Plane and Plank or The Mishaps of a Mechanic by Oliver Optic

Author:Oliver Optic [Optic, Oliver]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-07-30T00:00:00+00:00

"Yes, sir. I was with Mr. Gracewood and his family."

"What Gracewood?"

"Henry."

"Is he a brother of Robert Gracewood of Glencoe?"

"I don't know. He had a brother in St. Louis," said Mr. Lamar, who was an elderly gentleman, and appeared to know everybody and everything.

"He bought a place at Glencoe a year ago."

"His wife's brother was a Mr. Sparkley."

"It's the same man. But he separated from his wife years ago, cleared out, and has not been heard from since."

I explained that the family had been reunited, and were on their way to St. Louis. I had endeavored to find Mr. Gracewood's brother, but without success, in order to inform him of what had occurred up the river. The fact that he had moved from the city explained why I had not found his name in the Directory. I continued my story, with frequent interruptions, much to the disgust of the sergeant, who was interested only in the criminal aspect of the case. I told how Lynch had robbed me at Leavenworth, how I had identified him in St. Louis, and followed him and Farringford from Forstellar's to Front Street.

"Every word of that story is true so far as it relates to me," said Farringford.

"I watched Lynch and Farringford, the former trying to get rid of the latter all the time, until at last he laid violent hands upon him," I continued. "I couldn't stand it any longer; I went up behind Lynch, threw my hands around his neck, and stuck my knees into his back till he went down. He begged me to let him up, and promised to restore my money if I would. Then, when I was not willing to let him up without some security, he told me to take his pocket-book and purse. That was just what was going on when these gentlemen came out of Plum Street."

"Then you did not knock him down till he laid hands upon Farringford?" added the sergeant.

"No, sir; I did not till he took hold of my father."

"Your father!" exclaimed Mr. Gray. "The rest of your story is so straightforward that I hoped you would abandon that fiction."

"It is no fiction."

"It matters not to me whether it is fact or fiction," interposed the sergeant. "I only wish to know whether or not a crime has been committed in St. Louis. If the boy knocked this Lynch down in order to save Farringford from injury, it is no crime, whether father or not."

"I cried, 'Police!' as loud as I could, as soon as we struck the ground," I added.

"Can you identify your money?" asked the sergeant.

"Not every piece of it; but there was a five-dollar gold coin, with a hole through the middle, dated 1850. The clerk of the Fawn would not take it for my passage for five dollars."

The officer poured the gold from the purse upon the table, and instantly picked out the coin I had described, which Lynch had perhaps found it as difficult to pass as I had. He looked at the date, and declared it was 1850.

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