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Fame and Fortune Weekly No. 1: A Lucky Deal; or The 'Cutest Boy in Wall Street

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<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</h2> IN WHICH JACK RESTORES THE OBLONG YELLOW ENVELOPE AND ITS CONTENTS TO ITS OWNER. Of course Jack had a budget of interesting news to tell his mother and sister at the supper table that night. “Oh, Jack! How could you do it?” exclaimed Annie when he described how he grabbed the loaded revolver just as Oliver Bird fired it. “Well, sis, I never stopped to consider why I did it—the whole thing was over in a moment.” “And you actually saved the man’s life?” “Mr. Bird is sure of it, and that’s the way the evening papers put it, so——” “What! Is it printed in the paper? Let me see,” cried his sister, excitedly. Jack pointed out the article to her, and she began to read it with a great deal of interest. “But that isn’t all that happened to me,” grinned the lad, with his mouth full of Irish stew. “I should think that was enough for one day, John,” said his mother, smiling. “I found an envelope with a wad of money in it.” “Jack Hazard, you don’t mean it!” cried Annie, dropping the paper at this startling bit of intelligence. “I don’t usually say what I don’t mean, sis.” “You really and truly did find some money? How much?” “You promise you won’t faint?” “What nonsense!” “Mr. Bishop and myself both counted it. It amounted to sixty seven hundred dollars.” Mother and daughter both held up their hands in amazement. “Why, that’s a fortune!” “It would be to us; but probably the man who lost it considers such an amount a mere bagatelle.” “Did you find the owner?” “No; there was nothing in the envelope to identify the person to whom the money belonged. Mr. Bishop says we may expect to see it advertised for, probably to-morrow morning.” “Surely you will get something for returning the money,” said his sister. “I shall be satisfied if I get fifteen dollars, so mother can pay the agent Friday.” “You ought to get a great deal more than that. A good many people would keep that money, had they found it in the way you did. You ought to get at least one hundred dollars.” “Well, if I’m offered a hundred I sha’n’t refuse it, sis. You and mother need a new dress each, and I should like to get them for you.” “It’s very like you, Jack, to think of us first; but we’ll talk about all that when we see what you do realize out of your find.” “All right,” said Jack, helping himself to another hot biscuit. “The whole neighborhood is talking about you, Jack,” said his sister. “More than a dozen people whom we never saw before were in here to-day talking to mother and saying ever so many flattering things about you. Now, when they read to-night’s paper I’m afraid we shall have another crowd to-morrow. Why, you’ll be considered a regular hero.” “I’d like it better if they wouldn’t interest themselves so much with our affairs, sis,” said Jack, in a tone of annoyance. “They wouldn’t make themselves so prominent if we were dispossessed because we couldn’t pay our rent.” “I’m afraid we’ll have to submit with the best grace we can. It is one of the penalties of newspaper notoriety.” After supper Jack started to walk uptown to No. —— East Sixty-second Street, as he didn’t feel that he could afford carfare. He reached Mr. Bird’s residence, a four-story brownstone front, a little after eight o’clock. He was very kindly received by the broker and his family, who regarded him as the savior of the household. He spent a very pleasant hour, and when he insisted that it was time for him to go Mrs. Bird stepped up and presented him with a very handsome little gold watch and chain as a small token of their gratitude and esteem. Jack was very much surprised, not expecting anything of the kind, and for the first time in his life he was at a loss how to suitably express himself. The very first thing Jack did next morning when he reached the office was to look over the “Lost and Found” column in the “Herald,” but he failed to find anything having reference to the money he had found. “Hello!” exclaimed Frank Simpson, who sat beside him, reading the ‘World.’ “Say, this is pretty tough!” “What’s tough?” asked Jack, without looking up. “Why, here’s a story about a woman who lost a big wad of money yesterday.” “What’s that?” asked Jack, with sudden interest. “She and her husband had been saving up and pinching themselves for the last twenty years to save enough money to buy a house where they could spend their old age in security and comfort. They did buy a house, but the city took it on a valuation because it stood in the way of the new bridge, and they received sixty seven hundred dollars. They left this money with the Blank Trust Company, on Wall Street. After looking around some time, they bought another house, and yesterday the woman drew the money from the trust company to pay for it and for the new furniture and other things they wanted; but when she got home she found that she had lost the envelope containing the money somewhere on the street, but just where she has no idea. She’s about crazy over her loss. Gee whiz! If that isn’t hard luck, I don’t know what is,” concluded young Simpson, emphatically. “Where does she live?” asked Jack, in a tone of great excitement. “It’s down here somewhere,” answered Frank, looking over the article. “Here it is, No. —— Prescott Street, Bronx.” “Let me have the paper,” cried Jack, grabbing it eagerly. He glanced over the article with feverish interest; then he rushed into Mr. Bishop’s office and pointed it out to that gentleman. “I guess there’s no doubt but this woman is the person who lost the very money that you picked up yesterday. The amount, as well as other particulars, corresponds. Go around to the Blank Trust Company and have them describe the woman and the notes they paid her. The cashier will probably have a memorandum of the banks that issued the large notes, at any rate. If the list corresponds with those in the envelope in the safe, you had better take the package up to the address given in the ‘World,’ and if the woman can describe the money with reasonable accuracy and her description coincides with that furnished by the trust company, you will be pretty safe in restoring to her the sum she lost. I am very glad, for the poor woman’s sake, that you were the one who found her money.” Jack followed the manager’s suggestions, and the result was that they were both satisfied they had located the rightful owner of the $6,700. “Start right up there now, Jack, and get back as soon as you can,” said Mr. Bishop. “The cashier will hand you the carfare.” It was something over an hour before Jack reached the address printed by the ‘World’—a small, two-story, frame building, one of a row of six, on a side street off Westchester Avenue. He rang the bell and a boy answered, holding the door partly ajar. “I should like to see Mrs. Breeze,” said Jack, in a business-like way. “Are you a reporter?” asked the boy, doubtfully. “Well, hardly,” grinned the young messenger. “I’m from Wall Street.” “Who are you talking to, Bobbie?” asked a woman’s voice rather petulantly. “There’s a boy here from Wall Street who says he wants to see you,” answered the young hopeful. “What does he want?” “What do you want?” repeated the lad. “I want to see Mrs. Breeze in reference to the money she lost.” “Let him come in,” and Jack was admitted. A sad-faced woman of fifty, with her eyes swollen from weeping, made her appearance from a back room. “Has any trace been found of my money?” asked the woman, with suppressed eagerness. “If you will describe the notes as well as you can remember them, I will be able to answer you,” said Jack, who saw that Mrs. Breeze’s personal description exactly corresponded with that furnished by the trust company. “The six one-thousand-dollar bills were new, but I didn’t notice the name of the bank either on them or on the other notes, one of which was a five-hundred-dollar and the other two one-hundred. I had them in a large, oblong envelope. That is all I can say about them.” “I think you have described them correctly,” said Jack, producing the envelope he had picked up. “Is this your property?” The woman pounced on the envelope like a hawk, opened the flap, took out the money and counted it with eager eyes; then, satisfied that it was all there, restored to her in the most wonderful manner after she had given it up for lost, she sank back in her chair and began to cry convulsively. After a moment or two she recovered her composure and inquired of Jack how the money had been found. He told her how he had picked it up close to the entrance of the trust company. She had drawn the money at two o’clock, and Jack had found it close on to four. It seemed incredible that an envelope containing such a large sum of money could have laid on the sidewalk of a prominent thoroughfare like Wall Street, glanced at and walked over by many people, and yet no one had had the curiosity to pick it up. “What is your name?” asked Mrs. Breeze. “Jack Hazard, madam.” “You are an honest boy. I am sure you have a good mother and that she is very proud of you. This money you have returned to me is the savings of our entire life. I don’t like to think what the result might have been if it had been lost for good and all. As testimony of our gratitude I want you to accept these two bills,” and she offered Jack the two hundred-dollar notes. “No, ma’am,” said the boy. “I couldn’t think of taking so much money from you.” “But you must, or you will take away half the pleasure I feel at the recovery of my money. Really, it is a great deal less than you really deserve. I insist that you accept them,” said Mrs. Breeze firmly, forcing the bills into his hand. Jack saw she was intensely earnest in her demand, and with some reluctance he put them in his pocket. “I am very happy indeed that you have got your money back,” he said as he rose to go. “I feel like another woman to what I did before you came here. Be sure I shall not soon forget the honest lad to whom I am indebted for its recovery,” were her last words as Jack ran down the steps after bidding her good-bye. <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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