Bats in the Wall; or, The Mystery of Trinity Church-yard

"No, Frank, most decidedly not. I must say that I am more than surprised that you should have had the audacity to even think for an instant that such a thing could be."

"But we love each other most sincerely, Mr. Callister, and you know as well as I do that there was a time when, with your approval, I was allowed to consider Edna as my future wife."

"That may be, young man, that may be-I will even go so far as to admit that such was the case. But circumstances alter cases, and I am inclined to think that I could do somewhat better than to bestow the hand of my only daughter upon a bank clerk at a beggarly salary of twelve hundred a year."

"I am assistant cashier of Webster National Bank, and my salary is quite enough for a young couple to get along on with economy; besides, I have prospects of promotion--"

"Had, you mean. A year ago such was the case, Frank Mansfield. From what I have recently heard of your career, your drinking, gambling and nightly carousals, I am inclined to doubt if your prospects amount to much now."

It was Mr. Elijah Callister, the rich Wall street stock operator, who spoke these words, the person to whom they were addressed being Frank Mansfield, a handsome youth of twenty-one.

The scene was Mr. Callister's office on Broad street, in one of the nine-story buildings just below Wall, and the time the close of the short winter's day, December 22, 1884.

Now, in thus demanding the hand of Miss Edna Callister, Frank Mansfield was by no means as presumptuous as at first glance might seem.

But little less than five years previous to the date just mentioned, the father of this young man had been a wealthy and honored merchant, and the stock operator's most intimate friend.

Their business interests to a great extent in common, their elegant residences on Fifth avenue side by side, and their children-in each case the only child the friends possessed-had been taught to look forward to the day when they should marry with their parent's full consent.

To-day all was different, and Edgar Mansfield lay in a dishonored grave, his wife, driven mad by the reverses of fortune and the loss of a kind and loving husband, had disappeared from the circle of friends in which she had long figured as a leading spirit, while Frank had been thrown to shift for himself upon the cold charity of an unsympathizing world.

All this happened in the spring of 1879, which, all will be seen, was five years before our story begins.

Meanwhile, Elijah Callister had flourished, even as his friend Mansfield had slipped and fallen.

While Frank, who had obtained a position in the Webster National Bank, had been working hard to advance himself, with occasional slips and frequent lapses into dissipation and folly-always bitterly repented of when committed and it was too late-the father of Edna Callister had steadily increased in influence and wealth.

He was honored among business men, a pillar in the church, and high in social circles, and yet he had turned his back completely upon the son of his old-time friend, having even gone so far as to forbid him entrance to his home.

That the course he had pursued had not prevented the love which had existed from childhood between the youthful pair from developing as time went on, is evident from the conversation in which we now find the highly respectable Mr. Callister and the son of his former friend engaged.

"I am hardly as bad a fellow as you would make me out, Mr. Callister," answered Frank, flushing to the eyes at the stock speculator's last remark. "I have been a little wild and imprudent, I'll admit, but I've made up my mind to reform, and with Edna for my wife--"

"Stop!"

Mr. Callister had brought his fist down upon the desk with a bang.

"My daughter shall marry no pauper, Mr. Mansfield!" he exclaimed, with emphasis. "Come to me with proof that you are possessed of at least ten thousand dollars of your own, and I will listen to you-not before. At the present time I doubt if you can produce ten thousand cents."

"And this is final?"

The face of Frank Mansfield was very pale as he spoke.

"It is. Reform your habits of life, go to work and advance yourself, make money somehow, anyhow, so that you make it, and then, if Edna has not previously found some one more worthy of her, as I have no doubt she will, I will give your proposal the consideration it deserves. Now I must bid you good-night."

Without a word the young man turned upon his heel and passed out of the office.

Listening for a moment to his retreating footsteps as they died away through the corridor, Mr. Elijah Callister arose, drew on his overcoat, adjusted his shiny beaver at the proper angle upon his head, and taking up his walking stick, prepared to start for his palatial home with a general air of respectable business solidity standing forth from every portion of his portly presence from the crown of his hat to the soles of his well-polished shoes.

"That settles him for the day," he muttered, as he cast his eye about the office to see that everything was as it should be for the night; "by to-morrow, unless I greatly mistake, the young gentleman will have most effectually settled himself. I have nothing against Frank, nothing in the world, but of late he has become altogether too inquisitive, and there is nothing for it but to remove him from my path."

"Though I don't doubt in the least," he added, meditatively, as he locked the office door behind him, "that when she hears what has happened, she will kick up a deuce of a row."

And the respectable Mr. Callister, the last man in the world who among the brethren of the Tenth Baptist Church on Murray Hill, in which he was a bright and shining light, would have been suspected of such a thing, stepped into the elevator, passed out of the nine-story building into Broad street, and, slipping around the corner into a little alley, hurriedly descended the steps of a basement groggery, and walking up to the bar, called for as stiff a glass of brandy as any old toper in the land.

"Has Billy Cutts, the detective, been in here this evening, Joe?" he asked of the white-aproned bartender, as he set down the brandy glass which he had drained to the last drop.

"No, he hasn't, Mr. Callister," was the man's reply. "I haven't seen Billy in more'n a-- By gracious! talk of angels, and they are right on top of you! Here's Billy Cutts comin' now."

As he spoke a young man, comfortably dressed in a dark overcoat and ordinary business suit, entered the saloon.

He was to all appearance not over twenty-two or twenty-three years of age, but his face bore indelibly stamped upon it a knowledge of the crooked ways of the great city not usually looked for in a man of his years.

He shook hands with the stock operator upon his entrance, with a familiar, easy-going air, both withdrawing at once to a table in a remote corner of the saloon, upon which, by the order of the elder man, the bartender placed a bottle and glasses between them.

"Well, Billy, is it all fixed?" said Mr. Callister, pouring out a stiff glass of liquor for his companion and another for himself.

"All O. K.," was the reply. "The old man an' his pals got the plans all right, an' will be on hand, you can bet. I saw Detective Hook not an hour ago and gave him the tip. He swallowed the bait whole, the shallow fool, and now all that remains is to get the feller to consent, an' that I consider about fixed."

"How did you do it?"

"Oh, through the help of a couple friends of his an' tools of mine. They've been workin' on him for the best part of a week, an' have pretty well brought him round. I want them in the thing, too, don't yer see, to give the racket a natural air."

"Of course neither of them suspect the truth?"

"What d'ye take me for, boss? I guess I know what I'm about as a general thing. When I tell you a thing is fixed, it's fixed; you can bet yer life on that every time."

"I hope so, and I believe so," replied the other, in a fierce whisper. "That boy Frank Mansfield is in my way, Billy. He must and shall be removed from my path. Your scheme is a good one, and I believe it will work; if I read of his arrest in the morning papers you can count on five thousand dollars any time you have a mind to call round to my office and get it."

Mr. Callister arose abruptly as he spoke, and buttoned up his overcoat as though to depart.

"You'll see me to-morrow mornin', then, fer sure," replied Cutts, likewise rising. "So you'd better be ready with the cash."

"I will, Billy, never fear. How's your father, by the way?"

"Oh, the old man's all right, but confoundedly nervous till this little spec is over."

"Well, give him my regards when you see him, and I shall expect to see you with your work accomplished at my office to-morrow by noon."

And the respectable Mr. Callister with a face so smiling that, as the saying goes, butter would not have melted in his mouth, shook hands with Detective Cutts and moved off in the direction of the nearest station on the elevated road.

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