Life on the Mississippi - Mark Twain [112]
Now, as to that watch—see how strangely things happen! I traced it around and about Germany for more than a year, at considerable cost in money and vexation; and at last I got it. Got it, and was unspeakably glad; opened it, and found nothing in it! Why, I might have known that that bit of paper was not going to stay there all this time. Of course I gave up that ten thousand dollars then; gave it up, and dropped it out of my mind: and most sorrowfully, for I had wanted it for Kruger’s son.
Last night, when I consented at last that I must die, I began to make ready. I proceeded to burn all useless papers; and sure enough, from a batch of Adler’s, not previously examined with thoroughness, out dropped that long-desired scrap! I recognized it in a moment Here it is—I will translate it:
“Brick livery stable, stone foundation, middle of town, corner of Orleans and Market. Corner toward Courthouse. Third stone, fourth row. Stick notice there, saying how many are to come.”
There—take it, and preserve it. Kruger explained that that stone was removable; and that it was in the north wall of the foundation, fourth row from the top, and third stone from the west. The money is secreted behind it. He said the closing sentence was a blind, to mislead in case the paper should fall into the wrong hands. It probably performed that office for Adler.
Now I want to beg that when you make your intended journey down the river, you will hunt out that hidden money, and send it to Adam Kruger, care of the Mannheim address which I have mentioned. It will make a rich man of him, and I shall sleep the sounder in my grave for knowing that I have done what I could for the son of the man who tried to save my wife and child—albeit my hand ignorantly struck him down, whereas the impulse of my heart would have been to shield and serve him.
CHAPTER XXXII
The Disposal of a Bonanza
“Such was Ritter’s narrative,” said I to my two friends.
There was a profound and impressive silence, which lasted a considerable time; then both men broke into a fusillade of excited and admiring ejaculations over the strange incidents of the tale; and this, along with a rattling fire of questions, was kept up until all hands were about out of breath. Then my friends began to cool down, and draw off, under shelter of occasional volleys, into silence and abysmal reverie. For ten minutes now, there was stillness. Then Rogers said dreamily:
“Ten thousand dollars.”
Adding, after a considerable pause—
“Ten thousand. It is a heap of money.”
Presently the poet inquired—
“Are you going to send it to him right away?”
“Yes,” I said. “It is a queer question.”
No reply. After a little, Rogers asked, hesitatingly:
“All of it? That is—I mean—”
“Certainly, all of it.”
I was going to say more, but stopped—was stopped by a train of thought which started up in me. Thompson spoke, but my mind was absent and I did not catch what he said. But I heard Rogers answer—
“Yes, it seems so to me. It ought to be quite sufficient; for I don’t see that he has done anything.”
Presently the poet said—
“When you come to look at it, it is more than sufficient. Just look at it—five thousand dollars! Why, he couldn’t spend it in a lifetime! And it would injure him, too; perhaps ruin him—you want to look at that. In a little while he would throw his last away, shut up his shop, maybe take to drinking, maltreat his motherless children, drift into other evil courses, go steadily from bad to worse—”
“Yes, that’s it,” interrupted Rogers, fervently. “I’ve seen it a hundred times—yes, more than a hundred. You put money into the hands of a man like that, if you want to destroy him, that’s all; just put money into his hands, it