The Essential Edward Stratemeyer Collection. Stratemeyer Edward
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was to market."
"I thought he had plenty of money," said Roger. "He ran away with enough."
"Ran away with enough? Was he a thief?"
"Yes."
"O dear! Then I am glad he is out of my house. Really! we might all have been murdered in our beds!" And the woman held up her thin hands in horror.
After that she told what she could of Nick Jasniff. She said he had spent a good part of his time, both day and night, down in the heart of London, visiting the theaters and other places of amusement. Once he had complained of being robbed of his pocketbook on a tram-car, and again he had lost himself in Cheapside and fallen in with some thugs who had tried to carry him into an alleyway. In the fight that followed he had had an eye blackened and the sleeve torn from his coat. She had sewed on the sleeve again, but he had paid her nothing for the work.
"He spoke once of visiting an old friend named Chesterfield, who lived in Siddingate," said the woman. "He said he might meet his father there. Maybe if you can find this Chesterfield you'll find him."
"We can try, anyway," answered Dave. "Is that all you can tell about him?"
"I don't know of much else, Mr.---- I haven't learned your name yet."
"My name is David Porter. This is my friend Roger Morr."
"Porter? Why, I've heard that name somewhere." The woman mused for a moment. "Why, yes, Nicholas Jasniff had a friend by that name--a gentleman much older than you."
"A friend!" gasped Dave. "Oh, that can't be true, Mrs. Clever!"
"Well, I heard him say something about a man named Porter. They had met somewhere--I think in London. The man had a daughter named Laura, and I think this Jasniff had been calling upon her."
CHAPTER XVI
SOME IMPORTANT INFORMATION
Dave felt like groaning when he heard Mrs. Clever's words. Then what Jasniff had written in the letter to Gus Plum was true--he had met Mr. Porter and Laura. Had he tried to set himself up as a friend? It was more than likely.
"And father and Laura don't know what a rascal he is," Dave murmured to his chum. "Oh, I feel as if I could wring his neck! For all I know, he has been making himself agreeable to my sister. Isn't it enough to make one's blood boil?"
"It certainly is, Dave. But I fancy your sister will soon be able to size up such a fellow as Jasniff."
"Perhaps, although he can be very oily when he wants to be. Oh, if only I knew where my folks were!" sighed the boy from the country.
Mrs. Clever could tell nothing more about Nick Jasniff or about the Porters. But she promised to send Dave word if she heard anything, and seeing that she was poor Dave paid her the money out of which Jasniff had swindled her, about six dollars and a half. Then the two youths took their departure, stating they might call again.
"Let me know beforehand," said Mrs. Clever, "and I'll treat you handsome-like." She offered them some cakes and ale, but they politely declined the refreshments.
From the woman they learned the easiest way to reach Siddingate, and arrived at that London suburb shortly after the dinner-hour. Here they procured a hearty meal at the leading hotel and from a directory learned that six Chesterfields lived in that vicinity--one an ironmonger, otherwise a hardware dealer; another a draper, that is, a dry-goods merchant; and a third a stoker, which meant that he was a locomotive fireman. The other three were not put down as in business.
"I don't think we'll try to hunt up the stoker," said Dave. "Most likely he's off on a run. We can try the storekeepers and then the others."
The ironmonger, a burly, red-faced man, had never heard of Jasniff, but the draper, while he did not know anybody of that name, said that one of the other Chesterfields, whose first name was Philip, had some relatives in the United States, including some folks who were now traveling either in England or Scotland.
"Thank you; we'll hunt him up," said Dave. "Where does he live?"
"Any cabman can tell you," was the answer. "Better ride out--it's a cold walk."
It was cold, with the snow covering the ground to the depth of two inches or more. The air was very raw, and a regular London fog was settling down over the land.
A cabman was readily found, and inside of a few minutes they were on their way to the Philip Chesterfield estate. From the driver they learned that this Chesterfield was an old man, rather peculiar in his ways, and that he entertained visitors but seldom.
"It would be queer for Nick Jasniff to visit such a man," remarked Dave. "But I don't want to let any chance of locating him slip by."
"Nick may be glad enough to get a roof over his head, if his money is gone," answered Roger.
The cab presently turned up a side road and approached the stone wall of a fair-sized estate, the mansion of which stood back in a patch of old trees. As they entered the gateway Dave saw a door open and a boy came out on a veranda.
"There he is!" he gasped. "There is Nick now!"
"You're right!" exclaimed the senator's son. "This is luck, and no mistake."
As the cab came closer Nick Jasniff gazed at it curiously, to see whom it might contain. Not to be recognized too quickly, Dave kept his face averted and cautioned his chum to do the same.
"Say! I say----" began the youth who had run away, when Dave leaped out and confronted him. "Whe--where did you come from?"
"From Oak Hall," answered Dave, coolly. "I fancy you didn't expect to see me so soon, Jasniff."
"Humph!" The runaway boy did not know what to say. "I--er---- Been following me up, I suppose?"
"I have."
"You didn't expect me, did you?" put in Roger, with a grin.
"I didn't," growled Nick Jasniff. "Any more?" and he gazed anxiously into the cab, half expecting an officer of the law to put in an appearance.
"No more just now," said Dave, with peculiar emphasis.
"What do you want?" Jasniff was gradually regaining his self-possession.
"I want a whole lot of things," answered Dave. "Do you want to do your talking here or in the house?" And he glanced at the cab driver, who was staring at the boys with his mouth open in curiosity.
"You can come in, if you wish," was the awkward answer; and Nick Jasniff led the way into the old mansion, which was semi-dark and not more than half warmed. "Do you know who lives here?" he continued.
"Your relative, Philip Chesterfield," answered Roger.
"Humph! He's a great-uncle of mine and very old. He is down with gout. Come into the library. We needn't disturb him."
They filed into the apartment mentioned, a long, low room, the walls of which were lined with shelves filled with musty volumes. Dave kept his eyes on Jasniff, and this the runaway noticed.
"Think I'm going to skip?" he queried, sourly.
"I'll not give you the chance," was the ready answer.
"You think you've got me foul, don't you?"
"Doesn't it look like it?"
"You can't make me go back to the United States."
"Perhaps I can."
"My folks have settled up that Pud Frodel affair for me--did it only a few days ago."
"But they didn't settle up with Mrs. Clever. She was swindled