CHAPTER XIV. JAMES TALBOT LEARNS SOMETHING OF IMPORTANCE.

A week passed and nothing of special interest happened. During that time Robert wrote to his mother, telling her where he was and what he was doing. He hoped to receive a letter in return, and was quite disappointed when no word came back.

The trouble was that the letter he had sent fell into James Talbot's hands.

"Here is a letter for Mrs. Talbot," said the postmaster, one day to Talbot, when the latter had called at the place for the mail.

"All right, I'll take it home to her," answered Robert's step-father.

"It's from Chicago," said the postmaster, whose name was Joel Blarcomb. "It looks like Robert's handwriting, too."

"Do you know Robert's writing?" questioned Mr. Talbot.

"Very well. He once did some writing for me in my books, when I had injured my finger on[Pg 119] a nail in a sugar barrel," said the postmaster, who also kept the principal store in Granville.

"Well, give me the letter and I will take it home," said Mr. Talbot, and soon after left the store with the communication in his pocket.

As soon as he was out of sight of the store he began to inspect the letter and wondered what it contained.

"More than likely the young rascal has sent to his mother for money," he thought. "I've a good mind to open the letter and read it."

The communication was not sealed very well, and by breathing repeatedly upon the flap James Talbot soon had the envelope open. Then he drew out the letter and read it.

He was chagrined to learn that his step-son was doing so nicely and needed no assistance.

"He seems to have fallen upon his feet," he murmured. "Well, I'll wager it won't last. Sooner or later he'll be back home and wanting me and his mother to take care of him. When that time comes, I'll dictate pretty stiff terms to him, or my name isn't James Talbot."

One passage in the letter positively angered him.

[Pg 120]

    "I trust Mr. Talbot treats you as you should be treated," wrote Robert. "If he does not, let me know, and I will compel him to do what is right. He must remember that the house and everything else belongs to you so long as you live."

"Belongs to you so long as you live," mused James Talbot. "Can it be possible that the estate goes to Robert after his mother's death? I must look into this."

At first he was of a mind to destroy the letter, but thought better of it and placed it again in the envelope.

When he reached the house he found his wife in the garden, sitting under a grape arbor. Mrs. Talbot's face showed that she had been weeping.

"Why, my love, what is the matter?" he asked softly. Of late he had been treating her well, having what is popularly called "an ax to grind."

"Nothing is the matter, James."

"But your face shows that you have been crying."

"It is nothing."

"Have you had any trouble with Jane?"

"No."

"Then what is it?"

[Pg 121]

"I was thinking of Robert. Isn't it terrible that I get no word from him?"

Mr. Talbot started, and his hand went into the pocket where the letter rested. Then he recovered and shrugged his shoulders.

"I have already told you what I think of the boy," he said. "My love, he is unworthy of your tears."

"Oh, James!"

"It is true. He has gone out into the world and has forgotten you."

"No, no! Robert would never be so heartless."

"I think I know him better than do you. You are blind to the truth because you are his mother."

"He may be penniless, or sick, so that he cannot write."

"Perhaps he is out on the ocean, or on the Great Lakes," said Mr. Talbot.

"Even so, I am sure he would have written before going."

"You must not think so much of him, my love. You are altogether too melancholy. I have just learned that we are to have a first-class theatrical company in Granville next week. I will get good seats and take you there."

[Pg 122]

"I do not care to go to any play. Life is too real to me for that."

"You are blue, Sarah. Forget the boy and you will feel better," said James Talbot, and receiving no answer to this, he walked away.

"Forget Robert! forget my only child!" thought Mrs. Talbot. "Never! Oh, if I only knew where I could write to him!"

On the day following Mrs. Talbot had occasion to call at Joel Blarcomb's store to order a number of groceries for the house.

"I hope you got good news from Robert," said the postmaster, after she had given her order.

"Good news?" she repeated, in bewilderment. "I haven't any news, Mr. Blarcomb."

"Oh, then that Chicago letter wasn't from him?"

"What Chicago letter?"

"The one I gave to Mr. Talbot yesterday. I felt certain it was your son's handwriting on the envelope."

"He gave me no letter," answered the lady, and then a sudden fear came into her heart that made her feel faint. Had her husband received a letter from her son and destroyed it?

"No, no, he would not be so cruel," she thought.

[Pg 123]

"Well, the letter was for you, whether you got it or not," said Joel Blarcomb bluntly. He did not like James Talbot any more than did many others in the little town. All who had had dealings with Robert's step-father had found him mean to the last degree.

"Perhaps he has forgotten to give it to me," said Mrs. Talbot, and abruptly left the store. Joel Blarcomb gazed after her pityingly.

"She didn't make no happy match an' I know it," he muttered. "That Talbot aint half the man Frost was."

Arriving at home, Mrs. Talbot at once sought out her husband.

"James, where is the letter Mr. Blarcomb gave you for me?" she demanded.

"The letter?" he said carelessly. "Why—er—that didn't amount to anything."

"Did you open it?"

"Yes—by mistake. It was only an advertisement from a Chicago investment company. The men who run it are little better than swindlers and I don't want you to have anything to do with them."

Mrs. Talbot's heart sank. The letter was not from Robert after all.

[Pg 124]

"Still, I would like to see the letter," she continued.

"I am sorry, my love, but I really believe I tore it up—in fact I am sure I did."

"You shouldn't have done that, since it was addressed to me."

"As your husband, I didn't do so very wrong to open the letter. When I saw what it was I thought best to destroy it—I didn't want you to place any of your money in the hands of such swindlers. If you did that you would never see a dollar of it again."

"Don't you think I am capable of looking out a little bit for myself, James?"

"Not in money matters, Sarah. Such things a woman should leave entirely to her husband."

"I feel I must differ with you. After Mr. Frost died I became the sole executrix of his will, and I do not know that anything has gone wrong."

"Oh, I do not say that." James Talbot paused for a moment. "Speaking of Mr. Frost," he continued. "May I ask, did he leave his estate entirely to you?"

"No, he left me my choice of one-half of all he possessed, the other half to go to Robert, or the use of everything so long as I lived, all to go to[Pg 125] Robert after my death, providing he was living at that time."

"And which did you choose," asked Talbot, trying vainly to conceal his intense interest in the matter.

"I chose a life interest only, and signed the necessary papers for the surrogate."

"Then when you die, all will go to that good-for-nothing boy."

"All will go to Robert, yes; but he is not a good-for-nothing boy."

"That is where we differ, Mrs. Talbot. Once he gets the fortune he will run through it like wildfire, mark my words."

"Robert is far too sensible to do any such thing."

"Suppose he dies before you do, what then becomes of the estate?"

"It becomes mine absolutely."

"I see."

"But I do not anticipate Robert will die before I do," went on Mrs. Talbot. "He is a strong, healthy lad."

"True, but there is many an accident happens to a boy that is knocking around like him."

"Mr. Talbot, do you wish any harm to befall[Pg 126] my son?" demanded the lady of the house, half angrily.

"Oh, no, of course not. But in knocking around he is taking a big risk, you must admit that."

At these words Mrs. Talbot's face became a study and she left her husband without another word.

"I really believe he wishes Robert out of the way," she thought. "Then the money would be mine, and he would try to get me to leave it to him."

Left to himself James Talbot walked up and down in moody contemplation.

"Here's a nice mess," he muttered. "I thought the whole estate belonged to her. If she died to-morrow I would be turned out without a cent and that boy or his guardian would take sole possession. I half wish I could get him out of my way for good, I really do." And then he began to speculate upon how such a dark deed could be accomplished.