The Young Auctioneers/Chapter 33
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE RIVAL AUCTIONEERS.
It may well be imagined that Matt read Ida Bartlett's letter with great interest. The young auctioneer had never received a communication as surprising as was this one.
He went over every word carefully several times, then placed the letter in his pocket, and started off to find Andy.
Half an hour later he came across his partner on the main street. Andy had just rented a store, one of two vacant ones which were side by side, and was now on his way to drive the wagon around and unload the stock.
"Well, did you get a letter, Matt?"
"I did."
"Good enough. Any special news?"
"Yes, indeed. Just read that."
And the young auctioneer passed the communication over for his partner's perusal.
Andy read the letter as carefully as had Matt. He emitted a long, low whistle.
"What do you think of it?"
"I hardly know what to think, Matt. Do you know anything about this mining share business?"
"I know that Randolph Fenton sold my father some shares, that is all. I never saw the certificates, if that is what they are called."
"Did you ever see the papers in connection with the shares?"
"No."
"Then they must have been in your father's possession when he disappeared."
"I don't know about that. Mother might have had them when father was first sent to the asylum for treatment. Although I remember hearing her once say that since father's mind had become affected he would not trust any one with his affairs, but kept all his money and papers hidden away."
"It's too bad you haven't the papers."
"That's so. If I had them I would hunt up Mr. Gaston, and get him to expose Randolph Fenton."
"It might pay you to do that anyway."
"I don't know. If there was any likelihood of this being the case, I think Miss Bartlett would have written to that effect."
"What do you intend to do?"
"I am going to write to her again, telling her just how matters stand with me, and ask her if she thinks it will do any good for me to come on. If she thinks it will, I'll try to manage it some way to take a run to New York."
"You can do that whenever you wish, Matt. I will take care of things the same as you did when I was gone."
On the way to the stable where the wagon and Billy were located they talked the matter over at a greater length. Andy took a warm personal interest in the matter, and did not hesitate to say so.
"If this Fenton swindled your father, I trust you are able to prove it and get your money back," he said. "I don't know of any one that deserves money more than you do."
The wagon was soon driven around to the store, and the goods unloaded. Then the show-window and the shelves were arranged to attract the eye, after which Andy hung out the red flag, which now began to look to the young auctioneers like an old friend.
As soon as everything was in shape for business Matt brought out paper, pen and ink, and set to work upon the letter to Ida Bartlett. At first he hardly knew how to express himself, but before he had finished he had filled eight pages, and told the young lady exactly how matters stood. He begged for her further assistance, and assured her that she should not lose through her kindness to him.
The letter finished, Matt did not place it in a letter-box, but marched with it to the post-office, that it might be included with the first out-going New York mail.
"If I only could find father," he sighed to himself as he turned back to the store. "Something in my heart tells me that he is not dead, and yet, if this is so, where can he be?"
On arriving at the store he found Andy already busy with a crowd which had begun to collect the moment that the red flag was hung out. Matt had to begin work at once, and this was a good thing for the boy, for it kept him from brooding over his parent's possible fate and thus growing melancholy.
"If I am any kind of a judge, we are going to do the best business yet at this city," said Andy, as there came a little lull in trade. "It started off briskly, and it has kept on steadily ever since."
"Well, that just suits me," laughed Matt. "To my way of thinking we cannot do too much business."
During the next day Matt noticed two sharp-eyed men hanging around the place a good deal. At first he paid no attention to them, but at last pointed them out to Andy.
"Yes, I noticed them myself," returned the senior partner. "They do not look as if they wanted to buy, but just as if they were spying."
"Supposing I call them in and ask them to buy?" suggested Matt, for both of the men were at that moment gazing in the window at the articles displayed there.
"Certainly, you can do that if you want to," returned Andy.
So Matt walked from behind the counter toward the door, but before he could reach it one of the men saw him and spoke to his companion, and both hurried up the street and around the nearest corner.
"Humph! that's queer, to say the least," said the young auctioneer, and Andy agreed with him.
There had been a "To Let" bill upon the show-window of the vacant store next door, but on the following morning when the young auctioneers opened up they found the bill gone. The door of the store was open, and inside a boy somewhat younger than Matt was cleaning up.
"Hullo!" cried Matt, stopping short. Then he poked his head in at the door and confronted the boy.
"So we are going to have neighbors, eh?" he remarked pleasantly.
"Bet your life!" was the slangy reply from the boy, as soon as he had noted who had addressed him. "You didn't expect us, did you?"
"No, I didn't know the store was taken until a moment ago," said Matt.
"Well, it can't be helped. It was the only store vacant in the neighborhood."
"Can't be helped?" repeated Matt, somewhat puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, I thought you might object to our opening up alongside of you."
"I don't see why I should. What business are you in?"
"Same line."
Matt was taken aback somewhat by this unexpected reply, and his face showed it.
"Do you mean to say you are going to open an auction store here?"
"That's it, and we are going to make it everlastingly warm for you fellows, too," went on the boy triumphantly. "We've been a-watching how you run things, and we are going to scoop every bit of trade when we get started."
Matt drew a long breath. Here was certainly a new experience. He and Andy had expected to encounter rivals, but had never dreamed of having them at such close quarters.
"Well, I suppose we will have to stand it," he said, hardly knowing how else to reply to the boy's bragging statement.
"If I was you I'd pack up and try some other place," went on the boy. "Gissem & Fillow will take every bit of trade—they always do wherever they go."
"Gissem & Fillow? Are those the names of the men who run the concern?"
"Yes, and they are the slickest auctioneers in the country."
"Perhaps you only think so."
"Oh, I know it. I'll bet you a new hat you don't take in a dollar after we get a-going."
"Thank you, but I don't bet. May I ask where you came from?"
"We came from Stroudsburg."
"Were you down in Bethlehem before that?"
"Yes. How did you know that?"
"We came through there after you had gone."
"Bet you didn't sell anything. We squeezed the town dry."
"We didn't sell much," returned Matt. He was on the point of stating that he had heard how the folks had been swindled, but he changed his mind. "How long do you expect to remain here?"
"Oh, a week or so. You might as well pack up and leave."
"I guess we will venture to remain, at least a day or two longer," said Matt. "Perhaps we'll be able to do a little in spite of you."
At that moment a large wagon began to back up to the curb. The seat was occupied by two men, and Matt at once recognized them as the fellows he had caught hanging around the previous day. They were the rival auctioneers, who had been watching to learn how Matt and Andy conducted their business.