The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1890-01-10
HOW IT WAS FOUND.


sTrs. Moffet was in despair. No won
der. Here she was, "a lone, lorn widow"
who having been left in straitened cir
curastances with only the house in
which she lived to call her own-had
been reduced to the dernier resort of
taking boarders. Well, surely that is
misfortune enough, as all poor, worried,
tired out boarding house keepers can
testify; but now calamity had come upon
her, and she was about to lose her best
paying boarder-lose him just as the
winter was coming on, and the thousand
and one extra expenses which cold
weather is certain to create all to be
met. The immense coal bills, the extra
gas. the endless additions to her already
exorbitant list of expenses.
Mrs. Moffet was meek little woman,
timid and retiring; she disliked change
in her household affairs. she disliked
worry and anxiety, being naturally
cheerful and lively in disposition, and
she did like Mr.. Montgomery. Truman
Montgomery, bachelor, had been fix
ture in the Moffet boarding house ever
since Mr.. Moffet had ''shuffled off this
mortal coil" which he accomplished in
hasty manner one day, falling dead in
the street of heart disease.
From the time that the childless widow
had turned away from the lonely grave
under the crisp November sky, and went
back to her desolate home to face her
own poverty, from the time that mod
est placard had appeared upon the front
door, stating in clear, concise terms
that there were "rooms to rent" within,
Mr.. Truman Montgomery had been her
most distinguished and best paying
boarder. He had been the first to apply,
had secured the most expensive apart
ment, furnished it to suit himself, and
engaged to take his meals also at the
Motfet table; as time wore on he had
come to be part of the household. Men
might come and men might go, but
Montgomery stayed on forever. And
now this cold morning in early winter
Mrs. Moffet was forced to stand face to
face with the truth. He was going
away. And why? All, that was the
worst of it! He had lost money-a large
amount-from' his room, and refused to
longer remain in house where thieves
were harbored.
Mrs. Moffet was plump, pretty little
woman of some-pshawl who can guess
a woman's age? If a woman is really
"as young as she looks" then Mrs. Mof-
fet could not be much past 80; at all
events she had not yet begun to look out
of the western windows of life, and she
was in every way a charming woman.
She listened to Mr.. Montgomery story
with alternate horror, terror, despair
At it's close she burst into tears.
"Oh, dear! 1t is awful" she sobbed.
"You know that am ignorant of the
whereabouts of your money; and oh, it
will ruin my house if it gets known"
"Can't help it, ma'am. Very sorry,
I'm sure; but then it's mere case of self
defense. Can't stay in house where !
am liable to-to-be robbed"
And then Mrs. Moffet bowed with as
much dignity as though she were an EN-
press.
Every well, sir. You know best, of
course, sir. will have your bill ready
in few moments, and you
"Stay, Mrs. Moffet. l will not leave
until my month is up, which will be in
three days, believe"
Mrs. Moffet bowed once more.
"As you like, sir. In the meantime we
will do all in our power to recover the
missing money"
But Mr.. Truman Montgomery looked
blank, for he knew that the money was
gone beyond earthly hope of recovery,
and Mr.. Montgomery was man who,
like Jack Bunsby, "allus knew his own
mind"
"Poor little thing! How pale she
looks!" he said to himself, as he went
back to his room to go through with a
long and fruitless search once more. 81
wish it had been different. But then q
man can't stay in a house and look upon
it as a home-when he is always losing
money. First, it was that package oi
$100-I didn't say word to Mrs. Moffet
about that, for fear of hurting her feel
lngS; ana then IL was u pou olll, anC
now-now it is this package of $4,000
Too much to lose. Altogether too much
declare. Yet l wish it had not hap
pened here. Lucy Moffet is the sweetes
little woman alive, think"
And at that very moment "the sweet
est little woman alive" was shut up ir
her own room in close confab with Franz
Glyndon, one of the boarders, who was
also private detective.
He tells me, madame, that he has
lost money here before" the young mar
is saying as he studies Mrs. Moffet's pale
agitated face intently; 'and l really
think-for the sake of the reputation ot
your house, if for no other reason-you
ought to have this mystery cleared up
I'm in favor of searching the hoarders.
"Mercyr shrieked Mrs. Moffet. 81
wouldn't do. Mr.. Glyndon. I'd lose the
last one. Fancy searching Col. Overtor
and his stylish, fashionable wife-ol
their rooms-to find a stolen package O.
money. No-nol Whatever you may
see fit to do in this sad business must b,
done secretly"
The detective took new tack.