Chapter XX. The Escape

The Cash Boy

by Horatio Alger

It was eight o'clock the next morning before Frank's breakfast was
brought to him.

"I am sorry you have had to wait," the housekeeper said, as she
appeared at the door with a cup of coffee and a plate of beefsteak
and toast, "I couldn't come up before."

"Have the men gone away?" said Frank.

"Yes."

"Then I have something to tell you. I learned something about
myself last night. I was in the closet, and heard the man who
brought me here talking to another person. May I tell you the
story?"

"If you think it will do any good," said the housekeeper, but I
can't help you if that is what you want."

He told the whole story. As he proceeded, the housekeeper
betrayed increased, almost eager interest, and from time to time
asked him questions in particular as to the personal appearance of
John Wade. When Frank had described him as well as he could, she
said, in an excited manner:

"Yes, it is--it must be the same man."

"The same man!" repeated our hero, in surprise.

"Do you know anything about him?"

"I know that he is a wicked man. I am afraid that I have helped
him carry out his wicked plan, but I did not know it at the time, or
I never would have given my consent."

"I don't understand you," said our hero, puzzled.

"Will you tell me what you mean?"

"Fourteen years ago I was very poor--poor and sick besides. My
husband had died, leaving me nothing but the care of a young infant,
whom it was necessary for me to support besides myself. Enfeebled by
sickness, I was able to earn but little, but we lived in a wretched
room in a crowded tenement house. My infant boy was taken sick and
died. As I sat sorrowfully beside the bed on which he lay dead, I
heard a knock at the door. I opened it, and admitted a man whom I
afterward learned to be John Wade. He very soon explained his
errand. He agreed to take my poor boy, and pay all the expenses of
his burial in Greenwood Cemetery, provided I would not object to any
of his arrangements. He was willing besides to pay me two hundred
dollars for the relief of my necessities. Though I was almost beside
myself with grief for my child's loss, and though this was a very
favorable proposal, I hesitated. I could not understand why a
stranger should make me such an offer. I asked him the reason."

" `You ask too much,' he answered, appearing annoyed. `I have
made you a fair offer. Will you accept it, or will you leave your
child to have a pauper's funeral?'

"That consideration decided me. For my child's sake I agreed to
his proposal, and forebore to question him further. He provided a
handsome rosewood casket for my dear child, but upon the silver plate
was inscribed a name that was strange to me --the name of Francis
Wharton."

"Francis Wharton!" exclaimed Frank.

"I was too weak and sorrowful to make opposition, and my baby
was buried as Francis Wharton. Not only this, but a monument is
erected over him at Greenwood, which bears this name."

She proceeded after a pause:

"I did not then understand his object. Your story makes it
clear. I think that you are that Francis Wharton, under whose name
my boy was buried."

"How strange!" said Frank, thoughtfully. "I cannot realize it.
But how did you know the name of the man who called upon you?"

"A card slipped from his pocket, which I secured without his
knowledge."

"How fortunate that I met you," said Frank. "I mean to let Mr.
Wharton know all that I have learned, and then he shall decide
whether he will recognize me or not as his grandson."

"I have been the means of helping to deprive you of your just
rights, though unconsciously. Now that I know the wicked conspiracy
in which I assisted, I will help undo the work."

"Thank you," said Frank. "The first thing is to get out of this
place."

"I cannot open the door of your room. They do not trust me with
the key."

"The windows are not very high from the ground. I can get down
from the outside."

"I will bring you a clothesline and a hatchet."

Frank received them with exultation.

"Before I attempt to escape," he said, "tell me where I can meet
you in New York. I want you to go with me to Mr. Wharton's. I shall
need you to confirm my story."

"I will meet you to-morrow at No. 15 B--Street."

"Then we shall meet to-morrow. What shall I call your name?"

"Mrs. Parker."

"Thank you. I will get away as quickly as possible, and when we
are in the city we will talk over our future plans."

With the help of the hatchet, Frank soon demolished the lower
part of the window. Fastening the rope to the bedstead, he got out
of the window and safely descended to the ground.

A long and fatiguing walk lay before him. But at last he
reached the cars, and half an hour later the ferry at Jersey City.

Frank thought himself out of danger for the time being, but he
was mistaken.

Standing on the deck of the ferryboat, and looking back to the
pier from which he had just started, he met the glance of a man who
had intended to take the same boat, but had reached the pier just too
late. His heart beat quicker when he recognized in the belated
passenger his late jailer, Nathan Graves.

Carried away by his rage and disappointment, Nathan Graves
clenched his fist and shook it at his receding victim.

Our hero walked into the cabin. He wanted a chance to
deliberate. He knew that Nathan Graves would follow him by the next
boat, and it was important that he should not find him. Where was he
to go?

Fifteen minutes after Frank set foot on the pier, his enemy also
landed. But now the difficult part of the pursuit began. He had
absolutely no clew as to the direction which Frank had taken.

For an hour and a half he walked the streets in the immediate
neighborhood of the square, but his labor was without reward. Not a
glimpse could he catch of his late prisoner.

"I suppose I must go to see Mr. Wade," he at last reluctantly
decided. "He may be angry, but he can't blame me. I did my best. I
couldn't stand guard over the young rascal all day."

The address which the housekeeper had given Frank was that of a
policeman's family in which she was at one time a boarder. On giving
his reference, he was hospitably received, and succeeded in making
arrangements for a temporary residence.

About seven o'clock Mrs. Parker made her appearance. She wag
fatigued by her journey and glad to rest.

"I was afraid you might be prevented from coming," said
Frank.

"I feared it also. I was about to start at twelve o'clock,
when, to my dismay, one of the men came home. He said he had the
headache. I was obliged to make him some tea and toast. He remained
about till four o'clock, when, to my relief, he went upstairs to lie
down. I was afraid some inquiry might be made about you, and your
absence discovered, especially as the rope was still hanging out of
the window, and I was unable to do anything more than cut off the
lower end of it. When the sick man retired to his bed I instantly
left the house, fearing that the return of some other of the band
might prevent my escaping altogether."

"Suppose you had met one of them, Mrs. Parker?"

"I did. It was about half a mile from the house."

"Did he recognize you?"

"Yes. He asked in some surprise where I was going. I was
obliged to make up a story about our being out of sugar. He accepted
it without suspicion, and I kept on. I hope I shall be forgiven for
the lie. I was forced to it."

"You met no further trouble?"

"No."

"I must tell you of my adventure," said Frank.

"I came across the very man whom I most dreaded-- the man who
made me a prisoner."

"Since he knows that you have escaped, he is probably on your
track," said Mrs. Parker. "It will be hardly safe for you to go to
Mr. Wharton's."

"Why?"

"He will probably think you likely to go there, and be lying in
wait somewhere about."

"But I must go to Mr. Wharton," said Frank. "I must tell him
this story."

"It will be safer to write."

"The housekeeper, Mrs. Bradley, or John Wade, will get hold of
the letter and suppress it. I don't want to put them on their
guard."

"You are right. It is necessary to be cautious."

"You see I am obliged to call on my grandfather, that is, on Mr.
Wharton."

"I can think of a better plan."

"What is it?"

"Go to a respectable lawyer. Tell him your story, and place
your case in his hands. He will write to your grandfather, inviting
him to call at his office on business of importance, without letting
him know what is the nature of it. You and I can be there to meet
him, and tell our story. In this way John Wade will know nothing,
and learn nothing, of your movements."

"That is good advice, Mrs. Parker, but there is one thing you
have not thought of," said our hero.

"What is that?"

"Lawyers charge a great deal for their services, and I have no
money."

"You have what is as good a recommendation--a good case. The
lawyer will see at once that if not at present rich, you stand a good
chance of obtaining a position which will make you so. Besides, your
grandfather will be willing, if he admits your claim, to recompense
the lawyer handsomely."

"I did not think of that. I will do as you advise
to-morrow."