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Updated: June 3, 2025
Then I squeezed myself into the closet, crouching down into one corner, behind several canes and umbrellas. I was not an instant too soon, for hardly had I settled myself than the door opened, and Chris Holtzmann reentered, followed by Mr. Aaron Woodward. Both men were highly excited, and both uttered an exclamation when they saw the room was empty. "He's gone!" cried Holtzmann.
"Nicholas Weaver was the man who helped Holtzmann concoct the scheme whereby a relative in Chicago was supposed to have died and willed Aaron Woodward all his money." "I see. But why did he leave the statement?" I asked. "Because, he says here, Woodward did not treat him right. This Ferguson or Stumpy was a friend to Weaver, and the paper was gotten up to bring Woodward to terms."
"What brought you?" This was a home question. I plunged in like a swimmer into a deep stream. "I came to get the papers relating to the Strong forgeries. You have all of them, I suppose." I was surprised at my own boldness. So was my listener. "Sh! not so loud," he exclaimed. "Who said I had the papers?" "John Stumpy spoke about them to Mr. Woodward." "He did, eh?" sneered Chris Holtzmann.
They would not have put themselves to the trouble and expense of hiring some one to follow me if this was not so. Though Mr. Aaron Woodward was rich, he was close, and did not spend an extra dollar except upon himself. I was chagrined at the thought that Holtzmann would be prepared to receive me.
But it must be understood that you give no more information to the boy." "Give him information!" cried Holtzmann. "Let him show his face here again and I'll break every bone in his body," he added grimly. This was certainly an interesting bit of news. I made up my mind that to be seen would render matters decidedly warm for me.
Woodward, vehemently. "You've made some remarkable statements, young man, and I demand a clear explanation before you leave." "Well, you demand too much, Aaron Woodward," I replied firmly. "Unlock that door." "Not just yet. I want to know what you know of Holtzmann of Chicago?" "You won't learn by treating me in this manner," was my determined reply.
This being so, there was no further use for my remaining in my cramped position in the closet, and I longed for a chance for escape. It was not long in coming. "I don't see how that boy managed it," said Holtzmann. "He was alone only a few minutes." "Never mind. He's as smart as a steel trap. Was the safe door open?" "Yes. My clerk left it open. He is a new one and rather careless.
It took him nearly an hour to do so, and then he plied me with numerous questions. "Do you know what my advice is?" he asked, at length. "No, sir." "I advise you to have both Holtzmann and Woodward arrested at once. They are thorough rascals, and your father is the innocent victim of their cupidity." "But how can I do that? No one knows me here in Chicago." "Hold up, you make a mistake.
I do not care to describe the scene that met my eyes. The magnificent decorations of the place were to my mind entirely out of keeping with its character. The foulness of a subcellar would have been more appropriate. In the back, where a stage was located, were a number of small tables. I sat down at one of these and had a waiter bring me a glass of soda water. "Is Mr. Holtzmann about?" I asked.
Woodward or Chris Holtzmann calls, I think you will find it advisable to keep this affair a secret." "I will not be at home to them," she replied briefly. "A good plan," said Mr. Harrison. "Now that you have done the right thing, the less you say about the matter the better for you." A few minutes later, with the paper tucked safely in my pocket, we left the house. Mrs.
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