Philip immediately wrote:
"I am greatly obliged by your prompt.i.tude in the matter of Johnson"s Mews and the shop. I inclose check herewith for two thousand eight hundred pounds. The purchase of the other houses can stand over for a few days."
This he dispatched by special messenger, and in a few minutes he held a formal receipt.
A telegram came for him. It was from Mr. Abingdon.
"Can see you after six at my house."
Then Philip enjoyed his first real breathing s.p.a.ce during hours of daylight. He went by train to the cemetery in which his mother was buried, carrying with him a beautiful wreath.
It was a remarkable fact that this was the first visit he had paid to her grave. During the days of misery and partial madness which followed her death he never lost the delusion that her spirit abided with him in the poor dwelling they called "home."
Hence, the narrow resting place beneath the green turf in no way appealed to him. But now, that a succession of extraordinary external events had restored the balance of his mind, he realized that she was really dead and buried; that what he revered as her spirit was in truth a fragrant memory; that he would be nearest to her mortal remains when standing in the remote corner of the burial ground allotted to the poorest of the poor--those removed by one degree from pauperdom and a parish grave.
It happened, by mere chance, that since Mrs. Anson"s funeral no one had been interred on one side of the small s.p.a.ce purchased for her. There were three vacant plots here, and a surprised official told Philip there would be no difficulty in acquiring these for the purpose of erecting a suitable monument.
The boy filled in the necessary forms there and then. It was some consolation to know that he could perpetuate her memory in this way, though he had formulated another project which should keep her name revered through the ages.
On the site of Johnson"s Mews should arise the Mary Anson Home for Dest.i.tute Boys. He would build a place where those who were willing to work and learn would be given a chance, and not driven, starving and desperate, to pick up an existence in the gutter.
He was too young to devise all the details of such a splendid inst.i.tution, but he had got the idea and would possess the money. He would leave the practical part of the undertaking to older heads.
The one essential feature was that generations yet unborn should learn to love and honor the name of Mary Anson. Provided that were achieved, he knew the work would be successful.
Soon after leaving the cemetery he came face to face with Bradley, the policeman, who was in plain clothes, and walking with a lady, obviously Mrs. Bradley, judging by the matronly manner in which she wheeled a perambulator containing a chubby infant.
"Well, I"m blowed!" cried the policeman, "who would have thought of meeting you! I looked in at the mews last night, but you had gone. Some one is looking after you pretty well; eh?"
He cast a patronizing eye over Philip"s garments, which were, of course, considerably smarter in appearance than those in which the constable had seen him on Thursday evening.
"Yes," said Philip. "I am in good hands now."
"They haven"t given you a watch?" This anxiously.
"No. I am watchless."
"That"s right. You"ll have one soon. The inspector has your address. By the way, he wants to know your Christian name."
"Philip."
"Thanks. I won"t forget."
Philip raised his hat and took the quickest route westward. He did not count on being recognized so easily.
Mr. Abingdon received him with some degree of reserve. The magistrate could not understand the receipt of a letter bearing the address of the Pall Mall Hotel, a place where he had been entertained at dinner occasionally by one of his wealthy friends, but which was far removed from the limit imposed on the pocket of any man whose resources depended on the exercise of an ordinary profession.
But Philip still figured in his mind as a ragged urchin. Not even the skilled police magistrate could picture him as the actual owner of millions of pounds worth of portable property. Hence, the boy"s appearance now told in his favor. Cursory impressions soon yielded to positive bewilderment when Philip began to relate his story faithfully from beginning to end, neither exaggerating nor suppressing any salient detail save the actual locality where his astounding adventures found their center and genesis.
Mr. Abingdon did not doubt for one moment that the boy was telling the truth. The romance of his narrative was far beyond fiction.
Philip himself grew enthusiastic as he went on. His brown eyes blazed again with the memory of his wrath and shame at the arrest. He told the magistrate exactly how the proceedings in court had affected him, and gave a vivid picture of his bargaining with Isaacstein, the packing of the diamonds, the fight between the policeman and a burglar, his interviews with all sorts and conditions of men, and the ruses he had adopted to preserve his secret.
At last he came to the transaction which secured for him the ownership of the mews itself. He read copies of his letters to the solicitors, and their replies, and then, of course, the magistrate knew where the meteor had fallen.
"That is a very clever move on your part," he said, smiling. "It invests you with all the rights and usages of that particular piece of earth, and effectually stops anyone from disputing your possession of the meteor. How did you come to think of it?"
"You put the idea into my mind, sir," said Philip, modestly.
"I? In what manner?"
"You hinted, at our last meeting, that some one might lay claim to my diamonds on the ground that they had fallen on their property. I do not intend that anyone living, except yourself, shall ever know the history of my meteor, but I thought it best to buy the place outright in the first instance, and then devote it to a charity which I intend to found in memory of my mother."
Mr. Abingdon smiled again.
"Your confidence is very flattering," he said. "I suppose you took up your quarters at the Pall Mall Hotel in order to impress people with your importance and secure instant compliance with your wishes?"
"That was my motive, sir."
"Then, my young millionaire, in what way do you wish me to serve you? Of course, you have not sought this interview and told me your story so unreservedly without an ulterior object in view? You see, I am beginning to understand you already a little better than when we first met."
Philip did not reply immediately. He did not want to risk a refusal, and he was not yet quite sure that the magistrate fully comprehended the extent of the fortune which had been showered on him from nature"s own mint.
"When Mr. Isaacstein returns from Amsterdam he will pay me something like forty thousand pounds," he said.
"Yes. It would seem so from the receipt you have shown me."
"That will be determined on Wednesday next at the latest."
"Yes."
"If the money is forthcoming it will be proof positive that my diamonds are of good quality, and, as I picked up these dirty stones quite promiscuously, it follows that the others are of the same standard?"
"Undoubtedly."
"Well, Mr. Abingdon, I can form no estimate of their collective value, but they must be worth many millions. According to Mr. Isaacstein"s views, I will be able to command a revenue of between a quarter and half a million sterling per annum."
"It is marvelous, perfectly appalling in some senses," cried the perturbed lawyer, throwing up his hands in the extremity of his amazement.
"You are right, sir. I am only a boy, and the thing is beyond my powers.
I can see quite clearly that while I ought to be at college obtaining a proper education, I will be worrying about the care of great sums of money. I do not know anything about investments. How should I?
Isaacstein is a Jew, and he will probably endeavor very soon to get the better of me in the necessary business transactions. How can I stop him?
I have no older relatives, no friends whom I can trust. For some reason, I do feel that I can have faith in you. Will you take charge of my affairs, advise me during the next few years, tell me how to act as my mother would have told me--in a word, become my guardian?"
For a little while Mr. Abingdon was silent. When words came he could only gasp:
"You certainly are the most extraordinary boy I have ever encountered."
Then Philip laughed merrily.