Bucholz and the Detectives | Page 4

calculated to melt the obdurate heart of the
average listener to sympathy, and so with a wave of his hand he
declined the proffered coin, and stated the nature of his business.
The Squire soon discovered his error, for instead of asking for charity,
his visitor desired to make a purchase, and in place of being a victim of
necessity, he intended to become a land-owner in that vicinity.
The young man who accompanied him, and who was dressed in
clothing of good quality and style, was discovered to be his servant,
and the old gentlemen, in a few words, completed a bargain in which
thousands of dollars were involved.

The blue eyes of the worthy Squire opened in amazement as the
supposed beggar, drawing forth a well-filled but much-worn leather
wallet, and taking from one of its dingy compartments the amount of
the purchase-money agreed upon, afforded the astonished magistrate a
glimpse of additional wealth of which the amount paid seemed but a
small fraction.
The land in question which thus so suddenly and strangely changed
hands was a farm of nearly thirty acres, situate upon Roton Hill, and
which had been offered for sale for some time previous, without
attracting the attention of an available purchaser. When, therefore, the
new-comer completed his arrangements in comparatively such few
words, and by the payment of the purchase-money in full, he so
completely surprised the people to whom the facts were speedily
related by the voluble Squire, that the miserably apparelled owner of
the "Hill," became at once an object of curiosity and interest.
A few days after this event, the old gentleman, whose name was
ascertained to be John Henry Schulte, formally entered into possession
of his land, and with his servants took up his abode at Roton Hill.
The dwelling-house upon the estate was an unpretentious frame
building, with gable roof, whose white walls, with their proverbial
green painted window shutters overlooking the road, showed too
plainly the absence of that care and attention which is necessary for
comfort and essential to preservation. It was occupied at this time by a
family who had been tenants under the previous owner, and
arrangements were soon satisfactorily made by Henry Schulte by which
they were to continue their residence in the white farm-house upon the
"Hill."
This family consisted of a middle-aged man, whose name was Joseph
Waring, his wife and children--a son and two blooming daughters, and
as the family of Henry Schulte consisted only of himself and his
servant, the domestic arrangements were soon completed, and he
became domiciled at once upon the estate which he had purchased.
The young man who occupied the position as servant, or valet, to the

eccentric old gentleman, was a tall, broad-shouldered, fine-looking
young fellow, whose clear-cut features and prominent cheek-bones at
once pronounced him to be a German. His eyes were large, light blue in
color, and seemed capable of flashing with anger or melting with
affection; his complexion was clear and bright, but his mouth was large
and with an expression of sternness which detracted from the pleasing
expression of his face; while his teeth, which were somewhat decayed,
added to the unpleasing effect thus produced. He was, however, rather
a good-looking fellow, with the erect carriage and jaunty air of the
soldier, and it was a matter of surprise to many, that a young man of his
appearance should occupy so subservient a position, and under such a
singular master.
Such was William Bucholz, the servant of Henry Schulte.
Between master and man there appeared to exist a peculiar relation,
partaking, at times, more of the nature of a protector than the servant,
and in their frequent walks William Bucholz would invariably be found
striding on in advance, while his aged, but seemingly robust, employer
would follow silently and thoughtfully at a distance of a few yards. At
home, however, his position was more clearly defined, and William
became the humble valet and the nimble waiter.
The reserved disposition and retired habits of the master were regarded
as very eccentric by his neighbors, and furnished frequent food for
comment and speculation among the gossips which usually abound in
country villages--and not in this case without cause. His manner of
living was miserly and penurious in the extreme, and all ideas of
comfort seemed to be utterly disregarded.
The furniture of the room which he occupied was of the commonest
description, consisting of an iron bedstead, old and broken, which, with
its hard bed, scanty covering and inverted camp-stool for a pillow, was
painfully suggestive of discomfort and unrest. A large chest, which was
used as a receptacle for food; a small deal table, and two or three
unpainted chairs, completed the inventory of the contents of the
chamber in which the greater