Dr. Zabrinsky was true to his word. He did all that was possible for the sufferer, and between his medical skill and Matt's watchful care, Mr. Lincoln recovered rapidly. Once in a great while his mind would take on a flighty turn, but Matt was watchful and always calmed him down, and at the end of six months the man whose mind had been so strangely affected was as rational and well as ever.
Long before this time Matt made a trip to New York and called upon Ida Bartlett at her new place of business. They had a long conversation concerning Randolph Fenton and his methods of selling stocks and shares.
At the end of this talk Matt made inquiries concerning Mr. Gaston's whereabouts. He learned that the former clerk was in Bridgeport, Connecticut, and telegraphed that he wished to see him without delay.
On the following Friday morning Mr. Gaston presented himself at the hotel at which Matt was stopping.
The young auctioneer went over his entire story and produced the papers which had been in his father's possession. He promised Gaston a liberal reward should they succeed in forcing Randolph Fenton to make proper restitution for a transaction that was undoubtedly criminal upon its face.
The old book-keeper at once consented to do what he could. He called in a lawyer of thorough experience, and several affidavits were made out, and a search made for Mr. Lincoln's rightful shares, for the ones Randolph Fenton had assigned to him had been some of a similar name but of far less value. Then all hands marched down to the broker's office.
Randolph Fenton was somewhat surprised to see Matt, and he turned slightly pale when Gaston confronted him, accompanied by the lawyer and another man he knew was a private detective.
Without preliminaries, the lawyer explained the object of the visit.
As he proceeded the broker grew paler and paler, and he clutched the arms of his chair nervously.
"You--you are mistaken!" he finally gasped out. "That transaction was perfectly legitimate. This is a plot on the part of that man and that boy to ruin my reputation!"
"It is no plot, Mr. Fenton," put in Matt. "For my poor father's sake as well as my own, I ask for justice; that is all. Your actions unbalanced my father's mind, and if I wanted to be hard-hearted I would not rest until you were behind the prison bars."
"Stuff and nonsense! This is all a put-up job----"
"Don't get excited, Mr. Fenton," said the lawyer pointedly. "The boy is letting you down very easily, to my way of thinking."
"Tut-tut! I won't listen to a word! I want you all to leave this office and stop this farce!"
"If we have to leave without satisfaction you will go with Mr.
Briarly, the detective," cried Matt. "Now you can take your choice. I am no longer your office boy, and you cannot twist me around your finger."
These words filled Randolph Fenton with rage. He wanted to abuse everybody within hearing, but both the lawyer and the detective cut him short by threatening him with immediate arrest. Finally he asked for time in which to consider the case.
This was granted, but after they left Matt instructed the detective to keep a close watch on the man, fearful that Fenton, who, according to Mr. Gaston's statement, was in bad favor in a number of places, would convert what securities he held into cash and leave for parts unknown.
It was well that Matt did this, for on the following night the detective captured the broker just as the latter was boarding a train at the Grand Central depot. He had a satchel full of money with him, and in his card case was found a railroad ticket for Montreal, Canada.
Randolph Fenton was placed under arrest, and then all of his many misdeeds were thoroughly investigated and exposed.
Out of the wreckage the swindling broker had left behind him Matt was able to secure three-fourths of the rightful shares of mining stock for his father. These shares had gone up in value and were found to be worth close on to fifty-eight thousand dollars. To Matt, who, in his wanderings around, had learned the true value of money, it seemed a fortune.
"You won't want any more of the auction business," said Andy. "You will have your hands full taking care of that money and your father."
"Yes, I guess my days as a young auctioneer are over," returned Matt.
"I want to get a better education if possible, and thus fit myself for something higher in life."
"What about your share in the business? I can't buy it out just yet."
"I have talked it over with father, Andy, and I have decided to make you a present of it. You deserve it, for ever since we met you have been a real brother to me. Make what you can out of the business, and if you ever get in a tight corner don't hesitate to come to me, and I will do what I can for you."
Andy demurred at Matt's generosity, but was finally persuaded to accept the gift. He settled in Middletown for the winter and did very well. In the spring he started on his travels again, and by fall had made enough to open a good-sized picture and art store in New York City on Fourteenth street. He still runs the store and is making money fast, much to the disgust of Caleb Gulligan, who grows poorer each year.
After Matt left the auction business he settled down with his father in a quiet home on the Hudson River, not many miles above the great metropolis. He took care of his father until the next autumn, when Mr.
Lincoln felt sufficiently recovered to go into business, and purchased the controlling interest in a large flour and feed establishment. The business is very prosperous. Ida Bartlett is stenographer and confidential clerk to the firm, and has a well-paying position, which will remain open for her so long as the kind-hearted young woman cares to occupy it. Matt did not fail to keep his former determination to give her a handsome Christmas present, and the two are likely to be life-long friends.
As for Matt himself, he has just finished a course at Columbia College, and next month will become the junior partner in a promising young law firm. Let us wish him every success, for the honest and fearless lad who was once the Young Auctioneer deserves it.
THE END.