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So I took the liberty of asking Miss Berwick and Mr. Wilson to go along with us on the chance that we might round up Dan Cassey." "That's all right," responded Mr. Brandon warmly. "The boys have already told me, Miss Berwick, of the dastardly trick that fellow played on you, and I shall be only too happy to have you and your lawyer go along with us.
"J-j-just you w-w-w-w " but he was unable to finish the sentence until he stopped and gave vent to a long whistle, after which he was able to proceed. At the sound of the whistle Bob suddenly stopped laughing and sat up straight in his chair. "Say, fellows!" he exclaimed, "do you remember what Herb told us about the man named Dan Cassey?"
Cassey made an appointment for me to come to his office the next day with the money. When I went there he was alone. He usually has a stenographer, but I suppose he had sent her away so that there would be no witnesses. I gave him the money in bills." "Then of course you got a receipt for it," interrupted Bob. "No, I didn't," replied the young girl, her face flushing.
At the out-of-town railroad station they quite unexpectedly ran into Nellie Berwick. The girl had recovered from the shock of the automobile accident but looked much downcast. "No, I haven't heard from Dan Cassey yet," she said, in reply to a question from Bob. "Then he didn't come back?" questioned Joe. "No or, if he did, he is keeping in hiding.
But I guess I'm just fooling myself. I'm going to put the whole thing in the hands of a lawyer and have Cassey brought to justice if I can. But I'm afraid it'll be a case of locking the stable door after the horse is stolen." "Don't get downhearted," urged Bob. "I have an idea that you'll get your money or the mortgage.
The detected rascal dropped weakly into the chair whose back he had been holding. He seemed near total collapse. "Come now," said Mr. Wilson, stepping forward and tapping him on the shoulder, "the game's up, Cassey. We've got you at last. The money or the mortgage, Cassey. Come across with one or the other and come across quick. It's that or jail. Take your choice."
In Penyan, Western New York, William Platt and Joseph C. Cassey were successful lumber merchants. Mr. W.H. Topp of Albany was for several years one of the leading merchant tailors of that city. Henry Scott, of New York City, developed a successful pickling business, supplying most of the vessels entering that port.
"It sounds rather familiar," replied Herb, knitting his brows as he tried to remember. "Wait!" he said suddenly. "I've almost got it Cassey! Cassey! Does the man stutter, do you know?" "She didn't say anything about that," replied Joe. "Why do you ask that question?" "Because," answered Herb, "I remember a man of that name a few weeks ago calling at dad's store to get a bill of goods.
"It's the mortgage, all right," he said, as he handed it over to his client. "That settles his account with you, Miss Berwick, and I congratulate you. But it doesn't settle his account with the law. You contemptible scoundrel," he said, addressing Cassey, "you ought to serve a good long term for this." Cassey, utterly broken, fell on his knees at this and fairly begged for mercy.
His name and paper was good in any house in the city, and there was no banker of moderate capital, of more benefit to the business community than was Joseph Cassey. He also left a young and promising family of five sons, one daughter, a most excellent widow, and a fortune of seventy-five thousand dollars, clear of all encumbrance.
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