“And then you came here and bought the stock of Malone?” queried Joe.
“Yes. Caven made me promise to give him half the profits and I agreed. I came here, and as you know, Malone, or Ball, or whatever his name is, pretended to be very sick and in need of money. He set his price, and I came back with the cash and took the mining stock. I was to meet Caven, alias Anderson, the next day and go to the broker with him, but Caven did not appear. Then I grew suspicious and went to see the broker alone. The man was gone and the office locked up. After that I asked some other brokers about the stock, and they told me it was not worth five cents on the dollar.”
“Isn’t there any such mine at all?” asked Joe.
“Oh, yes, there is such a mine, but it was abandoned two years ago, after ten thousand dollars had been sunk in it. They said it paid so little that it was not worth considering.”
“That is certainly too bad for you,” said Joe. “And you can’t find any trace of Caven or Malone?”
“No, both of the rascals have disappeared completely. I tried to trace Caven and his broker friend in Philadelphia but it was of no use. More than likely they have gone to some place thousands of miles away.”
“Yes, and probably this Ball, or Malone, has joined them,” put in Andrew Mallison. “Mr. Vane, I am exceedingly sorry for you.”
“I am sorry for myself, but I deserve my loss, for being such a fool,” went on the victim.
“Have you notified the police?” asked Joe.
“Oh, yes, and I have hired a private detective to do what he can, too. But I am afraid my money is gone for good.”
“You might go and reopen the mine, Mr. Vane.”
“Thank you, but I have lost enough already, without throwing good money after bad, as the saying is.”
“It may be that that detective will find the swindlers, sooner or later.”
“Such a thing is, of course, possible, but I am not over sanguine.”
“I am afraid your money is gone for good,” broke in Andrew Mallison. “I wish I could help you, but I don’t see how I can.”
The matter was talked over for a good hour, and all three visited the room Malone had occupied, which had been vacant ever since. But a hunt around revealed nothing of value, and they returned to the office.
“I can do nothing more for you, Mr. Vane,” said Andrew Mallison.
“I wish I could do something,” said Joe. Something about Maurice Vane was very attractive to him.
“If you ever hear of these rascals let me know,” continued the hotel proprietor.
“I will do so,” was the reply.
With that the conversation on the subject closed. Maurice Vane remained at the hotel overnight and left by the early train on the following morning.
CHAPTER XIII.
OFF FOR THE CITY.
“JOE, our season ends next Saturday.”
“I know it, Mr. Mallison.”
“We are going to close the house on Tuesday. It won’t pay to keep open after our summer boarders leave.”
“I know that, too.”
“Have you any idea what you intend to do?” went on the hotel proprietor. He was standing down by the dock watching Joe clean out one of the boats.
“I’m thinking of going to Philadelphia.”
“On a visit?”
“No, sir, to try my luck.”
“Oh, I see. It’s a big city, my lad.”
“I know it, but, somehow, I feel I might do better there than in such a town as this,–and I am getting tired of hanging around the lake.”
“There is more money in Philadelphia than there is here, that is certain, Joe. But you can’t always get hold of it. The big cities are crowded with people trying to obtain situations.”
“I’m sure I can find something to do, Mr. Mallison. And, by the way, when I leave, will you give me a written recommendation?”
“Certainly. You have done well since you came here. But you had better think twice before going to Philadelphia.”
“I’ve thought it over more than twice. I don’t expect the earth, but I feel that I can get something to do before my money runs out.”