Back Aa

Man of Honor

Close

<h2>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2> <h3>Mr. Barksdale, the Younger, Goes upon a Journey.</h3> Not until the next morning did Mr. Billy find time to examine the papers in Ewing's desk. Indeed, even then he deemed the matter one of very little consequence, inasmuch as the papers, whatever they might happen to be, were probably of no legal importance, being of necessity the work of a minor. There might be memoranda there, however, and possibly a will disposing of personal property, which, under the law of Virginia, would be good if executed by a minor over eighteen years of age. In view of these possibilities, therefore, Billy sat down to the task of examining the papers, which were pretty numerous, such as they were. After awhile he became interested in the very miscellaneousness of the assortment. Little memoranda were there—of the date on which a horse had been shod; of the amount paid for a new pair of boots; of the times at which the boy had written letters to his friends, and of a hundred other unimportant things. There were bits of poor verse, too, such as may be found in the desk of almost every boy. Old letters, full of nothing, were there in abundance, but nothing which could possibly be of any value to anybody. On all the letters, except one, was marked, in Ewing's handwriting, "To be burned without reading, in case of my death." The one exception attracted Billy's attention, and opening it, he was surprised to find Robert Pagebrook's name appended to it. It was, in fact, the letter which Cousin Sarah Ann had opened during her son's last illness. After reading it Mr. Billy sat down to think. Presently, looking at his watch, he went to the door and called a servant. "Go and ask your Miss Sudie to put two or three shirts, and some socks and handkerchiefs into my satchel for me, and then you go and tell Polidore to saddle Graybeard and the bay, and get ready to go with me to the Court House directly. Do you hear?" The servant made no answer to the question with which Mr. Billy closed his speech. Indeed that gentleman expected none. Virginians always ask "do you hear?" when they give instructions to servants, and they never get or expect an answer. Without the question, however, they would never secure attention to the instruction. To say, "do so and so," without adding, "do you hear?" would be the idlest possible waste of words on the part of any one giving an order to the average Virginian house servant. Mr. Billy was in the habit of making sudden journeys on business, without giving the slightest warning to the family except that contained in a request that his satchel or saddle-bags be packed, so that Miss Sudie was not in the least surprised when his present message came to her. She was surprised, however, when, instead of riding away without a word of farewell, as he usually did, he came into the house, and, kissing her tenderly, said: "Keep your spirits up, Sudie, and don't let things worry you too much. I'm going to Richmond on the two o'clock train, and don't know how long I'll be gone. Good-by, little girl," and he kissed her again. All this was quite out of character, Miss Sudie felt. Billy was affectionate enough, at all times, but he detested leave-takings, and always avoided them when he could. To seek one was quite unlike him, and Miss Sudie was puzzled to know what prompted him to do it on this particular occasion. He rode away, however, without offering any explanation whatever. Mr. Billy went to Richmond, as he had said he intended doing, but he did not remain there an hour. He went to the cashier of a bank, a gentleman with whom he was well acquainted, got from him a letter of introduction to a prominent man in Philadelphia, and left for that city on the first train. Arriving in Philadelphia about nine o'clock the next day, Mr. Billy ate a hasty breakfast and proceeded to the little collegiate institute in which Robert had once been a professor, as the reader will remember. Introducing himself to President Currier he asked for a private interview, and was invited for the purpose into Dr. Currier's inner office. "I believe, doctor," he said, after telling that gentleman who he was, "that there was something due Professor Pagebrook on his salary at the time his connection with this college terminated, was there not?" "Yes, sir; there was about three hundred dollars due him, if I remember correctly, but it has been paid, I think." "Have you any way of ascertaining precisely how and when?" asked Billy. "Yes; my own letter-book should show. Let me see," turning over the leaves, "Ah, here it is. A draft for the amount was sent to him by letter on the eighth of November, addressed to —— Court House, Virginia." "Thank you," said Billy. "The draft, I suppose, was regular New York Exchange?" "Of course." "Would you mind telling me from what bank you bought it, and to whose order, in the first place, it was made payable? Pardon my asking such questions, but I need this information for use in the cause of justice." "O you need offer no apology, I assure you, sir," returned the president. "I have nothing to conceal in the matter. The draft was drawn by the Susquehanna Bank, and to my order, I think. Yes, I remember indorsing it." "Thank you, sir," said Billy. "You are very courteous, and I am indebted to you for information which I should have found it difficult to get from any other source. Good morning, sir." Leaving the college, which was situated in one of the suburbs, Mr. Billy took a carriage and drove into the city. There he delivered his letter of introduction, and secured from the gentleman to whom it was addressed a personal introduction to the cashier of the Susquehanna Bank. To this latter person he said: "I am looking up evidence in a case, and, if I am not greatly mistaken, you can help me in an effort to set a wrong right. On the eighth of last month you sold a draft on New York for three hundred dollars, payable to the order of David Currier. Now, in the ordinary course of business I suppose that draft has been returned to you after payment." "Yes, if it was paid before the first of the month. We settle with our New York correspondents once a month. I'll look at the last batch of returned checks and see." "Thank you. I should be glad to see the indorsements on the paper, if possible." The cashier went to the vault, and returning with a large bundle of canceled checks soon found the one wanted. Billy turned it over and examined the indorsements on the back. Then, turning to the banker, he asked: "Would it be possible for me to get temporary possession of this draft by depositing the amount of its face with you until its return?" "You merely wish it for use in evidence?" asked the banker. "That's all," said Billy. "You can take it, then, without a deposit, Mr. Barksdale. It is of no value now, but we usually keep our canceled exchange, so I shall be obliged if you will return this when you've done with it." This was precisely what Robert had come to Philadelphia to secure, and after finding what the indorsements on the draft were, he would willingly have paid its face outright, if that had been necessary, to get possession of it. Who knows what the value of a bit of writing may be, even after its purpose has to all appearance been fully answered? I know a great commercial house in which it is an inexorable law that no bit of paper once written on in the way of business shall ever be destroyed, however valueless it may seem to be; and on more than one occasion the wisdom of the rule has been strikingly made manifest. So it was with this paid, canceled, and returned draft. Worthless in all eyes but his, to Billy it was far more precious than if it had been crisp and new, and payable to his own order. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2