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Updated: June 19, 2025
"It may be, my dear Mr. Van Quintem, that your son did not write the anonymous letters to Mr. Minford, notwithstanding the point of resemblance which we think we have detected. While sitting, at my window, I have often noticed him in his room scribbling at a desk, as if he were practising penmanship. Perhaps, if you examine the contents of the desk, you may get some further light on the subject.
Here the full voice of old Van Quintem announced dinner, for which the elderly ladies had been demurely waiting for some time. Two by two the bridal party and the guests marched to the banquet, spread in the long, broad dining room, which was one of the best features of this sturdy, old-fashioned house.
"I'll give Bill Fish a good job, some day," mused Bog. "Now for the scoundrel." The boat had come in. Bog watched from his hiding place until he saw young Van Quintem step on board, and disappear in the ladies' cabin. Then he hastened to the ferry house, paid his fare, and entered.
Bog was easily found, and gladly consented to do the work allotted to him. It was agreed that he should conduct the search alone, and in his own way; but that, after he had succeeded in tracing Miss Minford to her place of concealment, he should send word, without delay, to Mrs. Crull, and also to old Van Quintem, whose advice upon the subject had been obtained.
Poor Pet threw her soft white arms around the thick neck of her protectress, and cried for joy. "Dear, dear mother!" she murmured. There was a pause, daring which everybody but young Van Quintem had occasion to wipe their eyes. He paced up and down, his brow wrinkled, and inextinguishable hate flashing from his eyes.
Bog judged, from all the circumstances, that Miss Minford would not again show herself for some time; that young Van Quintem would wait, in the hope of seeing her; and that the shopwoman could be depended on as her friend to the last. He therefore concluded that he might safely spend time to go to the ferry house, and procure the company of old Van Quintem and Mrs.
This was the coöperative work of the boy Bog, who, though adopted by old Van Quintem as his son and heir, had not yet given up the bill-sticking business, but, on the contrary, had increased it, and now had a practical monopoly of it in the city, with branches in the suburbs. Bog would not eat the bread of idleness and so he had modestly told Mr.
To this house, Myndert Van Quintem, jr., had never returned; and no authentic intelligence of him had ever come. Fayette Overtop, Esq., while on a professional visit to St. Paul, Minnesota, to settle a large land claim, had heard of a notorious Van Benton, who had kept a gambling house there several years, and was finally killed by a spendthrift whom he had cleaned out of his last cent one night.
As the familiar notes, not heard for years, saluted the ears of the bachelor Bank President, he showed the animation of an old war-horse at the sound of the trumpet. "Now is our time," said he. Moved by common impulse, the members of a past generation rose, and took their places. Old Van Quintem, temporarily forgetting his rheumatism, led off, escorting Mrs. Crull.
Bog emerged from his seclusion, and followed him at a distance, always keeping somebody between him and the object of his pursuit. At the corner of Astor Place, young Van Quintem stopped; and Bog came to a halt also, half a block behind. The next minute, the Eighth-street stage, going up, approached the corner at a rapid rate, as if the driver were hurrying home to his supper.
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