Burnham Breaker Part 7

"Well, what's your plan?" asked the old man, somewhat incredulously.

"Let me tell you first what I know," replied the lawyer. "I know that Mrs. Burnham believes this boy to be dead; believes it with her whole mind and heart. You would find it exceedingly difficult to convince her to the contrary. She would explain away your proofs: she would fail to recognize the child himself. Such an errand as you propose would be little better than useless."

Sharpman paused.

"Well, what's your plan?" repeated Craft, impatiently.

The lawyer a.s.sumed a still more confidential att.i.tude.

"Listen! Burnham died rich. His wealth will mount well up into the hundreds of thousands. He leaves a widow and one daughter, a little girl. This boy, if he is really Burnham's son, is ent.i.tled to one third of the personal property absolutely, to one third of the real estate at once, and to one fourth of the remainder at his mother's death. Do you understand?" Old Simon nodded. This was worth listening to. He began to think that this shrewd lawyer was going to put him in the way of making a fortune after all. Sharpman continued: "Now, the boy is a minor. He must have a guardian. The mother would be the guardian preferred by law; but if, for any reason, she should fail to recognize the boy as her son, some one else must be appointed. It will be the duty of the guardian to establish his ward's ident.i.ty in case it should be disputed, to sue for his portion of the estate, if necessary, and to receive and care for it till the boy reaches his majority. The usual guardian's commission is five per cent, retainable out of the funds of the estate. Do you see how the management of such an estate would be a fortune to a guardian, acting within the strict letter of the law?"

Craft nodded again, but this time with eagerness and excitement. He saw that a scheme was being opened up to him that outrivalled in splendid opportunities any he had ever thought of.

After a pause Sharpman asked, glancing furtively at his client:--

"Do you think, Mr. Craft, that you could take upon your shoulders the duties and responsibilities attendant upon such a trust? In short, could you act as this boy's guardian?"

"Yes, no doubt of it"; responded the old man, eagerly. "Why, I would be the very person. I am his nearest friend."

"Very well; that's my opinion, too. Now, then, as to the boy's ident.i.ty. There must be no mistake in proving that. What proof have you? Tell me what you know about it."

Thus requested, Craft gave to the lawyer a detailed account of the disaster at the bridge, of the finding and keeping of Ralph, of his mysterious disappearance, and of the prolonged search for him.

"Day before yesterday," continued the old man, "I was watching the crowds at the circus,--I knew the boy was fond of circuses,--an who should go by me into the tent but this same Ralph. I made sure he was the identical person, and yesterday I went to Robert Burnham, and got that paper."

"Indeed! Where does the boy live? what does he do?"

"Why, it seems that he works at picking slate, in Burnham's own breaker, and lives with one Bachelor Billy, a simple-minded old fellow, without a family, who took the boy in when he was abandoned by the circus."

"Good!" exclaimed the lawyer; "good! we shall have a capital case. But wait; does Mrs. Burnham know of your interview with her husband, or about this paper?"

"I don't know. I left the man at his office, alone."

"At what hour?"

"Well, about half-past four, as nearly as I can judge."

"Then it's not at all probable that she knows. He went from his office directly to the breaker, and died before she could see him."

"Well, how shall we begin?" said Craft, impatiently. "What's the first thing to be done?" Visions of golden thousands were already floating before his greedy eyes.

"We shall not begin at all, just yet," said Sharpman. "We'll wait till the horror and excitement, consequent upon this disaster, have pa.s.sed away. It wouldn't do to proceed now; besides, all action should be postponed, at any rate, until an inventory of the estate shall have been filed."

A look of disappointment came into old Simon's face. The lawyer noticed it. "You mustn't be in too much of a hurry," he said. "All good things come slowly. Now, I'll tell you what I propose to do.

After this excitement has pa.s.sed over, and the lady's mind has become somewhat settled, I will go to her myself, and say to her frankly that you believe her son to be still alive. Of course, she'll not believe me. Indeed, I shall be very careful to put the matter in such a shape that she will not believe me. I will say to her, however, that you have employed me to prosecute your claim for services to the child, and that it will be necessary to have a guardian appointed against whom such action may be taken. I will suggest to her that if she will acknowledge the boy to be her son, she will be the proper person to act as his guardian. Of course, she will refuse to do either. The rest is easy. We will go into court with a pet.i.tion setting forth the facts in the case, stating that the boy's mother has refused to act as his guardian, and asking for your appointment as such. Do you see?"

"Oh, yes! that's good; that's very good, indeed."

"But, let me see, though; you'll have to give bonds. There's the trouble. Got any money, or any rich friends?"

"Neither; I'm very poor, very poor indeed, Mr. Sharpman."

"Ah! that's awkward. We can do nothing without bondsmen. The court wouldn't let us touch a penny of that fund without first giving good bonds.".

The look of disappointment and trouble had returned into the old man's face. "Ain't there some way you could get bonds for me?" he asked, appealingly.

"Well, yes, I suppose I might procure bondsmen for you; I suppose I might go on your bond myself. But you see no one cares to risk his fortune in the hands of a total stranger that way. We don't know you; we don't know what you might do."

"Oh! I should be honest, Mr. Sharpman, perfectly honest and discreet; and you should not suffer to the value of a cent, not a single cent."

"No doubt your intentions are good enough, my dear sir, but it requires great skill to handle so large an estate properly, and a single error in judgment on your part might cost thousands of dollars.

Good intentions and promises are well enough in their way, but they are no security against misfortune, you see. I guess we'll have to drop the scheme, after all."

Sharpman arose and walked the floor in apparent perplexity, while Craft, resting his hands on his cane, and staring silently at the lawyer, tried to conceive some plan to prevent this golden opportunity from eluding his grasp. Finally Sharpman stopped.

"Craft," he said, "I'll tell you what I'll do. If you will give me a power of attorney to hold and manage all the funds of the trust until the boy shall have attained his majority, I'll get the necessary bonds for you."

Craft thought a moment. The proposition did not strike him favorably.

"That would be putting the whole thing out of my hands into yours," he said.

"Ah! but you would still be the boy's guardian, with right to use all the money that in your judgment should be necessary, to maintain and educate him according to his proper station in life. For this purpose I would agree to pay you three thousand dollars on receipt of the funds, and three thousand dollars each year thereafter, besides your guardian's commission, which would amount to eight or ten thousand dollars at least. I would also agree to pay you a liberal sum for past services, say two or three thousand dollars. You would have no responsibility whatever in the matter. I would be liable for any mistakes you might make. You could use the money as you saw fit. What do you say?"

The scheme appeared to Simon Craft to be a very brilliant one. He saw a great fortune in it for himself, if he could only depend on the lawyer's promises.

"Will you give me a writing to this effect?" he asked.

"Certainly; we shall have a mutual agreement."

"Then I'll do it. You'll get the lion's share I can see that easy enough; but if you'll do what you say you will, I shan't complain.

Then will I have a right to take the boy again?"

"Yes, after your appointment; but I don't think I would, if I were you. If he is contented and well off, you had better let him stay where he is. He might give you the slip again. How old is he now?"

"I don't know exactly; somewhere between ten and twelve, I think."

"Well, his consent to the choice of a guardian is not necessary; but I think it would be better, under the circ.u.mstances, if he would go into court with us, and agree to your appointment. Do you think he will?"

Old Simon frowned savagely.

"Yes, he will," he exclaimed. "I'll make him do it. I've made him do harder things than that; it's a pity if I can't make him do what's for his own benefit now!" He struck the floor viciously with his cane.

"Easy," said the lawyer, soothingly, "easy; I fear the boy has been his own master too long to be bullied. We shall have to work him in a different way now. I think I can manage it, though. I'll have him come down here some day, after we get Mrs. Burnham's refusal to acknowledge him, and I'll explain matters to him, and show him why it's necessary that you should take hold of the case. I'll use logic with him, and I'll wager that he'll come around all right. You must treat boys as though they were men, Craft. They will listen to reason, and yield to persuasion, but they won't be bullied, not even into a fortune. By the way, I don't quite understand how it was, if Burnham was searching energetically for the boy, and you were searching with as much energy for the boy's father all those years, that you didn't meet each other sooner."

Craft looked up slyly from under his s.h.a.ggy eyebrows.

"May I speak confidentially?" he asked.

"Certainly."