The Cook County herald. [volume] (Grand Marais, Minn.) 1893-1909, 1895-05-11

II put few more questions to him,
showing him I wished to be friendly,
and got him to tell me his story.
"Shortly, it was that he had been a
clerk in merchants Office. His young
wife had died in childbirth, and his
own health had given away so that he
had lost his situation and had been
unable to obtain other employment.
He had no relatives or friends, and
had gone from bad to worse, till he
had become an outcast of the streets;
but, as he woefully put it, he had not
long to live, so it didn't matter. Pm
in about the last stage of consumption
now,' he said, and shall soon be out
of my misery
| II was a bachelor then, living alone,
and I quickly determined to offer the
poor chap shelter, for day or two
at all events, and as soon as the work
men arrived and 1 was off duty, my
| strange companion started off with me
to my lodgings.
''For over six weeks I housed and
fed George Rankin, for that was my
| guests name.
''Bit by bit he told me his history
and struggles, but it is not necessary
for me to mention them, except that
his father had been a miser; miser,
in small way, no doubt, but miser,
nevertheless. He had turned George
out of doors soon after his mothers
death-she was partly starved to
death, George said. The lad was then
only fourteen years DID, and he had
never seen his father since.
II got neighboring dispensary doc
tor to see my friend. He gave him
some physic to relieve his cough, but
declared that it was quite hopeless to
attempt to save him, and in the sew
enth week poor George Rankin died.
'The day previous to his death he
gave me a paper which he took from
the lining Of his coat, where it had
been sewn up.
"'You have been a good friend to
me- he said. about the only friend
I ever had, and I can't repay you for
your kindness except by giving you
this I don't know whether it will be
any good to you or not I had mind
to destroy it, but thought 1 had bet
ter not. It is a letter from my father,
which he wrote shortly before he died.
Although he never did his duty by
me. he evidently kept an eye on me,
and knew my whereabouts to some eX-
tent.
"'Read it out loud to me- George
added, so that 1 know you can make
it out
II took the letter and read:
George: [ am not likely to live very
many days, and 1 am thinking about
my money. I can't take it with me-
I would if could. I daresay you have
no love for me- and I would not let
you have it, but it is a pity that any
body else should get it. You think
have not done my duty by you. tell
you I have done more for you than
my father did for me. I gave you an
education; that is more than I got.
do not wish to see you, but after l am
dead you will receive this letter. I
have arranged to have it posted to
you. You will find my money hid in
the top garret at p, Workman street,
Old Kent Road, where I shall die. I
will not tell you where it is hid. 1t
will be a little exercise Of your pa
tience to find it. You were always an
impatient young wretch and 1 would
not let you know where it is at all,
but I would rather you had it than
anybody else. Your Father.
"The letter was written in very faint
ink, in a grabbed, illiterate hand
writing, but I made it out fairly we'll.
'''I got that letter. said George, in
October last, and went to the address
he gave. I managed to get into the
garret where he had lived, and having
rented it for a fortnight, searched
>e Il
the floor boards up, and looked and
felt up the chimney and tried every
conceivable place, but I could find no
trace Of any money or anything else;
and, as had no means to pay rent, 1
had to give it up. I have not told
soul about it, as meant to try again
some day, but shall never have an
other chance now, so if you care to
start on a wild goose chase you can,
and anything you may find you are
welcome to-
"After I had buried George Rankin,
[ turned my attention to the hidden
money. I am not, hope and believe,
a covetous fellow, but 1 thought that
if could find it might as well have
it, and as had been in a carpenters
shop for year or two when boy I
knew a little Of building and could
handle the tools fairly we'll. I there
fore started off to the Old Kent Road.
"Yorkham street is in very poor
neighborhood, the houses being let out
in tenements of one and two rooms
each. I found No. p, and arranged
to rent the attic at half a crown a
week.
"On the Monday I moved bed,
a table, and a few chairs to my new
abode, leaving the rest Of my belong
ings at my old lodgings, and I set to
work to try and find the misers
hoard.
'Day after day persevered, trying
every bit of the rooms surface but,
like poor George Rankin, I could find
nothing. I had the boards up one at
a time, sounded all the walls, and
went halfway the chimney, but all
to no purpose, and I had quite made
up my mind that the old miser had
played hoax on his son. when I de-
termined, as last resource, to con-
suit detective sergeant at the East