Luke Walton Part 47

Luke walked on, quite unconscious that Harold, as he pa.s.sed by his side, had managed to slip the morocco wallet into the pocket of his sack coat.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII

HAROLD'S PLOT FAILS

Luke wore a sack coat with side pockets. It was this circ.u.mstance that had made it easy for Harold to transfer the wallet unsuspected to his pocket.

Quite ignorant of what had taken place, Luke kept on his way to Mrs.

Merton's house. He rang the bell, and on being admitted, went up, as usual, to the room of his patroness.

"Good morning, Luke," said Mrs. Merton, pleasantly.

"Good-morning," responded Luke.

"I don't think I shall go out this morning, and I don't think of any commission, so you will have a vacation."

"I am afraid I am not earning my money, Mrs. Merton. You make it very easy for me."

"At any rate, Luke, the money is cheerfully given, and I have no doubt you find it useful. How are you getting along?"

"Very well, indeed! I have just made the last payment on mother's machine, and now we owe nothing, except, perhaps, for the rent, and only a week has gone by on the new month."

"You seem to be a good manager, Luke. You succeed in keeping your money, while I have not always found it easy. Yesterday, for instance, I lost sixty-five dollars."

"How was that?" inquired Luke, with interest.

"The drawer in which I keep a pocketbook was unlocked, and this, with its contents, was stolen."

"Don't you suspect anyone?"

"I did, but he has cleared himself, in my opinion. It is possible it was one of the servants."

At this moment Luke pulled his handkerchief from his side pocket and with it came the morocco pocketbook, which fell on the carpet.

Mrs. Merton uttered an exclamation of surprise.

"Why, that is the very pocketbook!" she said.

Luke stooped and picked it up, with an expression of bewilderment on his face.

"I don't understand it," he said. "I never saw that pocketbook before in my life."

"Please hand it to me."

Luke did so.

"Yes, that is the identical pocketbook," said the old lady.

"And it came from my pocket?"

Yes."

"Is there any money in it, Mrs. Merton."

Mrs. Merton opened it, and shook her head. That has been taken out,"

she answered.

"I hope you won't think I took the money," said Luke, with a troubled look.

"I know you did not. It was taken while we were out together yesterday. The last thing before I left the house I locked the drawer, and the pocketbook with the money inside was there. When I returned it was gone."

"That is very mysterious. I don't understand how the pocketbook came in my pocket."

"Someone must have put it there who wished you to be suspected of the theft."

"Yes," said Luke, eagerly. "I see."

Then he stopped suddenly, for what he was about to say would throw suspicion upon Harold.

"Well, go on!"

"I don't know that I ought to speak. It might throw suspicion on an innocent person."

"Speak! It is due to me. I will judge on that point. Who has had the chance of putting the wallet into your pocket?"

"I will speak if you insist upon it, Mrs. Merton," said Luke, reluctantly. "A few minutes since I met Harold on the street. We were bound in opposite directions. He surprised me by stopping me, and addressing me quite cordially. We stood talking together two or three minutes."

"Did he have an opportunity of putting the wallet in your pocket?"

"He might have done so, but I was not conscious of it."

"Let me think!" said the old lady, slowly. "Harold knew where I kept my money, for I opened the drawer in his presence the other day, and he saw me take a bill from the pocketbook. I did not think him capable of robbing me."

"Perhaps he did not," said Luke. "It may be explained in some other way."

"Can you think of any other way?" asked the old lady.

"Suppose a servant had taken the money, and left the pocketbook somewhere where Harold found it----"

"Even in that case, why should he put it in your pocket?"

"He does not like me. He might wish to throw suspicion upon me."

"That would be very mean."