverty. Seeing the old man, with instinctive politeness he doffed his hat and with a pleasant smile bade him good-morning. "Good-morning," returned the traveller, won by the boy's pleasant face and manner. "If you are not in a hurry won't you sit down by me and answer a few questions?" "With pleasure, sir; my business isn't driving." "This is Lakeville, isn't it?" "Yes, sir." "I used to know the place--a good many years since. It hasn't grown much." "No, sir; it's rather quiet." "Chiefly a farming region, isn't it?" "Yes, sir; but there is a large shoe manufactory here, employing a hundred hands." "Who is the owner?" "Squire Marlowe." "Ha!" ejaculated the old man, evidently interested. "Albert Marlowe, isn't it?" "Yes, sir; do you know him?" "I haven't met him for twenty years, but we are acquainted. I suppose he is prosperous." "He is considered a rich man, sir. He is a relation of mine." "Indeed! What then is your name?" asked the old man, eagerly. "Herbert Barton--most people call me Bert Barton." Bert was surprised at the keen scrutiny which he received from the traveller. "Was your mother Mary Marlowe?" the latter asked. "Yes, sir," returned Bert. "Did you know her, too?" "I ought to; she is my niece, as the man you call Squire Marlowe is my nephew." "Then you must be Uncle Jacob, who has lived so many years in California?" said Bert, excitedly. "The same." "Mother will be very glad to see you," added Bert, cordially. "Thank you, my boy. Your kind welcome does me good. I hope your mother is well and happy." "She is a widow," answered Bert soberly. "When did your father die?" "Two years ago." "I hope he left your mother in comfortable circumstances." Bert shook his head.