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Updated: June 19, 2025
The old gentleman, as he entered the room, had caught Marcus Wilkeson's words. "He is the son " and had observed the slight confusion with which Marcus had stopped saying something. He now noticed the glance enjoining silence, which Marcus had directed at the lieutenant of police. Mr. Van Quintem turned pale, as a harrowing suspicion came into his mind. "Mr.
Van Quintem; "and I promise to run over and look at it when I am well enough to go out." The haste with which the old gentleman made the last remark, and the fact that he did not invite his visitor to examine the library then and there, led Marcus to think that the old gentleman had some private trouble on his mind, which he wished to diminish by imparting to another. Marcus was right.
"Go, my good boy," old Van Quintem had said to him, in faltering accents; "go among the gambling houses, and other dens of infamy, and you will surely hear of my son." Acting on this advice which confirmed his own opinion Bog proceeded to visit the gambling houses on Broadway. Child of the city as he was, he knew the locations of them all.
He then proceeded to swear and interrogate the four new witnesses. They took the oath decorously, kissing the book in the politest, most gentlemanly manner. Their testimony was to the effect that young Van Quintem passed the night of the murder, from ten P.M. till four A.M., at Brown's, and was not absent one minute.
Marcus might have added, that the old gentleman's flowing white locks and benevolent features had contributed to the illusion; but he had already discovered that Mr. Van Quintem, like himself, was averse to compliments. The old gentleman took the remark good-naturedly. "This is not the first time," said he, "that my old-fashioned fancy for a white cravat has led to that mistake.
Among those who know me, I pass for a very shrewd business man, who has made a fortune by his numerous failures. This tribute to my abilities is flattering, but I must disclaim it. But I am tiring you with these petty details of my life." "Not at all, really," said Marcus Wilkeson, who enjoyed the old gentleman's frankness. Mr. Van Quintem paused, and began to show signs of fatigue.
Crull, and also with greater and more confiding weight, on that of Bog. As the party entered the shop, young Van Quintem was sitting with his head turned toward the door by which Miss Minford had vanished, savagely biting his finger nails. He wheeled in his chair, and confronted the intruders. "What the are you doing here?" he cried to his father.
I found Mr. Lambkin in, and he told me as how, accordin' to last accounts, Gusty was stayin' with her uncle Van Quintem. I knowed your address, and come up here short metre. I was goin' to pretend that I was a man in search of work, and trust to luck to get a sight of Gusty.
The old gentleman smiled at the absurdity of that hope, and said he should depend on seeing him to-morrow. So, shaking hands warmly with Mr. Van Quintem, and bowing most respectfully to Mrs. Frump, Marcus took his departure, and meditated, as he walked slowly home, on the strange occurrences of the day.
Please come to the ferry house on the Greenpoint side, and wait there till I send for you. These notes he addressed to Mr. Van Quintem, sen., and Mrs. Crull, at their residences. The next step was to find a boy to deliver them. Bog did not have to wait long for that. Boys of the ragged and city-wise variety may be picked up at any corner of New York at any hour of the day or night.
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