# Dave Porter in the Far North/Chapter 16
#### CHAPTER XVI
##### SOME IMPORTANT INFORMATION

Dave felt like groaning when he heard Mrs. Clever's words. Then what Jasniff had written in the letter to Gus Plum was true—he had met Mr. Porter and Laura. Had he tried to set himself up as a friend? It was more than likely.
"And father and Laura don't know what a rascal he is," Dave murmured to his chum. "Oh, I feel as if I could wring his neck! For all I know, he has been making himself agreeable to my sister. Isn't it enough to make one's blood boil?"
"It certainly is, Dave. But I fancy your sister will soon be able to size up such a fellow as Jasniff."
"Perhaps, although he can be very oily when he wants to be. Oh, if only I knew where my folks were!" sighed the boy from the country.
Mrs. Clever could tell nothing more about Nick Jasniff or about the Porters. But she promised to send Dave word if she heard anything, and seeing that she was poor Dave paid her the money out of ​which Jasniff had swindled her, about six dollars and a half. Then the two youths took their departure, stating they might call again,
"Let me know beforehand," said Mrs. Clever, "and I'll treat you handsome-like." She offered them some cakes and ale, but they politely declined the refreshments.
From the woman they learned the easiest way to reach Siddingate, and arrived at that London suburb shortly after the dinner-hour. Here they procured a hearty meal at the leading hotel and from a directory learned that six Chesterfields lived in that vicinity—one an ironmonger, otherwise a hardware dealer; another a draper, that is, a drygoods merchant; and a third a stoker, which meant that he was a locomotive fireman. The other three were not put down as in business.
"I don't think we'll try to hunt up the stoker," said Dave. "Most likely he's off on a run. We can try the storekeepers and then the others."
The ironmonger, a burly, red-faced man, had never heard of Jasniff, but the draper, while he did not know anybody of that name, said that one of the other Chesterfields, whose first name was Philip, had some relatives in the United States, including some folks who were now traveling either in England or Scotland.
"Thank you; we'll hunt him up," said Dave. "Where does he live?"
​"Any cabman can tell you," was the answer. "Better ride out-—it's a cold walk."
It was cold, with the snow covering the ground to the depth of two inches or more. The air was very raw, and a regular London fog was settling down over the land.
A cabman was readily found, and inside of a few minutes they were on their way to the Philip Chesterfield estate. From the driver they learned that this Chesterfield was an old man, rather peculiar in his ways, and that he entertained visitors but seldom.
"It would be queer for Nick Jasnifi to visit such a man," remarked Dave. "But I don't want to let any chance of locating him slip by."
"Nick may be glad enough to get a roof over his head, if his money is gone," answered Roger.
The cab presently turned up a side road and approached the stone wall of a fair-sized estate, the mansion of which stood back in a patch of old trees. As they entered the gateway Dave saw a door open and a boy came out on a veranda.
"There he is!" he gasped. "There is Nick now!"
"You're right!" exclaimed the senator's son. "This is luck, and no mistake."
As the cab came closer Nick Jasniff gazed at it curiously, to see whom it might contain. Not to be ​recognized too quickly, Dave kept his face averted and cautioned his chum to do the same.
"Say! I say——" began the youth who had run away, when Dave leaped out and confronted him. "Whe—where did you come from?"
"From Oak Hall," answered Dave, coolly. "I fancy you didn't expect to see me so soon, Jasniff."
"Humph!" The runaway boy did not know what to say. "I—er—— Been following me up, I suppose?"
"I have."
"You didn't expect me, did you?" put in Roger, with a grin.
"I didn't," growled Nick Jasniff. "Any more?" and he gazed anxiously into the cab, half expecting an officer of the law to put in an appearance.
"No more just now," said Dave, with peculiar emphasis.
"What do you want?" Jasniff was gradually regaining his self-possession.
"I want a whole lot of things," answered Dave. "Do you want to do your talking here or in the house?" And he glanced at the cab driver, who was staring at the boys with his mouth open in curiosity.
"You can come in, if you wish," was the awkward answer; and Nick Jasniff led the way into the old mansion, which was semi-dark and not more ​than half warmed. "Do you know who lives here?" he continued.
"Your relative, Philip Chesterfield," answered Roger.
"Humph! He's a great-uncle of mine and very old. He is down with gout. Come into the library. We needn't disturb him."
They filed into the apartment mentioned, a long, low room, the walls of which were lined with shelves filled with musty volumes. Dave kept his eyes on Jasniff, and this the runaway noticed.
"Think I'm going to skip?" he queried, sourly.
"I'll not give you the chance," was the ready answer.
"You think you've got me foul, don't you?"
"Doesn't it look like it?"
"You can't make me go back to the United States."
"Perhaps I can."
"My folks have settled up that Pud Frodel affair for me—did it only a few days ago."
"But they didn't settle up with Mrs. Clever. She was swindled out of some board money."
"I—er—I was going to send her that money today."
"Then you had better pay me, for I settled the account," answered Dave. "But let us drop this talk for the present, Jasniff. I want you to tell me all you know about my father and my sister."
​"Humph! I haven't got to tell you anything If I don't want to."
"Yes, you have got to!" cried Dave. A dangerous gleam came Into his eyes. "Out with it at once. Where is my father?"
"See here, Porter, I don't propose to be bullied. I——"
"You answer my question, Nick Jasniff. If you don't I'll call in an officer at once and have you placed under arrest."
"You can't do it."
"I can and will. If I can't have you held on one charge I'll have you held on another. I want the truth from you, and I want it right away."
Dave had followed Nick Jasniff to a window, and faced the runaway with such sternness and determination that the latter cowed before him.
"I—er—that is, your father went north, last week."
"Where to?"
"He said he was going to Christiania, Norway."
"Christiania, Norway?" repeated Dave. He knew there was such a place, but that was all. "What for?"
"Oh, he was interested in an expedition that was going to the upper interior—some kind of a scientific expedition, I think. He was full of it—said they hoped to make all kinds of discoveries."
"Whose expedition was it?"
​"It was gotten up by two men named Lapham and Hausermann."
"I read about that expedition!" cried Roger. "There was an account of it in this morning's Times."
"When was it to start?" asked Dave, anxiously.
"I don't know."
"Do you know, Jasniff?"
"Not exactly—some time this week, I think."
"Was my sister Laura going with my father?" went on Dave, anxiously.
"No."
"Where is she?"
"I give it up."
"Jasniff, tell me the truth!" And again Dave looked at the runaway sternly.
"I don't know where she is."
"You met her."
"Certainly—half a dozen times."
"How did you get acquainted with my folks?"
"Oh, I met them by accident, and as soon as I learned who they were I introduced myself and said I knew your uncle Dunston Porter."
"What did you say about me?" and now Dave was more anxious than ever.
"I—er—I——"
"Come, out with it, and tell the exact truth, Jasniff, or it will be the worse for you."
"I—er—I didn't mention you," stammered the ​runaway. He could scarcely bring himself to speak the words.
"You didn't!"
"What! do you mean to say you met Mr. Porter and his daughter and didn't let them know that Dave was alive and that he was looking for them?" demanded Roger.
"It wasn't my business to tell them," answered Jasniff, doggedly.
"Nick Jasniff, you are the meanest fellow I ever met in my whole life!" burst out the senator's son. "For two pins I'd give you the worst thrashing you ever received. Didn't you know how happy it would make Mr. Porter and his daughter to know that Dave was alive?"
"I—er—that wasn't my business. Dave was no friend of mine—why should I put myself out to do him a good turn? If he wants to find his father and his sister let him do it."
"Did you become well acquainted with my sister?" asked Dave, after a pause.
"Fairly well, yes."
"Did you take her out anywhere?"
"No—er—she wouldn't go with me."
"I am glad to hear it. You say you have no idea where she is now?"
"Not exactly. There was an American family named Endicott over here. They came from somewhere out West. They had a daughter about ​Laura's age, and the two were chums. I think your sister sailed with the Endicotts for the States."
"Did they write to my uncle?"
"I don't know, but I think not, for they thought your uncle was still knocking around the South Sea Islands."
"And you wouldn't tell them a word!" cried Dave, bitterly. "Jasniff, I never supposed any fellow could be so cruel and hard-hearted."
"Humph! I haven't forgotten what I had to suffer," muttered the runaway.
"You brought all that on yourself. You had no business to go in with those two thieves. If you had remained honest there would have been no call for you to run away."
"Oh, don't preach, Dave Porter."
"What Dave says is true, Jasniff," said Roger.
"If you have suffered, it is all through your own dishonesty."
"Who says a relative of mine is dishonest!" came a loud, harsh voice from the doorway of the library, and turning quickly Dave and Roger found themselves confronted by an old man, white with sudden rage, and brandishing a heavy cane in his hand.