Walter Sherwood's Probation, Jr. Horatio Alger [best pdf reader for ebooks txt] 📗

to doubt that it was a case of deliberate swindling.

True, he had the check in his possession—a check for two hundred and twenty-seven dollars—but, even if it were genuine, it was made out in favor of Locke & Green, and would be of no service to him, though in that case it would insure Mr. Locke's calling upon him. Should such be the Case, he determined that he would not give up the Check till his thirty dollars were returned.

Walter walked slowly out of the building. When he reached Dearborn Street he went into the office of a private banker, and, showing the check, asked, “Is there any such bank as this?”

“I never heard of any,” said the banker.

Walter turned pale.

“Then you think it is bogus?”

“Very likely. Under what circumstances did you receive it?”

Walter explained.

“I am sorry to say that you are probably the victim of a confidence man, or firm. I think I saw an expose of some similar swindlers in the Inter-Ocean a few weeks since. Did you give the fellow any money?”

“Yes, sir; thirty dollars.”

“You will have to whistle for it, in all probability.”

Walter's heart felt as heavy as lead. He had less than twenty dollars now, and his small balance would last him less than three weeks. What should he do then? Should he write to his guardian for more money? He hated to do this, and, above all, he hated to confess that he had been victimized.

In the next three days he answered several advertisements, and made personal applications for employment. But no one seemed to want him. In one case he was offered three dollars a week as an office boy, but he had not got quite so low down as to accept this place and salary. It struck Walter as very singular that one who had spent two years at college, and possessed a fair knowledge of Latin, Greek, and mathematics, should be in so little request. He envied the small office boys whom he saw on the street, and even the busy newsboys, who appeared to be making an income. They had work to do, and he had none. He decided that he must reduce his expenses, and accordingly hired a poor hall-bedroom for a dollar and a quarter a week, and took his meals at restaurants.

One day he went into Kinsley's restaurant, on Adams Street, feeling the need of a good meal, and sat down at a table. He gave his order, and ate his dinner with appetite. He was about to rise from the table when, casting his eye about the room, he started in surprise, as at a neighboring table he saw the familiar face of Mr. Jonas Damon, whose check he held in his pocket.

Instantly his resolve was taken. He would speak to Mr. Damon, and try to ascertain something about the check.

He walked over to the table, and touching Damon on the shoulder, said: “Mr. Damon, I believe?”

The man looked up quickly, and a little change in his countenance showed that he recognised Walter; but he assumed a stolid look, and said: “Were you speaking to me, young man?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What did you call me?”

“Mr. Damon.”

“You're off the track. That isn't my name.”

“Perhaps not,” said Walter resolutely; “but when you called at Locke & Green's office and handed me a check you said your name was Jonas Damon.”

“Ho, ho!” laughed Damon. “So I gave you a check, did I?”

“Yes, for two hundred and twenty-seven dollars.”

“That's news to me. I'm not in a position to give such checks as that.”

“I have got the check with me now.”

“Why didn't you cash it?”

“It was not made payable to me.”

“Then why didn't you give it to the party it was made out to?”

“Because he disappeared.”

“That's a strange story. Do you know what I think?”

“No; but I should like to.”

“I think you are a confidence man, and are trying to take in a poor countryman. But I've read about you fellows in the papers, and I am on my guard. You'd better go away, or I may call a policeman.”

This certainly was turning the tables on Walter with a vengeance. For a fellow like Damon to accuse him of being a confidence man was something like the wolf's charge against the lamb in AEsop's fable.

Damon saw that Walter looked perplexed, and followed up the attack.

“If anybody has given you a check,” he said, “I don't see what you've got to complain about. You'd better make use of it if you can.”

“Do you deny that your name is Damon?”

“Of course I do. My name is Kellogg—Nelson Kellogg, of Springfield, Illinois. I am in the city to buy goods.”

“And you don't know Mr. Locke, of Locke & Green?”

“Never heard of the gentleman. If you've got a check of his, you'd better advertise for him. I wish my name was Locke. I shouldn't mind receiving it myself.”

Here the waiter came up with Mr. Damon's order, and that gentleman addressed himself to disposing of it.

Walter left the restaurant slowly, and walked in a dejected manner in the direction of the Palmer House. He began to think that he was a failure. When he was a student of Euclid College he was in his own estimation, a person of importance. Now he felt his insignificance. If the world owed him a living, it seemed doubtful if it was inclined to pay the debt.