VERNON'S HIGH-HANDED PROCEEDINGS.

Frederic Vernon found it very hard to cut down his expenses. He had so accustomed himself to luxurious living that to give up any of the good things of life was to him worse than having a tooth pulled.

Yet it was absolutely necessary that he do something, for his rent was due, and his tailor had threatened to sue him unless at least a part of the bill for clothing was paid.

Returning from Mr. Farley's office he found his landlord waiting for him.

"Good-morning, Mr. Vernon," said the landlord stiffly. "I called for the quarter's rent for your apartments."

"I am very sorry, Mr. Brown," replied Vernon smoothly. "But I will have to ask you to wait until next week. My banker----"

"I can't wait any longer, Mr. Vernon," was the quick rejoinder. "You promised to settle to-day."

"Yes, but my banker disappointed me, and----"

"Then you cannot pay?"

"No."

"Then I am ordered by the owner of the building to serve you with a notice to quit," said Mr. Brown quietly.

At this Frederic Vernon was thunderstruck. He, one of the leading society lights of the city, served with a notice to quit his bachelor apartments! It was preposterous, scandalous!

"Mr. Brown, do you know who I am?" he demanded, drawing himself up to his full height.

"Certainly. Mr. Frederic Vernon."

"Exactly, sir, and a member of one of our first families, sir."

"I can't help that, sir. The owner of this building expects his money from the first family tenants as well as from the others."

"You are--er--a--a----"

"No use to quarrel about it, Mr. Vernon. You must pay, or I will serve the notice."

A wordy war followed, but Mr. Brown was obdurate, and to avoid being set out on the street Frederic Vernon paid him fifty dollars on account, and promised to settle the balance inside of ten days. Then the young man walked into his parlor, threw himself into an easy chair, lit a Havana cigar, and gave himself up to his reflections.

But not for long, for five minutes later there was a knock on the door and opening it, he found himself confronted by Mr. Simon Moses, his tailor.

"Ver sorry, inteet, to disturb you, Mr. Vernon," said the tailor, who was a Hebrew, "but I come to see if you vould pe so kind as to bay up dot pill you vos owin' me for der last seex months."

"No; I haven't got any money now," growled Vernon. "Come next week."

"Dot is oxactly vot you say las' veek, und de veek pefore, Mr. Vernon. Dot pill is long oferdue, and I vos need mine monish."

"So do I need my money, but I can't get it, Mr. Moses. I've got six thousand dollars owing me for a month, and can't get a cent of it."

For the moment the Hebrew was astonished, then a crafty look came into his eyes.

"Maype you vill sign ofer von of dem claims to me, hey?" he suggested. "Chust enough to cofer mine pill, see?"

"No, I can't do that. Call in ten days and I will pay up in full."

"Dot is positive?"

"Do you doubt the word of a gentleman?"

"Very vell, I vill call chust ten days from to-day. And if you no bay up den, I will go and see your rich aunt about dot pill." And with this parting shot Simon Moses left the apartments, banging the door after him. Going to the door, Vernon locked it.

"Nobody else shall disturb me," he thought, and sat down to finish his smoke. "So he will go to my aunt, eh? Ha! ha! I guess he'll have something of a job to locate her, especially if Martha tells him she is in California."

The days passed, and Vernon waited impatiently for a letter from his aunt. He felt almost certain that she would write, stating she would be back by the first available steamer. When the time was past and no letter came, he began to grow suspicious.

"Perhaps she didn't get the letter," suggested Dr. Remington. "She may have left Charing Cross Hotel, you know."

"More than likely young Frost got the letter and destroyed it," answered Vernon. "I should have sent it in care of Mr. Farley. He may have some secret way of communicating with her."

"Well, don't worry too much. You may get a letter before the week is out," concluded Remington, and there the matter dropped and the two sallied off to waste several hours in drinking and in playing billiards. Remington had no visible means of support, but managed to squeeze out a living by sponging from those who were richer than himself. It was true he now got very little out of Vernon, but he was living in the hope that the plan against the rich aunt would be carried through, and he would become ten thousand dollars richer by the operation.

The mail steamer had brought no letter for Vernon, but it had brought a very important communication for Mr. Farley, and after reading it carefully the lawyer decided to act without delay. He was acquainted with Richard Anderson, the president of the Great Lakes Lumber Company, fairly well, and knew him to be a pillar of the church and in sound financial standing.

With proper delicacy the lawyer approached the subject at hand, and Richard Anderson listened in amazement.

"It is absurd to think there is anything wrong with our company, Mr. Farley," said the gentleman, with spirit. "If Mrs. Vernon thinks so all she has to do is to put her stocks on the market, and I will buy them up at two per cent. above par value. How did such a silly rumor ever reach her ears?"

"I hardly feel justified in stating how the rumor started."

"But I must demand it of you, Mr. Farley. Why, such a report, if it spread, might do our company a tremendous harm."

"I agree with you on that point."

"Tell me the truth, and I will see that you do not suffer through it."

"I do not want Mrs. Vernon to suffer."

Richard Anderson thought for a moment, then leaped to his feet.

"Tell me, did that report come from that fool of a nephew of hers?" he demanded.

"What makes you think it might come from him?"

"Because I heard that he was angry at her for leaving Chicago and not letting him know where she had gone to. The young fool let it out at one of the clubs when he was half full of liquor."

"Well, if you must know, it did come from Vernon. But don't let on that I told you," said the lawyer.

"The scoundrel! Farley, do you know what I think of doing?"

"Don't have him arrested. It will break Mrs. Vernon's heart."

"I won't. But I'm going to thrash him within an inch of his life, the puppy!"

"You can do as you see fit on that score." And Mr. Farley could not help but smile.

"Where does he live, with his aunt?"

"No, he has bachelor quarters at the Longmore."

"Very well. He shall hear from me before to-morrow night. I'll take some of his baseness out of him."

"Don't get yourself into trouble," was Mr. Farley's warning as he arose to go.

"Oh, I won't murder him, rest easy about that," returned Richard Anderson grimly.

On his way home that night he stopped at a harness store and asked to see the whips.

"I want something short, and with a good, stinging lash," he said.

"Got a bad horse to deal with, eh?" said the salesman.

"Yes, the worst colt in the city."

"All right, sir, here you are. That will fetch him, I'll warrant you."

"How much?"

"One dollar."

"That will do." Richard Anderson paid the money and had the whip wrapped up.

"Now, Frederic Vernon, I'll wager I'll make you face the music to-morrow," he muttered, as he took a car for home. "If I don't lay this on well it will be because I've forgotten how, and I guess a man don't forget these things very easily."