  In company with his new acquaintance, August Locke, Guy pushed on to London. He knew nothing about hotels, but by the advice of Locke he secured a room at the Charing Cross. The next morning he called at the offices of Mr. Saunders’ correspondent, Mr. Russell. These offices were in a solid and heavy-looking building, quite different from the business structures to be found in American cities. Guy entered, and was asked his business by the clerk, who looked as if he might have come from Glasgow or some other Scotch city. “I wish to see Mr. Russell,” answered Guy. “You can give me your message.” “I might, but I don’t think I shall. I wish to see Mr. Russell personally.” “Mr. Russell does not see boys,” said the clerk, in an important tone. “What firm are you with?” “Mr. John Saunders of Bombay.” The clerk opened wide his eyes in astonishment. “As I have come some thousands of miles to see Mr. Russell, I hope he will grant me an interview,” Guy added. “Do you come from Bombay?” asked the clerk, in an altered tone. “Yes.” “Who came with you?” “Quite a number of passengers,” answered Guy, coolly, “but I don’t see what concern that is of yours.” “You are a hextraordinary boy,” said the Scotch clerk, who had been long enough in London to acquire the Cockney accent. “Thank you for the compliment, but I should like to see Mr. Russell.” The clerk withdrew to an inner room, and presently reappeared. “You can go in,” he said. Guy nodded, and betook himself to Mr. Russell’s private room. He found himself in the presence of a grave-looking man of fifty, who looked staid and dignified. He surveyed Guy with evident curiosity. “My clerk tells me you came from Bombay, from my correspondent, Mr. Saunders.” “I am glad he told you so much. He tried to prevent my seeing you.” “I do not often transact business with boys of your age. That was doubtless his reason.” “Whatever his reason may have been, he made a mistake.” “I suppose you have credentials?” “Here is Mr. Saunders’ letter.” The dignified Mr. Russell took the proffered letter, and as he read it looked from time to time at Guy in evident surprise. This was the letter: My dear Sir: This letter will be presented you by young Mr. Fenwick, who has been in my employ here, and who has my entire confidence. I have given him two or three business commissions, of which he will speak to you. I have also instructed him to visit the school at which you placed my young ward, Vivian Bell, and investigate some complaints which the boy has made in a letter to me. Should he find them to be well founded he will, at his discretion, either remove him to another school, or, should his health require it, take him on a journey. Whatever funds he may require you will supply Yours respectfully, It was evident that the grave Mr. Russell was very much amazed. Guy seemed so young, and the responsible position in which he had been placed seemed so unsuitable to his youth, that the London merchant could hardly believe that the letter was genuine. “Mr. Saunders writes that you were in his office in Bombay.” “Yes, sir.” “How long were you there?” “About six weeks.” “Did he know you before he engaged you to enter his service?” “Only a day or two.” “All this is very extraordinary. Were you born in England or in Bombay?” “In neither, sir. I am an American.” “I cannot understand how Mr. Saunders should have engaged you on such short acquaintance, as you are so young.” “I don’t like to mention it, sir, but I had the good fortune to save his life, and——” “How?” Guy related the particulars of the night attack on Mr. Saunders. “I understand,” said the Englishman, his face clearing up. “You certainly placed my friend under great obligation; but how came he to have so much confidence in your business ability?” “He knew nothing of my business ability at first, but after employing me a few weeks he seemed to be satisfied with me.” “Quite so. I was at first inclined to fear that my old friend had lost his usual discretion, but I begin to see that he has acted sensibly. I shall, of course, comply with his request, and will assist you to the best of my endeavors. First, do you require any money?” “Not to-day, sir, but I probably shall soon.” Guy gave some business messages to Mr. Russell, and then asked: “Have you heard anything of Mr. Saunders’ young ward, of late, Mr. Russell?” “Yesterday I received a letter from Dr. Musgrave, complaining of his insubordination.” “Will you kindly show me the letter?” The merchant opened his desk and produced a Guy read it with mingled interest and curiosity. This is the material portion of it: Respected Sir: I regret to find myself under the necessity of complaining to you of the boy whom you some time since placed under my charge. I should have refrained from doing so, feeling quite able to manage him, if I did not suspect that he had made complaints to you or Mr. Saunders, of Bombay, of his treatment at the school. Let me say, then, that he has shown himself very insubordinate, and in that respect has set a bad example to my other pupils. In particular he is impudent to my son Simon, and seems to have conceived a violent hatred for him. Simon is a very trustworthy and reliable boy, who endeavors in every way to carry out my wishes. I have made him a monitor, and to a certain extent have placed the younger boys under his charge. He has exercised great forbearance with Vivian, only requiring him to treat him, as my representative, with proper respect. This, young Bell seems unwilling to do, and I have no doubt is quite capable of misrepresenting the condition of things at the school, and his own treatment. I do not ask your assistance in any way, feeling quite able to cope with him, but I wish to prepare you for any mendacious statements the boy may be tempted to make. My school has, happily, a high reputation, and has been for years noted for its excellent parental discipline. I have received many testimonials from parents who appreciate the valuable training their sons have received at the school. I am, very respectfully, “What do you think of this letter, Mr. Russell?” asked Guy. “I have nothing to go upon. I have not received any letter of complaint from young Bell.” “Mr. Saunders has.” “Indeed!” “I have brought a copy of it to show you.” The merchant looked over the letter, which has already been given in an earlier chapter. “If these statements are true,” he said slowly, “the boy should be removed at once. The question is, are they true or not?” “What did you know of the school, sir, that led you to select it for Vivian Bell?” “I saw it advertised in the Times. Several well-known names were appended as references.” “I chanced to have a fellow passenger, a young man, who, in his boyhood, was a pupil at the school.” “Ha! And what did he say?” “That Dr. Musgrave was a brute and a tyrant.” “Possibly he was insubordinate, also.” “I shall bring him in some day to call upon you. His name is August Locke, of Glasgow.” “Indeed! Is he related to the merchant of that name?” asked Mr. Russell, with interest. “He is his son.” “His testimony carries weight. Then he thinks the complaints are well founded?” “Yes, sir.” “Well, Mr. Fenwick, the affair is in your hands. I have no responsibility in the matter. You will doubtless go to Milton and investigate.” “Yes, sir. I am glad to say that Mr. Locke has agreed to go with me.” “He can assist you materially, as he is acquainted with the school.” At this moment the young Scotch clerk made his appearance. “Here is a message just received from Milton,” he said. The merchant tore it open, and read aloud, in some excitement: From Dr. Musgrave, of Milton, to David Russell, Grace Court, London. The boy Vivian Bell has run away. Will you defray expenses of search? “How shall I answer this, Mr. Fenwick?” “Please wire him that a special messenger will call upon him to-morrow.” |
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