”What are you doing, Phil? You don’t look as if you had hard work making a living.“
”I am well fixed now, but I have had some anxious days. But all’s well that ends well. I am private secretary to a rich man, and live in a fine brown-stone house on Madison Avenue.“
”Good for you, Phil! I knew you’d succeed.“
”Where is Mrs. Brent?“ Has anything been heard from her?“
”I don’t think anybody in the village knows where she is–that is, except her cousin, who lives in your old house.“
”What is his name?“
”Hugh Raynor.“
”What sort of a man is he?“
”The people in the village don’t like him. He lives alone, and I hear that he cooks for himself. He is not at all social, and no one feels very much acquainted with him.“
”I shall call upon him and inquire after Mrs. Brent.“
”Then, Phil, you had better go alone, for he doesn’t like callers, and he will be more ready to receive one than two.“
Philip enjoyed his visit, and was busied making calls on his old acquaintances. He was much pleased with the cordiality with which he had been received.
It was not till the afternoon of the second day that he turned his steps toward the house which had been his home for so long a time.
We will precede him, and explain matters which made his visit very seasonable.
In the sitting-room sat Hugh Raynor, the present occupant of the house. He was a small, dark- complexioned man, with a large Roman nose, and his face was at this moment expressive of discontent. This seemed to be connected with a letter which he had just been reading. Not to keep the reader in suspense, it was mailed at Chicago, and was written by Mrs. Brent. We will quote a paragraph:
”You seem to me very unreasonable in expecting me not only to give you the house rent-free, but also to give you a salary. I would like to know what you do to merit a salary. You merely take care of the house. As for that, there are plenty who would be glad to take charge of so good a house, and pay me a fair rent. Indeed, I am thinking that it will be best for me to make some such arrangement, especially as you do not seem satisfied with your sinecure position. You represent me as rolling in wealth. Jonas and I are living very comfortably, and we have nothing to complain of, but that is no reason for my squandering the small fortune left me by my husband. I advise you to be a little more reasonable in your demands, or I shall request you to leave my house.“
”Selfish as ever,“ muttered Mr. Raynor, after reading this letter over again. ”Cousin Jane never was willing that any one elso should prosper. But she has made a mistake in thinking she can treat me meanly. I am in a position to turn the tables upon her! This paper–if she dreamed I had found it, she would yield to all my demands.“
He laid his hand upon a paper, folded lengthwise, and presenting the appearance of a legal document.
He opened the paper and read aloud:
”To the boy generally known as Philip Brent and supposed, though incorrectly, to be my son, I bequeath the sum of five thousand dollars, and direct the same to be paid over to any one whom he may select as guardian, to hold in trust for him until he attains the age of twenty-one.“
”This will Mrs. Brent carefully concealed,“ continued Mr. Raynor, ”in order to save the money for herself and Jonas. I wonder she was not prudent enough to burn it, or, at any rate, to take it with her when she left Planktown. It is a damaging secret, but I hold it, and I mean to use it, too. Let me see, what is it best to do?“
Mr. Raynor spent some time in quiet thought.
It seemed to him that it might be well to hint his discovery in a letter to Mrs. Brent, and to make it the basis of a demand for a generous sum of hush- money–one thousand dollars, at least. He might have decided to do this but for an incident which suggested another course.