Bound to be an Electrician/Chapter 16
CHAPTER XVI.
BELDEN BRICE SAYS SOMETHING.
That Mr. Buckman was terribly in earnest conld be seen by the firm look about his mouth. His face was fairly white and he trembled with suppressed rage.
A less courageous youth than Franklin would have been frightened into absolute silence. But the young electrician's backbone was of stouter material, and, besides, he had an extra courage born of desperation.
"Mr. Buckman," he began, "you are treating me very unfairly. You should at the very least tell me why I am discharged."
"Tell you?" cried the superintendent, his eyes hashing. "What is the use? You know only too well. Get out, I say, and the quicker the better."
"I won't get out until you tell me why I am discharged. I have tried to do my work properly and I don't propose to be treated like a dog."
"Stop! stop! I won't be talked back to by one of the hands! I told you to get out, and unless you do so I'll ask one of the men to pitch you out."
"Then you won't make any explanation?"
"No. Now go!"
For the moment Franklin hesitated, then, as he saw the superintendent turn to a couple of brawny workmen with the evident intention of having him ejected by force, he threw down his tools, picked up his hat and coat, and started for the office.
Evidently the bookkeeper had been expecting something of the sort, for he handed over the money due Franklin without a word. As he placed the amount, which was but a few dollars, in his pocket, Franklin turned his clear eyes full upon the man behind the desk.
"Mr. Parker, will you tell me why I am discharged?" he asked.
"Well, I guess you know well enough. Bell," returned the bookkeeper, sharply. "Mr. Buckman don't take to your monkey shines."
"And what sort of monkey shines am I accused of?"
"Didn't you smear a lot of liquid glue over that new polishing machine and over Felter's workbench?"
"I certainly did not!"
"Well, they say you did. I don't know anything about it."
"Who says I did?"
"I don't know. Mr. Buckman found it out through some of the young fellows, I think.
"Probably through Nolan, Jackson or Felter," said Franklin, bitterly. "They are my enemies."
"Yes, I know you had trouble with them before."
Just then the bookkeeper was called away, and Franklin was left standing by the desk alone. The mind and heart of the young electrician were full. What should he do next?
"I'll remain here and fight it out!" he said, setting his teeth. "Mr. Buckman shall hear what I have to say whether he will or not."
Close beside the bookkeeper's desk was a door leading to the superintendent's private office. Without being observed by any one Franklin slipped through this door.
The private office was very plainly furnished, containing nothing further than a desk and several easy chairs. The desk was closed, something Franklin noted with satisfaction.
"He can't think I came in here during his absence to pry into his affairs," he thought, bitterly, and sat down in a far corner to wait.
Nearly half an hour passed—it seemed an age to the anxious youth—before Thomas Buckman came bustling into his office, evidently still strongly excited over what had occurred.
He did not notice Franklin at first, and, walking over to his desk, he opened that article of furniture with a quick roll and a bang.
Then he looked up and espied the young electrician.
"What, you here!" he cried, springing to his feet. "Didn't I tell you to clear out?"
"Yes, Mr. Buckman, you did," replied Franklin. "But I am not going until you give me some reason for my discharge."
"See here, Bell, I am no fool, although perhaps you thought I was when I let the matter of that broken machine pass. I caught you fairly this time, and you know it. Now, I do not wish to quarrel with you; my time is too valuable for that. What I want is that you leave and not come near the works again."
"I am perfectly wilhng to leave, Mr. Buckman. But before I go let me say this much. You are treating me unjustly, and some day I will prove it to you. I think I know who did the damage that has just been done, and I shall make it my business to bring the perpetrators to justice. In the meantime—"
"In the meantime I want you to leave me alone" shouted the superintendent. "I don't want to listen to your talk. You have already caused more trouble in these works than any other workman I ever had. There is the door. Clear out, before I boot you out!"
Red with suppressed rage the unreasonable man rushed to the door leading to the street and flung it open—to find himself face to face with Belden Brice.
"Hullo, Buckman, where bound?" asked the speculator, cheerily, as he stood on the doorstep stamping the snow from his feet.
"Oh—ah—good morning," stammered the superintendent in some confusion.
"How are you, Franklin?" went on Belden Brice, and in another second he was inside the place and the door was closed.
"Good morning, Mr. Brice," said the young electrician, joyfully. "I am very glad you have come."
"Why, what's the matter?" Belden Brice turned to the superintendent. "Anything wrong, Buckman?"
For he had now noted the enraged look upon the man's features.
"Yes, I should say there was something wrong," growled the superintendent.
"Ah, in what way?"
"He has just discharged me," put in Franklin, as he saw that Thomas Buckman hesitated to reply.
"Discharged you!" ejaculated Belden Brice in astonishment. "That's bad. What for?"
"He is an impudent, good-for-nothing fellow," burst out the superintendent. "I have given him two trials and I can't have him around. He has ruined two valuable machines and takes delight in playing pranks on the other workmen."
A pained look crossed the speculator's face. It was evident that he took a deep interest in Franklin and was hurt to learn of anything to the youth's discredit.
"Franklin, what have you to say? I thought you a different kind of a boy," he said, walking up to the young electrician and placing his hand on the youth's shoulder.
"Mr. Brice, Mr. Buckman is entirely mistaken," was Franklin's earnest reply. "He has jumped at conclusions and will not give me a chance of saying a word in my own defense. I did not touch the machines of which he speaks, and I haven't played a prank of any sort since I came to work."
"Humph!" The speculator in new inventions turned to the superintendent. "Do you hear what he says, Buckman?"
"Oh, yes, he's talked that way before," grumbled Thomas Buckman. "I reckon I know what I am doing."
"But haven't you given him a chance to speak in his own defense?"
"There wasn't anything for him to say. I had the evidence against him plain enough."
"I would like to hear the particulars of the trouble."
"Oh, it ain't worth your time to listen to it," said superintendent, hastily.
"Never mind. I have an hour or two to spare. I have other business, but that can wait."
Thomas Buckman tried to make other excuses, but it did not avail him, and at last, with very bad grace, he told his story.
Concerning the particulars of the broken machine nothing need be said. In addition to this, a new polishing machine had that morning been found covered with liquid glue; Felter's workbench was also smeared full of the stuff. Suspicion had pointed to Franklin as the guilty party, and a search had revealed the half-empty bottle in his workbench drawer. It was remembered by the doorkeeper that Franklin had been in the shop long before any of the other workmen.
"And now, what have you to say?" asked Belden Brice, turning to the young electrician. Franklin first told of the stealing of the knife and what Harry Leclair knew of it.
"You may not believe the boy," he said to the superintendent, "yet he tells the truth."
Then he went on to tell of the midnight visit Felter and Nolan had paid to the factory, and of the bottle they had mentioned. Thomas Buckman's lip curled in contempt.
"You mustn't expect me to believe that Bell," he said. "It is entirely too preposterous."
"It is a strange story, yet I believe it," was Belden Brice's comment. "You made a mistake, Franklin, when you did not summon assistance and have those two young fellows arrested."
"I know I did, sir."
"Have you no testimony whatever to corroborate your story?"
"I am sorry to say I have not."
"How could he have any?" put in the superindent. "It's the worst fake I ever heard."
"Where do Felter and Nolan live?" went on Belden Brice, without paying any attention to the last remark.
Franklin told him.
"Perhaps some one in the tenements saw them go away and come back."
"That's so!" cried Franklin. "If they did, that would be something, wouldn't it?"
"Where is the bottle of glue, Buckman? That may throw some light on the subject."
"I left it in the main office," returned the superintendent. "But it won't do any good—"
"We might try to sift matters to the bottom anyway. Let us have a look at the bottle," returned Belden Brice, cutting him short.
"See here, Mr. Brice, I know my own business," cried Thomas Buckman, angrily. "I have discharged Bell and that ought to settle the matter. I take no stock in this fairy tale about that midnight visit."
"I do, Buckman," returned the speculator, his face flushing. "This matter is to be investigated. Let me tell you something," he went on, pointedly. "I came here to inform you that I have just purchased a controlling interest in these works, and that hereafter you will look to me for orders instead of the old board of directors. Will you please bring that bottle?"
Thomas Buckman'sface changed color instantly. The announcement that had just been made took away his breath.