Chapter 4

MR. CHECKYNSHAW IS VIOLENT.

MR. Fitzherbert Wittleworth walked slowly and nervously from his home to the banking-house in State Street. The situation was just as far from pleasant as it could be. He did not wish to deprive the family of the necessaries of life, which were purchased with his meagre salary, on the one hand, and it was almost impossible to endure the tyranny of Mr. Checkynshaw on the other hand. To a young man with so high an opinion of himself as the banker's clerk entertained, the greatest privation to which he could be subjected was a want of appreciation of his personal character and valuable services.

The banker had an utter contempt for him personally, and regarded his salary as high at five dollars a week, which was indeed a high rate for a young man of sixteen. Mr. Checkynshaw sat in his private office, adjoining the banking-house, when Mr. Wittleworth presented himself. He scowled savagely as the young man entered.

"You have concluded to come back--have you?" said he.

"Yes, sir," replied Fitz.

"Well, sir, you have only come to be discharged; for I will no longer have a stupid and useless blockhead about. I was willing to tolerate you for your mother's sake; but I won't submit to your impudence."

Stupid and useless blockhead! It was no use to attempt to effect a reconciliation with a person who had, or professed to have, such an opinion of him. Not even the strait to which his family was reduced could justify him in submitting to such abuse.

"Mr. Checkynshaw, I don't allow any man to insult me," Fitz began. "I have treated you like a gentleman, and I demand as much in return."

"Insult you? Impudent puppy!" gasped Mr. Checkynshaw. "What are we coming to?"

"You insulted me in a public barber's shop. Not content with that, you call me a stupid and useless blockhead--_me_, sir."

"No more of this! Take your pay, and be gone! There's five dollars, a full week's salary for three days' service," added the banker, pushing a five-dollar bill across the desk towards Fitz.

The young man was not too proud to take it.

"Go! Don't stop here another minute," said the wrathy banker, glancing at the clock, which now indicated the time he had appointed for the coming of Leo Maggimore.

"I am not ready to go just yet. I have a demand to make upon you. You have defrauded my mother out of a fortune."

"That will do! Not another word," said Mr. Checkynshaw, turning red in the face.

"My mother will take steps to obtain her rights."

"Will you go?" demanded the banker.

"No, sir. I will not till I have said what I have to say. You shall either prove that your first daughter is alive, or you shall deliver to my mother the property."

Mr. Checkynshaw could not endure such speech as this from any man, much less from his discharged clerk. He rose from his chair, and rushed upon the slender youth with a fury worthy a more stalwart foe. Grasping him by the collar, he dragged him out of the private office, through the long entry, to the street, and then pitched him far out upon the sidewalk. As he passed through the entry, Leo Maggimore was going into the banking-office. Not knowing the way, he inquired of a person he met in the long hall.

Leo did not know the banker, and was not aware that the excited gentleman he had seen was he; and he did not recognize Fitz in the young man who was so violently hurried before him. He followed the direction given him, and reached the private office of the banker. Through an open window he saw the clerks and cashiers rushing to the door to witness the extraordinary scene that was transpiring in the street. Taking off his cap, he waited for the appearance of Mr. Checkynshaw, who, he supposed, had also gone to "see the fun." As he stood there, a jaunty-looking individual hastily entered the office.

"What do you want?" asked this person.

"I want to see Mr. Checkynshaw," replied Leo.

"Go through that door, and you will find him," added the jaunty-looking man, in hurried tones.

Leo, supposing the man belonged there, did as he was directed, and inquired of an elderly clerk, who had not left his desk, for the banker. He was told to wait in the private office, and he returned, as he was bidden.

He found the jaunty-looking person taking some papers from the safe. He put a quantity of them into the pockets of his overcoat, locked the heavy iron door, and took out the key.

"Mr. Checkynshaw won't be here again to-day. You will have to call to-morrow," said the man, in sharp and decided business tones.

"He sent for me to come to-day at half past two," replied Leo.

"He was unexpectedly called away; come again to-morrow at this time," added the jaunty person, briskly.

"I can't come to-morrow at this hour; school keeps."

"Come at one, then," replied the business man, who did not seem to care whether school kept or not.

"Will you tell him, sir, that I came as he wished, and will call again at one to-morrow?"

"Yes, yes. I will tell him all about it," answered the brisk personage, as he took a small carpet-bag in his hand, and led the way out through the banking-room.

The clerks had returned to their desks, and were again busy over their books and papers; for the excitement had subsided, and people went their way as though nothing had happened. The unwonted scene of a man in Mr. Checkynshaw's position putting a clerk out of his office excited a little comment, and the banker had stopped in the long hall to explain to a bank president the occasion of his prompt and decisive action. Leo and the jaunty man passed him as they left the building; but the boy did not know him from Adam.

"Where do you live, my boy?" asked the jaunty man, coming up to him when he had crossed State and entered Congress Street.

"No. 3 Phillimore Court," replied Leo.

He had before lost sight of the man, who, he had already concluded, from finding him in the private office and at the safe, was one of the partners in the house of Checkynshaw, Hart, & Co. He could not imagine what a person of so much importance could want of him, or how it concerned him to know where he lived.

"Is it far from here?"

"Not very far."

"I want the use of a room for five minutes, to change my clothes. I live out of town, and am going to New York to-night. Perhaps your mother would let me have a room for a short time," added the person.

"I haven't any mother; but you can have my room as long as you like," answered Leo, glad to accommodate so important a person. "It isn't a very nice one."

"Nice enough for me. How far is it?"

"Close by High Street; but it's right on your way to the cars."

"Very well; thank you. I'm much obliged to you. If it's far off, I can run up to a hotel, for I'm in a hurry. I have no time to spare."

The jaunty man walked at a rapid pace, and seemed to be greatly excited, which Leo attributed to his proposed journey, or to the pressure of his business.

"Do you know Mr. Checkynshaw?" asked the man of business.

"No, sir; I never saw him in my life, that I know of," replied Leo. "You are one of the partners--are you not?"

"Yes," replied the jaunty man, promptly.

"Are you Mr. Hart, sir?"

"That is my name. How did you know me?"

"I didn't know you; but I guessed it was Mr. Hart."

They hurried along in silence for a few moments more. Leo was thinking, just then, how it would be possible for Mr. Hart to tell Mr. Checkynshaw that he had called that day, and that he would call at one the next day, if he was going to New York by the afternoon train. He was quite sure Mr. Hart could not get back in time to tell the banker that he had obeyed his mandate. He was a little perplexed, and he was afraid the mighty man would be angry with him for not keeping the appointment, and perhaps visit the neglect upon his foster-father. Being unable to solve the problem himself, he ventured to ask Mr. Hart for a solution.

"It won't make any difference. Mr. Checkynshaw will not think of the matter again till he sees you to-morrow," replied Mr. Hart. "He will have enough to think of when he gets to the office to-morrow without troubling his head about you."

"Perhaps, as you are his partner, Mr. Hart, you can do the business just as well," said Leo.

"Very likely I can. What did Mr. Checkynshaw want of you?" asked the partner.

"He is going to discharge Fitz, and--"

"Discharge Fitz! What is that for?" demanded Mr. Hart, as if very much astonished at the intelligence.

"I don't exactly understand what for; but he wants me to come in his place; or at least he wants to see me about coming."

"Well, you seem to be a very likely young fellow, and I have no doubt you will suit us. I am willing to engage you, even after what little I have seen of you."

"But I can't go yet, Mr. Hart," interposed Leo.

"Why not? When can you come?"

"I can't go till the first of August; that's what I wanted to tell Mr. Checkynshaw. He was so kind as to think of me when he wanted a boy; and I want to have it made all right with him. I expect to take one of the Franklin medals at the next exhibition, and if I leave now I shall lose it."

"That's right, my boy; stick to your school, and I will see that you have a first-rate place when you have taken the medal. Haven't we got most to your house?"

"Just round the corner, sir. I'm afraid Mr. Checkynshaw will not like it because he did not see me this afternoon."

"He was out, and it isn't your fault; but I will tell him all about it when I come back, and he will not think of it again."

"But he wants a boy."

"Well, he can find a hundred of them in an hour's time; and, as you can't take the place, it will make no difference to you. I will make it all right with him so far as you are concerned."

"This is my house," said Leo, when they reached the dwelling at No. 3 Phillimore Court.

Leo opened the front door,--which was indeed the only door,--and led the banker to his own room on the second floor. The gentleman closed the door, and as there was no lock upon it, he placed a chair against it to serve as a fastening. He did not appear to be in a very great hurry now, and it was evident that he did not intend to change his clothes; for, instead of doing so, he took from the pockets of his overcoat the papers and packages he had removed from the safe. He broke the seals on some of the parcels, and opened the papers they contained. He did not stop to read any of them. In a bank book he found a package of bank notes.

"Three hundred and fifty dollars," muttered he, as he counted the money. "A mean haul!"

He examined all the papers, but no more money was discovered. The jaunty man looked as though he was sorely disappointed. He gathered up the papers, rolled them together, and then looked about the little chamber. On one side of it there was a painted chest, which contained Leo's rather scanty wardrobe. He raised the lid, and thrust the bundle of papers down to the bottom of it, burying them beneath the boy's summer clothing. Closing the chest, he took his carpet-bag, and left the room. Leo was waiting for him in the entry; but "Mr. Hart" was again in a hurry, and could not do anything more than say again he would make it all right with Mr. Checkynshaw.

Probably he did not keep his promise.