Five Hundred Dollars; or, Jacob Marlowe's SecretAlger, Horatio, Jr.
General
Five Hundred Dollars; or, Jacob Marlowe's Secret
Alger, Horatio, Jr.
Actors and actresses -- Fiction; Conduct of life -- Fiction; Honesty -- Fiction; Uncles -- Fiction
"It's no great loss if he didn't," returned Percy, pertly. "He would
probably want to borrow money."
"No; he appears to be doing very well in the city; that is, for him. But
what could induce a gentleman from the city to come here to Lakeville to
board in a humble cottage?"
"I hear he is in poor health," said Percy.
"Have you seen him? Do you know what his appearance is?"
"Yes. I saw him sitting at Mrs. Barton's window. He is of dark
complexion, and has dark hair. Then he seemed to have a high forehead."
Squire Marlowe started in surprise.
"Dark complexion, dark hair, a high forehead! Is it possible that it can
be----"
"Who, father?" asked Percy, curiously.
"Never mind, my son. Some one whom I used to know answers to that
description."
As Percy went out, Albert Marlowe said to himself: "If it should be he,
what shall I do about it? It is not for my interest that he should
remain in Lakeville. I might denounce him to the authorities, but I
would warn him first. Then, if he still lingers, he must take the
consequences."
CHAPTER XXXIV.
BERT INTERVIEWS HARDING'S SISTER.
The next week Bert found himself in Peoria. His heart beat with
excitement, for here he hoped he would attain the object he had in view.
The first day he was occupied in obtaining a boarding place, and in
matters connected with the play. He understood his duty to his
employers, and, eager as he was to seek out Ralph Harding, he waited
till he could do so without intrenching upon their time.
After considerable inquiry he found himself standing in front of a
neat-looking frame house of two stories in a quiet street. The plate on
the front door bore the name
CLIFTON.
Bert rang the bell.
The door was opened by a girl about twelve years of age.
"Is Mrs. Clifton at home?" asked Bert.
"Yes, sir. Won't you walk in?"
She led the way into a tiny parlor, so small that the owner would have
found it difficult to give a fashionable party, or indeed any party at
all.
"Sit down here," said the young girl, pointing to a rocking-chair, "and
I will call ma."
Bert took a seat, and was startled a minute later by a hoarse voice
saying, with much energy, "Get out, you tramp!"
He looked around the room in angry amazement, but could see no one.
Directly afterward he heard a discordant laugh, and, guided by the
sound, looked up to see that it proceeded from a green parrot in a cage
above his head.
Bert smiled. It was impossible for him to be angry with a parrot,
however impolite the bird might be.
Just then a lady entered the room--a lady of middle size and middle age,
plain in feature, but not unpleasant to look upon.
"Did you wish to see me, sir?" she asked.
"Are you the sister of Ralph Harding?" asked Bert.
The woman's face changed instantly.
"Yes," she answered eagerly. "Do you bring me any news of him? He is
not in trouble, is he?"
It was Bert's turn to be surprised.
"I thought he was staying with you," he said.
"Not now."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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