Jr. Horatio Alger

The Merchant's Secret.

Five years before Ben's arrival in the city Nicholas Walton kept a moderate sized store on Grand street. He was doing a good business, but he was not satisfied. He wished to take a store on Broadway, and make his name prominent among business men. In this wish his wife entirely sympathized with him. She boasted aristocratic lineage, but when Mr. Walton married her she was living in genteel poverty, while her mother was forced, very much against her will, to take lodgers. It was a great piece of good luck for Theodosia Granville to marry a prosperous young merchant like Nicholas Walton, but she chose to consider that all the indebtedness was on the other side, and was fond of talking about the sacrifice she made in marrying a man of no family.

They had two children, Emiline and Clarence Plantagenet Walton, the latter about three months older than his cousin Ben. Both were haughty and arrogant in temper and disposition, and as a matter of course neither was a favorite with their young associates, though each had flatterers whose interest was served by subserviency.

At that time Ben's father was living and practicing as a physician in the little town of Sunderland, fifty miles distant in the country. There was comparatively little intercourse between the families, though there was not yet that difference in their worldly circumstances that afterward arose.

One day, just as the clerks were getting ready to close up, Nicholas Walton was surprised by the sudden appearance of his brother-in-law, Dr. Baker.

"What brings you to town, James?" he asked.

"Business of great importance," answered Baker.

"Indeed!" said Walton, curiously.

"I will tell you all about it, but not here."

"Do you go back to Sunderland to-night?"

"No; I think of trespassing upon your hospitality."

"Certainly. I shall be glad to have you stay with me. My wife and children are out of town—visiting a sister of hers in Hartford—but the servants will see that we are comfortable."

"All the better. Of course I should have been glad to see Mrs. Walton and the children, but now you can give me more attention."

"I wonder whether he wants to borrow money," thought the merchant, with some uneasiness. "If he does, I shall refuse as civilly as I can. I don't propose to be a prey to impecunious relatives. I need all the money I can command to further my own schemes. In three or four years, if things go well, I shall be able to move to Broadway, and then our family can take a higher social position. My wife would like to have me move at once, but I don't choose to do anything rashly. The time has not yet come for so important a step."

"We will go now," said Mr. Walton. "The clerks will close up. If you will walk as far as the Bowery, we will board a Fourth avenue car."

"Do you still live on Twelfth street, Nicholas?"

"Yes. Mrs. Walton urges me to take a house on Madison avenue, but I must not go too fast."

"You are prospering, I take it, Nicholas?"

"He is feeling his way toward a loan, I am afraid," thought the merchant.

"Yes, I am making headway," he admitted, warily, "but I have to be very cautious. Oftentimes I am short of money, I assure you. In fact, I am hampered by my small capital."

"My neighbors in Sunderland would be surprised to hear that," said Dr. Baker, smiling. "They look upon you as one of the merchant princes of New York."

"Do they?" said Walton, looking gratified. "Some day I hope to be what they think I am now."

"You will be, if you are not too much in haste."

"So I hope. And you, I hope you are prospering?" said the merchant, guardedly.

"I have no cause for complaint," said his brother-in-law, "especially now."

"What does he mean by 'especially now?'" thought the merchant.

"I am glad to hear it," he said, aloud.

Arrived at the house in Twelfth street—it was a plain brick house of three stories—dinner was found to be awaiting, and as they sat down at once, there was no opportunity for a private conversation. When the cloth was removed, and they were left to themselves, Walton invited his brother-in-law's confidence by saying, suggestively:

"So business of importance brought you to New York, doctor?"

"Yes, business of great importance!"

"I suppose it seems great to him," thought Walton. "Well," he said aloud, "you have aroused my curiosity. It is only fair to gratify it."

"That is what I propose to do. Let me say, then, that this day has made a great change in me."

"I don't see any change," said Walton, puzzled.

"Yet it has; I awoke this morning a poor man. To-night I am rich."

"You—haven't been speculating?" said Walton, curiously.

"No; I had no money to speculate with. But to-day a fortune has come to me."

"A fortune! How much?"

"One hundred thousand dollars!" answered the physician.

"A hundred thousand dollars!" ejaculated Nicholas Walton, staring at his brother-in-law in amazement.

"Yes."

"Explain yourself—that is, if you are not joking."

"Fortunately it is not a joke. As to the explanation, here it is: Some years ago I was called, when a young practitioner in New York (I began here, you know), to attend a wealthy West Indian planter, boarding at the New York Hotel. He was critically sick, and required constant attention. I had little to do, and devoted myself to him. He was convinced that he owed his life to me. He paid me handsomely then, and requested me to keep him apprised of my whereabouts. I have done so. Yesterday I received a letter, requesting me to come to New York, and call at a certain room in the Fifth Avenue Hotel. I did so. I found a Cuban gentleman, who, first apprising me that my former patient was dead, added, to my amazement, that he had left me in his will one hundred thousand dollars. Furthermore, he had the amount with him in negotiable securities, and transferred them at once to my hands."

"And you have them with you?"

"Yes."

"It was strangely informal."

"True, but this gentleman was about to sail for Europe, to be absent five years—he sailed this afternoon—and he wished to be rid of his commission."

"It is like a romance," said the merchant, slowly.

"Yes, it's like a romance. I don't mind telling you," added the doctor, in a lower tone, "that it relieves me very much. Conscious, as I am, that my life hangs on a thread, it makes me easy about the future of my wife and child."

"Your life hangs on a thread? What do you mean?"

"I mean," said the physician, seriously, "that our family is subject to heart disease. My grandfather died at a minute's notice; so did my father; so, in all probability, shall I. No insurance company, knowing this, would insure me, and, till this windfall came, I was subject at times to great anxiety."

"Does your wife—my sister—know that you have received this money?" asked Walton, slowly.

"No; she merely knows that I received a letter from New York."

"And you are really liable to die suddenly?"

"Yes; I shall probably drop dead some day. My father died at my present age. Any sudden excitement——"

"Good heavens! what is the matter with you?" exclaimed Walton, springing to his feet, excitedly.

"What do you mean?" asked the physician, startled.

"Your face is livid; you look like a corpse. Great heavens! has your time come?"

Doctor Baker rose to his feet in terrible agitation; his face changed; he put his hand on his heart, swayed himself for a moment, and then fell lifeless.

Walton had supplied the sudden excitement, and brought upon him the family doom.

Nicholas Walton, half-terrified, half-triumphant, gazed at his victim. He knelt down, and tearing open the vest of his visitor, placed his hand upon his heart.

It had ceased to beat.

"Now for the securities!" he murmured hoarsely.

They were found. A brief examination showed that they were negotiable by bearer. He carefully locked them up in his desk, and then, ringing the bell hastily, summoned a physician. One came, but could afford no help.

"Now," he said to himself, with inward exultation, "this fortune is mine, and I can realize the dream of my life! No one will ever be the wiser."