Читать книгу Ruth Fielding Treasure Hunting - W. Bert Foster - Страница 7

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The R.F.D. mail carrier, coming out from Cheslow, stopped at the Red Mill at about eleven o’clock each week day morning. On Monday he halted as usual, and Sarah, Aunt Alvirah’s helper, ran out to accept the mail instead of letting the man put it in the box on the post which Ben had set up by the roadside.

There were a number of letters for Ruth, but when she sorted them there was none that held the first element of surprise, save one. All the others were either from friends or upon business which she knew about.

But one letter had printed in the corner “Abraham Mole, Counselor at Law” with an address on lower Broadway in New York. Ruth had never heard of Mr. Mole, she had no personal business with a lawyer, and therefore the letter offered something to pique her curiosity. She neglected the other letters to tear open Mr. Mole’s envelope.

Uncle Jabez was comfortably ensconced in a rocking chair under the big elm. Aunt Alvirah was in her low chair beside him. They made a delightfully quaint picture, and before she dipped into the strange letter, Ruth looked over the top of it from her stand on the porch, and smiled at the miller and his housekeeper.

“Bless them!” she murmured. “They have both led busy lives. I wonder if, when I am their age, I shall be able to rest and take it easy——

“Bless me!” she ejaculated the next moment, for her gaze had dropped to the lawyer’s letter and scanned the first lines:

“My dear Miss Fielding:—

“Pursuant to instructions from a client, I write to inform you that there has been placed in my hands the sum of one hundred thousand dollars, the same to be put at your disposal under hereinafter stated conditions, for the production of certain moving pictures to be written and directed by yourself. I understand that your experience in this field of endeavor has been made amply convincing to my client’s mind, and of that I have nothing to say. My share in this matter is to incorporate a company with the ends stated above in view, to get your signature to certain agreements and contracts relating thereto, and to receive your instructions upon these several points. If you will call on me at your convenience, these and the following matters will, I have no doubt, be amicably arranged.”

The typewritten letter went on concisely and in legal phraseology to state the details of the proposition, and it was signed in a crabbed hand, “Abraham Mole.”

Now, Ruth Fielding had never heard of Mr. Abraham Mole, nor did he tell her his client’s name. Naturally her surprise and wonder were boundless.

“Listen to this! What do you suppose it means?” she cried, charging off the piazza and reaching Uncle Jabez and Aunt Alvirah in two bounds.

“Oh, my back! and oh, my bones!” groaned the little old woman. “What’s happened now, my pretty?”

“What’s to do, Niece Ruth?” demanded the miller, startled.

She thrust Mr. Abraham Mole’s letter into the old man’s hand. He fumbled for his spectacles, took them out of their silver case, and adjusted them upon his beaklike nose, all the time muttering:

“What’s to do? What’s to do?”

“Is—is it bad news, my pretty?” quavered Aunt Alvirah.

“I—I don’t know!” gasped Ruth. “It’s wonderful news, anyway. But whether it can be true—or what it means——”

She stopped, watching Uncle Jabez with growing suspicion as he read the first paragraph. Did the miller know something already about this wonderful offer that was being made to Ruth? The latter tried to think. Could Uncle Jabez have brought this thing about?

But if ever the old miller’s face had shown wonder and innocent amazement within Ruth’s experience, it was right now. He had been smoking, and he dropped the pipe upon the ground without noticing it.

“For the land’s sake!” he stammered. “A hundred thousand dollars for to make a picture? It sounds crazy!”

“But Uncle Jabez!” cried Ruth, “isn’t it wonderful?”

“Seems like somebody’s got a lot of money to risk in a gamble,” he complained.

“But who?”

“You ain’t got no idee?” he asked her, with curious sharpness.

“What does it matter?” cried Aunt Alvirah. “You’ve got some friend that is willing to trust you.”

“Alviry means ye shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” chuckled the miller.

“But—but I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say. It seems too wonderful to believe,” Ruth reiterated.

“There’s one thing you can do, I calkerlate,” said the old man soberly.

“What is that, Uncle Jabez? You advise me.”

“You’d better pack off to New York and see this Abraham Mole, like he says. Maybe you’ll learn more that way than by standing there wondering about it.”

“But suppose he won’t tell me who furnishes the money?” asked the girl, in a worried tone. “He speaks of incorporating a company. In that case the backer may keep his name hidden from me.”

“He might,” admitted Uncle Jabez. “But what’s the odds? It’s the money you want, not the name of the feller that puts it up. The lawyer will like enough look after his client’s business. You ain’t got to worry about anything but yourself. See that they don’t sew you up in a sack, that’s all, Niece Ruth. Better get a lawyer of your own to see that your interests in the corporation are secure.”

“But I don’t know a lawyer,” said Ruth.

“Ask Mr. Cameron, my pretty,” said Aunt Alvirah. “He will know a good lawyer.”

“You’re coming out real smart for an old woman, Alviry,” said Uncle Jabez dryly. “I shouldn’t wonder if that was a good idee.”

“I will see this Mr. Mole first. Perhaps it is all right,” Ruth said.

“Go get your things on and pack your bag,” said Uncle Jabez. “I reckon I can spare Ben to drive you to town.”

“Helen will be along with Tom pretty soon. He is going down to New York to-day,” Ruth said. “I can go down with him and come back to-morrow after I have seen the lawyer.”

“Oh, my pretty! It will take you away from home again,” sighed the housekeeper.

“Business first; pleasure afterward,” said the miller grimly. “Go on with you, Niece Ruth. It looks like too good a chance to neglect. Strike while the iron’s hot.”

This was good advice, Ruth knew. She ran into the house, and in three-quarters of an hour was out again, dressed for the journey, bag in hand. Up the road she saw a car coming. She was only just in time, for in a minute Helen’s big car slowed down and stopped at the gate.

“Why, Ruth!” called Helen, “where are you going?”

“I am going to New York with Tom,” replied Ruth, running down to kiss Aunt Alvirah and brush the miller’s cheek with her lips. “Wait for me.”

“Goodness me!” gasped Helen, “what’s happened now?”

“The greatest thing you ever heard of,” Ruth replied, running out of the gate to climb into the tonneau. “I’ll tell you all about it. Good-by, Aunty! Good-by, Uncle! I’ll be back to-morrow night if nothing happens, and if I can’t come I’ll send you a message.”

“Good-by, my pretty!” returned Aunt Alvirah, smiling at the girl. “Don’t let anything happen to you.”

“Do tell us what it means, Ruth Fielding!” exclaimed her chum. “It must be something about your picture. Is it?”

“The most wonderful thing in the world, Helen!” cried Ruth.

“Let’s hear it,” said Tom. “I hope it’s good news, Ruth,” he added.

So, leaning over the back of the front seat while the motor-car whirred away toward Cheslow, the excited girl told them of the summons she had received and gave Tom the letter to read.