Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 118) (1879 10 28)
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ae arts { hat Un $2.50 a year. Vol. V. CUA VIR ies SL 4 a9 a Single qui Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., as Second Class Matter. PUBLISHED W “n “G po 9, 4 "I ' of NY \ - Be WY hee Ww = AS \ XN LW SY WR , » “q(t dN October 28, 1879, Price, 5 Cents. No. 118. p anit Copyrighted in 1879 by BEADLE AND ADAMS, tSEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK, i il \ A) A Ny il } TT H\\\ WI HW It | NW WIN Hh MH }) VW] AHMAR TWITTY * WONDER If THERE Is ANY GHOSTS Will Somers, THE BOY DETECTIVE. BY CHARLES MORI 'IS. CHAPTER L LOOKING FOR WORK. “Gor any opening in these diggin’: for a fellee ef = size and good looks?” he speaker was a boy of some sixteen years ef age, a well-built, athletic lad, the sinewy develop- ment of his limbs showing through more than one rent in his well-worn clothes. His claim to good looks was indisputable. A bright black eye gave character to a face of clamaic- al outline, straggling curls of dark hair banging low over his olive-hued cheeks and brow, while errs and mouth had all the fine curves of the type. py, YD Wittarrn, IN THESE DIGGIN’S, AS SOME OF WHE MEN SAY?’ HE MUTTERED, LOOKING AROUND,
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But this countenance was none too clean, and its maain expression was of the sauciest impudence, and a spirit Of unbounded self-assertion, do you want?’’ the gentleman ad- in a curt tone. “Well, I ain't ik‘lar,”’ drawled the boy. “I The merchant twisted himself round in his chair andiooked at the speaker. The latter bore his sharp gis Napa standing in an erect, easy attitude. - pen I don’t want a cashier?” “Maybe then you'd give me a job to make fires: and run errands, It’s all one to me, 60 it a Who told you I wanted a boy?” “A counter-jumper outside there, I axed him if Shere was room in this row for 1 smart young man and he said he guessed you wanted a partner. So Jest. stepped back to see if I wouldn’t suit.” A frown came upon the merchant’s brow as he ore Ss this impudent action of some one of his ster **Who told you this?” he sharply asked, *'Kow look ye here, mistor,”’ said the boy, impres- areety; “that’s not my lay. I don’t tell tales out of achool. I wouldn’t blow on a cat if I caught her ‘mtealing a 1uouse in ther man’s kitchen.” “*Get out of here then. I am busy and don’t want ‘4o’'be bothered.” ’ ; “*See here now,’’ said the boy, leisurely seating wkimself in a chair. ‘ You're not sayin’ nothing gheut that job. You've got a dozen men out thers in the store, and I don’t see a boy in the shanty. Wow you can’t run a place like this without a wide- gwake boy, and I’m jest the feller you want.” “You have impudence enough to run it yourself,” gaia the morchant, looking more closely at his im- ate visitor. “Wouldn't be afeard to try,” said the boy, sauci- es ing to his lips a half-smoked cigar which he all this time held in his hand, and taking a long whet. ‘I’ve a notion I could make dry Saace apin amazing, Jest hand me the reins and I bet I put her , h at. two-forty.”’ ere are some thin you need to learn first." “Well, I'm open,” said the lad. ‘I’m never back- ward at takin’ new points. Dishit out. I’m board- inf here now, and will take down anything from Hash to bread-pudding.”’ “The first is never to smoke in the presence of geatiomen.”’ “That p’int’s swallered,” said the boy, flinging his tirar Sap eo ze be eh bat bomber ce that peanle o practice what they preach.’ Ms What do ou mean?” asked the aerenent, taking enosier whiff at the cigar which he had himself been enjoving. mean that you are smoking in the presence of a tleman.”’ 16 boy sat erect in his chair, and looked into the merehant’s face with the proud . quality of an American citizen. An odd smile came upon the merchant’s face as he teo flung away his cigar. The sharp retort of his wigitor seemed to amuse him. _. “So you consider yourself a gentleman?’”’ he wi don’t lie and I don’t steal. I don’t swear, and Anever bezged. That’s somethin’ of a gentleman, an . And I’m as polite as I’ve been brung up 3 which ain’t much,”’ ') ‘The merchant laid aside the papers which he had -beon examining. He pushed k his chair from tthe table and faced his visitor. He was a hale, handsome man of some fifty years ‘or aae somewhat imperious in manner, but with a ig sense of humor in his face. He seemed to ‘think that he had met an original character. “Who told you that those were marks of a gentle- van?” he asked. _“T've seen folks a bit. Haven't traveled with my -ayes'shet. Can tell you too much; there’s two hogs so every gentleman.” “Wore, I’m afraid. What is your name?” “$3 mers," ' ms do you live?"’ “Tn this here big town of Philadelphia, buf in a ‘“tttle street that I s’pose you never heered the name of. kmake myself at home yes though,” “So it seems,’’ said the merc per agh Aeros at the _ yamdsome appointments of his private office, and ‘then at the ragged dress of the boy. The merchant looked closely at his precocious , who, to the age of a boy, added the self-as- and experience of a grown man. The latter » dgamed back with easy assurance in his chair, and -seomed indeed ‘at home.” ** What have you been used to doing?” asked Mr. teonard. “What ain’t I been used to would be a bit more >. said Will, resting his two elbows on the ‘ ‘“Blackin’ boots, and sellin’ pa rs, an “holidin’ hosses has been my big holts, but. I’ve dipped into ’most everything else ’cept preaching.” “You have been a little vagabond, I suppose, all your life, and know as much of the wo as men pught Lo at twenty-five.” “If there’s a feiier inside of ten miles of here that -I ever done anything mean, I can lick that » Will Somers. sooner open clams for a livin’ than do what's not on the square. **Do you know Wn ge ae well?" “Does a cat know. milk? BetIdo. Could navi- ate it with my eyes shet, and know most every- boay worth knowin’.”’ “Are your parents living?" **Dunno ‘bout my dad,” said Will. * anorphan. Me and sis was drapped in this here town when we was like young kittens. A big white house, t’other side the Schuylkill, was our head- quarters. Dad sloped. Never heered of him since,” “The r-house, eh?’ said Mr. Leonard. ‘‘ You have a sister?” “Yes, She’s slipped, too. Was took out when I | was a baby. Never see’d her since. sound. Know I’ve had mighty hard hoein’. There was a touch of feeling in Will's voice which he sought to hide by greater recklessness of manner. La towing he had a secret yearning for his lost ter. Mr. Leonard was silent for several minutes before egain speaking, He seemed to be debating some- ng thin himself. : “So you want to learn something of business?” he | Boyd the girl’s | ,99 at length said. “You've hit that nail square on the head,” said | Will, with energy. ‘I'm gettin’ too big toshove the | brush, or handle the extras. What's more, I’m not | ee to be a poor critter all my life. I want a bizz hat’s got money init. I’ve sot my eye on a brown- stone shanty up Broad street. If it’s for sale ten years from now I’m in the market.” Mr. Leonard laughed slightly at the boy’s tone of confidence. “Fortunes ain’t made as quickly as you fancy. my lad,” he said. Xie I don’t hang my Te in that shanty, you business-man in him,’’ eaid Mr. Leonard, to himseff. “T would much rather have a boy that aimed high than one that aimed low. He is a handsome lad, too, and if better dressed would be quite presenta- ble. I have half a notion to try him, with all his im- pudence. He is a perfect specimen of the street Arab, but he seems quick and intelligent.” “How about that job?” asked , impatiently. “T’m bound to strike one, somewhere, afore night, I’ve give you the refusal. If you don’t go for it that’s your loss. The man that gets me makes a ten-strike, and no braggin’.”” “Tf I should give you employment could I depend oi yee to do what you were told?” asked the mer- ant. “What I was told?’ said Will, rising impulsively to his feet. “I wouldn't give a smashed cent for the feller who couldn’t do more than he was told.” “That would never do,’ said Mr. Leonard, — . “I want a boy to do just what he is **And what chance is there for genius, then, if a feller can’t spread a little?’ asked Will, earnestly. “The boy that only does what he’s told won't never get to Congress.” , “And they who act beyond their instructions sometimes get to the State’s prison, my boy. If I give you a position you must learn to never take a step without orders.” “T can try,” said Will, with a comical leer, ‘but it’ll go mighty ag’in’ the grain, “Tain’t the way I’ve been brung up.”’ Their conversation was interrupted at this point by the entrance of a person into the office, He seemed to be one of Mr. Leonard’s employes, and was a tall, well-built man, but dressed with a ag vanity that at once attracted the boy's atten- ion. He looked with surprise at the merchant’s strange visitor, a look of disdain coming upon his face, as he drew somewhat back, as if in fear of contamination. Will glanegd at him from head <o foot, with a steady, impudent are. “The Everhart is in,’ he said. ‘The Danton shipment of silks on poard, I have just received notice.’ * That is good news, Wilson,” peplice Mr. Leonard. | “The market is just ready for them. See to the custom-house charges at once, We must have them | in store as soon as possible.” “Twill attend to it,” he said with a somewhat pempous air. With another look of supercilious’ wonder at Will | he left the room. “Who's that cove?” asked the latter, an impudent | smile upon his face. ‘e “That is Mr. Augustus Wilson, my principal book- eeper,” ‘He is a hoss, he is,” satd Will, with a contemptu- vus . “A man of his size dressed like a_pea- coek, and biting off his words like a school-girl, Why don’t you call him Gus?” y “That would not be very respectful. ‘He'd git as much as he goes for, I reckon,” said Will, disdainfully. ‘I bet he’s a dose, “Tf I should give you employment, Will, you must learn to curb your tongue, and not be so insolent to the men in the store. They would not stand impu- dence from a boy.” “Th get along with them, Don’t you be afeard,” said Wil face. “I’ve got along with never been kicked yet. But I’m doubtful if I won't pe callin’ that cove Gus. He’s a gay feller to Mister, e is.” “You will not stay here long, my lad, if you do. I warn you of that.. He is my principal employe, and must be treated with respect. Un erstand me. Impudence will not serve.” Mier; that’s me!” cried Wil’, indignantly, “I'd ) “Allright, Mr. Leonard. But Iknow I'll have a f “Spect I’m | can count me out,’’ said Will. “The saucy young rascal has the making of a 1, with a look of confidence on his handsome | “ folks all my life, and | be eR een a a armor aren eee a ey fight every time I go to say Mister. Gus will be cores up. When am | to le?” ‘What do you mean?” “When I dive in and take hold?" replied Will, with an earnest air. ‘‘ This job I mean.” “Qome round this hour to-morrow and I will let you know my decision,” said Mr. Leonard, turning again to his papers. “That won’t gee,” said Will, positively. “If you want me you'd t say so and be dons withif. I'm bound to fetch work to-day.” ‘Very well,” said the merchant, impatiently. ‘1 he Rive you a trial. Now don’t bother me any fur- er. “Tf you’d said that half an hour ago I wouldn't bothered you so long,” said Will, saucily, as e strode out of the room, CHAPTER IL STORE LIFE, Mr. Lronarp was the proprietor of a lanes whole- sale aapecres house, on Market street. He dealt extensiv i in the richer qual ties of goods, and cases of costly silks, rich shawls, a..d other expensive fab- | ries were constantly imported by him. He had a wide-spread and profitable trade, and was accounted & wealthy man. There were a dozen or more salesmen, porters, | ete., employed about the store, besides the numer ous clerks in the counting-house, and in the business hours of the day the long, wide store bustled with activity till it seemed a very bee-hive of commerce, Mr. Leonard really wanted a boy to perform vari- ous minor offices about the establishment, and in spite of Will’s impudence the experienced eye of the merchant saw in him signs of energy and _intelli- gence which seemed to promise welt if properly trained. r His ragged clothes and soiled face were against him, but a little money would cure the one and a little water the other. The boy was bandscme and strong-looking, and his insolence was not of the swaggering, incorrigible kind, but rather the native independence and sense of equatity with all mankind of the street Arab. It was not in Will to show defer- ence to a king on his throne. A few days after his interview with Mr. Leonard found our young hero duly installed as office-boy and rel utility in the store. His employer had found him a more creditable suit of clothes, and. given him some useful instruction as to personal cleanliness, politeness, etc. He had succeeded in greatly ingroving the out- ward appearance of the boy, but his mental crooked- ness was not to be so easily straightencd. Will was essentially the same lad who had spent his life till now in stree. avocations, with intervals of fishing, lounging, swimming, fighting and saucing. He was, as he said, as active as a young leo- pard, could run, leap, wrestle and use his fists with = boy of his size in the city, e took hold of business with a vim that promised well for his future usefulness, doing the work given him so rapidly and well as to greatly please his employer. ut there was no curbing his tongue, and more than one spat occurred between him and the sales- men, before he bad been a day in the store, Before the end of the first week there was an outbreak bso threatened to suddenly end his engage- ment, “Here, boy, take this roll of cloth down to the store and give itto Mr. Johnson. Look alive, now, he is waiting for it,” This imperative address was made by a nervous, quick-spoken salesman, named Robert Brown, Will was employed in openi a newly-arrived case of goods. He looked up with a glance of dis- n. “T’ve took in another job,” he said. ‘ Ain’t doin’ two things at once. You know the way down. Tote it down yourself, ‘“What do you mean, you young rascal?’ cried the map, ina passion. “If you stay in this place you will have to do what you're told or you'll be. helped. Take this down at Once. We will have no rebels ”» “What's goin’ to happen if I don’t?” said Will, dropping the tool he had been using. “T'll send you spinning down-stairs and out of the store door ina hurry,” said the man, still fuming. ‘*Look here, Mr. Brown, or Bob Brown, if you. like it better, maybe you don’t krew that mcg barking up the wrong tree,” said Will, insolently. | * Ordering ain’t in my line. Ask me like & gentle- man and I'll stand on my head for you; but Tm not a feller that's used to bein’ kicked by auy man’s toe or tongue, either.”’ “Then you won’t take it down?” “T'll see you so far t’other side of nowhere that a forty-horse team couldn't draw you back in a life- time, afore I'll take it an inch.” Will returned to his former task of opening the , and the veins stood out on his med to this unexampled rebellion. = “Why, you ragged young reprobate, who was only brought here by charity!” he cried, mee: ang me ifI don’t kick you down-stairs myself, and fling the goods after you!” Suiting the action to the word he grasped Wilk with a nervous grip, and sought to hustle him to the head of the stairs. ; / But if ever man caughta Tartar, Mr. Brown had: done so in this action. Will lifted the iron tool in his hand with an fin- } pulse to strike his assailant. With another 3 L@ e threw it from him, and used Lis sinewy libs; le with ra Mr. Brown’s f is was pu Se gd tone ead, as he
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. F | ' i | | ¢ with a vigor which Mr. Brown had not dreamed of his possessing. In a moment he had, torn loose from nis Grasp, and by an alert trip stretched his foe on back on the floor. “That's the way I pile up my shingles!’’ cried W: exultingly. ‘“‘Come to time, old hoss, if you want to be curried. I’ve chawed up better men than you.” The language of the street, which he had partly laid aside, came back to Will in his excitement, The furious salesman ee: to his feet and rush- ed at the boy with clenched fists. Two other men, who had been engaged with them on the third floor of the building, hurried up. “‘Hold there, Bob!’’ cried one of these, ‘Don’t try that on a boy.” “Let him alone,’’ said Will, as he deftly parried his blows, ‘‘He’s my meat. I wasn’t brung up on free fights to back down from a counter-hopper.” But the man who had spoken dongs between and separated them, just as Will retngy his fist with a stinging blow on Brown's left cheek. **Come, come, Bob!” said the peacemaker; “ that’s no way to settle disputes with a boy. If the fellow has been impudent report him to Mr. Leonard, but never try your fists on a boy.” “fT wouldn’t give three winks of a cat’s tail for a room full of such men,”’ said Will, as he turned | coolly to his work, “I’m doin’ Mr, Leonard’s own job, and you can report till you’re blind, and report ill you can see again, and I can lick you after it’s all over.” Mr. Brown did report, and Will was sent for to Mr. Leonard’s office. Our hero proved a very poor hand at giving evidence in his own favor, but the men who had separated them described the whole occurrence, “Don't let anything like this happen again,” said Mr. Leonard, after lecturing Will severely. ‘‘ Mr. Brown placed himself in the wrong or I would have to et nek you. Don’t misuse the confidence I have ed in you,” “All right,” said Will, independently. man that tries to wipe his feet on me is goin’ to touch ground with his nose, that’s all.”’ This episode did not injure Will’s standing in the store, for Mr. Brown was not a general favorite. ‘His good-humor and willingness to work soon | ame him friends, ard faults were excused in 1 m that would have proved fatal otherwise to his tion. He had a fine voice, and sung ditties with wonder- ful vim. He could dance like a negro minstrel, could tumble like an acrobat, and had more tricks than a circus clown. Nothing pleased him better than to get on one of the a floors, out of sig treat the admiring clerks to a taste of his quality. His chief trouble, in such cases, sprung from the new clothes in which Mr, Leonard had dressed him. “Tt’s a gallusrig, I'll give in,” he said, “but I ain't been used to fancy fixin’s. There goes the coat, and here goes the vest, and up go the sleeves, and now I’m in trim for work. P’int out what you want done and I'm in.” “Nothing just now, Will. Let us have that ole | Virginwy break-down, es, [see myself waltzing round on my ear for | ou, and no pianner music, and not even a jews- harp. Don’t dance till I hear a tune. Whistle up, somebody, my boot-soles is itching.” One of th feet rattled over the floor in the most astonishing steps, relieving his feelings now and then by a sum- merset, or a dance on his hands. “Hi, lads! let the music out,” he cried. ‘That's our style! Heel and toe. Ain’t I a screamer? ust observe me.”’ The next instant he was at the top of a high step- Jadder, singing a negro medody for dear lite, and Eeqesns time with hands and feet on the boards. “ Ain’t we guns?’ he shouted, now worked up to full excitement. ‘ Did Ban ever see me do the double-shuffle, up the middle, turn sixteen summer- sets over a blind elephant, and ride a circus mule? Oh, I tell you I’m a hoss., read the sawdust and Tl do you Jim Crow like a native.” ‘Hush! here comes Mr. Leonard,” cried a scout. “He has heard all that rascally noise. Limber up and get to work quick.” The men hastened to various avocations, some- what to Will’s rise. He was as honest as the and would never have thought of such deceit. He had, all his life, fathered all his actions. When Mr. Leonard appeared Will was seated in his shirt-sleeves on a dry-goods box, whistling in a low tone, and keeping time with his heels. Mr. Leonard loo od inquiringly around, a look of displeasure on his face. .. “What has been going on here?’’ he asked, sharp- ily. “I heard an uproar all the way down to my | Office. You are all suddenly at work. What have ou_been doing, boy?” 1*"SNothing. “Only killing time,” said Will, indiffer- , ently. ‘‘We kinder run out of work, and I wanted _ to learn these fellows a South street wharf break- down. Want tosee me do it?” Will jumped from his box and struck an attitude, “No, And I want less noise and commotion, If ou wish to stay in my employment you must learn curb yourself a little. Let us have no more such performances.’ “You suit me fust-rate so far. Got no notion ef dischargin’ you yet,” said Will, “But what’s to be done? I can’t holdin, It’s out of the question. There'd be something bu’st sure. There’s no harm. when an engine’s done workin’, to let it blow off steam? “T don’t mind a little opening of the safety-valve,” “But the | ht of customers, and | e men whistled a quick tune, and Will’s | Will Somers. said Mr. Leonard, smiling, “‘but I don’t want a full head of steam poured out at once. I will have to bring you down-stairs, into the office, where I can have you under my own eye.”’ “Don’t do it!” said Will, earnestly. ““Why not?” “°Cause I ain’t to be trusted. I can’t no more hold in, sometimes, than a runaway locomotive, I know I'd bu’st out singing, or stand on my head on top of an inkstand, or kick up a row with some of your pen-slingers. Don’t do it.” ‘* Well,” said Mr. Leonard, turning on his heel to hide a broad smile, “‘I must give you some out-door work—send you on errands. Can I trust you to do them correctly?” “T dunno. Won’tmake no promises. ’Tain’t often I can trust myself. You can try me. That’s the only way to find out. I know everything and every- bods out of doors; that’s something.” ‘Very well; I will try you.” Thenceforth Will varied his store duties with out- door avocations, his quick and intelligent perform- once of which gave much satisfaction to his em- | ployer. CHAPTER Il. MR, LEONARD'S VISITOR. Ir was two or three days after the last narrated events that.a slender, keen-eyed en stopped in | front of \r. Leonard's store. e was dressed in —" of grayish clothes, and wore a wide-rimmed at. He glanced up at the lofty iron front, reaching five stories high, and then briskly entered the store threading his way back between the ome cases 0 xoods which covered the long floor to the counting- nouse, Sending in his card he was at once admitted to | Mr, Leonard’s private office. “Take a seat, Mr. Fitler,’’ said Mr. Leonard, push- ngasice his papers. ising, he carefully closed the door and seated himself near the visitor. **You received my m e, then?” “Yes, sir. You have need of my services?” “*T wish your advice at any rate. Let me tell you what has occurred. But first, does any of my men know you?”’ “T think not. I know none of them.” “T have here an invoice of silks shipped me from | Lyons, France, by Danton & Co. There were two | cases of these goods, valued, as you see, at ten en dollars. They weré very fine and costly goods,” | - “'They must have been.” “The ship Everhart, which had them in freight, reached Philadelphia two weeks ago. Her cargo was duly discharged, and the goods deposited in the | government warehouse,” ss MED not brought at once to your store?” asked Mr, Fitler, drumming with his tingers on the table. “Such was my intention, and I directed my confi- dential clerk, Mr. Wilson, to pay the duties, and see that they were brought here, e did the first, and obtained the government order for their delivery, which was locked up in my presence, in the fire- proof there. He was hindered from doing the sec- ond by news of the death of a near relative in Har- risburg, whose funeral he was obliged to attend. I let the matter stand till his return, as I had no time to see to it myself,” “T perceive. What next?” said Mr, Fitler. “A few words will conclude. On his return yes- terday he went to the safe for the custom-house | delivery-order. It was gone.” ‘*“ Were you present?” “ Yes.”’ “ Had you seen it in his absence?” “No, Why do you ask?” “Only for a full statement of facts.”’ “You will please understand that no possible sus- den attaches to Mr, Wilson, even if bis absence d not preclude it. He has beenin my service for ten as and is incorruptible.” | “Certainly,” said Mr. Fitler, in an_ indifferent | Se oY at aL else has taken it. But that is not all?” “No, Ihave just learned that the order was pre- | sented at the bonded warehouse last Tu by | a gentlemanly-d person, accompanied by .a | drayman. The necessary entries were made, and the gocds delivered.” ‘* And where are they now?”’ | “That is what I want to find out.” “This is a bold ronbers Mr. Leonard,” said the: |: visitor, with energy. ‘‘It looks very much as if the black sheep was in your own store. Is there any one whom you suspect?” “ There is none.’ ‘“Who has access to your safe?” ‘None of my salesmen have businessin here. Any of my book-keepers might have. Three or four of them are obliged to enter my office, in my absence, in the regular discharge of their duties.” ** What is the record of these three or four men?” “The best. sé are all steady, quiet business men, married and living moderately. I know them all well.” ‘* These smooth-watered wells are sometimes ve deep,” said Mr. Fitler. ‘‘ Have you any new hands?” “Yes. One, whom I took on two weeks ago.” ‘*Ha!” said the visitor, interested. “ ald he en- ter, our office without suspicion?” r He could. Ihave employed him as a mesgsen- “ Every confidence in him, too?” “T think him thoroughly honest.” “You have too much trust in human ,” said his visitor, with a were in my Mr, . * ig ou profession you would have very ge 3 I would like to see this new hand. Can you ca! ian in on s0me pretense?” “You have seen him. He is the messeny er I sent for you.” “What? That boy? He in your employment? Well, that beats!’ Mr. Fitler oned bask in his ehair and laughed heartily but silently. “Do you know him?’ asked Mr, Leonard, with s0me displeasure. “Know him? I should think so, Whodon’t know Wiltful Will? That is his street name, Pe! ba you had picked him up at your door ard sent him after ine. He did look strange tome. [ never saw him in a whole suit of clothes before, The idea of his settling down to steady business! How do you get along with him?” “He is impudent and independent, and rather quarrelsome. But he is quick and bright asa bee, and has a man’s sirength.” “4 Quick and bright. I bet he is.’” ** You know him so well; do you think I did wrong to trast him?” “No, no; you have no more sterling honesty in your establishment. Will has led a rough life, aud will give you some queer touches of his quality be- fore-he has been here a month, But the boy will not lie or steal. I know him well.” ‘He is a handsome lad, and I think has the max- ing of a business man.” Very likely, if he can be tamed. Just call hina in ; I would like to talk with him.” ‘He is not in at present. I sent him, this morn- ing, out to my residence, near Germantown.” “Ts Mr. Wilson at hand?” “Yes. I will call him,” Mr. Leonard went to the door of, the office and asked for Mr. Wilson. The latter was in the count ing-room, and immediately entered. keen eyes of the visitor were fixed on him ag he came in, waking in at a glance, as it seemed, every detail of his face, form and dress. “Mr. Wilson, this is Mr. Fitler, a detective officer from the central ‘station,’ said the merchant. ‘ SS ce a a - have sent for him to investigate that affair of \ robbery. “T hope he can help us in it,” said Mr. Wilson, : he quietly seated himself. * The rascals were wide-awake, Mr. Wilson,” sa. the detective, “in taking-advantage of your trip: 4 a ; Was the at ihe} Ra a paid tl uties and could not atten ta © goods OP of bond talked about in the store?” . 5 Tt was no secret in the counting room.”’ said ic. Wilson. * What is your opinion of the bookkeepers, sir’ “Thave full confidence in them, They are only men, to be sure, and may have talked outside. Se crets will leak out, you know.” “Could the store have been entered at night?” “No, no,” said Mr. Leonard. ‘* Nothing been tampered with. The order was stolen in the day. time, while the safe was open.”’ “How does the store-keeper atthe bonded ware: ee describe the parties who took away tho g0¢ o9 “In a very vague fashion,” replied Mr. Wilson, ‘He could not have noticed them closely, His de« scription did not remind me of anybody I knew,” Mr, Fitler watched him as he spoke, seeming at- tracted by his foppish dress and stilted manner of 8 “2 wilt see the store-keeper myself,’ he answered, “It is unlucky that you were led away atsuch a time, Mr. Wilson. as it a near relative?” “A first cousin, he replied.” “Ah! Iam somewhat acquainted in Harrisburyz, What name, pray?” ; “Miles Sartain,’”’ answered Mr, Wilson, with cojn-\ PeeThe name is not familiar. I thought I might - tf) might have known ‘him,” said the officer, carelessiy. Pity he hadn't lived a few days longer, Suppose — now we go.more into details in matter.” A long conference ensued, in which the detective closely mer na them in reference to their usnal mode © 2a erie 3 business, the names, habits and Hp pine 9 characters of all the emplo and al- so of the persons who had called on Mr. mest during the suspicious period. He left, at leng..: after cautioning them to continued secrecy, ail advising @ close observance of all the men in tue yw i see if there was any nervousness or change “T will drop in m to-morrow, and look "he . You may not know me, but dont be surprised if a stranger makes himself at home, I will see the store-keeper this afternoon, and will set the police authorities at work to try and trace these missing goods. I may get a more recise. description from him, and be able to fol- ow the on which they were taken off.” He bowed himeelf out of the office, leaving Mr, Wilson and his employer in busy conversation. CHAPTER IV. F WILL MAKES A NEW ACQUAINTANCE, - Muanwuite Willful Will, as the officer had call him, was on his way to Mr. Leonard’s erg it He bore a note addressed toa Miss Jennie Arling- ton, a resident of the merchant's house, which he was to deliver into her own hands without delay, and wait for any return message. The cars on the street railway took him within half a mile of the place, and his nimble feet soon accomplished the rest of the distance. The mansion was a broad-fronted, brown-stone ornamen and surrounded with “kept | POUnGS, which now a host\of ers were in m, r Seen front, through its vailing screen of
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Se re ee a re ee ——— ae ote Be a an — 4 tea ves and blossoms, it seemed an abode of wealth and taste very attractive to any artisticeye. Even Will paused for five minutes, in a pe bY mpoaery Le in, ‘The boy was not without the poetic te He was stirred from his reverie by the approach of a servant-woman to the ee ‘Say, you, there,” cried ill, as she turned back. “This Mr. Leonard’s?” “Yes,”’ was the answer. ** All square then. J want to see Jennie,” “See who?” asked the woman, in 8 “‘Jennie. You know. Can’t go her last name, Sip ed clean out of my head.” ; Te it has, it wouldn’t hurt you to say Mise Jen- (anie.””’ “T can’t see that it would do me any good," said Will, leaning indolently on the gate. “Miss Arlington is not in. You can't see her,” said the woman. ‘*Bet a hoss that I will,’’ he replied, vely. “Mr. Leonard didn’t send me here on a fool's errand. Where is she?” “What do you want? I will give her your errand veMay “A gente 4 t it,” said Will, myateri : so, when you get it,” - ve Hope you Yaon't erlate to pick up se- crets that easy. There’s things it don't do for every- body to know. Jennie and me’s posted, We're not sellin’ out as cheap as that. Where is the gait" “Find out, you udent fellow,” said the ch pom angrily. “T don't eve Mr. Leonard would wuch a boy as you.” “He did anyhow, and if I can’t see the gal there'll tbe somethin’ bu’st. Want me to go back and re- the oe he might be telling the truth. “I mnay fin in good manners.” st pun daisy. Farewell, morning prim- Hose,” said ri with a wave of hishand. “I won't boiz sharp.* Look for a love-letter to-morrow morn- 8 et” ng into a gay ditty, Will hastened off toward She piece of woodland indicated by the woman, ating the latter hardly knowing whether to be fancry or amused, : “T wonder where Mr. Leonard picked up such a orgy ai as that,” she said, as she turned back. we e ground sloped downward from the back of e house into a wide depression that led off to- ward the Schuylkill. This was occupied by a piece of fine woodland, the trees growing straight and tall, while the undergrowth “had been mostly re- * moved, leaving long, green vistas. The country was now arrayed in all its Junetide beauty, while flowers lent a rich charm to the flelds, mnd the fresh green of spring arrayed every tree. Birds flitted through the warm air, rich-hued but- terflies floated gee by, and a swarm of insects bebe § P before eet as he strode briskly ough the long green asses. Nature had an vient hbld on Will's i tion ‘which he had had little chance of gratif. , and pe enjoyed this walk as hungry men enjoy @ rare Softowing the flight of some s bird, now stopping "to listen to a trill of woodland music, now taking a wild roll in the grass. His cap was soon adorned with daisies and but- ‘tercups; violets peeped from his button-holes, and j garnered a bouquet of yellow dandelions as if he thought them choice flowers. “Tf this wat Ot I don’t know beans!"’ he vexultingly. ‘‘Wouldn’t I like to live out heret Be Yd go ore every day, and a-swimmin’ 6' eother, I er Spee Bers ain’t a tree in that w Fost to oy a . Got a notion to shin up some of them or fun.” * But a frisking ground-squirrel took his attention, and drove out of his heads the project of tree-olimb- his fellow chased to his hole, other objects at- ‘tracted Will’s ta ge Maa an him step by . 6 ay Sate the woo boy was a true son of Na , and all thought of cial had spe: «quite escaped him. Finally, some sounds behind a thin screen of ‘bushes attracted his notice. He drew up and looked through. There on a flat stone, dea owing brook, sat a young lady, her lap full of on sa lad which she was deftly forming uquet, ‘ She seemed quite young, at furthest not more hiteen, and was very beautiful as.she sat - yere all unconscious of stranger’s eyes. She was all and well-formed, with a face of most e Will’s own. But the cheek had a peachy which his had ary deo and a gentle, womanly ex- ‘gression replaced his saucy independence. * «Sell me out if she ain’t a beauty!” said Will en- “husiastically, ‘“‘Them long curls is scrumptious. PK da if she’s my game? I'll give her a start, Just r fun.” his two hands to his mouth the woods ee: Apr a long, goer cee a tanker ke ‘aera e girl sprung up, dropping most of her rs, i Sd ponin in alarm. ¢ ; “ Jennie!” again rung out in Will’s deep, musical tones. ; “Who calls?” she said, with parted lips, stand- like a statue of flight. shiz Sue yey oy was en by a crash inthe an appearance of a figure comiug with a double sumanerset into her 4 povill'ee general contour of the features not un- Will Somers. “You Jennie?" asked Will, standing suddenly on his feet before her. She looked at the sturdy, handsome lad with a look in which trepidation was mingled with amuse- ment. “*T am Miss Arli n,” she replied, with dignity. “That’s too much of a mouthful, said Will, on whom dignity was gar thrown away. “ Jennie’s ashorter handle. You can call me Will and that will Lede it.” a t{ do you mean by calling me in that man- to a lady’s presence like a letter. “ Been a-talkin’ about me, has he?” asked Will. * Hope he ain’t gone back on me, Bet he can't find jist sich another in these diggin’s.” “He said that you were a good-intentioned boy, and that he might make something of you if he could only cure you of your impudence.” “Well, that’s clever in . Mebbe he don’t know the job he’s takin’ in. Mought jist as well try to cure a i, eh from twisting.” ‘Come with me to the house,” said Miss Arling- ton, on reading the letter. ‘Iam to send a package back by you.” “Tu it ain’t a cook-stove, or something else said Will, as he walked nice and dy to ca bs - pack ‘Live with Mr. on ere as new acquaintancw, “ F do. ” “ How old mought you be?’’ asked Will, earnestly. “That is no question to ask a lady,” she replied, with a smile. . Oh, we’re not playin’ gentleman and lady; we're playin’ boy and gal. You’re not come out yet, or ot eng: , or nothin’ o' nonsense, are you? not hin’ of that Ly " tis another question that you have no busi- ness to ask.” **T'd like to know how I'd ever learn anything if I didn’t ask questions? That’s the way I come to be pcs ys maa then, that to sl ain. I ‘Just su , then, that you go eep n. on must learn sotdething from axerpooay you meet?" + pana pick up a point or two.” “There is one point, or rule of action, I would like to give you.” “Let's have it, then.” “Tis this. Always mind your own business. I think you will find that a rule to go by, both in and out of the store.” “Why, bless you, gal,’’ said Will, with a merry laugh. kTve been told that twice as often as I've got fingers and toes, and I don’t think it’s done a mite of good. Ican’t no more stop takin’ care of other woe bizness than I can stop age Tdun- no how I'd get —_ or other people either, if it wasn't for my curiosity. It ain*t imperdence; it’s —< my nat’ral disposition.” e young lady, who had been a little angry at his questions, could not help laughing. “You are an odd boy,’ she said. ‘If I was in want of a confidant I might accept you. I will tell you this much; I am en a “Well, now, that’s bad,” said Will. “Can't you break with the feller? Give him the sack. Tell him you've a notion to ited Californy, and don’t want no company. Sling m somehow.” ““Why should I?’ she asked, turning her brilliant brown eyes on Will “Now don’t look at me that way or Toes tell you,” he said, with affected ess. st turn ve Wale etn a rece pay a ell, go on, e rning away. “T like you, and t 3 no joke in that. Can't you jist the other feller, and wait forme? I’m goin’ to be a rich man, you can bet on that.” S ou want an answer now?’’ she asked, ina constrained tone. “If it comes handy to you I’d_ just as lieve.” “Here it is, then,” she replied, giving him a ring- box on the ear. ith a laugh she sprung through the gate, which they had just reached, and hurried into the house, leavin completely crestfallen. She did not rea , but sent a servant with the which was to take back. He trudged off reflectively toward the cars. “Got served right, I s’ ,’ he said, “for I was imperdent. But Iain’t done with the yet. Bet I give her as good as she sent, I don’t let myself be cheap.” CHAPTER V. UNDER LOCK AND KEY. “I po not know what to make of this,” said Mr. Leonard, as he sat with a bank-book and a package of canceled checks in his hand. ‘I am very pos- itive that my account is not overdrawn. set- tlement makes me five hundred dollars short, where ae have, at least, one thousand dollars to my “It is very strange,” said Mr. Wilson. “We have never an error in our account with the Me- chanic’s Bank before." - ae - pela me check without hesitation?” “Certainly. They would have paid it if it had been ten thousand. Your credit is unsullied:” “T don’t understand this, and don’t like it,” said Mr, Leonard, gravely. ‘‘ Let us go over these checks and deposits. The bank may be in errar. I have | here my private check-book, which Will has just brought from my house; I think it likely some per- ~ . check of mine may have gone to the wrong ank.’ “That may be it,’’ said Mr. Wilson, with a gesture of relief, as if he had been much troubled by the ‘But there is no use forming theories. We have here the solution of the difficulty. Call off the checks, on I will compare them with the check-book en- les.”’ They proceeded to do so, Mr. Leonard taking the memoranda and his bookkeeper called out the amounts and dates of the checks. | ‘Fifteen hundred and seventy-three,” he repeat. ed. sri aan, find that, What date is it?” “Are Ag sure? There is no such check of that date in either book. To whose order is it drawn?” “To Gilbert, Cook & Co., or bearer,” said Mr, Wilson, looking up with a glance in which a doubt was st , “But we owed them no such amount. They were paid in full on the 15th,” said Mr, Leonard, in excitement. ‘And they never would have asked for a check to be drawn tobearer. Let me see that.” Be snatched it out of Mr. Wilson’s hand, in his ex- crene latte t with lid e r sal a and serious face, look- ing at his employer. ane ‘By Heaven!” cried the merchant, rising has- tily to his feet. “I never wrote that signature; pn at was never drawn in this office. Itis a ‘0! ry ” The two men looked at each other with half af- frighted ances. ; **Can it be possible?”’ cried Mr. Wilson. “Possible? It is a fact!’’ was the vehement an- swer. “The signature is good. I might be deceived ae myself, only that I know I did not write it. is is a bad business, Wilson.” “A terribly bad business,” was the reply. ‘* Who are have done it? There is a black sheep in our midst.’ ** Gan_there be?” said the merchant, turning pale as he thought of the late robbery from his safe. “Do you gg any one?” “No one but yourself, sir,” said Wilson, in his slow, stilted manner. ‘I suspect you of undue faith in human nature. If you choose to take into your store a street boy of notorious c 4 t | | can you Pepect te What © you mean?” said Mr. Leonard, in arms for his protege. “T mean that that boy's coming here was not with- out an object. I me any from the first that he | might have been sent here as the tool of some de- signing knaves, who knew your easy di tion.”’ ‘You have no right to talk this way Wileon.”’ ‘*Indeed I have,” said the clerk, with energy. “ There is plainly. 6 thief in your store. Yet the c racter of everybody here has been proved by years of trust. Two weeks ago you introduced here a boy of very doubtful antecedents, and in that two weeks two serious robberies have been consummated. What is the natura! conclusion?” ‘““Where is the boy? Let us have him in here,” said Mr. Leonard, moving angrily to the door. “No, no! that is no way to act,’ cried Wilson. “He is a keen knave; you will put him on his er Where is the boy, Will Somers?” asked Mr Leonard of the person who eee to his call, ice of Milton’ cloths; but th “aave aiPaMey been voice 0 n cloths; but they have m examin ~ eg a wa ta Tad Poe tee ‘Yes. I remember. ave t task on ae- count of his delay this afternoon in his errand te my house. Tell him that he need not mind it.” ‘Do you wish him here, sir?” “No, no. That will do, Mr. Johnson.” “You are right,” he continued, after this nm had retired. “Iwas going to act hastily. It does look suspicious for the boy. But I cannot believe him y without tive evidence.” ‘You must go adifferent way to getit. Give this matter to the detective, along with the other. I warrant he will make something of it.” “‘T will do so,” said Mr. Leonard. “This troubles me sadly, Wilson, After fifteen years of ee ef people full where the robbery may en- to find myself suddenly the sport of a darin and forger. I who have t faith in human nature. Nor can we te bolt may fall next. Some sue. at can be done?” ; “Nothing, but to watch and wait,” said Wilson, . “Tdo suspect that boy. I firmly believe that he is the stool-pigeon of some bold and expert villains. I see not we can do now but to have him closely watched, and learn all his associations. That the detective can do far better than we.” ‘““We will leave it in his hands, then,’ said Mr. Leonard, closing his check-book with a determined snap. Meanwhile the subject of this conversation was giving a touch of his quality to the salesmen. “Say what you please,’
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nd ke, “ Mr. Leonard. The old man had his back up when I come back, ’cause I staid so long.” “ He laid you out then?” ‘ “He told me I had to finish counting them Milton clothe, I told him the store would be shut up afore I got half through. He said he couldn’t help that, it was my fault for staying so long.” “ And what are you going to do?” ‘Pm goin’ to count them, if it takes meall night.” “You needn’t mind them. They have already been counted,” said Mr. Johnson, who had ap- proached during this talk. “Mr. Leonard will let you free from the task.’’ ; “Mebbe he’d best wait till he’s asked!” said Will, resolutely. ‘I don’t blow hot and cold with no man, and I don’t let noman blow hot and cold with me. He laid it onto me heavier than suits me, and now I’m going to let him see that I can doas I’m I don’t keer if everybody in the store has counted them cloths. That's my job and I’m bound to pat her through.” “But, Will, Mr. Leonard excuses you.” “JT don’t excuse him, then. I boss my own jobs. I told him I wouldn’t give a brass he for the boy who couldn’t do more than he was told. I'll let him see that I’m doin’ as much as I’m told.” Heedless of their efforts to convince him of the folly of this resolution, Will hastened to the cellar and down into the basement, where the cases of cloth in question stood, f. opened, “He’s an odd duck, but he will soon get a dose of that,” said one of the men. “Yes, a half-hour’s work will satisfy him,’’ said Mr. Johnson. They did not know Will’s vim. He labored on an hour, for two hours, in lifting the heavy rolls of cloth from the cases, counting, and replacing them. It was quite dark here, and he had lit the gas at the start. e did not, in fact, know how long he been engaged, when the light suddenly dimmed and went out. Will in almost utter darkness, only a faint light entering at the narrow window. He ran to turn off the gas, not understanding what put it out. As he did so he heard the clang of a door overhead. The truth rushed to hismind. The store had been shut and paroveccta) sa aS La off 7 bag sp ht, and every gone home, quite forget- Se that he was still in the cellar, ill was inlined to be superstitious, and a sense of fright came upon him as he found himself alone in lonely, dark room. He groped his way to the stairs ani tried the door. It was firmly bolted. All his efforts could not moveit. He called out at the top of bis voice, but no answer came back. “Tm a reg’lar rat in a cage,’’ he muttered, as he made his way to the windows, thinking to break a pane and call for help. Butthey faced ona deserted alley, an¢. he feared if even he should bring aid, it would be to be arrested as a thief. “I wonder if there is any ghosts in these diggin’s, @s some of the men say?’’ he muttered, looking fearfully around. ‘I don’t like it a bit. [ve never been in such a ’tarnal scrape in my life. Blame their eyes, they know’d I was down here, why didn’t they call me up? I believe it was done a-purpose. If I don’t be even with some of them yet, you can sell me,” He groped his way about the dark room like an unquiet spirit, stumbling over boxes and bales of rich and costly goods, peering fearfully into gloomy corners, trying in vain every possible avenue of es- cape. But even a cornered coward grows brave, and Will was no coward. The superstitious dread could not long hold the mastery over his bold spirit. It was not long before he threw off the fears which had troubled him. “ “T ain’t no Lat to be skeered by a shadder,” he said. ‘‘Let what will come I’m goin’ to have a snooze anyhow. I dunno what's the reason a feller eouldn’t sleep as sound here as in my little eight-by- ten hole at home? Bet I make asoft bed, and that there ain't no ghost or sich bothers itself to waken me up. Tho bed did not lack softness, after he had opened and spread out yard after ani of rich, soft goods on the floor, using some of the heavy cloths he had been counting as a substratum. “They hadn t no biz to lock me up here if the didn’t want their stuff tumbled,” he said. ‘I don’t keer a chip whether they like it or no, I’m not goin’ to be cheated out of a bed and out of a sound sleep What way.” ‘ But his slumbers were not sound, for reasons which we have not space to give here. What Will ®aw, and what happened to that night in the Sou collar, must be left for future chapters to CHAPTER VI. WILL’S FIRST SALE. No one in Mr. Leonard’s establishment was aware ef the fact that a rat of a new species had made free that night with the contents of the cellar. Will, for reasons of own, kept his adventure secret, ap- ing in ¢he store the next morning as if he had walked in from the street. It had not been so easy to remove the traces of his rough usage of the goods, and he had spent con- siderable time in smoothing and foldin e cloths and the richer and more fragile materials which had served him for a bed. Whatever his reasons he managed to quite con- ceal the fact that he had not slept that night in his usual place of repose, nor was there anything in the euecerene of the cellar to create suspicion that it contained a lodger during the still hours of the Something had happened which he considered. it ? Will Somers. im t to keep secret, and he went about his duties with a vim intended to prove that there was no weight on his soar = but that he was as fresh and free from care as a y. Not that any one was likely to suspect him of boring a Tbe A He seemed much too frank for that. But then he did not know himself in that cular. Nor, for that matter, did they know him. “Hope the old man won’t be for sendin’ me all over creation to-day,” he said to one of his cronies in the store. “ Was up late last night, and am sorter used up this mornin’. ‘What kept you up?” “Oh! ’skeeters, First crop of the season. Couldn’t snooze a wink. They go for me barefooted, the pesky little rascals.’ “*T didn’t know they were about yet.” “There's more things than that you don’t know. I can tell a ’skeeter’s song across a meetin’-house and they can pick me out of a barn full of folk, If I hate anything wuss than rattlesnakes, it’s *skeeters.”’ “I suppose you must have had bad dreams, if you were troubled that way.” ‘Not much to speak of. When I set myself out to sleep there ain’t no joke about it. Got no time to waste in dreamin’ or any sich nonsense. Did you ever try to wake up an oak log?” **Shouldn’t think it would be easy.” “Well, that’s me asleep. You might get up a patent earthquake under me, and I’d jist roll over and go at it ag’in.” ‘** And yet a musketo troubled you?” “The rascal wouldn’t let me get to sleep, that was the row. If I'd got into a snooze once a regiment of ’em might have charged bayonets on me, and couldn’t make me as much as wink."’ # Here, Will,” called Mr. Johnson, ‘‘ You are want- ed front.” ‘All right,” returned Will, cheerfully, “I’m the lad for your money if it’s anything under a ton weight to carry.”’ It was out of the question, however, for him to proceed soberly through the store, He went at some- thing like a bat’s flight, taking a case of goods in his way at a leap. There were several dray-loads of goods unloading, and he was busily occupied for an hour. He was ust at leisure again when he observed a person who ad at that moment entered the store, and seemed to be looking around for a salesman. He wasa middle-aged person, who seemed from his dress and general appearence to be from the country, and not much used to city ways. Above his flaming red necktie was a face of min- gled simplicity and shrewdness, a beard of a week's growth, covering the lower portion of his e, while flax-like hair escaped from under his wide- brimmed felt hat and straggled over his forehead. Will looked around for a salesman. There was none near, This was a difficulty he was not long in ——s He was meee to learn the whole business. y not in now “Calculatin’ to invest in dry-goods?’’ he said, ad- dressing the stranger. “Why, I'd like to buy a small bill of goods,” said the man, with a slow, hesitating accent. “Hitch hosses then, and come along here, I’m the man you want. t’ll you have to-day? Silks, shawls, dress goods? Got some fine new styles aboard. See here, this is jist the article you want, to a thread.” In a trice Will had partly unrolled a rich fabric of the most delicate shades of color. “Shall I lay you out a piece of this? It’s dog cheap. Just look at that stuff! Did you ever see anything as handsome? Youcan feel it, too, if your angers are clean. Every spot on that would be a do out of ket. How egg oe did you say? That’s jist ‘the goods to slide off like butter off of hot cakes, in your diggin’s.”’ “No, no,” said the customer, with gee re- i ill’s flow of words. “Silks don’t sell down our way. We're simple folks and don’t do any f gee dressing. I'd like to look at the calicoes,”’ . ah what?” said Will, starting back in open- mou’ surprise. “The calicoes,” said the man, hesitating, asif he feared he had made a serious blunder. his arm ina if “What part of Uncle Sam’s wi might you be from?” *m ner, “ Kalkerlated so,” replied Will. eral Jackson last ‘lection?” “See here, boy,’ said the man, a little angrily, “we don’t allow no one to poke fun at us down our way.”’ an right, boss; don’t get your back up. Td a notion they always run the old General down that way. But, ain’t Be ot into the wrong corn-field? this shanty look like a calico shop?” ““Not much,” said the man, looking round. ‘ You may have some goods though to suitme. We keep a few choice dress ipo é “Knowed you did,” said Will, confidently. ‘‘ See’d it in your eye at first sight. Knowed you wasn’t no ten-cent calicoer. Can show you goods from fifty cents a yard to fifty dollars. Trot down this way. I'll make your eyes water.” One of the regular salesmen now approached, not es to Will’s liking, to take charge of this cus- mer, » But the latter seemed very well satisfied with his “Vote for Gen- young attendant, saying: “Tamo to you, but this young man can i me all tosee. Iam acmall ‘ x a i Pi ? Will, proud of his new position, worked his man dy a around the store, showing him a variety of asking him a greater variety of questions, about the state of the crops, what kind of a a Be preterned, banty or game, how much corn it to > aa pigs, what was his favorite breed of potatoes, He seemed to have suddenly developed a powerful desire for agricultural news, and his customer an- swered him as if pleased with his interest. “Tl have my bill now, please,”’ said the man, af- ter selecting several pieces of dress Sang | * Phat’s an inch or two out pty ine,” answered Will. “The fellers in the office ut that through. This . _Got to report at the ca) ’s office.’’ The ks looked rather won ei! at Will's ushering a customer into the office, and proceeding with much dignity to introduce him, and report the items of his purchase to the entry-clerk. Meanwhile the country customer walked lazily abont the office, asking simple questions of this om and that, and waiting for their replies, with eye fixed on their faces as intently as if much hung @ ore but the cong ead kept soberly to their wor! riefly Gavwering There seemed to be considerable of the Yankee in him, judging from the inquisitive character of his remarks, and he continued to lounge about the counting-room, and address the clerks, for some time his bill was rie g “Who did you say kept this store?’ he asked of ° young man who was intently engaged on a huge edger. , Leonard,” was the short answer. “Leonard, hey? Iused to know Leonards. Any- thing to the Bucks county Leonards?”’ “*T don’t know,” snapped the clerk. ‘What might his first name be?’’ “It might be John, or Tom, or a dozen other eB. “You're a little smart, ee said the cus- tomer, unabashed. ‘ What is name, if that suits you better?” “Henry,” said the clerk, plunging again into his 8, ‘Henry. Reckon I know him, then. Is he in?” “Your bill is ready, sir,” said another clerk, ac- cos! him, aet, Hold on to ita minute. I want te see M mard,”’ I do not think he would like to “Oh, he won’t mind me,” said the countryman, confidently, ‘‘I know he will be glad to hear from his uncle Tim, and Jake Leo , his first-cousin, You see, I know the family.” “T am afraid he is too busy just now. I will ask him if he has time to see you,” “Now there ain't no use for that in the world. | won’t trouble him a bit. Wouldn’t like to get back to Bucks county without I could tell Jake that I'd had _ a talk with his relation, Ain't this the officey” ** Yes,” said the clerk, doub ; “TH drop in then. There ain’tno use in standing on such a A “*A repressed laugh ran through the office as the simple-minded but poe customer opened the door and ushered himself into Mr. Leonard's room, “He’s green as a cucumber,’’ said the entry~ clerk, as he returned to his desk. ‘“*T’d like to be inside, There will be fun there.” said another, “The chap isn’t as big a fool as he’s lettin’ on,” said Will to himself, as he ret from the office. “There’s a sharpness about his eyes that puts me in mind of some T’ve seen before.” Mr. Leonard looked up in surprise as his visitor en- tered his office, and stood looking nme around. “Well, sir,” said the merchant, ‘‘can I do any- ba for you?” , “T reckon not,” said the man, quietly. “Just berets some goods out in the store."’ ell, I ape you were suited?" “Yes, pretty well,”’ “Tt am j to hear that. Ihope you will excuse me now. lam very busily engaged. Will be happy to do anything for you owe T can.” “Are you anything to the Bucks county Leon- ards?” said the customer, taking a seat instead of t. king the merchant's hint. “No. I am not from that part of the country,” said Mr, Leonard, impatiently. “Not, hey? Thought you might be. There's a Jake Leonard down there, a clever fellow, Do you know him? Maybe he is something to you,” “T don’t know him.” “Well, well, it was just a notion of mine. Go om with your writing. Don’t let me disturb you.” Mr: Leonard resumed his pen, takin; free-ang. visitor at his word. the latter stretched hiv r. “ He is in his private office, and closely engaged. ' be disturbed.” self out indolently, seeming to wonder at the rap ry motion of his host’s pen. “You've got the regular Leonard nose,” he length said. “Look enough like Jake to ber cousin. : The merchant pushed back his chair in great a noyance. Jou will excuse me, sir,”’ he said, “‘ but Iam en- on important business. My clerks can attend you.” “T think not,” said the visitor. “Why not?” “ Because I wouldn't like to post them in my busi- ness. You wouldn’t like me to ask them if v) new in the custom-house robbery.” . Leonard rose hastily to his feet, aud stond} Sie with alarmed visage at the s' te: %y © are you?’ he asked, in anxious tones. * Filing ; ’ »- en tt
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a ee Ge ne ge ¢ > ” Fexcuse me, I'minah ‘ Ste merlin ete eee a “Not the bird whose feathers I wear, ou can be sure of that,” said the man, laug . “T called on I would be ou y ‘day, and told D or then Bere. this morning, but t you would not know me ** Not Mr. Fitler! That is not possible!" “That is my name,” said the visitor, whose face jhad quite lost its expression of simplicity. He lifted the wide-brimmed hat from his head, and with it came the straggling yellow locks which had helped to disguise him. . Leonard kuew the face now, though he was still half-masked by his stub 4 ‘Y ey been having a look at or office hands, and asked them a few questions,” he said. “Wan phetces aro all cormeck. ft “ None, pearances are co . ere are rascal among them they have the wit to keep it out of their looks and voices.”’ water you gained any clew to the custom-house ‘“Not ag yet. I have put all the sharp eyes I would on the track, It is a new style of work and I don’t know just where to place it among the profes- “It is no professional,” said Mr. Leonard. “* You think so?’ remarked Mr. Fitler, looking up. “T am sure. Please examine that check. It is omy printed form, you see, and my correct signa- ‘hore. “ Well ” The hand is plai a disguised one." a Yue. 1 would like to “ ” “Tell me all the particulars of the forgery.” Mr. Leonard proceeded to give him the informa- ttion with which the reader is already acquainted; %o which his visitor listened with intent interest, oaking many shrewd questions, “There's a deep one at work here, but I bet he'll have a shallow spot,” said the detective. ‘‘ There’s traitor in you own store, Ihad best pay for my goods and e them away. If I act the country «customer I will have an excuse for often dropping in. Good . Lhave been long enough here, Resuming hat Mr. Fetler left the office. CHAPTER VII. TROUBLE IN THE BASEMENT. ‘Mn. Apranam Smirn, as the country customer called himself, paid for the small bill of goods which we had p 4 “ How shall we et them?’’ asked the clerk. needn . I will be —— have to buy something else be sand can have all sent together."’ ae well,” said the clerk. “That will be all vive got a deal to ’tend to, you see,” said Mr Smith, qentegniiely. “ Ain't seen my city” relatives er two Crag Sag they're a bit riled about it. I had « chat with Mr, Leonard in there. He’s a nice man.” “You found him so?’’ asked the clerk, suppressing a smile. “Yes, I’m sure he’s of the Bucks county stock, pr won eg won't say so, I'd know the Leonard nose Good-day, Mr.— What did you say your wame was ” “Goodday, Mr. Harvy. I'll call ag’in,, I want to ave another chat with Mr. Leo about family wmatters. There’s no use for him to deny it when it’s “The Keschelens, down our way.” es grow? " About three him as if he was tired of Being cate achised, “T know a durn sight more about 'taters than you dc,.that’s certain,’’ said Will, to himself, “If I'd %kemt-on he'd told. me they growed on apple trees. I ain't blind, Smithy. There’s somethin’ underhand cat work here, If I don’t twig what it is afore long, my name ain’t Willful Will. ; ‘ What, are.you doing here?” said Mr. hee just *heu entering. ‘Can you find no work, t you mist be lounging round. the front door? Come in, “{ will find something for you to do.” , ‘Tie spoke sharply, as if much displeased at Will's i! ness. -_*'Dynno that I’m much afeard of work,” said the | Rute, /* Nabody rewnd hemo says that. No use * 0f thowe Milton cloths?” he aro, ; > Ae ae a ees det : ead edhe a Se. LS in town for a week , Will Somers icc as if I wasn't ready to do what I take olt of.’ “J wish no impudence,”’ said Mr. Wilson, angrily. ‘* People here are expected to attend to thelr duties, bhp answering back everything that is said to e , m. “The folks that brung me up,” retorted Will, “learnt me that what’s sass for the goose is sass for the gander. Don’t throw stones at a fellar if you don’t want then throwed back at you. What do you want me to do?” “To save your impertinence for the street vaga- bonds who were your old companions,” said A Wilson, hotly. “Don’t try it on, here. I don’t want to — out your work. You can find it for your- sel or get out of this establishment, whichever you prefer. “When I get orders from head-quarters I'll slide,” called Will after him, as he was walking away with dignity. “ You can put that in your pipe and smoke it, Gus Wilson. I don’t keer the curl of a pig’s tail for a chap like you. If Iam a street vagabond I’ve got a heart as big as your body and soul together.” Mr. Wilson turned back, as red as a beet in the face. Something in the flash of Will’s eye, and his sturdy, berg ent air, warned the incensed man, ge briana might have been a very undignified struggle n the store. He was a different man, now, in his cool, studied bitterness, than he had been in the flush of anger. Will knew that Mr. Wilson had full authority to discharge him, but not a jot cared he. He was not going to be got rid of so easily, “T ain't ta a discharge jist now, Gus Wilson,” he said, defiantly. ‘‘Maybe you don’t know who you're talkin’ to, or you'd haul in your horns sev- eral feet. If you go playin’ that dodge on me, if I don’t put a ring in your nose that'll lead you around like a calf, then sell me out.” Will walked swaggeringly away, with a glance over the shoulder at his opponent, that seemed to have more effect on that individual than his words. He stood looking after the boy with a perplexed air, the red gradually dying out of his visage, and a slight neues, taking its place. aking from momentary reverie, he walked hastily back to the office, payin no further atten- tion to Will, who stood some distance back, coolly regarding him. That shot struck between wind and water,” said the boy, with a grimace. ‘‘But no man sha’n’t sa here that I don’t earn my grub. There’s enoug here to turn my hand to.” As he was passing the office on his way back into the store, the door of Mr. Leonard’s room opened, and his name was called. ‘* Wonder if Gus has been at work a’ready?” he said to himself. “If he has, he'll find it ain’t no baby he’s waked up. He wants something for his liver, he does, and I’m just his doctor.” ’ But the chief clerk was busily engaged at his own d as Will went through the counting-room, and Mr. mard simply wished to send him on an er- rand to the t-office. “Coun them Milton cloths last night and this morning,” said Will. ‘ Ain’t reported yet." “But I sent } ag word that you need not count them,” replied Mr. Leonard. ‘‘That was attended to during your absence. I requested Mr. Johnson to tell you not to mind it.” ‘**You told me to do it, and I always obey orders from head-quarters,”’ said Will, positively, ‘‘’spe- cially when folks think I’ve been playin’ off and not doin’ enough,” “You tried me a little yesterday, Will,” said the merchant, in a kindly tone. ‘I told you I was in haste, and yet you loitered on my errand. Do not do so agi you made a second count of the cloths?” “Bet I did.” ‘Well, it is better to do too much than too little. How many pieces did you make them?” ‘* Ninety-seven.” “I don’t think you have done your work very carefully, Will,” said the merchant, smiling. ‘* Here is the invoice, you see. One hundred pieces. And here is Joe Ware’s tally. He has marked it cor- t. “TI don’t keer three cents for Joe Ware’s tally,” said Will, balancing himself on the arm of a chair, “T counted them goods, and here’s my tally. If it | ain’t O. K. I'll eat an elephant.” Mr. Leonard looked curiously at the strageling array of marks on the unclean scrap of paper whic Will given him. “*T can’t make set ter of this,” he said. “Because your edication has been neglected. You don’t understand shorthand countin’,”’ replied Will. “It foots up ninety-seven, and Pll punch Joe Ware’s ead if he says I lie. I ain’t much of a reader, but I can count the straightest streak you ever seen.” “ But the pieces would not fit evenly in the boxes, if any of them was short,” said Mr. Leonard. ‘‘Nor they don’t, neither,”’ persisted Will. ‘‘ You never seen sich packing.” “That will do, Will. Leave be off on your errand. I amg diligent.’ With a flusb of pleasure Will left the office and the store. He had scarcely disappeared when his employer hastily rose, and opening the door of the office, ealled Mr. Johnson. “Do you think Joe Ware was correct in his count our tally there, and to see you are so 7 7 » VE Li ve Sia a Aig we Meh * Certainly,’’ replied Mr. Johnson, in su ere never knew him to make a mistake.” or “Yet I would prefer to have them counted again. Please into the basement yourself, and keep the account of them while one of the men removes them from the cases.” “Very well, sir,” replied Mr. Johnson, leaving the office in great astonishment. Such an ord ler had never been given before during his years of service with Mr. Leonard. There was obvisnialy soxnkéhiing wrong, The merchant turned again to his rs. But h was restless and mieasy He pecttied to make no headway with his work. Mr. Johnson was absent for a considerable time, during which the merchant pushed aside his work sep ily and rose and the floor of his office, is mind was evidently in an unsettled state. Will returned and delivered the stamps and en- velopes he had been sent for, and _p. out again to his duties in the store, with a sharp glance at hig ee | employer. na! r. Johnson made his appearance. * Well, sir, what result?’ asked he met chanil: has- tily. % It is the strangest thing,” said Mr. Johnson; ‘I cannot account for it,” “That is no answer,” replied Mr, Leonard, in quick tones, ‘“ What is the result of your count?” ‘* Ninety-seven pieces,’’ was Mr. Johnson’s ly. “ Are you sure?” asked Mr. Leonard, seating him- self nervously. ‘Can there be no mistake?” ik Hinety see is els ic ‘*How were they packed? t Ineed not as they have been twice disturbed before." gel ne ‘* There is one piece short in each of three cases,” paid Mr. ze ohnson. sacaitantcan . hy s is a very my ous business,” replied th merchant, seriously. ‘Yesterday afternoon they were all correct. This morning they are three pieces short, What can have occurred in the night? ere is no evidence of burglary. The store was firmly closed this morning?” “Tt was, sir. I never heard of a stranger busi- Mery Nothing of the kind has ever happened here ore.” ‘Never been found out here before would be more conWhy, air, do you think sich thin Eo “Why, sir, do you think such things have been ing on previously?’ asked Mr. Johnson, in estdaisbvent. ‘ “Ido not know what to think,” replied the mer. chant, “‘May not the three pieces have been: re. moved this morning? Perhaps a sale may have been made. I wish you would make full through the store.” Mr. Johnson did so, and returned with the word that no one had touched them. ** Call Will here!’ said Mr. Leonard, in quick tones, His nervous manner was quite gone. Assurance had taken the place of doubt. He wrote hastily, folded and sealed the note. “Take this to the Central Station,” he said to be “Ask for Mr. Fitler, and deliver it into his ands.” * And if I don’t find him in?” ‘Inquire where he is and hunt him up. I wish him to have it as soon as possible.” “There won't no grass grow under my feet," said Will, setting his cap jauntily. ‘‘ Not on the Phila- delfy pavements anyhow.” ‘‘Come with me into the basement, Mr. Johnson," said the merchant. ‘I wish to take a look around,” It was surprising what a number of the employees had business in the basement just then. Mr. Johnson’s inquiries had filled the store with a rumor of something wrong in that locality, and curi- ity was rife. ost of them had errands up-stairs again after Mr. Leonard’s appearance. The basement was a long, dimly-lighted room, broken here and there by iron columns which sus- tained the upper floors. It was well filled with cases of goods, all of which had been opened, and covered again to preserve them from dampness, though the room was thoroughly oe The long underground apartment was closely ex- amined, and a smaller, dark sub-cellar as_ well, Nothing was discovered, Everything appeared to be in its usual state. The windows and doors bad not been disturbed. The mystery of the loss of the three pieces of cloth deepened. The lower cellar was devoted to coa empty cases and various occasional necessaries. Its darkened walls were well cobwebbed. Its narrow apertures for light would scarcely have admitted a raf. Mr. Leonard returned to his office in deep per- plexity and concern. CHAPTER VIII “hour that game d Ir was at a later hour that same day that our youre See. Willful Will, met unexpected! with iss Arlington, the lady whose acquaintance he had made the previous day. She was walking quietly along Seventh street, a little-frequented avenue, and seemed as if expecting some one. There were indications of a slight petu- lance at his or her failure to appear. ‘* Hallo!” cried Will, under his breath. “Seems to me I’ve seen that figure-head afore. Blest if it ain’t the gal that shook me yesterday! Isn't she got up ga a7 The young lady, whose rich and tasteful dress brought this exclamation from Will, recognized him at nee as he as b ee smile cross er face as she remenfered the gts of their formes: interview, ¥ ope you're not too proud to s to a. feller,” said Will, as he walked baldiy an. ‘Tem a ie a a ee oral c i we bs
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“she was not lackin * gentleman of attractive appearance, “T dunno aay ne I done that wasn’t right to *gaid Will with a look of surprise. country cove.’’ “I thought I had a ripe Los pom of city culture,”’ she replied laughing. ‘No country i had ever ryraduated in impudence as you had. Yo get half what you deserved.’ “IT don’t take nothing for a gift,” said Will, defi- antly. “T always pay back. See if I don’t give you tho worth of your box.” “Why, you are not cherishing ill-feeling, I hope?” “No, but }’m death on gettin’ square. Ill find out the chap that’s sweet on you yet, and if I don’t put a ring in his nose there’s no use talking.” * That will do, sir,”’ she mer ote with some feeling. * We had better part here. I cannot permit you to use such language.” “Why, bless you, Jennie, I don't mean a harm in it,” said Will, laughing. ‘Didn't think you'd get your temper up so easy. I can’t help no more being imperdent than I can help breathing, and it don’t take folks long to find that out. Best do what I said t’other day; give that chap his walk- ing-papers and set your cap for me,” u did not k of “Very well. I will let you know when I have mads up my mind to that,” she replied, stopping, o.: if to bring their interview to a close, “Allright, if you ain’t goin’ my way,” said Will. **Td like ‘to grand the day and show you round ton @ bit, but I got biz’ness to ’tend to, and you'll have to let meoff. Good-by. My respects to him.” Will was away like a shot, leaving her surprised that she had consented to be interviewed by a sho boy, and one speaking so impertinently and wit such shocking English in the public streets. Yet the street in which they stood was almost de- serted, and in any case Will was respectably dressed, and far too handsome a lad to be so illy trained. So she solaced her pride; a commodity in which g. as it not her duty to recog- nize and strive to train this rough-spoken yet well- meaning boy. There was something behind all this in Jennie Ar- lington’s mind. She was drawn to Will Somers b an attraction whose nature it would have been diffi- eult for her to define, but which was none the less strong for her ignorance of its origin, tt was not alone that he was so young and so hand- some that she had condescended to listen to and an- swer his rude speeches. No one else would have dared talk to her in suchastrain, Yet there was some sense of art aghy between her soul and his that gav.: him impunity. She found herself questioning the origin of this un- usual feeling as she walked slowly on, and was p.zzled at finding herself unable to account for it. * Ain't many gals like her in this village,” solilo- quized Will. ‘A rich and proud one enough, I'll bet, but she lets me talk to her straight from the shoul- der, Dunno how it is but I’ve got a queer kind o’ Hg Srey after her. "Tain’t what they call fallin’ infove. That's not my lay. But she’s got the upper holt on my fancy somehow, andI’ll swow if I know how— Haloo! Wonder if that’s the Ps wnat 9 chap now? There’s some feller jist j’ined her. Bet I've scen him afore, too, Like to turn back and twig the cut of his jib, but it wouldn’t be on the square, Guess I'll toddle on.” The person who had joined the young lady was a He was of good build, and had an engaging face, the expression of his. full gray eyes and well-formed mouth being that of great frankness. He was dressed neatly, but with no effort at eupley. He seemed, in fact, to have left his business for this interview, and to be in his store dress. Their greeting displayed much warmth, and an animated conversation ensued between them. <A half-hour afterward found them enjoying ices in a aeighboring restaurant, and still busily conversing. ** And when will you be out to see me, John?” she asked, with a look in her eyes as if her heart hung upon his answer. 24 j ‘* Not for a week or so,”’ he replied, in a rich bary- tone voice. ‘‘Iam eager enough, but we are just now unduly busy in the store.” a WS oe business is of more account than love, no oubt? “Business cannot be laid. aside. Love may be postponed,” he said, calmly. But the look in his eye contradicted his quiet tone. He evidently had the strongest affection for the petulantly-speaking young lady. “Now you are a vexation, John Elkton,” she re- este with a tinge of red in her face, “And I be- nig you are just trying to vex me. How can you talk so?” * What shall I say?” he replied, enehine: “Shall I declare that I pray for the wings of the morning tliat I may fly to your side, and for the glance of the sun that I might see you always? Do you want a plain man like me to turn poet, ‘Love makes poets of plain men, they say,” she replied, softly. “Why should it not teach you pas- sion, whichis poetry?” “Ty does, Jennie,”’ he said, with equal softness of fence. “I can think it if I cannot speak it. But we are touching on forbidden topies in a place like this. Some one may hear us,”’ sebaprardaenp-ab spinon gee degerpapeeiancieemeeiaieoomeg Ee Re oe ee ee ee eee Will Somers. She looked round with a quick glance, fearful that er might have been overheard, There were sev- as SPaDSS parties in the saloon, but none within ear- shot. “They would be sure to call us simpering fools,” she said, smiling. ‘*That is all the enco ement that love-making gets from the great, cold-hearted ublic. Can’t you come out on Sunday? The coun- ry is beautiful now,” “*T will do my best,” he replied. ‘I am likely to spend the day stupidly enough in the city. I have an engagement with a young man which I hope he may kindly break.” “Send him word that you have an engagement with a young lady that is unbreakable.” “T have sent him that word a half-dozen times al- ready. That excuse has lost its freshness,” he said, laughing. ‘I fear I will have to be martyred.” “Just wait,” she answered, shaking a finger at him. “TI will teach you better, some day, to make stupid engagements.” ‘When our wedding-day comes, Jennie,” he said, tenderly, ‘I will make a permanent engagement. Your word will be law, and no male stupidity shall step between us.” “Yes, that’s the way all the men talk,” she replied, gayly. ““Those are splendid resolutions, but they won't wear, I have been making a study of married ype , How about the promise you made me for to- ay?’ * The promise? What promise?" “There, if he has not gone and forgotten already!” She shook her head in affected surprise. ‘The for- feit you owe me. You were to pay it to-day. Don't you know that is ail I came in town for?” “T wish you had been with me to jog my memory, for it has wandered,”’ he replied. ‘1 thought it was a sg desire to see my handsome face that brought you in,” ‘**Now, you tease!" she exclaimed, turning away. “But the forfeit? You shall not get off so easily." “Let me see if I have not some gift for you in my pocket,” he said, gravely. ‘It is a perilous thing to sat Sonoran with a lady. I should have known tter. , = emptied the contents of his pockets on the able. “ A knife, a pencil, a price-list, a button, that sure emblem of bachelorhood. What shall I give my love?’ He whistled in a low tone as he ran over an inventory of his pocket treasures, ‘*Not a knife, for true love’s sake. It is the worst of signs.” “You put trust in signs, then? I should give you a lover’s knot,” he replied, as he continued se gh to investigate his ets. “Ah! Lhaveit. Here just the thing. The making of a bow, which you can wear and think of me.” ye keep thinking of you without a bow,” she re- lied. “ ButI will take it if you lack of somethin tter. What a lovely shade! Did you choose tha on Pp se for me?” ) bed drawn a strip of delicately-colored silk from his peokes, ‘“*I might as well take the credit of it,” he replied. “T know you ladies think the men are no judges of colors, but you see my taste there. Will that pay my forfeit?’ ‘Certainly,’ she replied, as she twined the silk round her hand and admired its pay of color. ‘‘ You are forgiven. I will make me a bow that will rouse the envy of all the ladies, and the admiration of all the gentlemen. But there, our ice is all afloat. Mr, Price will take it as a personal insult if we disdain his ices in this way." “ And I must return to the store, the siren has lured me away too long.” “IT wish you could be lured away oftener,"’ she replied. ‘‘ You are infatuated with that stupid old business. I do believe you prefer it to me,” She gave him a humorous look as they left the saloon in company. “Tt only has my head and_hands, Jennie. It has not my heart,” he replied, His tone had that soft- ness which only love can give. They were now in the open street. Love cashing must now confine itself to eye-glances and farewe pressure of the hands. Meanwhile Will had proceeded on his errand, meeting with another adventure in doing so, On reaching the crossing at Eighth and Arch streets an old gentleman was nad in advance of him, There was a line of vehicles. Trying to get through between them he was struck by a horse and thrown to the ground. He fell in such a position that he would inevitably have been run over by the wheels of the loaded wagon had not Will sprung hastily forward, and dragged him off the track. “Come, old gentleman,’’ he said, as he assisted the old man to his feet. “ ’Tain’t safe fer you to be verne among wagon-wheels, Hope you ain’t urt.’ He was industriously brushing the dust from the clothes of the fallen man. The latter was a well- dressed and rather handsome person, though show- ing pony the advances of age. “Tam not hurt. I thank you for and kindness,” he said, as he looked Will searching- ly in the face. ‘‘Where do you live, my boy? I must see you again.” “T ain't living now, I’m Only maying,” said Will, as he brushed off the last speck of dirt. ** And where are you staying ?”’ “Wherever folks will let me.” ** Are you engaged in business?” “ Yes Bil The voice of our quickness “What business, and where?” ** Running a wholesale ary ood store. Nousesay- ing where, ‘cept you want Duy.” I want to know more of you, my lad, and to re- F Oe ——s babe re: for your kindness, Why will you not in- orm me?”’ “Cause most of folks think they know too — of me now, and I’m afeard that'd be your luck. I ain’t taking rewards just now.” Will was off without giving time for an anawesr: The old gentleman a boy to him, and engaged him to follow his rescuer, and Tenor’ a place mea» his gratisude’ tioned. Will was not go: to esca) 80 easily. “e z the floor, The room he occupied was charmingly ed. Bookcases in rich foreign woods, w with tasteful volumes, alternated with fine pictures and suggestive bits of statuary, gave the room am aspect which only combined culture and wealfi: could produce, A richly-colored oe covered tie. floor, The ceili g was painted with a border of traili poh and an intricate centerpiece. Am elegant chandelier in bronze hung over the wide center-table, which was covered with delicate bite of ornament, utilized as inkstands, paper-weighta, etc, This was Mr. Leonard’s favorite room. Here he spent most of his evenings, and here the family were apt to follow him, leaving the more pretentious rocms below for company purposes. He had been a widower now for about a year, ama his present family consisted of his ward, Jennie - Arlington, of a son and daughter, both as rp young, and of a matronly maiden aunt, who e responsible tion of housekeeper. She was too old-fashioned to entertain co and on Jennie were thrown the labor aud the pleas ure of entertainment. Fortunately none could bags been better fitted to do the honors of the mansion. Despite her youthfulness, she had . womanly tact which makes natural entertainers sometimes of mere children in years, Since the death of Mrs. Leonard, an invalid of many years’ standing, she had drifted into thie sition, and was a prime favorite with her guard an, whose solitary hours she had done much te enliven. . “And what ails Uncle Harry to-night?” she asked, confronting him in his restless stride. : By this title she had always been used to call him though there was really no relationship betweem them. He had become her guardian, and taken her as a member of his family, at the ; friend by whom she had been and who heed. left her a good share of his fortune, though even he was but an adopted father. There was some tery. known only to Mr. Leonard, about her , Nothing, id,” he said, somewhat que: “Some business bother, that is all, Sit down our book, and I will walk my nerves into quietness. A nye leave busi he store, t you always leave business at the “ she said, persistently. ‘1 never knew business yet to affect your copes or unsettle your nerves," “T suspect I am getting old and uneasy,” he am swered, with a forced laugh, ‘“ You must look for more whims from me in the future,” oe mane will ary a yok, too, uncle,” she roped cing arm, ‘“ But, ou really 0 too fnet; cannot follow such a stride as that.” 4 7 “Tf you get in my Chg Cn must travel at vim 4 ou are a little speed, "he said, laughing: ennie, I wish you would let me alone,” “Your hair wants smoothing,” she said, his abundant locks. “Sit down and let me : into shape. It is tossed like a lion’s mane.” “Well, well, I muppose I will have to give im & man cannot enjoy his troubles in any comfort where: ou are.”’ ‘ : ‘It was bothers a minute ago. Now it is reg wn What will it be. next, I wonder?” she said, as hovered about him, tastefully arranging his hair, . 2B thon has ruffled you, Uncle Harry? I want te chow, “So that you can tell your bosom friends, Mise Milton and Annie Jones?” ‘‘ My lips are sealed to silence, sir,” she with — hen? So Mee the mock dignity. ‘It is a secret, then? better. I dote on secrets. I would not divulge it for an ocean of silver. What is it? Murder, argon, or burglary? Something delightfully horrible, I bd She Yooked the spirit of mischief, as she g over him, in her gray evening dress, her waving hair, and sparkling eyes in strong contrast, while a color sash, and a gay bow at her throat, broke the uniformity. It was the forfeit which her lover, John Elkton, had given her, ‘*T am in earnest, Jennie. I want you to be seeret,"” he said, gravely. ‘ Your last guess is the right one, It is LS ett mi ao wee Pall “Well, “ ry!’ she cried, wi 5 y I declare! Was it surtout) Wen yo store— broken into last night!"’ : ‘Nothing so commonplace as that, or there would be no secret about it. There is a mystery connected with the affair which obliges us to be circumspesh, lest we should put the villains on their guard.” Well, really!” she cried, with childish exeite- A y-ray a nes noe seating og beside: , © on, uncle, I am so eager earn ve 1 Maybe I ee - — help.” 7 ‘Not you, my child. It is a matter for ce dp - tectives, Even they are, as yet, at fault.” Ay ‘
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Se dering motion that surprised and pained cowering before him. With a sudden ‘You don’t know what a talent I have for guessing. I emmy wonderful light upon it.” a talent for guessing wrong,” he said, “ Now hush, you bad omen!’ she exclaimed, clos- fmg his lips v/th her hand. ‘But there, you are i Say wit you please; but tell me the mys- had qn’te roused him from his abstraction. \Laughing at her impatience, he proceeded to give her a descriytion of the mysterious robberies that bad been ciscovered in his store within the last few rrhition was interrupted by a dozen exclama- tions on Ler Y “Wow that is too ” she cried, drawing her v round, so that she directly fronted him. ‘I don’t wonder you are worried. e thieves must be everso shrewd. I won't begin to guess just yet. And guch a loss, too! Those silks were very v “Yes. They were of superior quality. I don’t ‘*hink there are any’like them in the city. \ “That may help them to-find them, if they should be offered for sale." her eagerness she had leaned forward till her face was very near his. “We have hopes in that direction,” he replied. * But—what—where did you get that?’ suddenly become pallid. He was pointing with a trembling finger at her throat, “ What?” she asked, drawing hastily back with a frightened look. “That! That bow!” “Why, what ails it? It is rae, retty, I’m sure.” “ Where did you get it?” he cried, starting up, and seizing her wrist in his excitement, while he eagerly scrutinized the innocent ornament. “Ido not know what you mean, uncle,’’ she ex- ed, drawing her wrist fr om his too severe itis a piece of the silk! of the stolen silk! I tell you,” he ejaculated, in strong excitement. ‘‘ You may have the clew there to the robbery. Where did “The stolen silk! It cannot be!’’ “Itis. There is no doubt of it.” This was a dreadful revelation. She sunk back in her chair, a deep pallor coming upon her face, until fte hue was almost’ deathly. A thousand fearful eontingencies crossed her mind in that one dread “But ae have not answered, Jennie.” Nor did she yet answer. er face grew even whiter. She covered it with her hands, th a shud- him rl, almost pulse he seized her hands and drew them from her face, looking with a searching glance into her’ affrighted a did you get it? Why do you not an- strong man looked down upon the wwer “1 cannot tell you.” It was a ed, unnatural voice that spoke. strain “You cannot?” ‘His tones vibrated with surprise “What shall I understand by this action? Answer me! You must! You “Oh, uncle!” she exclaimed, in agony, again cov- ering her face. “Ask me not, It is impossible that I oo answer.” enirt “Why, are you crazy, Jennie?” “No, no! Lot me go! Give me time to think!” “You know the robber, girl. He has been giving you part of his stolen goods. I must have his “Ido not know him! I could not tell you now if I “Was it that boy I sent here ene A ?” she asked, doubtfully, as a sudden es bs shot across her mind. ¥ e! He gave you the silk!” He on, With a quick, nee gn and darted out of the door of the room, her hair streaming behind her, her pallid, scared haunting him as if he had seen a specter. CHAPTER X. A CONFERENCE, Mr. Lronarp and the officer were closeted in close conversation. On this occasion the latter was in his ordinary dress. The fact of the loss of the three jieces of cloth was known throughout the store, and there is interview. gr ” he said, after listening gravely to Mr. Leon- ard. ‘The clew layssomewhere in your own store, ‘put it will take time to est hold of the end of it. The parties are very shrewd.” “T can scarcely imagine any of my young men as being dishonest,” said the merchant. *‘ Ihave trust- ed them all, tim ye face e and again. “And pane been robbed for years . There isan accomplice here, I tell you, of some party of rascals outside. Have you had your books looked over to learn if there have been former robberies of this kind?” ' “No, but I will,” was the energetic answer, “I can soon find if the sales of goods tally with the in- voices oe “ ‘“We have been able, so far, to get no trace of the custom-house robbers. The only description to be had of them might apply to fifty persons we meet every day. They are not professionals; that I am aure of. J know all that set of worthies, and their | Will Somers. “Tell me! quick! before Aunt Hannah comes in. | modes of operation, These are outside hands, but very keen ones.” ‘* And the forged check?” “Was presented by the same person,” replied the officer. ‘The bank teller has no recollection of the party, but the handwriting in the check and in the warehouse entry are the same.’ “Tt is strange—very strange,’’said Mr. Leonard, abstractedly, as he selected several invoices from a pile of them he had taken from his safe. “T am going to try the suggestion you just made,” he said, proceeding to the door. “Harry!” he called, into the counting-room. One of the clerks responded, coming into the room. “I wish you to take these invoices,” said the mer- chant, ‘and ag them with the sales of these special goods, They are the first we have had of these styles, and the salesbook should show whether they have all been disposed of or not.” “There are none of these left in stock,” replied the clerk. ‘‘They must all have been sold. The sales must tally with the bills.” ‘Well, examine them, at any rate." my ” said Harry, leaving the office. His tone expressed surprise at this request. We will soon have that matter tested.”’ said Mr. mard. ‘Those are the only gopis Ican think of which we have lately commenced to sell.” “It may prove something,” said the officer; “ but these thieves are very wide-awake. The sass 4 con- fine themselves to regular lines of goods. that case it will not be easy to trace them now.” “Tf the thief is in my store, I sy poe he has con- sidered all those points,’ said Mr, Leonard. They were interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Wilson. “T did not know ‘*Excuse me,” he said, coolly. you were eng I have just been down to see = * Sit down. Claxton.” “That will rest,” said Mr. Leonard. We were talking over the mysterious robbery.” ‘Ts there any clew yet?” he asked, earnestly. “ Not a shadow,” said Mr. Fitler. ‘‘ There is only this much very likely; that the thief is in this store.” ‘*Can that be possible?” said Wilson, with perfect coolness. ‘* And all here have been so fully trusted. Ifancy my user of that boy will prove a just one, in the end.” “T fear it may,”’ replied Mr. Leonard. “T have not even let you escape in my investiga- tions,”’ said the officer, addressing Mr. Wilson. “What do — mean?” asked the latter, hastily, with a slight of color. TF —— simply to — FA Bho le lies in my way and see what is under it,” e officer, his eyes upon him. ‘‘ You were one of the parties ha access to that safe, and control of the stolen warehouse order.” “ But I was absent from the city,in Harrisburg,” replied Mr. Wilson, a little hotly. *You men seem to be no respecters of ms,’’ said Mr. Leonard. “It isa wonder you did not try my complicity.” ‘it would not be the first time,” said the officer, dryly. ‘‘ [have caught a merchant, more than once, at robbing himself. We know no persons, aye. wheat id you trace any guilt to me?” ed Mr. m, ‘ “TI merely wrote to yey to inquire if a man named Miles Sartain had died and been buried on certain days named, and if one Augustus Wilson had attended the funeral; that is all.” “You were inquisitive indeed,’”’ said Wilson, in a light tone. “I was there.” ‘Yes. Sol have learned. You must remember, sir, that [know nobody in this matter. IfI got you in my vise, I would squeeze you as tightly as the meanest man in the store.” ‘“‘Thope to keep out of your vise, then,”’ said Wil- son, la ” said Mr. Leonard, ug! t “So as the case now stan “we have absolutely no clew?” “We have hold of one or two threads only, but there is nothing visible yet at the ends of them.” “‘T have been more fortunate, then. I have found some positive evidence. It is not yet fully located, however.” ‘How is that?” asked Mr. Fitler, quickly. He was at once oa of eager attention, his keen eyes on the er’s face. “T bave traced a piece of the silk into the posses- sion of s member of m 9 ee No less a rson than my w: ss Arlington.” Pe Ha!” cried Mr Wilson, in deep surprise. ‘How in the world did she obtain it? This is strange enough.” “she had learned my suspicions first, and refused to tell me. There was some one she evidently did not wish to implicate. Remember that I tellyou this in confidence. It is to go no further, except as I may direct.” ““Then why mention it at all, if you are not ready to make use of it?’ asked the officer. a ause I want your suggestions. I will not had her to reveal her secret, but we may guess at 1 ” “It is a mighty odd thing. A bit of silk strayed already into your own house. Was she using it in an way?” ; Boch eR tany there was, snybing “Then she didn’t fancy there was an wrong about it. She may have bought it.” “No. She did not buy it.” + Is. there no other * There is not.” “Very odd that she should make a secret of it.”’ a d she have communicated with any person from the store?” asked Wilson. “With nobody, I think, except the boy, Will. I : of the same pattern in the ci sent ‘him out to my house the other day, and he had a is just mith —- wt, Everything points to that “ just as I thoug po boy ” said Wilson. “y thought so myself,” said Mr. Leonard. ‘I ex- peoeeen my doubts of the boy, and she made no de- n ” “Did she admit anything?” asked the officer. “No. She would not answer.” “The boy may be used as a scapegoat, When did you first see the bow? * Last evening.” ‘“*And has the lady been away from home since the robbery?” “She was in the city yesterday.” “Now we are coming to it,” said Mr. Fitler, straightening himself up, “Who is there in the city that she would be likely to wish to s:reenin such a case? What bosom friend among the ladies, or what particular friend among the gentlemen?” “Miss Arlington is engaged tobe married. The gentleman is in business in the city. But he is above suspicion,” . at a very poor detective you would make,” said Mr. Fitler, impatiently. “ tf is the theory of our office, sir, that nobody is above suspicion. If any man gets himself in doubt he has got to explain it, that’s all. This man may be as innocent as she is. What we want is to trace where he got the silk. Who is he?” “ His name is John Elkton. He holds a position in the store of White & Bradley.” “They are dry goods yn bay too?”’ a “They deal in nearly the same line of goods as I Oo. , “Ha! and Elkton holds what position?” “That of their principal salesman.” > v at time yesterday was Miss Arlington in the Tn the afternoon.” ‘Between what hours?” " “T cannot say exactly. Probably from two to ve.” “You must find out more definitely. I will try and learn at what hours yesterday Mr. Elkton was. out of the store. We need to establish the fact of an interview.” “T don’t think there is much doubt of that.”’ “T want to have no doubt of it. This matter must be traced from Miss Arlington to somebody that we can handle without gloves.” “You will find nothing wrong about John Elkton,” said Mr. Leonard, decisively. ‘‘ You may imagine that I knew him well before consenting to this en- gegernent. He is a first-class man. HadI thought at the silk came from him I would not have spoken of it.”’ “You are sure it was your silk?” “Positively sure.” “Then you would have acted very foolishly. Lit- tle headway we would make if we were so tender of people as that. Here is a positive clew, and you would throw it away because you know the man it ints to. We want to see it pointing somewhere. t he can put us on another track, well and good. If he cannot, the worse for him.” Mr. Leonard looked as if something had left a bad taste in his mouth. “Can we trust nobody?” he asked. “No. Everybody needs to be tried.” “T agree with you there,” said Wilson. “That is all we can do just now,” said the officer. “T would like to takea ‘turn in your cellar, That cloth robbery is the strangest part of the whole business.”’ CHAPTER XI. IN THE CELLAR. Mr. Lronarp and his visitor proceeded together to the basement of the establishment. They were fol. lowed by Mr. Wilson. The officer paused on reaching the foot of the stairs, and took a general view of the long room, “You keep some valuable goods down here?” he asked. . “Not our most valuable. Principally heavy ‘Have any of these other cases been examined? Your visitors may not have confined their attention to the one line of goods.” “No. They were all broken, and would not show taumneciy so easily. Had I better have them all ex- e ? “That you'll have to settle yourself,” said Mr, Filter, smiling. ‘It might be best for your peace of mind not to know all you have lost.” **1’d rather know the whole truth.” “And I'd like to know,” replied the officer, “‘ who . - ie can carry out bales of goods through key- re) es bh] He was walking now down the room, his keen | ove wandering from side to side, noting every de- “Do those oods come in that hog condi- tion?” he ask , stopping beside a case of light dress ‘oods. a They don’t look as smooth as they ht, that’s a fact,” said Wilson, as he partly opened a roll of the stuff. It was somewhat creased and wrinkled. They had fallen upon a portion of Will’s bed, which he had rolled up again rather hastily. “T think I will have these few cases recounted,” said Mr. Leonard. ‘They are new goods, and we can easily tell what sales have been made from them. Send Mr. Brown down here, and Will,” he called up the stairs. While he was waiting for the appearance of these : Mr. Filter walked . e examined the them to wor! parties, and putt: on, conti a vestigation. nuing his
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windows at the end of the room with the greatest care, ‘These have not been disturbed,” he said, ‘ No thief has entered this way,” “How can you tell that?” asked Mr, Wilson. ‘If they had a confederate in the store the windows might haye been unfastened on the inside, so they could be easily removed, They could have been re- fastened the next day.” “Tt is only two or three nights since the robbery,” said the officer, “These windows have not been meddled with these three weeks.” : Reon can you tell that?’ asked Wilson, anx- ously, “By the cobwebs which you see here across the frame. The windows could not be opened without breaking them.” he see. But they may have been of yesterday’s make,” “ T should judge they were\a month old,’\said the officer, ‘*The spiders have abandoned them you see. Notice, too, \hat dust has settled on the deli- catelines.. Dust doesn’t get in here easily.” “Not very,” replied Wilson. “The thieves did not enter by the windows, that’s | clear,” said the officer. you. in front?” ‘An elevator to lower goods down.” **Onening on Market street?” “ Yea. ” ‘* And how secured?” “By ivon doors, which are locked at night,” “Phat could not safely be used,” said. the officer, “even if left, unlocked. Market street is too public, at any hour of the night, for heavy operations like these. The door at tue head of the stairs is always locked at night?” “I think so. Those are my orders,”’ said Mr. Leonard, joining them, ‘\he officer had proceeded to the front of the store and was examining the elevator, ‘*No chance there,’’ he said. “But how then did they enter?’ asked Mr. Leonard, anxiously. ‘They must have found some meaus of access from without.” “They must have made entry into the store in some! way, and then have worked down to the cellar.” “We have examined the doors and windows. They do not seem to have been tampered with.” “]T will take a look at them,” said the officer, “Who opens the store in the morning?” “ Mr. Srown, the man you see at work there, usually.’’ ** And closes it at night, I suppose?” * Yes.” “Does he come and go alone?” “No. There are several leave the store together.” “He may return, Where does Mr. Brown live?” “Tn the upper partof the city. Now don’t be throwing out insinuations about this man, Mr. Fitler. Lean vouch for his honesty.” This conversation was kept up in a low tone, so as not to reach Mr. Brown’s ears. ‘You are too much inclined to vouch for people’s honesty,” said the officer, dryly. ‘‘We will never ret along if everybody is taken for granted to be onest,’’ “And we will never get along if we spend our time in following false scents,’? said Mr. Leonard, a little sharply. for years, and know him thoroughly.” Does anybody else carry the keys?” * Oecasionally.. But Brown had them on the night of the robbery.” ‘It’s a migaty odd business,”’ said the officer. He walked back — where Mr. Brown and Will were busily engaged counting the gouds, Mr. Fitler eyed the man closely. It was Will's old enemy, but they were amicably engaged now. A nervous, quick- motioned, sharp-speaki:g person, whose worst fault was his temper. “I think Br lent comment, after a long took at the man’s face. * You have a cellar under this?” he asked. “Yes,” said Mr, Wilson. ‘ Devoted to cval, empty “What arrangement have J “T have had the man ui my employment | | Fitler. | any ears.”’ Will Somers. pS ee SREY ‘Here we cen look for rogues,” said the officer. “It isa small foot,” he continued, examining with great care, | ‘ * About the size of the boy's shoe,” said Wilson, looking sharply at Will’s feet, ‘*Set your foot here.’ “Ob, you dry up,” said Will, angrily. ‘I ain’t measuring feet now. Maybe I made it, Iwas dow here yestérday. So was more of the;men,"’ 1.20 ‘No impudenee, Will,” said Mr. Leonard, reprov- ingly. ant help it,’ said Will, defiantly. ‘ Imper- dence was born in me, and it will work:loose, Can’t keep it down,” : Ke turned away with a yexed shrug, and walked toward where something had attracted his atten- tion. , “Who dropped this?” asked the officer, display- ing thie object he-had picked up. t was a small copper token, about the size of a nickel cent. “That's mine," said Will, returning. “I missed it and didn’t know what come of it.” ‘“Then you were down here,” said Wilson. ‘And those are your footprints.” , otiaf ‘*T didn’t say they weren't,” said Will, indiffer- ently. : ‘Then why do you object to measuring? } “Cause that would look too much as if I was tak- ing my measure for a thief. That's a game lain’t playing. S’pose I mought have made the steps, cause [I was down here.” Mr. Fitler was closely examining the remainder of the cellar. f “ Everything seems right here,” he said. “A rat could hardly get into this place. What's that you have?” he asked, addressing Will. ““A bit of paper I found while you was talkin’ here. Picked it up from under the box.” It was a strip of writing paper which Will handed | the officer, seemingly a fragment of a letter. The latter examined it by the light of the lamp. It contained a few lines of writing. “It has not been there many days,” he said. ‘It is hardly dampened.” His countenance changed as he slowly read the faintly-written correspondence. “This may be important,” he said. “How does it read?’ asked Mr, Leonard, looking curiously over bis shoulder, “Read it,’ said the officer, handing it to him. “There is very little of it left,’ said Mr, Leonard, perusing it. “*. Monday, at tharp 8, Black-eyed Joe’s mill the crib, The swag is safe, and samples put out, They are fighting shy. Now’s our time to: hove, be- fore the scent gets hot. Hp abe “T didn’t ask yon to read it aloud,” said Mr. ‘Such information had best not get to too ‘*Information?’’ repeated Mr. Leonard, “A rid- dle, I should call it.” ‘Tt is a riddle with an easy key,” said the officer, dryly. ‘I wish L knew who Black-eyed Joe was. I never heard of that gentleman before, Where did you get this, Will?” ** Just under the edge of the dry-goods box there,” Mr. Filter examined the spot. carefully, There were no other suspicious indications. “Tt is deuced queer,’ he said, reflectively, “ for that piece of letter to be down here, I've been of the nofion that burglars got into the upper part of your store and worked their way down to the base- ment. But what did they want down here? This adds a new mystery to a queer case.” “Under the supposition of a confederate in the ' store, might he not have dropped it by accident when : own is all right,’ was the officer's si- | | boxes, and rubbish generally. It has no entrance, except from here.” % We will go down,”’ said the officer. “Ttis rather dark there,” said Mr. Leonard. ** We will need a light. Will, get a lamp, and follow us in- tothe cellar. “All right,” said Will, dropping a piece of goods with a thump on the floor. ERT uty ou through,” “Phey proceeded to the sub-cellar, Will fellowing down the stairs with alightedlamp. It was a long, dark room, imperfectly lighted by two very narrow windows at the back. In front a coal vault extend- ed under the pavement, This was empty now of oa ag its iron grating fastened down from with- As Mr. Wilson had said, the cellar was half-filled with rubbish. Its stone walls had been whitewash- ed; but were brown enough now, their mortar eaten with dampness. Thee floor was rather yielding, oie Wilec'e een a he walk \ er’s eyes noted everything, as he walked slowly back. Thine “ Bring the light here,” he said, at length, as they came near the rear wall. He stooped and picked up something from the floor. ** Who made those a he asked, pointin to two very faint indentations in an unusually so portion of the floor. ‘They all looked down with interest, Will holding eet oy The shape of a foot could be plain- made out. if That’s a reg’lar Robinson Crusoe find,” said Will. “If we was only on a desert island now we might ook for Iniuns, or sich customers,” + Gown bere on his regulary business?” asked Mr, Leon- ard. ‘* Yes,’’ said the officer, Shebracsecian ,He took the paper again, and attentively read it, ‘““What does it mean? It is all Greek to me,’’ said Mr. Leonard. “It means that an appointment for a meeting of the gentlemen who have been visiting you has been made, The Monday night has passed, or it might be next Monday. The meeting is fixed for Black-eyed Joe's, wherever that is. ‘The swag is safe.’ That is your silk, which they are trying to dispose of by samples. ‘Fighting shy’ oo. means that you are keeping the affair quiet, and it is their plan to sell the goods to some innocent yen if they can before the robbery is made pub- “ Well, that makes it clearer,” said Mr. Leonard. “ Another point, I believe this is the same hand- writing as we have aa ln tracing. J. P. may be another clew. Wish I w who Black-eyed Joe Wwas,”’ : “And may not the piece of silk Miss Arlington had, be one of these samp nr puss de Likely enough, * r walking toward CHAPTER XII. 2 A RRspoTey amr ‘ ‘ ENNIE ARLINGTON not readily recover from the shock which had been given her. Mr. Leonard had not again mentioned the subtect of the lost silk, but she imagined that his mind was filled with doubt and suspicion. She was quiet, but he saw and. re- spected her distress. He gave up the idea that she oe ins ei silk a wor, Re as ie ben rom som near and dear er, 08 J bly from John Elkton, sai Mir. Fitler had inquired concerning him, and learned that he had been absent from the store during the hour that Miss Arlington was in town. This seemed to confirm their suspicions. The in- quiry seemed narrowing down, the mode of \ 9 \ operation of the thieves remained as mysterious as ever, and, Mr, Leonard ret his) + osdi@ence in John Elkton’s honesty, The ctive romarked: “ There is one point in his favor, thet «1 the sara- ples mentioned in the letter, | If;he can slow whee and how he got the silk, well andeo.. if ici, the worse for ~. If Lbut knew: who J, 1. wes, ard where to Black-eyed Joe, L would lec p ensier.” Will, who happened to overhear this 1¢mmk, smiled intelligently to himself. J ‘*Bet what you dave that I find him first,” he mut tered. “Got a notion in my top-knot that Th ‘tena that meetin’ next Monday.” ; Jennie Arlington eat disconsolately at a window in Mr. Leonard's library... She was not alone. Mr, Augustus Wilson occup'ed a chair by; her, They had been conversing for a short time, “Tt is a distressing affair to Mr. Leonard,’ he paid. “This thing of finding bimseli robbed of valuable goods on every side, and quite unable to trace the hief, is a source of great annoyance, and may . rove ruinous in the end, ¢ “Lknow. it, Mr, Wilson,” she replicd, *‘and wish [ could help it.” **You may be able to;do something to help it,” he gaid, significantly. J “What do you mean??she exclaimed, with a sud den flashing up. “Simply that Mr, Leonard saw, a piece of the lost silk in your possession, You may, then, bave it in your power to put us on the track of these mysteri 0. 8 thieves.”’ * Did Mr, Leonard send you out here to questior me about this?” “No, Leame of my own motion,” “Then you can return of your own moticn, } have no information for you,”’ ‘Mr. Leonard seems to think that you got it frow the boy, Will Somers.” * Does he?” she asked, coldly. : Her visitor's sharp glance could detect a nervous ness beneath her apparent ease, “Yes. Imight have given him a different idea ot the case, but thought it best to keep silent, ( M ‘““ What view of the case?” she asked, s1iving lard to be collected, : *Lknow, Miss Action as well as yourself, that you did not get the silk from the boy. I 110\, as well as you, where it came from, I can apyieciate your wae to keep silent, but something is due to Ni sonard,”? “You assume to know a great deal,” she said} defiantly. **Not much assumption about it,” he coolly repli- ed, “The thing is patent on its face. All that surprises me is that Mr, Leonard is blind to the fact. John Elkton gave you the silk.’’ / ‘““T suppose you think that a very shrewd guess?” she said, haughtily, her cheek reddening, . “Tdid not come here to make gucsses,”’ he re- plied. ‘‘I made myself sure before coming that he was the man, and also that he is unwilling or wnable to explain his possession of that dangerous article, The affair looks dark for him.” : “Did you ask him such guestions?” she replied. “And get such answers from him?” ; “Tdid not Fpesk to him at all, Thad other and better means ¢1 arriving at the truth, We have to copy the fhrewdness of they rofesrional detective in cases like this, Miss Arlington.” “T wonéer you don't hire ycureelf cut 08 a detect- ive,’ she said, eatirically. “You secin {o' lave a talent in that direction, You have been tcmarthebl successful in finding, or inyenting, cvidence in this wa There 1s 10 invention tn {tt ‘There is no invention in it," he rey licd, with a sharp intonation. “John Elkton is tie age and you canr.ot deny it.” : “You seem very anxious to have re admit it,” she replied, with evident anger, “I yould like to know your cbject, sir, in coming here and question-— ing me in regard to this business?” Lee) It was to serve youl came. I care ae for John Elkton. I have learned some artnet iets about him, which seem to point } con. nection with the thiev +4 ¥ “¥'~ . yee should have made me tell nina these . I know how you feel toward tlils ny Wik hed to save you from distress yea it 2 sgalhhn Mikton Sino thief, as you it ite,” = c 7 Ww an. , mil y ner: Heve such things of y an f ' Tducbt if 0. seale with hig,” “he. olly 2¢plied, your honesty wow welgl “Facts are born t Many yy Cn ST Bow e fy jhe sorry. ta ve the evidence inst my honesty is ing iwi ting! m Ose ine for plain ey he Rad aA ated proof of it.” “You have not, and you cannot have,” she an- swered, rising, bord Oh Beet, upon Ler chair. “If you came heré on plrpose to insult me, I can only say oo oo enema, and that this in- terview had, ue e other pepe I would ike you to putit in pee ae as “Tam sorry to have offended, ” he- replied, “T certainly had no such purpose PH = Toa here to serve, instead of to annoy you.” “Serye me? In what way?” ake caked, A pallor had replaced h ; rh ay k cping your secret, I alone have these against John Elkton. J can. suppress them, f course I must aid Mr. in © kine the other thieves, but if the proofs in my posission are or flush, destroyed Elkton cannot be licated, it j f sideration for your feelings | me pe Tevens ¢ Fo Wowd Noy “wish him to be as & comiuon
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PS ee : SS See ST ee Will Somers. “No, indeed!” she said, clutching the chair, ner- vy. “T am aware of your relations with him, and how bitterly you wo feel any such = as your betro is known to all your frien Of course our engagement must be broken, You cannot con- a tied fo aman who is simply an unconvicted on.” “You belie him, sir, and insult me marks. John Elkton is no felon, He Ai b m of it,” faction of a jury, Seeing the proofs I speak of. I care nothing for ng eet but good,” h lied, in his sl “No ut your ,” he re ow, steady way. “I have your welfare so deeply a pesrerngs would run any risk or do any deed to ou. “Fndeed !" she said, “I did not know I had so warm a friend in you.” “You did know it,” he answered, abruptly. “You trifle with me now. You affect to forget our past intercourse, to forget that I opened the secret of my heart to you on a former occasion.” ‘ Yes, I remember your making a goose of your- self by re age love to me when I was but a child,” she replied, with a curl of thelip, “I laughed at ou then as I should laugh now at anything ridicu- us.” “TI loved you then, as I love you now,” he said earnestly. “IY forbore to press my claim when our fancy was turned elsewhere. I believe it was ut a girl's fancy that drew you to John Elkton, That dream is past now. You are a woman, and are free, I have a right now to press the love that I have nursed in silence till it has grown too strong to oo) ie Ihaveaclaim on you that gives me the right to speak of my affection.” “And did you come here to prate of your claims, and call it love-making?’’ she cried, indignantly. “‘Tq buy me with your unasked offer of silence? I am 0t for sale, sir.’ “*You mistake me,” he said, earnestly. ‘I would not for the world insult you. I love you. You are or will be free. May I not offermy sincere affection? _ I not lay claim to this dear hand? I who have s0 long loved you in silence and hopelessness.” He attempted to take her hand, which she quick] withdrew. She still leaned upon her chair, wit pallid face and set, compressed lips, “When I am free I will let you know,” she said, with a touchof sarcasm, ‘It would be well for you irachie the re yma pre gemmeati ns —¥s I do _ 6 that you will dio young from the pangs o uited love. You areas cold and Galotiating as I despise ve a serious answer to such an “Very well, then,” he cried . “You ac- cept the other alternative. I will at once inform Mr, Leonard and the officers of what I have learned. Before this time to-morrow John Elkton shall be the tenant of a prison, and shall know that you have consigned him there. “And do you think,” she exclaimed, turning on him sharply and suddenly, ‘that Iam such a weak soulless woman as to desert the man I love be more, that I would sell myself, body 1, to that to save my betrothed? Do your worst, sir. I defy and scorn wed John Elkton to Oyo have defied me; that is o ‘h,” he said, with a gloomy and resolute air. “But it ‘is passion that speaks in you. You will return to reason ve no further r. This inter- ot and will not She turned. and swept through the door like an offended queen, without another look at the man, who stood there pale and discomfited, biting his lips in impotent anger. CHAPTER XIIL NO ANSWER. ain old, well-dressed and fine-faced gentleman ed at Mr. Leonard’s store, and stood looking irresolutely down the long floor, as if in doubt whom to address. A salesman approached, supposing him to be a customer. - s cool!’ ohn, with a lo reath, “I’m to be thrown overboard it Ghente And of course you felt great pity and consideration for m and wanted to save me, and saw no way to do it bu by accepting this desirable offer?” She jaid her hand on bis lips wit CS) er hand on with a touch that w: almost a blow. Indignation flamed into her faon “You are not serious in that question?” she cried. “You cannot think so meanly of me? Accept him! I recced him with the scorn his base offer deserved. I told him Jennie Arlington was not for sale, how- ever high the price offered.” “That’s my own Jennie,” he replied, kissing her bens 4 lips. ‘‘I knew how you would answer such “Yet I did it with a horrible fear at my heart—a fear that he had the proofs, that he would have you Dol om ane tha’ ble ie understan t you thought me ca of such a crime?” q Bi a He drew back from her with a dark look gathering upon his face, **No, no! I knew you were innocent, but I knew ‘how suspicious circumstances will sometimes con- demn aninnocent man, Valuable silks have been sie ania secnend. sinh have somes of ee yo ion, You required to exp! how you obtained them, and to save yourself by re- be the ne cul rit . - : e threw himself in his chair, and leaned his head heavily upon his hands. Marks of painful reflection ry over his face. She looked eagerly but doubt- ully into his speaking countenance, “Tell me, John.”’ she said, ‘“‘ where did you get the silk? Who gave it to you, or how did you obtain it? I know you can easily explain this, easily clear your- self from this unpleasant suspicion.”’ He remained silent a minute longer, before an- swering her question. The eagerness in her face changed to a look of pain greater than his, “TI cannot, Jennie,” he replied, “It is a secret which I cannot reveal.” She passed over to him and took his hand in hers, looking eagerly into his downcast eyes, “Not even tome, Juhn?” she asked, ‘Not even to you, Jennie,” he replied, She took her seat again, a look of deep distress upon her face, Was this love? This the confidence with which love should be crowned? at secrets are yours,’’ he said, catching at the meaning of her action, ‘This is not my secret, and I am not at liberty to reveal it.” ** And am I to understand, John Elkton,” she broke out, ‘that you are the recipient of adisgraceful se- | cret? that you are concerned with criminals? that yo | have made me a receiver of stolen goods? Ire the insinuation with scorn when made by another. I ae not expect to have it confirmed. by your- self.’ ‘*Now, Jennie, you are hot and hasty ,” he said, rising, and i his hand over her flushed brow. ‘You will force me to say what I had rather not. Ireceived the silk innocent 7 That is all I can pa Po present, I hope soon to be able to tell you “You tell me much in that,” she said, with a smile of relief. ‘‘ You do not know how sick at heart I felt when I thought you were accusing yourself. I lieve you firmly, John. But, suppose they accuse you? Such an answer will not serve.” “They will get no other. Not yet, at least.” But we must close this conversation, as it ceases here to interest us, Shortly after John saw her to the car, on her way home. “Don’t fear that I will bein haste to accept Mr, Wilson’s offer,” she said, as they parted, “I have — m heart in another quarter, and I never take A warm pressure of her hand, a look of infinite gratitude in his eyes, was his only answer, He had still another interview that afternoon. It was after Jennie was well on her way home, and he had returned to his office duties, that his name was called in the store, and he was informed that a gen- tleman had asked to see him. He went out. The person who advanced to meet him was a perengers a slender, sharp-eyed man. “Mr. Elkton?’ he asked, with a keen look at Jee that is t "was the reply, C, my nhame,”’ was reply. “T wish a few words with “he said, leading out of hearing of the salesmen er “*T shall be happy to oblige you in any way,” said John, “but excuse me for hoping that you will be brief, as I am quite busy.’ si will not detain von long,’’ said the other, “ but will to my business at once. You know a lady named Miss Arlington?” [ ** Yes,” replied ohimy Syopdertng. Phare Pasens prmecnis ae with a small piece of of a peculiar mm a Well, sin to what do these questions tend?’ ask- ohn, redde sh Only that I would be glad to have you inform me where you got that silk. uP ieee you will not," replied the other, ooolly ope you not,” replie e other, coolly, “as in that case I shall be obliged to put you to per- sonal inconvenience.” “Who are you?” asked John. ‘My name is Fitler,” replied the other. “Iama detective officer. I have to inform you that the silk in a ro Ry hope and believe ae e can satisfac e our possession 0 Isball require you te do 30.” “T can, but not at present.” “ It must be done at present.”
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‘* Must is a strong term, Mr. Fitler. I decline to be governed by it.” . ‘*Which means that you will not explain. Or else that you cannot. Your refusal gives me a able duty, Mr. Elkton,” ‘* Which is?’’ replied J ohn, ener 6 “To arrest you, on a criminal charge,” said Mr. Fit er, laying his hand heavily on John’s shoulder. CHAPTER XIV. WILL’S REVELATION. lr was Jennie Arlington’s first trouble, and it was adeep one, She was proud, in her way; that rare tidv which shrinks from ace as from a pesti- etd yet is conjoined with a sterling honesty that clogs to the right, even through disgrace: ‘-n» had suffered deeply, from the moment of dis- ccvory that her lover was, in some strange way, 01») to suspicion.: Her weak effort to conceal the tr..ta from her guardian had been followed by Mr. Wilson’s accusation of her lover, and his insulting suit. Following this was John Elkton’s own strange manner, and his positive refusal to explain his pos- session of the silk. The mystery deepened and darkened with every new sae rata and the poor girl’s heart throbbed with painful suspense as she thought over the many sad pos:ivilities that lay in the future. Yet with it all she lost no faith in her lover’s truth w... honesty. She had come from their last meeting convinced of his innocence, though aware that he was in some wey involved in suspicion, and tremblin:; lest he showlt find loss davorabie interpre- ters of his silence than hers lf. Her livs, so far, had Leen sunny, and this sudden descent into the shadow of a great cloud was doubly hard te bear. But there was in her nature powers which sad never yet been developed, and which | rose wi. iin her to meet this crisis in her life. That natu) is only half Seveloped on which the hand of sorroy’ uas never been laid, She sot brooding in the library, Jooking out over the brat June flowers in the garden, yet seeing only shadow there, when her reverie was broken by @ servant announcing a visitor. She turned to see the hancsome face and sturdy | form of Will Somers. He advanced into the room with his usual air of self-possession, liis cap still on his head, and a flavor of the street Arab still about him, despite his good clothes and the lessons in polite” oss he had received. Will ys not to be easily cured of the effects of his early | vcining. *Oo.ne out to see you on some bizness for Mr. Leon::d,” he said, taking a seat nonchalantly, ** but ain’t ia no hurry, and guess I'll stay awhile and have « chat.” “How d» you think Mr. Leonard will like your oe ing when he may want you back in haste?” she asked. . “Tt takes two to make a bargain,” he replied, carelessly. ‘He's one, and I’m t’other. If he sees me back in the store afore I feel like getting there, I hope it’l! do his hor good.” “You tive found him a kindly employer, Will. You would not impose on him?” she asked, depreca- tingly. aT Ve ot nothing ag’in’ him,” said Will. ‘He's behaved himself pretty well since I’ve been there. If he han « out the same I won’t shake him. I’m not a bit afeard of work, gal. Don’t take that no- oe into your head. He’s got nothing to find fault with.’ “Well wiiat canI dofor you to-day?” she said, ering, Be ae to give him a hint that it was best for him to go. “Now svt down ag’in, Jennie,” said Will, with an easy wave of his hand. ‘Don’t be gett worried about me. I'm all right. Intend stick by Mr, Leonard as long as he keeps up to the square, so don’t thins [ll giving him his walking-papers. Set down. I want to talk to you.” : ’ . Make it brief, then,’’ she said, reluctantly seat- inz herself, * How about the chap you told me about when I was here afore? Sticking to him yet? I told you to shake bim you know, and guess it’s the best you can 0. “Ts tnat all you have to say?” she asked, impa- tiently. : “T’m goin’ for you myself, you know,” said Will, ubabaaher, “ Jist wail yor to wait till I'm grown up. Drop that chap like a hot potato. He ain’t half cod-lookin’ enough or good enough for eg a6 You appear to know a great deal about i? she said, amused. “Think I seen him the day I met you in town. Jist you shake him, that’s my advice. Look at me, handsome, well-built feller, and turned of sixteen. be in the market after a while, and the gal that gets me is a lucky one.” **T will bear you in mind, if [ run short of a lover,” she replisd, witha smile. ‘Iwill let you know when I dismiss the present one.” “What's the chap’s name, anyhow?” asked Will, twisting round on his chair. ** Suppose I don’t choose to tel! his rival?’’ *‘ Ain't ashamed of him, are you?” ‘Not atall. His name is John Elkton.” “Wha 3 that?’ cried Will, suddenly, starting as if somer!:ing had struck him. “Wry, Will,” she replied, in wonder, *“* what ails you?’ * Johu Elkton, you said?” “ Oertainly.” “He's a salesman at White & Bradley's ain't he?” “Yes,” she replied, with a nervous twitch of the ‘@uess he’s out of the market, and the coast’s | | kicked up among boys. Will Somers. clear for this young man,” said Will, settling him- self back easily in his chair. ‘“*I don’t understand you. yourself,” she said, rising and laying her hand impulsively on his shoulder, while a slight pallor came upon her ace. “Thought everybody knowed it,” said Will, easily. “That a *s in quod.”’ 3 f “ “In what?” she asked. ‘**He’s down below, Isay. In the stone jug.” ‘* You say a great deal,’ she said, shaking him in her impatience. ‘I wish you would say something that could be understood.” “*Tain’t my fault if folks don’t understand good English,’’ said Will. ‘* He’s locked up in ma Down ae oya. Took up for smuggling out of the custom 10u8e,”” Sick at heart on hearing this sudden confirmation of her worst fears, Jennie staggered back to her chair, seating herself me | as if a great weight had been laid upon her sho ders. Will looked on in unwonted ——— a faint sus- picion struggling through his brain that he had gone too far. The mysteries of the female heart were an unsolved problem to him, and he had no! dreamed that he might be touching exposed nerves with his rude remarks. A revulsion came upon as he saw her sink back pale and helpless, in her chair. ““Why, Jennie,” he cried, with a show of emotion, ‘hope I haven't hurt your feelin’s? Didn't calculate that you keered that much for the man. Don’t be so worried. Quess he’ll come out all right,” ‘Ts it really so?” she asked, in a low, frightened. tone. ‘Is he really in prison?” Yes,’ said Will. ‘But he won’t stay there, so don’t youworry. We'll get him out. IT’ll go bail for him miyseif,”’ She smiled sadly at Will's idea of goin bail. ** Now hold your head up, Jennie,” sald Will, put- ting his arm round her with a movement of boyish sympathy. “It’s a pity I hadn’t better sense; a feller that’s been around like me. But I’ve been Dunno much ahout gals.” “There, Will, [ do not blame you,’’ she said, with a proud gesture, as if she had thrown off a weakness. “Je is innocent. I know that. It is n A 4 eu that innocence can suffer the penalty of ult.” Dy I know he is, and I'l) clear him. ‘““Why, how will you do that?’ she doubtfully asked. , Yising | | to move ayain so s00n,” Just leave it to | | ed Mr, Fitler, “Think I’ve got my eye on the chap that’s been | goin’ through Mr. Leonard. Got the trap set, but it ain't sprung yet. Think Til catch an old fox ina tight trap.” * Is that so, Will?’ Miss Arlington eagerly asked. “Whom do you suspect?” ‘** Never mind now,” was Will’s mysterious answer. “*There’s more than one init. Been spotting them a ang time. Bet 1 bring them up with a half- ‘* Does Mr. Leonard know of your suspicions?” “Not he. Nor nobody else ‘cept Willful Will. That's not the way I carry on bizness. When I take a job in hand I don’t want no pards. I know they’ve got a notion that I’m mixed in it myself, and I know who set up that job. If I don’t prove him a liar, it’s ueer.”” ans You will? They don’t suspect you of being leagued with the robbers?” f “Think they do, but they've got the wron sow n, Py. the horns. Don’t you worry about John There won't no harm cometo him. Didn't know se was so tied upin him, or I wouldn’t joke about im the way I did.” “Why, Will, you weren’t making love in earnest then?”’ she said, with a look of concern. “Now you know I wasn’t, Jennie; so don’t be poking fun at me. When I make love in earnest I'll go a different way about it.” **T would like to be by.” **Hope you won't, for I ain't in love with you. Like you though, Jennie, first-rate, There’s some- thing keeps pulling me to you. Guess it’s ‘cause ou look like me. Anyhow, I’m goin’ to take John Ikton out of jail, or it’ll be queer.” “T hope you may be able,” she said, seriously. Will’s confident manner gave her hope despite her better judgment. “I never said a thing I didn’t do, and I won’t go back on this,” said Will, with an earnest and assured air that gave her new hope.» The boy was energetic, honest and shrewd, and his early lite might have given him much experience of the criminal classes: He might then not be talk- ing without warrant, and she felt herself leaning with great faith upon his promise. “Guess I'd better be going now,” said Will. “My time’s about up.” Inten minutes more, his errand completed, he was on his way back to the store. eee nicegal. Ain’t many like her,” he said to himself. ‘I’m jist the fellerto do what I can for her. Hope John Elkton ain’t mixed with the gang. Don’t think he is. Seen him the other day, and he’s got an honest man’s face. That goes’ for a good eal these days.” CHAPTER XV. WILL VISITS MR, SOMERS. “T wou.p have preferred to have kept this matter quiet,”’ said Mr. Fitler, the officer. «But that can- not be done now. The robbery of the cloths is pub- lic ee age and the arrest of John Elkton has e the affair of the silks as public.” “And he still refuses to tell where he got the piece which he gave my ward?” asked Mr. Leonard, anxiously. “Yes. We cannot set a word from him about it.” il “That has avery suspicious look,” said Mr. Wil-- son. ‘*The man could have no object in se robbers unless he hopes to save t.™, ‘“‘He won't save himself,” said the officer, sharply. “It looks more like the old principle of honor among thieves.” “And you have no other trace?” asked Mr. Leon- ‘‘ Nothing as yet. The rogues have covered up their track well. “You still think it is some one in the store?” ask- . ed Wilson. “The work could not have been done without an sone mee here. Have you gained any new ideas: about it?” “Tam still more doubtful about that boy,” said Wilson. ‘‘There has been a suspicious-loo old man here to see him.” “Ah!” soid Mr. Fitler, {nterested. “Was he. known, or was any effcrt made to follow him?” “No. I was not here.” “Tf he comes agein he must be spotted. I don’t: believe that boy is implicated, but we cannot afford. to trust anybody.” “Why not follow the boy then?” Mr. Leonard. ‘His places of resort and associates. should be known.” “A good idea,” replied the officer, ‘I will put it in practice.” “You had best arrest and examine him,” said Mr. Wilson. “The truth may be frightened out of him.” “Frighten him?” cried the officer. ‘“Frighten that boy? Isee yov don’t know him yet. Our only hope is to take him unawares, All the magistrates in the land could not make him tell what he was not disposed to.” “T think you are right,” said Mr. Leonard. ‘He may be coaxed. ‘here is no driving him.” ‘“Has anything fresh turned up?” asked the officer. “ Any new raid on pom dry-goods?”’ “Nothing. We have, had no new stuffs in lately. ILexpect to have some in next week and will see that they are watched.” “You may save yourself the trouble. They won't ' | be touched,” said the officer, decisi ely. ‘There bas been too much stir about the last for the thieves “TI agree with you in that,” said Wilson. “They won't Le touched.”’ ‘How about the investigation of your books?” ask “ Did you trace any less?" “Yos. There has evidently been robberies com mitted before. Three or four atleast, Perhaps That is important, ‘* Over a year.”’ “That changes the aspect of things, your employes been with you that long?” ** All except Will.” “That fact seems to clear Will. There will be ne harm in watching him, though, I sup se you have received shundre 8 of invoices in that time! 4 Running how long?” Have al “Then the robbers are choice in their operations. They don't make a raid on every invoice, Ij from that this lot you expect now would not be turbed, even if there had been no discovery.” “TI quite agree with you there,” said ir, Wilson. “They will wait till our vigilance is relaxed.” Mr. Fitler leaned back in his chair, looking closely at Wilson as he spoke. This intent observation of persons was a habit of his. Itseemed to be called forth now by Mr. Wit son’s decided settling of how the thieves would aet. His tone had been v positive, , “T guess it is very likely you are right,” said the officer, carelessly, They were interrupted by the open of the door, and the abrupt entrance of Will into the room. Be = a small oven on the table. r, Thompson says that’s all co ‘he nodding familiarly to the officer, ane “Very well,’ answered Mr, Leonard. ‘He wants to know, what's more, what stuff f feed your messengers on, that makes them so Fat pery of the ay, me ud ie een giving him some impudenee, ( Leonath if va I never ; ve impudence,” said Will, indignantly. “I jist wakened some of them up a) trifle. They was loafing over other things, you. see, and keeping me waiting. Now that weren't my idee of bizness, and I didn't stop long eed so," . “What did you say to them?’ asked Wilson, “Ttold them that if they thought I was goin” hang rownd cooling my shins waitin’ on them a PEF their money for the wreng monkey, that was all. But I didn’t give no imperdence,” ow ‘You came very near it, then,” said Wilson, ~~ “Bimess is about dene up for to-night, and Pve _ got some of my own to ‘tend to, Anything ag*im’: | my gettin’ off early?” asked Will. , tered the officer. “No. You can BO.” re Mo: Leonard, | ~eptted “That's clever. anti ocall on my unc’ Will, with an odd look, as he left the. room,” ; “There is some hidden meaning in ' mark,” said the officer, rising. ‘Very _— he may be Poing to callon the old man you as ae L will track him and learn who this in ual is.’ : Will was not twenty steps from the door before the eyes of the shrewd ¢ fiicer were on him, Uncon- scious of espionage le hwried in a rapid manner through the streets, giving Mr. Fitler some trouble to keep him in sight. He hy yap at fength on the doorstep of one of the me old houses on Arch street, and boldly rung the " Wonder what the deuce he wants Barer” mut- “Tt is a queer place a young
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— reprobate like him to be visiting. Not much like the pet ab , that’s sure: it was more an hour before Will reap He went now straight to his home in a very different —_— of the, ee the officer full of wonder that a boy like could have business detaining himso long in an ‘Arch:street’ residence. Will had found the grateful old gentleman at home, “ had hada long chat with him: » here was much evidence of wealth in Mr. Somers’ ene andithe room in which he. was. inter- viewed by Will was richly furnished, and tastefully adorned with: oil: paintings and other objects of art, He questioned Will very closely as to his former life, present residence and mode of living, his advantages of education, etc. ; me young visitor, however, was not very commun- icative. © * “ Never went to school much,” said Will, frankly, when this point was touched on. ‘’Bout two days anda » Lithinik.”? .“ How wassthat, my lad?” said the old ge tleman, with a serious knitting of the brows. i *T dunno,” said Will, carelessly. ‘‘’Spect it was *cause the door wasn’t strong enough. “Why, what could that have to do with it?” was the surpriseil rejoinder. ww ’ : “Tt was all the master’s doin’s,” said Will, with an air of injured innocence. ‘‘ He put me down befors a lot of twisted curlykews that he called the alpha- bet. There was too many of them, that was the whole trouble. Couldn't keep them all in my heal at once. Fast as I got one nailed in another slipped out. “You only neéded study to learn,” said Mr. Som- era. “Maybe so,,but the master wasn’t reasonable, and him and me couldn’t agree. ‘What's that?’ he mys poling to one of them. I scratched m head, but I couldn’t fetch her. ‘That's P,’ he sai. kind of r’iled. ‘S’poseitis? What's the odds?” said ist as quic’. ‘You're a numbskull,’ he says. * You're a rainoceros,’ I says. Taat was all the con- versation. The feller went for ma, and there was a bit of rough and tumble that ’d douse your heart . He hurt me some, and I hurt him wuss, One of tae ooys tried to lock the door to keep me in, but it d'ca't work. I bu’sted the old lock and went out sa’dng. Ain't been to school since, and you can’t make me believe now that that letter was P.” “That was a rich school. experience,” said Mr. Somers, lauzhing. ** 890.1 pickin’ up my schoolin’ on the street ever since,” said Will, ‘It’s a rough one, but I’ve learnt something. Lain’t worth a cent at books, but ’m {at men.” “ Which is a very important branch of education,” said Mr. Somers. ‘ Your father and mother are not living then?” “ Never had none that I know on.”’ “That is bad, very bad,’ said Mr. Somers, feeling- . “N»> wonder that a poor little orphan like you ‘had a rough life. It is well that you have come rough life with an honest record, after being ex- posed to such temptations.” “T naver carried aney anything I hadn’t earned,” said Will, “and never hit a boy that wasn’t as big or than me, And never took no slack from any- , if he was as big as a meeting-house and dressed like a king.” “Brave, independent and honest,” said the old gentleman, “ you are the making of a true American citizen. I only hope my poor boy may have as good a record,” “ Your boy?’’ said Will, questioningly. ’ “Yes, my lad,” said Mr. Somers, with a pained ession, “I two dear children, a boy and a who are lost to me. Ido not know if they even ve. Perhaps it is better if they do not.” jee a pigeon, ‘ said Will, looking the sym- 80 poorly ex “They were atolen rom me by an enemy, an old t who had a fancied injury to revenge, I shall Rove sought. them in vain ever since, I fear I ver find them.” abond?”’ And the old v; ~ dead. His secret perished with him.” “Well, that’s bad. Don't wonder you’re down- . Hope you'll run across them yet, but it's .- Guess I'll have to go now.” still a minute,” the old man, decisively. wish I a debt which is not yet repaid.” he, ye intl e ‘I have house, and giv ou the advantages o Gach fortune has de eile boa I know you will repay my care. 3 baa Shey ery hinders,”’ said W: . “T see no hindranee. What is it?” et ey. “It’s only that I ain’t in the notion of being took in and done for. I’ve hoed my own row so far, and Til keep it up.” Oe But this is an tile scruple. You would feel no nce here.” wh t *’d feel it in my own muscles and in my own serrate ras Het tho, and nt golng ; was r on pt a rich stepfather. I went into Mr. Leonard’s with a notion to learn bizness, and I’m not the to stand at the bottom of the ladder. If I ven't made my pile before ten years I'll sell out. Mach obliged to you all the same, but can’t see it in your ligh . x did his best to overcome this scruple. but Will was not to be shaken. He would pb the bread of dependence, Will Somers. CHAPTER XVI. THE OLD COMPANIONS. Ir was noon on Monday. Will spent his dinner- hour in Independence Square, a spot sacred to his old associates of boot-blacking propensities. He had given up eating for the pleasure of inter- viewing.’ He had already had an earnest talk with some half a dozen of the boys, and now approached another, who was just entéring the Square from Walntt street. , The latter was a boy of Will’s own age, a bare- footed, bare-armed, ragged young citizen, with a keen, wide-awake look on his not: overly-clean face. ‘+ Hallo, Joe!’ criéd Will. “Well, I'll be swagged if it ain’t Willful Will!” cried Joe, taking Will’s offered hand. “ How goes it, old crony?” said Will. * Old-fashioned, You've been on the coast and know the ropes. Well, if you ain't got up gallus! New shoes, and paper-collar, and a ribbon on his hat! Must have dropped into a fortune.” “Tam ina store, Joe. Wemust dress, you know, in better toggery than you want here.” “In a store, hey? Know’d you'd come to some- thing. Does it pay, Will? Ain’t it dreadful wear- ing? Seems to me I’d seem like a sparrowin a ".; @,"? “T did at first,” said Will, drawing his friend to a seat. “ You soon get broke in, though. I like it better than the street now.” “And you've et to say, ‘sir’ to folks, and take off your hat, and have counter-jumpers order you around like a dog., Dunno how you stand it. You licked me once for trying to put it on you,”’ “*T don’t stand itany better, now,” said Will. ‘They can't come none of their jokes on me. One feller tried it and I cured him. They’ve been mighty polite ever since.” Ts that so?” said Joe, looking at Will as at one who has made a successful voyage of discovery. “Shoot me if I ain’t got a notion of tryingit. I’m getting, too big for this job. How did you get a place? “TL asked for it, and wouldn’t take no for an, an- swer. I jist captured it.” “You're the chap for that,” said Joe, admiringly. “Wish you’d work me in somewhere. ‘You must be getting to know folks.” “TU work for you,” answered Will. time he was giving up this trade. poste about town yourself, Joe.” “Not among bizness folks. Know a good deal about down-towners. Ain’t many cribs I haven’t been in or smelt out.” ‘*T used to know the shady places all over town.” ** So do I,” said Joe, with an eager display of knowl- edge. ‘‘I’ve been there. Could lay my hand on half the burglars in town, and all the fences.” “Bet I could name some what would stump you,” ** Bet you couldn’t,”’ ‘said Joe. “T'll go ten cents I can.” “Tll cover it,” said Joe, producing a piece of soiled currency of that value. ‘ But you ain’t to go on all day. Won’t give you but three chances.” “That's uare,” said Will. ‘Let’s see now. Where’s Ned Hogan's Retreat?” Shipper below Second, and one chance sold chee said Joe, trium hantly. “Where's Tim the Tinker's crib? Think I’ve got “Tt’s about You're well you there.” “Not by a jug full,” cried Joe, with an eager laugh. ‘It’s on Beach street, above Brown. Guess I'll rake down them tens.”’ “Youre pretty well a reflective pause. ye “an Maint in t peed said Joe oe “Tt’s a namesake of _—_ You ought to know ea own relations. here’s Black-eyed Joe’s Will qneet at him triumphantly, as Joe sat scratch- ing his head, with an air of reflection. ‘ That's my cash,” he said. “Hold up,” said Joe. “Give a feller time to think. I don’t know nim by that name. But I’ve got a notion I could nail him. Ain’t goin’ to give up the bet till it’s settled.” ** Who’s the man you're thinking oft” “It’s Joe Prime, that keeps the confidential house in a little street off South street. He’s got eyes as black as coal, and I once heard his place called the mill. You’re sold, Will. Pass over them ters.” “* He’s a fence, then, and keeps a stock ef burglar’s goods in store?’ “'That’s him,” said Joe. “I follered some light- fingered nobs there once, and nailed him. ver. “The bet ain’t settled yet,” said Will. ‘Where is this alley?” me... gave @ more precise description of its loca- on. . “I’ve a notion you've nailed it, Joe,” said Will. “ Meet me on the corner of the alley to-night before ht, and we'll settle,” Bil - the blue anes is saat ve pe rer he sus- piciously. ou trying to sell on me you are, [ni blowed if can’t polish you.” ““You never seen the day you could do that, Joe. And nobody knows it better than you. Can’t say now if there’s anything in the wind or no. Jist meet me there, that’s all,” : “| never tramp on a blind scout.” “T want you. Ain’t that enough?” said Will, im- tiently. ‘* You’re as curious as an old woman. y half-past seven, sharp, at the corner, I'll tell you then if you’ve won your bet or not. Can't tell now.” rlice bizness, Will” ed, Joe,”’ said Will, with culate to throw you on ‘* You’re goin’ into “Did you ever steal?” s#eked Will ‘* Never a pin’s worth.” } “Then it’s the best bizness: you: can go ine You’ve begun honest, and you'd best, keep honest, But you beat thunder at smelling/out thieves. Don't you miss being there.” Joe sunk into a deep cogitation after Will had left him. Hewas considering the unsought tribute ta his powers which had New been given him, and won- dering in his own mind if he was not cut out by na~ ture for a detective. Will spent the afternoon quietly in the store, ate a hasty and frugal supper, and reached the rendezvoua at.the hour named. Joe was already there, lounging easily upon a os in South street. He gazed wonderingly at i ** Well, I’m blowed,”’ he said, ‘if the feller ain’t dropped his store toggery and come out in his old ie I can smell a rat now, and a big one.” Will was = recognizable in the dilapidated suit he wore, and in the highly ventilated hat, which he pulled down like a mask over lis eyes. “If things work well you'll get something to cover this,’’ said Will, as he handed Joe the amount of the bet. ‘‘Seen anybody go up the alley?” ‘No, only been here five minutes,” “ Let’s look in then. Show me the house.” The two boys strolled carelessly into the narrow street. It was just wide enough to let a wagon through comfortably, and ended abruptly at a simi- lar street running at right angles to it. The locality was uot redolent of sweet smells. It was bordered by houses on each side, of fair size for the location, but in very bad condition. The street swarmed with children, On the corner of the second small street stood a: house of more pretensions, It was a three-storied brick, of wide front. The mainroom, on the corner, was used as a bar-room, bearing an unpretentious sign of “Imported Wines and Liquors.” The name of the landlord, ‘Joe Prime,” accompanied this very dubious announcement. The place seemed well patronized, and the noise, within gave evidence of the exciting qualities of Joe Prime's liquors, if it said little for thelr purity. “That’s not the place,” said Will, decisively; ‘‘might as well make a fence-shop of the custom- house.”’ ; “There are other ways in,” said Joe, leading round the corner. Will now saw that the house extended a consider. able distance back, with a yard fence along this second street. A gate in this fence stood very slightly ajar. “ That’s the back doorway,” said Joe. “T want a squint at the landlord now,” said Will ushing into the bar-room, through the throng of Bonen Behind the bar was a flashily-dressed young fellow, with as much evil in his face as it would convenient. ly hold, busily dealing out liquid poison to his cus tomers. The latter were a motley set, in all stages of in, toxication, The scene was no new oue to Will, how, ever, and his sensibilities were not easily shocked, As he stood, looking sharply through the throng of customers, a door behind the bar opened, and a man in his shirt-sleeves entered. A glance told Will that this was the person who had been described to him, and satisfied him that it was the man he wanted. He was small, but stoutly built, swarthy almost as an Indian, with straight black hair, and eyes of deep blackness. He cast a surly glance over the room, speaking to some of the drunken wretches about the bar in no amiable tones. Will slipped re out of the room. “That's Black-eyed Joe,’’ he said, on meeting hia f:iend outside. ’ “What comes next, then?” “T spect some folks here at eight o’clock. They'll be like to take the gate for it, but might try the front door.”’ * Yes. What then?” “You and me are to see them, and fix their photo. graphs in our heads. You take your stand here, where you’ve got a set at the front door, You’re posted in thieves and sich, and don’t let any go in without your nailing them, I'll take my squint at the gate. I think it’s like my fellers will take that route. ” ‘ > Will’s way of taking the gate was to coil himself in a heap against the opposite fence, and to be ap- parently lost in slumber, - He slept, however, with both eyes wide open. Se a ee came etly up suspiciou around. He saw Will, but paid no aitention to him, In an instant he had opened ‘the gate and disap- peared in the yard. Ten minutes passed of Will’s silent watch, wheix two men came along in company. wars. eager - ly debating the merits of some prize-fighter. He expected they would pass by, but they boldly sg the gate and passed in, closing it behind em. Several more men came up the alley, but passed on without stopping: A half-hour 0 Il’s silent watch had passed, and he was about to give it up, under the impression that all his birds were caged, when a fourth man came along. Will watched to see if he, too, would pass by. He came on with a hesitating step, his hat drawn down low over his eyes, and his hand stroking his whisker. in such a way that half his face was hidden. The boy lay quiet as death, not a muscle ata The new-comer paused a moment opposite the gate. enere furtively around. Then with a quic steal y movement he opened the gate and slip; ‘ ‘
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~ Deka ee said Will to as he rose to his feet. ‘‘ Won’t there be ructions when I let the cat out of the bag! Guess the 'coonsare all treed now. t’s the news, Joe?” ‘“* Nothing,” said the latter, who had approached on seeing Will rise. ‘‘They’re all lambs my side of the house. What’s your luck?” “Four foxes,” said Will, pointing to the gate. “There's their hole,” he continued. He indicated a window in the second story, in which a light had Mew apport, A curtain inside eame down to within an inch of the bottom. “Want to follow it up?” asked Joe. “Tf it’s in the wood.’ sie yes — it up that eet We can ery € squirrels. It’s risky, bu ere’s anything it we ain't afeard of mk” “I’m your hoss,”” was Will's sententious answer. There was no one in the street just then. The ahed came down nearly to the fence. Climbing to Will’s shoulders, Joe was in an instant on top the fence. In a second more he was stretched flat on the low shed. This evolution was not so easy for Will. He had nobody’s shoulders to climb from. After looking round irresolutely for a moment, a bold thought eame into his head. He ee” the gate a crack and glanced into the yard. It was ‘gre Os Not a second lost Will. A barrel stood beside the fence. One quick leap and he was on top. A light neyo | motion and he was flat on the shed. ; poh meanwhile crept to the window and was 00. ng in. ‘*What luck?” whispered Will, as his companion dro his head. br, sg “Bully !’’ replied Joe, in alike tone. ‘The whole four are in, and Joe Prime with them. Jist worm up this way, and take a squint.” CHAPTER XVII. GUARDIAN AND WARD. JunnIz ARLINGTON’s sorrow had worn off, and had been re by a sentiment of er and bitterness of spirit. That aman like John Elkton should be seized asa common felon, a man of the purest char- acter and unstained reputation to be thrown into prison on a bare suspicion, seemed an utter outrage, She was in no mood to appreciate the reasons for this arrest, or to consider the very dubious position in which his refusal to explain placed him. She was oo at his character with eyes of love, and it vexed her that the world was blind to what seemed go evident to her. She was angry with her guardian, with the officer, with Mr. Wilson, with every party geoncerned. Even the unoffending bow shared in this resentment. She would have taken it from her dressing-table and trampled it under foot, but on fooking for it it was gone. Leonard, th wean t ag ico enue en ente er room, himself of her lover's last gift to her, and intended to use it with the hope of convicting him of robbery. She had been pales and drooping these last few days. He had desisted from asking the cause. He knew it too well, and shrunk from an encounter with grief which he could not relieve. T y she was red and blooming, and he ventur- ed to compliment her on the favorable baa bp “Tam glad to see your color coming bac mer | Jennie,” he said. “You begin to look like your ol self again. I could not bear to see you so cast down as you have been for some days past.” “T do not think it could have troubled your mind very deeply,” she replied, in a bitter tone. “Why do you say hat, Jennie?’’ was his surprised rejoinder. “You know that no father could feel more tenderly toward you than I do.” “IT know that no stranger could have done me a a ad wrong than you have done,” she replied, look ing m straight in the eyes. Such language seems to me utterly uncalled for,”’ he answered, with a deeply-pained look. ““Why have you thrown John Elkton into prison?” was her unflinc reply. “Tt could not avoided, Jennie. You should know that. He is found with apiece or stolen goods in his sion. He refuses to tell where he ob- tained it, The law holds such a man guilty, and so does common sense. Iam very sorry to have wound- ed you, but could not act otherwise. If he is inno- oent, why is he silent?” “You ow he is innocent,” she hotly replied. “There is nothing you know better. He is incapa- ble of such an action, and you know it. If I alone knew him, and he was a stranger to you, it would be different. You have known him as long as I have, and as well. You know he is innocent.” “You are young,” he calmly answered. ‘ You have not studied human nature deeply. Implicit trust is not to be placed in any man.” “That is the argument of a policeman,” she ye- plied, ‘‘ one who only sees the evil side of men.” “It is the argument of experience,’’ he rejoin- ed. “All young people tend to trust in human na- ture. Most old le have their eyes 50 egy by fraud and d that they incline to doubt all un. proved characters.” “Do you mean to say that John Elkton’s charac- ter is unproved?” she asked, with a quick glance. ‘“‘T was not making an application of my words,” he Sawa replied. “He is a map, with human w esses. at do we know of his life, outside of his visits here? We do not know how or where he spends his time, nor who are his associates. He does not see you very frequent ‘¢s “You will hint next that he is deceiving me,” was her hot answer, ‘‘ He visits me as o as he can, and I have perfect faith in his love and his honesty. Will Somers Ido not need to have him always under my eyes fo, know and trust him. That would be a sorry “Tt — often prove a good one,” he answered. “You know it is notin his case, You know it is not, sir,” she cried, rising impatiently and pacing the floor, ‘‘ You have deeply pained and mortifle me, Mr. mard. But if you should throw into a convict’s cell you could not break my love and faith. I am proud, and can feel keenly the in which you have pinged me. But 1 would not de- gert him were it tenfold deeper. You know John Elkton, and you dare not say that you believe him ilty. You do not believe it, “T cannot help doubting him, Jennie,’’ he replied. “Doubt him!” she cried. ‘ And is a mere doubt warrant enough for you to take such action, to in- gore and disgrace him, to wound me so ae A You oubt him! If you had seen your goods in his pos- session it would not have given you the right to doubt him without further proof.” “They were found in ssession,’’ he replied, hotly as herself. ‘‘He was found making presents of tiem. And as for further proof we have it in his silence. If he is innocent why does he refuse to clear “T don’t know. He has good reasons for it. If Ity why did he give me that silk, and so bring it rectly before your eyes?” “T did not consider that,” he said, thoughtfully. “You did not consider anything,” was her bitter reply. ‘‘ You acted as hastily as if he had been an utter stranger, and caught in the act of robbery. It is certain that you did not consider me, Land my feelings and position were quite left out of the account,”’ “TI think we had better close this conversation,” he mildly answered. ‘‘ You are hot and passionate now. When you are cooler you can better appreciate my action.” af’ ys bipeate it now,’’ she replied, more hotly still “Not content with having him seized as a felon you must enter my room, search among my things, carry off that miserable bow, make me a ew, to this base persecution of my lover. And his all hidden from me. My room entered as by a thief in the night, and robbed of its treasures, bet 3 5 did you not ask me for the silk?” “T took it from your table, where it lay conspicu- ously. I did not deem it necessary to ask you. Nor do I like such language as this.” *““You have laid yourself open to it by your ac- tion,” she answered pacing the floor with an excite- ment that would not let her keep still. “I will cling to my lover, sir, whatever you do with him. You cannot turn me against him. He is an innocent, in- jured man. And I will not be made a ay © this vile persecution. I demand a return of the bow that was taken from my room without my knowledge," “ You cannot have it,” he replied, his cheek flushed with anger. ‘It isin the hands of the authorities. And there it must remain as evidence.” “You have robbed me, and I will not submit to it,” she passionately replied. get on the rson open to the eon ges suspicion. I arrest him and secure the proof against him. And now you would have me stay my hand, close the door I have opened, and allow myself to be blindly ruined. I feel for you, Jennie, but you are not reasonable to-day. I must protect myself.’’ “And ruin me and my betrothed. And by mere sophistry. You know the proof against him is but a shadow. You know he is innocent, and will explain himself in time. But, no, you send an officer to him who him some impertinent questions, an arrests him because he declines to answer so sud- denly. I uphold him in not answering now. Neither would Lif freated so unjustly.” d himself open to it,” Mr. Leonard ‘Then am I o to it,” she hotly rejoined, her hand on the table’ and loeking him foroely in the eyes. ‘The silk was found in my possession. I refused to tell where I got it, both to you and to your insulting minion, Wilson. hy did you not arrest me? ere was all and more evidence against me than against him. Ihave not yet admitted that it came from him.” “We know it well ences ” he replied. “As for his silence I doubt not it has as good warrant as mine,” “Yours is explained. His is not. The law is no respecter of such scruples.” “Very well, Mr. Leonard,” she more quietly re- plied. “““You have shown your hand fanly and established yourself as my declared enemy. T can no longer remain under your roof. Two houses must hold us from this henceforth. I cast my lot with John Elkton. I will be true to him whatever betide, and a foe to his foes.” ** Now, child, you are talking pure nonsense,”’ said Mr. Leonard, gravely. “I cannot consent to any such madness. It would look well, indeed, to let you seem as if driven from my house.’ “There would be no seeming about it. I am driven from your house. I have stayed in it as long as my self-respect will permit.” “You are my ward. My child in thelaw. I will not consent to your going. “T am @ woman, an mistress of my actions. I vet ' is madness, girl. Go where? What is to become of you?. Who is to take care of you?” “T am not friendless, sir. I can find refuge with 138 = oe ee - Seapaias mayen reve een a n peonks who will consider me before their own self- nterest,”’ ‘You must not, you shall not act like a oe child!” he said, vigorously. ‘I never thought that ‘ou would accuse me of of interest in you. 1 t have doneso much for you, far more than you know or conjecture. If you knew all you would not treat me so, “Tf I knew all! What is there for me to know?” “T cannot tell you now, Jennie. I have been more a friend to you than you imagine, and it pains me to bargzor turn on me in this way.” “This is a new mystery, . Leonard,”’ replied Jennie. ‘‘I cannot engage to be grateful for some- thing I never heard of, and do not seem lik hear of. I know you only as wd guardian todian of moneys left by my father. You have been kind and considerate to an unruly . admit. But you are in this case neither kind nor can- siderate.”’ “Tam more than your guardian,” he replied. “There is a secret conn with your life which I have been charged to reveal when you came of age,” “A secret! A di aceful secret!’ she cried. “* How could I, a child, have incurred any dis ? What is this secrat? I am not afraid of it. hese half-rev are tenfold worse than silence. Does it affect my father?” “Your father. He was an honorable man. There is no whisper against him.” ‘““My father! You emphasize this as if he was not my father. I demand to know what you mean by these innuendoes. It is not fair, sir, to reven yourself on my just indignation by such an insin- uation as this,” “T have said too much, Jennie. More thant thought of saying at this time. I withdraw it all.” ‘* Withdraw!’ she cried, with a scornful accent. “You cannot withdraw a storm that has been let loose. Silence now is worse than the truth, What am I to think of such language? Who is my father and what has he done to disgrace me? I must have an answer.” “JT dic not speak of disgrace. There are misfor- tunes that are no disgrace.” ‘What misfortune, then?” “T will say no more now. I have said too much already. Some day when A be are cooler, and will ane 7 nk me revengeful I will tell you to what I ude,” “ And meanwhile leave me to miserable conjeo- tures,” she said, sinking wearily in her chair. “You have no occasion for it, Dismiss this mat- ter from your mind for the present, But you must give up your foolish idea of leaving my. house,” “You have driven me to it,’ she said, flushing up ain. me You are blinding yourself now, Jennie, ané wronging me.” “T don’t know. I don’t know anything!” she cried, passionately. ‘I only know that my _ lover is in praca, that he is innocent, and that you have placed im there. I know no more, and can no more now.” With a hasty movement she rose and left the pone ee face haunting him with its pain and re- proac — CHAPTER XVIII. WILL PREPARES FOR WORK. WE left Will and his companion on a shed oven looking a band of conspirators. The long June twi- light had just passed, the sky was overcast with clouds, and it was quite dark. Will glanced in at the narrow aperture of the win- dow. There was less thay aninch of space left by the curtain, But this enabled him to catch a glimpse of atable, on which burnt a lamp, and to see the faces of the four men seated around it. Black-eyed Joe stood back. He had just brought — up some liquors. ill could scarcely repress a chuckle of triu: The face of the man whom he had last seen ou' was now fully displayed. There was no doubt now, he knew him at a glance. The face of a second looked familiar to him, The other two were strangers. His companion, however, seemed to know them. “ Them’s Rey, nobs. High-toned cracksmen,” he ee ‘I know just where to put my finger on em. The men were still conversing, but in low tones, and only an occasional phrase reached the eager young ears at the window. ‘Not safe now,” was the first phrase caught. “ John Elkton is in prison. He won't blow.” : ‘The West is the best field. After this scent gets, co a,” oe?” Joe, in a louder voice. ‘ Up yonder. bi q The men grew still more earnest in their conversa- tion. “Will be in store about Thursday,” came to the ears of the boys as their tones d “And won’t be looked after? ‘No, they think we're frightened off, and won't venture to touch this lot. i can give the there’s any change in the programme.’ w louder. que
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. the last. 14 “We'd best touch it deep then. We ht not get jon fd chance s00n. secret way is all right eC vee Yes, not dreamed of.” “'That’s a lie,” was Will’s whispered comment. *“T'll bet a cow you'll find a hornet in your box.” Their tones fell again, and nothing further came 1» the listeners’ ears. The consultation soon after Lroke up, and there were signs of departure. ‘Thursday night, then,’’.said one. ‘ “No. Friday night. They might be on guard o Thursday. The boys slid down the shed, gained the fence, iudina moment had dropped to the ground out- S:ue. ‘Now, Joe, we know our men, and don’t need to follow them.’ Let’s slide,” said Will. They lost no time in putting distance between them and that dangerous locality. “Tell you what it is, Will,” said Joe, leaning dog- ced against alamp-post. ‘* There’s something up. What is it?” “Dead burglary, Joe. These fellers have been going through a friend of mine. Jist hear their im- perdence, too. They’ve laid out a plan to rob him ag’in next Friday. But I’m on hand to spile their little game.” * o’s been robbed?” “Can’t tell you now. You'll know afore long. You'll get paid, too, for our fun to-night. You know where them cracksmen can be nabbed?” “Mighty queer if I don’t.” ' “That’s the ticket. I'll call on you soon at head- vuarters in the syu.re. Till then, mum’s the word,” **( wouldn’t biow; uo more than an oyster,” said Joe, indignantly. “We'll split then for to-night.” Will went his way, whistling his feelings in a very ay air. . Ya was diligent in his store duties for the next few or being light-hearted in an unusual degree. | hen Will was in his gay mood he was the life of the store, keeping up a constant breeze of amuse- ment, Mr, Leonard had decided to let him alone in these outbursts of animal spirits, as he did not find that the liveliness engendered by Will interfered with the amount of labor performed, but rather aid- edit. So our young friend was left to sing, dance, joke, and otherwise upset the quiet of the store, to is heart’s content. And yet he fell into bitter disgrace before the irs na Thursd The ed i tti t was ay. were engag' n getting in an invoice of veey valuable goods. These were black sills of su nes agg A and very costly. Will labored vigorously, but with the utmost good ‘humor, at the task of getting the cases into the store and lowering them into the basement, where it was decided to place them for the present. Yet he could not a» hag his overflowing spirits and executed a break-down between the erg of oue case and the receiving of another, that excited the laughter of the men, and the indignation of Mr. Wilson, who was passing. “See here, boy,” he cried. “We don’t hire you fora ro minstrel or for a ballet-dancer. You've raised disturbance enough in the store already. Wow I want this Soin Popped “Tl try,” said emurely, ‘“‘ But my logs sometimes kick up all of a sudden. I catch myself dancing afore I know it.” “You had better kuow it, and well, in the future. I warn ® now that the next time you attempt it you will be sent about your business.’ “I’m about my biznéss now,” said Will, as he lent a. hand to the next case. ‘You have entirely too much impudence, boy, I will not have these pert answers.” how you're goin’ to help it. My tongue’s jist as hard to manage as my legs.” “You have Y cag to m 6 it, then,” cried Mr. Wilson, in sudden anger. ‘If not here, then some- where . Your insolence is getting unbearable.” “You didn’t hire me, and I ain't taking no dis- charge from you.” : “Tl see if you won't,” cried Wilson. * Now you get back to your end of the ship, and don’t be annoying a Sees at his work,” said Will, impatiently. ‘ You’re worse than a bad oys- ter. You'd best slide if you know when your moth- er’s pet is well off.”’ “Why you insolent, rascally young ers Wilson could hardly speak for rage. “‘That comes from taking vagrants off the street. You shall get -out of this store, or I will.” He made as if he would take Will by the shoulders and § a him out bodily, then and there, * You can get, soon as you want,”’ said Will, stand- ““Dunno_ that rouw’re much use here, ‘Jong side of me. Willful Vill ain’t to be spared.’ “TH see about that,” cried Wilson, doubly en- raged, as some of the men laughed. ‘This is the second specimen of your insolence and it shall be If there’s more of it I shall put you out ing erect and coolly eying him. myself.” my. Bon't try it on,” said Will, lifting his straight, athletic figure, ‘If you lay a finger on me ri double you up like a jack-knife. I could curry down r. dozen mules like you. Now get, and blow to Mr. {,zonard, and I don’t care three darns what you tell him, Look out, though, that I don’t og a ring in your nose afore you’re a week older, it you try it on,’ Wilson seemed incapable of further speech. He went hastily back. “You're a fool, Will. You’ve got your walking- apers,” said one of the men. ; : “Bet a dollar I ain’t,” said Will, easily. ‘I ain’t taking no discharge now.” » / Will Somers. “ But you forget that Wilson has principal author- ity Fg the store, and great influence with Mr. Leon- ar **T don’t keer the wink of a cat’s eye for Gus Wilson. He’s had more say here than he’s goin’ to have. Think I'll take his place afore tg Tm Mr. Leonard will give me sal enough. Let hoe his, prettiest row, and see if I don’t come out a i “That’s all talk, Will Iam afraid you have done for yourself.” “Them that lives longest will see the most,” was Will’s answer, Ten minutes after Will received a peremptory sum- mons to the office. He walked back with his most mcm air, entered the office, and coolly helped himself to a chair opposite Mr. Leonard, who was seated alone. ‘*T did not ask you to seat yourself,” said the lat- ter, in a displeased tone. “*I was afeard you wouldn't. That’s whyI helped myself,” said Will, nonchalantly. ‘‘ We’re goin’ to have consid’rable talk, and I’m too tired to stand.” **] don’t think we will have much talk,” said the merchant, sharply. ‘‘ A few words will conclude my business with you.” ** But not mine with you,” said Will. ‘You are too much inclined to answer back,” said Mr, Leonard, severely. ‘‘That is your main fault, Iam satisfied with you otherwise, but can- not permit insolence in my establishment. You have talked ina shamefully insolent manger to Mr, Wilson. Now that is nearly the same as if you had sed such senipanee to me. I am sorry for the ne- cessity, Will, but will have to discharge you. Lhad ho better things of you.”’ “Tt isn’t the same,” said Will, havent “You wouldn’t talk to me as he does, and there’s where the difference comes in. If a feller comesto me like a slave-driver it’s all very pretty, but I guess he'll find I don’t drive.” “Men don’t measure their language in speaking to boys. You must expect to put up with hasty speech.” “Boys have got souls,” said Will, indignantly. e. cere what I’ve been used to, to be talked to like a dog.’ “Tam sorry, Will, that there is such a break be- tween you and Mr. Wilson. I will have to support him. You must go.”’ “What! for Gus Wilson? Not if I know myself. Iwouldn’t stayed here a week, Mr. Leonard, if you hadn't been a straight man. You suit me pretty well, and I ain’t taking no discharge.” oT is nonsense, boy,’’said the merchant, se- verely. ‘ You will have to go.” that Gus Wilson “T'll bet my next year’s oes first,’’ said Will, setting his hat rakishly on his ead, “Come, there is enough of this,”’ said Mr. Leonard, rising. ‘I will pay you whet is due you, and hope this experience may be a lesson to you in the next place To may nes ‘ x down, Mr. Leonard,” said Will, easily. ‘‘May be you’re done; but I ain’t quite through yet.” he merchant stood looking down at the indepen- dent boy with an air of surprise. He had not met such a character before. “What have you got to say?” he asked. “Well, the first thing is, that I ain’t only goin’ to spend my days here, but calculate to spend my nights here, too.” What do you mean?” “T mean that you have gotina lot of fine goods, and that the thieves are goin’ for them to-morrow night.”’ € Mr, Fitler, the detective, don’t think so.” “He be blowed. He's good for straight work, but not good for a crooked job like this, I’m goin’ to be detective, and to spend to-morrow night in your cellar, There's rats there that want to be smelt out. Set down,” he continued, as the merchant looked incredulous. ‘It won't be my first night there. I’ve got something to tell you,” Mr. Leonard’s incredulity changed to intense in- terest as Will proceeded to describe his former night in the cellar, and what he had seen there. “Can it be possible?” he cr.ed. ‘‘ Why did you not tell me this before?’ “I was waiting for it to get ripe,” said Will, quiet- ly. ‘*Set still; I ain’t done yet. He proceeded with a description of his last even- ing’s adventure, and of his recognition of the parties concerned, though declining just then to tell who they were. “But this is most important,’ said the merchant, breathlessly, ‘‘ I must send for Mr, Fitler at once.’ ade 4 you do, I wash my hands clean of it,’ said Will, ‘I ain’t taking no pards in bizness.” “But we need his advice.” ** We don’t want none of it. I tell you what we do want.” “ Well sie ‘““We want to keep still tongues, If this thing is talked of, our dog’s dead. Ill tell you this much, there’s a traitor in the store. If there’s a bey gets out all our fun goes for nothing. I want to find out how them things are got out of the cellar.” “You are right, Will. I shall not speak of it.’’ “Nor don’t look it, nor wink it, nor let it out in anyway. There will be somebody doubtful of our long talk here. Tell Gus Wilson and the rest of them that I begged off, and made you promise me another week’s trial.”’ ' “Very well. I shall do so. No one shall learn anything from me.” “Not Wilson, nor Fitler, nor none of them. The job can’t be done if it gets in the wind.” “ But how will you manage to remain after night without its being known?” Se “Easy enough. You send me away just afore six, Trust me to snake My way back.” “T think you can do it, Will. You had best gointo ba rite a tly out, leaving the merchant plung went quietly out, lea the m ° ed in deep though . CHAPTER XIX, A PRISON CELL, Joun Exxton had been a week in prison. His ar- rest had excited much indignation among his friends, who had a high opinion of his character. His silence, however, in regard to the damaging charge against him excited distrust in some, even. his friends. His employer was one of these. He offer- ed to see that John was released on bail, if he would only nen to him this ele” But John would not explain, and did not want bai He was m and unhappy in his contracted a cell, and grew cross and nervous as the long ays wore on, e monotony was broken by fre- quent visits from his friends, some of whom were very attentive to him. But with all this the hours dragged, and the place grew bitterly tiresome. One thing wore on him more than aught else. Hoe had seen and heard nothing of Jennie Arli n. How was his disgrace going to affect her? He did not believe that she could turn from him for an un- proved crime, but she was under the direct influence of his enemies, and what stories might not be told, and what arguments brought to bear on her? He was fully aware of the natural conclusion from his persistent silence, and could not blame peo- oe for et gy Be innocence. Buthe had fondly oped that she had more confidence in him, and would not turn away from him so lightly. But as the days wore on and she came got he be- gan to fear that she was lost to him, to grow miserably unhappy in consequence. Another es seemed to annoy him. Some of his friends kept aloof from him, one in particular of whom he had had a very exalted opinion, and whose absence caused him much mental disquiet. He finally sent a message to this man, Jesse Powers by name, with an ungenb request to have him come to the prison and see him. It failed in its effect. His friend was out of town and did not get his epistle. _It was nearly the end of the first week of prison life when the door of his cell was one morning un- locked, and a new visitor admitted. He had been given a privilege which few of the prisoners enjoy- ed, of having both doors opened, and visitors edule. ted within the grating. He sat disconsolate and moody, fretting in spirit at the defection of his betrothed, when he lif his eyes and saw her standing before him, her eyes full of love and sympathy. ‘*Oh, John!” was her piteous exclamation. He sprung to his feet with new life, clasped her in ° arms, and rained kisses on her distressed face. “This is very good in you, Jennie,” he said, ‘‘I have just been thinking of you, and wishing for you; but not nene. “You did not think I had forgotten you?’’ she said, reproachfully. “No, no, Jennie; I had faith in your love. But how I did want you!” He kissed her aeein, clasping her still closer. ‘* And what a place this is,’’ she said, looking round the cell. ‘‘I would have been here before, John, but I was hindered. I thought, indeed, the first few daya, that you would not stay here.” “How could I help myself, Jennie? No bird would stay in its e if the door was open.” “You could open the door with a word. You know ou could,” she said, looking peered. Sh eagerly nto his face. “You are innocent. hy will you OT looks a» if 1 werd guy, top ooks as were he replied, lead her to the only chair the cel afforded. “The ae and the public seem to think so.” “Tt is your own fault, John. You are incompre hensible, Why are you so silent? I cannot guess a reason, ou must clear yourself,” * And convict others?” “Tf they are guilty, yes.”’ “There are things that cannot be told, Jennie, and reasons why I should not convict even the gully. I hope you will not press this matter further, I have not taken my course without excellent reasons. If you knew all, you would counsel me to do asI have Gane. Let that suffice. It pains me to have to re- use you.” Jennie was silent for a little, thinking. She clasp: ed his hand with a warm pressure. His gladdened eyes were fixed eagerly upon her face. “Let it be so,” she said, at length. “ For the pre- sent, at least, we will forget it.”’ The conversation changed. Seated upon the floor at her feet, and looking lovingly uP into her eyes, ! their talk grew of softer themes. Their voices fell, ' mellowed ys love. Hours, it seemed to them, they ; conversed in that sweet love gossip so hard to trans- | late, so weak and meaningless when put into words. } Looks, tones, hand-pressures, form the soul of ' lovers’ talk, and these no oa can write down, The! words spoken are ly prosy to outsiders; all ' the peer’, lies in the language of lips and eyes. “Your friends have all visited you, then?’ she at length asked. , “Not all. Nearly all,” he replied. ‘‘ Their kind- ness has helped me greatly.” ‘Could they do less, and be friends?’ she quickly replied. ‘Ido not think much of those who have failed to come.” “T donot blame them. They might have been away, or unable to come. And my very equivocal position is a very good reason for their absence.” “Tt’s no reason at all,” she broke out, ‘‘ They are -
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4 deserte Ee aS et 2 - Ps lcdeeneeemnes no friends of yours to desert you in your extrem- y: : ‘ ‘*Well, well, Jennie, there are only three or our,” * Let me know their names.” ‘*And why?” he asked, laughing. “ Are you going to put them in your black book?’ “No matter, I want to know their names,’’ she excitedly replied. “You are the most_persistent creature,” he said, teasingly. ‘‘ Wait till I find out that they have really me. Then I will deliver them over to your vengeance,” “That is no answer,” she said, determinedly. * Their names?” “‘T see there is no escape, he replied, with a hearty laugh. “Grant mea few days, that I may notify them what to expect.” **Not an hour. Not five minutes,” she replied, with a touch of his own humor. “Yes. Goon," she said, writing down the name, with a merey smile, “Harry Howard.” “ Proceed.”’ “ James Milton.” ; * And the next?” “Ts not that enough?” he said. ‘ You have three good names there,” ** Not enough unless it is all,” she replied, with an earnest look. “ That is all the names I can give you, Jennie,” he said, more seriously. ‘“ This an odd whim of yours, anyhow, Ido not know what you can want wiehat is. t,” she said : t is my secret,’’ she » gayly. right to my secrets, too. Come, Va: nore. Give me another victim.” ’ “Jennie, I don’t quite like this,” he replied. “Do “Thavea there are ou know you are acting strangely?” vs Not half as strangely as you,”’ she replied. “Are there any more names?” “T decline to answer,”’ he said, with a slight frown on his brow. “There, I do believe the absurd man is getting engry,” she exclaimed, laughing. “I must leave now, before the thunder-clouds arise.” “No, no! Not so soon. You have been here no ‘ime. I will smile like a summer’s day if you will nly remain,” “Listen to the tramp of that turnkey’s feet. He 3 getting impatient of our happiness. I must really ro now.’ “To return soon?”’ “Yes. I am staying in the city now. I will not toave you alone.” A few more parting words, and she left the cell. The turnkey, a young, pleasant-looking man, attended her toward the great door of the prison. “Tt is a horrible place this,” she said, shuddering. “T do not find it so, miss,’’ he repli . . as TOP Mr. Elkton, he is very comfortable. You should see some of the other cells.”’ * His is bad enough.”’ ‘**T beg to decline,” she said. “We make it as for him as we can,” said the ‘*And he is not lonely. He has plenty of visitors.” “ Has he any privil r? “* Oh, yes. e gets his meals outside. And he can have friends in his cell, and can write to them and receive answers.”’ ‘He has written to some of them, then?” she asked, guckiy, “Only one letter, I believe.” “Any answer?” **No, miss.”’ * Did he seem to expect one?” oy Oh, yes. And quite worried that it did not come.’ “T cannot imagine who it could have been. I know most of his friends, and would have thought they would be careful to answer him. I am engaged to Mr. Elkton, you know,” she said, with a slight blush. “Do you remember the name of the person he wrote 09” “Very well. It was Jesse Powers, I took the letter myself, as I had an errand in the city.” “Did you see him?” “No. He was absent from home,” “The name is familiar. Where did he live?” ** No. 1,485 North Tenth street.” “Thank you. Excuse my curiosity. Women will be asking questions, he know.” The turnkey smiled as he opened the gate. ** Jesse Powers,’’ she said, with compressed lips, on getting outside, ‘That is the name he refused to tell me. I believe I am on the track of the mystery.” CHAPTER XX. MR, SOMERS’S STORY. **T HAVE been a very unfortunate man,” said old Mr. Somers, to a eeeman visiting him. ‘‘ Not that I wish to parade my troubles, but I speak of them with the constant hope of receiving some im- portant information.” “Tam in a trade where a good deal of important information comes in,” said the visitor. ‘ Perhaps I may help you.” “ You are a stranger to me, sir, but I judge from your manner you can sympathize with a father’s misfortune. I will tell you my story,” ‘*T will listen, and make no promises,’ said his: visiisr, smiling. ~ He had ealled on Mr. Somers and asked him a va- riety of questions which some would have considered iinpertinent. But his manner was easy and quict, i b Rar eet ee Se ee ee nr tree ,v Will Somers. od the old gentleman answered him without hesi- on. “Tam a lonely old man now,” he pi “yet I have a son and daughter, still living, I hope though I have lost sight of them for years,’ “Indeed,” said his visitor. “Tt has been the one aim of my life to find them. I have not yet succeeded, and fear I never shall.” “Proceed, sir. Who knows but I may help you?”’ “TI was a poor man at the time of my wife’s death,” he said. ‘‘I have since acquired consider- able property. I had an enemy.” “*A poor man, too?” “Yes, a mere vagrant. Hesmarted under some fancied injury that [had done him, He attacked me near my own home in relation to it. He was a violent-tongued man and insulted me. I was hot- tempered then and I punished him for his insults.” ‘Exactly, and made him revengeful!’’ ‘“‘My two children—mere infants then—were stolen one day, in which I was absent and my wife unwell, It is not necessary to enter into particulars. It is Su to say that we traced them to this vagrant. e was sharply pursued, but we never succeeded in finding him.” “That was indeed a misfortune.” “It killed my wife, and has made me a wanderer foryears. I have constantly sought tha! villain, and the two precious ones he stole. Alas! he had too well covered up his track.” *‘ And you have found no trace of him?” ** Nothing of his charge. I have traced him, but too late. e has escaped me by death. His secret is in the grave with him.” ** Where did he die?” “Here. In Philadelphia. That is wh settled here. I have hopes that the chil sill be alive and in this city.” “ This is a decidedly interesting matter,” said the visitor. ‘It is certainly worth while trying to trace the children. What was the man’s name?” “Jake Johnson was the name he was always known by.” ‘Have you set the police force of the city at work on this search?” “No, I have not much confidence in them. I pre- ferred to conduct it myself.” “You did bahay | there. A thousand men, well posted about the city, are certainly better than one man not at all posted. Please tell me all you know about this man, how you discovered him, when he died and where he was buried.” Mr. Somers proceeded to do so, in a long narrative of no special interest to the reader, ‘“And he kept up his vagrant habits to the last?” _ “Yes, but had not the children with him, I can trace him back for some months before his death, and he was alone during that period.” ‘““He probably did not trouble himself with them long,”’ said the visitor. ‘‘ Men of that character, un- less they can make some special use of them, do not care to be bothered with incumbrances. He has likeiy placed them somewhere where he calculated you would never find them.” ‘That may be so,’’ said Mr. Somers, thoughtfully. “But where?” ‘*That is what we need to consider,’ was the re- ly. ‘‘I should go first to the most obvious quarter. en of his kind naturally gravitate to the poor- house. He may have dropped them in some such lace, Have you searched the books of the poor- ouses?” “No,” said Mr. Somers, greatly interested. ‘I never thought of that.” “You see where your fault was, then, in depend- ing too much on yourself, and not calling in the de- tective police. You forget that it is the business of their lives to search out crimes and mysteries.” “T wish I had met you sooner, It would have been better than the detectives.” “Tam a detective,” was the reply. “You are?” cried Mr. Somers, in great astonish- ment, ‘Yes, sir. My name is Fitler, I thank you for your confidence in this matter. If you wish I will undertake to work it up. I am in doubt, though, that it may be too late,” *T shall be too happy to have the services of a shrewd man like you. Isee I have done you officers injustice. But why have you, a detective, called on me and asked me so cg questions?” “*T will tell you,” said Mr. Fitler, “since I am sat- isfied, from your answers, that I was on a wrong track. You now a boy called Will Somers?” **T know no such boy!” cried the old gentleman, excitedly. “If I did Lshould know my own son, for that was his name. Why do you ask me such a question as that?” ‘ “Because you certainly do know him, and have had visits from him. It is that brings me here.” “T do not understand you,” said Mr. Somers, in perplexity. ‘‘The only boy if know of is one engag- ad. cla Mr. Leonard’s dry-goods store. He saved me from being crushed under a street car, Ihave been very grateful to him, and have called on him, and maze him visit me.”’ : “And is that all?’ said the officer, laughing. ee do not know what suspicions have been ex- cited.” “ But Will Somers, yousay. Is that his name? I did not ask him.” “That is his name.’ f “Do you think it possible he may be my son?” asked the old gentleman, pathetically. ‘I do hope he may, for I have been strangely drawn toward him. I jovehim already.” “Tt is not impossible,’ was the ex “Will has had a rough life in the streets. Ido not know his antecedents.” “Heaven send he may prove my son,” said the I have n may i “ ; 3 ey m % ’ Cees Cesta" Seen en ee ee ee ee ee ee ee ES Ee ee eee ee tm Bat OOO aera ene bere eor aeee mie altel : ; . Ct b - $ re so none the rayoe, strong old man, with tears in his eyes. worse for his rough life. He is nob and beautiful. I would be glad to ** And looks like you, Mr. Somers.” **Do_ you really think so? I had a thought that way. that is another important link.” re Do pot ee - bigh a ince crs You may disappointed, 8 WO nves ng though, ** Yes, os, it shall be, thorough, a must see him this very day—this very hour. But the suspi- cions you speak of. What are they?” Mr. Fitler proceeded to give him an outline of the robberies in Mr, Leonard’s store, and Will's connec tion with them. “But do you think that my boy—I must call him my boy—do you think he had anything to do with them? I cannot believe it. He is too straightfor ward and noble.” “T believe he is perfectly innocent, and for the very reasons you give. It don’t do, though, fora detective to rest under a belief. We ‘find, some- times, the most honest appearance to cover roguery. I make it a rule to follow every trail, no matter how unpromising it seems.”’ ps — have not much faith in human nature en ” ‘Not an over stock, My experience has not beer very much calculated to make me trust a, see him this “TI trust Will, then. I wish I could minute.” His wish was granted. At that minute Wil! was announced, He came in with his usual easy. indifferent nodded to Mr. Fitler, with a look ot a surprise at see ing him there, and shook hands with Mr, Somera. ‘Back ag’in, you see, according to promise.” “Sit down; 1 wish to talk with you,” said his host, with suppressed excitement. “Tcan take it standing up,” said Will; “ except you're goin’ to talk me to death, and thea I'd best vamose. Mr. Fitler leaned easily back in his chair, closely. osberving the two. ‘ “Is your father living?’ commenced Mr. Somers, in the tone of a cross-examiner. **Guess not; never seen him.”’ “ And your mother?”’ “Don't know as I ever had one.” “That is a strange story. Where did you grow up? What is your first recollection?” “Come from where mighty few men care to go— from the poor-house,”’ sai ill, nonchalantly. Mr. Somers gave a start, and looked in at the officer. ‘* What is your name?’’ he asked, “Will Somers.”’ ‘ ‘“Why did you not tell me that before?’ he eon. tinued, a glad light upon his face. “Cause it was the same as roe. Thought be you might want to be making yourself my or something of that sort. I was afeard you migh a miliar, Calkerlated I wouldn’t take in no re He was checked by a sign from Mr. Fitler. Will stood looking from one to the othér, with growing surprise on his face, What could they be after? ‘*T have never heard anyth of your ear! Will,” said Mr. Fitler. “ d be glad to know something more about it. Have you any recolleo tion of the man who left Fee in the alms-house?”’. ‘*Not much,” said Will. “I’ve heard he was a <a customer. Wouldn’t take him in now as dad, if that’s what’s up. Don’t owe him any anks.”’ “Were you alone?” “Oh, no! there was two of us. I had the nicest little sister w.th me; or maybe I was the little one for she was older than me. Poor little thing, I’ve lost her altogether.” ' Mr. Somers gave a quick start of delight as WiD proceeded. i ‘* How came you to lose her?” ““We was both took out. I’ve heerd that some rich folks adopted my sister, and wouldn't let noth- ing be knowed about her. I was took out, too, py poor folks. They made me work like a dog, till run away and shifted for myself.” “Did you never have any curiosity to inquire about your father?” “Not much. He didn’t seem to care about me; and ‘spose a ragged chap like me had gone there askin’ Pacem re what'd come of it? I ‘spose they’d clapped me intoa cell for a vagrant.” ” Do you know your sister’s name?” “T think I’d forget my own afore I did hern,” said Will, reproachfully. ‘What was it?’ ‘A pretty name—Jennie—Jennie Somers,” said Will, dwelling affectionately on the name. : Mr. Somers sprung from his chair in intense excitement, and began vigorously to pace the ry Will watched him with surprise. He ye ained no conception of the mystery; he did not Fnow that the old man was burning to clasp him in niet t questioni ithout bject,” “T am_not questioning you without an o wy said Mr. Fitler, ‘as you will learn after pen ay 1 will have to carry this matter to the aJms-house, and examine their books and make inquiries, before we can go further. It is a pity you do not remember the name of your reputed Father.” “Who said I didn’t?” asked Will. “He wasn’t no. father of mine, for I recollect he treated me bad, What’s more, he left me there under a different name from that he carried himself.” “ What was that name?’’ asked Mr. Somers, re J Will closely, and looking with eager inquiry into eyes. % ‘ , i i
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A me Rae entree a rr earns meee 16 With a si d ols Mr. So forward a lou of joy, Mr. Somers sprung forw: and clasped Will in arms. “My son! my son!" he cried, “ my long-] long- sought son! Oh! this is too great joy! ave I found you at last, my dearly-loved son?”’ Will struggled in t close embrace, and looked inquiringly at Mr, Fitler. “He is right, Will. There is no doubt that he is your father,” said the latter. With a strong muscular exertion Will pushed the old man from him, his hands firmly grasping his shoulders, and looked him sternly in the eye. “Tf you are father, why was I left in the poor- house? Why did you turn me loose on the world?” he bitterly asked. ry ! I turn you loose! You were stolen from me by an enemy. I would have lost my heart's blood first. Ob! my son, can you 5 me, and my whole soul yearning for your love?” A flush of emotion came into Will’s face at this heartfelt ap . He yielded silently to his father’s embraces. Their soule were united in that warm “T must leave bal said Mr. Fitler, looking nerv- ously at his watch, I will go at once to the alms- house. I will pursue this matter. Your daughter must be found. “God bless you,” said Mr. Somers, pressing his hand gratefully. ‘‘I owe you more thanI can ever repay. Don’t fail to tell me without delay what you yore Pare everything to work. I will pay liberally ‘or iy Mr, Fitler bowed himself out, asif iy ee escape. Me left father and son, with clasped ds, seated in earnest and loving conversation. CHAPTER XXL THE INITIALS. “Ig Mr. Powers in?” inquired a lady’s voice, at North 10th street, No. 1,485. “Not at present,” was the reply. “ But we expect him every minute. He does not leave the store till after five o'clock.” “In what store is he engaged?”’ asked the lady. * At Brown and Felger’s, on Market street.” *T will wait a few minutes, if you are sure he will aot be long.” keh Please step into the parlor, miss. He will soon ere.”’ The visitor seated herself in the small, but neatly- furnished parlor. A few pictures h there, which she occupied herself in examining while impatiently awaiting the coming of Mr. Powers. “Brown and Felger. That is next door to Mr. Leonard's,” she said, in an undertone. ‘ Does that indicate anything?” Her soliloquy was interrupted by the opening of the front door, and after several minutes by the en- trance of a gentleman to the parlor. He was a tall, rather portly man, with black whis- kers, and a restless, shifting look in his eyes that impressed his visitor unpleasantly. “Mr. Powers?” she asked. “That is my name," he replied. ‘Whom have I the honor to meet?” * uy Dawe is Arlington,"’ she replied. Sy Jennie Arlington?”’ si Yes, sir. May Lask how you have learned my e? **T have heard of you,” he said, with some hesita- “You know I am engaged next door to Mr. Leonard's.” ““More probably you know of me through your is John eee hay : a ‘Yes, yes, very likely. remember, you are en- gaged to Mr. Elkton."’ “ Have you known him long?” “Por several years.”’ ‘‘You have not been to see him in his present mis- fortune. He wrote to you but his letter failed to reach you. I thought 1 would call and request you to visit him,” ‘““Why, Miss Arlington,” he said, somhunesly: sy have y been too busy. I have felt for him in his misfortune, for John is really an excellent man. I am sorry for him." “On what account, sir?’ “Of this unpleasant difficulty. I cannot believe that he is guilty of the charge nst him, I do not know their proof, but think they could ha have arrested aman like him without sufficient evi- dence. “You should take the time to call on him, sir, if ou have not lost your friendship for him. All his ends have been there.” ; “Then he cannet be lonely,” said Mr. Powers, laughing. “The fact is, the visiting hours at the prison come in my busiest time.” ‘*Mr. Elkton and you were close friends?” ** He seemed to think a great deal of me,”’ was the cautious answer. ‘‘Then the feeling was not returned?’ she quickly asked. “Oh, yes! Ina measure. I had much respect for - For his part he would persist in feeling grateful to me.” “Yes. You had rendered him a service,” she said, assuming a knowledge which she did not pos- sess. “Not much,” he said, quietly. “‘ Nodoubt, though, pened maagarsedy a, I saved his 3 ulling rom t ver. was easy enoug for me to do, but he seemed to think it the greatest ‘avor.”’ ‘“‘ He had reason,” she replied. beat in to see through John’s action now,” she said to herself, “‘The gratitude of an honorable as he allowed it to make him take the of a guilty man?” man is a oe tt feeling. ; Will Somers. “T would = much like to call on John,” he said. ‘And if I can spare the time. I hope he bears his imprisonment well.” “Not very well,” she replied. “It is having a very serious effect upon him.” ‘*T am sorry to hear that,’’ was his answer. ‘* You know, I presume, the cause of his imprison- ment?” she asked, shifting her chair so that she could look him more directly in the face. “Not fully. It is on suspicion of being concerned in a robbery at Mr. Leonard’s.”’ “Tt is on account of his ha a small piece of the stolen goods,’ she said. ‘He will not explain how he obtained it. In consequence he has laid himself open to suspicion.”’ “Tt has a doubtful look,” replied Mr. Powers, his eyes uneasily shifting. “Though the public does not know, I know the whole air,’ she earnestly replied. “TI have learned where he got the silk. You have seen this before, Mr. Powers?” she displayed the fatal bow, which again had fallen into her ion. ‘*T can’t say that I have,’’ he replied, looking at it a tin that sha: h But the silk, I “No rhaps. u e i Of silk you gave John Elk- ae That is the piece n.’ A slight, uneasy movement followed her words. He looked closely at the silk. “*T don’t know what you mean,” he said. saw it before.” She rose to her feet, her large eyes scanning him from head to foot. He sat unmoved, with no trace of pecling or confusion in his face, “You know better,” she cried, indignantly. ‘‘ You gave it to John Elkton, asI ener to know. You will permit that man to languish in prison, rather than come up and acknowledge the truth. You must be seriously afraid of the truth in this matter, Mr. P. grateful and honorable man, “T never ‘owers. He isa He will suffer himself rather than let suspicion reach you. But there is nothing hinders me from speak- ing. I owe you no gratitude.” ‘There is one thing that should hinder you,” he quietly replied. = t is that?” she quickly asked. “The fact that all you are saying now is pure esswork. Your lover has told you not of the ind; and cannot, for it is not the truth. t me advise you, Miss Arlington, not to be too ready to jump to conclusions in future.” “*T will bid you poy evening, Mr. Powers,” she re- plied, with dignity. ‘I see that there is no use to poe our conversation. I have learned all I de- 8s Eve He smiled derisively as she left the room. Ina moment more she was on the street. She felt faint, and needed the touch of the fresh air to revive her. She had felt far more emotion during this interview than she had displayed. She walked slowly down toward her present home. She was staying with a friend in the city now, hav- ing left her home after her stormy interview with her guardian. A familiar voice at her elbow caused her to turn, wane stood Willful Will, a smile of welcome on ‘ace, aaene to see you,” he said. ‘Late in the city to- f Yes. Iam on a visit here,” she replied. They walked along tog pthet: engaged in conversa- tion. Will was insensibly drawn into a description of his late discovery of a father and of his hopes of yet ig ny bony lost sister. Jennie was greatly inter- ested in this romantic story, and b pean earnestly with him in the hope that he would yet succeed in finding his sister. ** Did she look like you?”’ she asked. “Yes. Something a color hair and eyes. And then you look something like me. I wish it would only turn out that you were my lost Jennie.” She laughed in t amusement at the idea. “Tlike you, Will,” she said, ‘but hardly with a sisterly love, and I do not think you would be much credit to the family in society. Iam glad to see, ees on that you are improving.” “ You won't be ashamed of me after a while,” he replied. ‘ Just give me time. "Tain’t easy to rub off an old stain; you must wear it out." “Your new position, as the son and heir of a wealthy man, ought to aid re I suppose your lans are changed. You will be leaving the store Pp and going to school.”’ bs Bu indifferently. ‘‘ Ain’t laid nno yet,” said W: any plans. Bound to find my sister, if she’s living; that’s one job. But I’ve got another job to pus that through first. I’m on the track of the burglars have gone through Mr. Leonard’s store.” iy |’ she said, with sudden interest. ‘“‘ Have you learned anything about them?” “On their t Bound to bring them up stand- ing,” said Will, positively. ‘‘ Keep mum. n’t told Mr. Leonard yet.” “Do you know a man named Jesse Powers?” she asked, eagerly. “ Heis engaged in the store next to Mr. Leonard’s.” “Never heered the name afore,” said Will. ‘“*What sort of a chap?” ‘*A large man, with dark complexion, and black hair and whiskers. Rather -faced, and with prominent nose.” ‘*My stars!” cried Will, clapping his hand on his knee, with a burst of laughter. ‘“That’s his photo- ph toahair, Do I know him? Don’t I! What 0 you say’s his name?” “ Jesse Powers.” “J. P., er I don’t know myown name. That’s the identical chap that wrote the letter. Don’t happen to have a scrap of his handwriting?’ “No. For what purpose do you want it?” — $2 try ewe “To nail a thief, that’s all, Didn't I see the very chap in a nest of burglars? What do you know about him ‘*T know that he gave Mr. Elkton the piece of silk which has been the cause of his imprisonment.” ion and better. Mr. Elkton won’t blow om “No. He is under obligation to him.” ‘*You and me ain’t under no obligation. Don’ you be worried about Elkton. Bet I fetch h'm out of quod inside of two days. Could you get a speci- ay of that a 8 7-4 Ment oot ery probably. t get a note from him to Mr, Elkton,” J . “The very dodge!’ cried Will, in enthusiasm. “You're quick at a hint. Work it on him and I'll do the rest. t between us we sell him out. Bring it down to the store as soon as you nail it, and it tome. Ask for Mr. William Somers, and anybody will sah ag 4 - try,” she answered, laughingly. ‘ And now I must bid you good-day, will.” . **Good-by, Jennie. Tell you what, I’d give half my fortune to come if you was only my little lost sister, Jennie.”’ “You will find her yet, Will, Your love will bring you to her.” “You can bet I will love her amazing when I find her,’’ said Will, as he hastened away to hide an un- wonted softening at the eyes. CHAPTER XXII THE SECRET OUT. Ir was Friday. The goods taken in the previous day had been examined and found correct. Mr Leonard, however, in accordance with his promise to Will, had kept faithfully the latter’s secret. Not even Mr. Wilson, his confidential clerk, was aware and a cellar was to contain a sentinel the coming n ; e had mentioned it, indeed, despite Will’s cau- tion, to the detective. The latter had been quite successful in his visit to the alms-house, and had found quite satisfactory evidence that Will was in- deed Mr. Somers’s son. This change of position had raised our hero to a still higher place in the officer’s estimation, and he placed great reliance on Will’s shrewdness. He had also found oy seg ig traces of the missing sister, which, however, he had not yet been able to work out to any safe conclusion. The merchant and detective were seated in earnest conversation this afternoon, the latter in the same di in which he had formerly visited the store. He deemed it inadvisable to appear in his ordi- nary dress on the eve of a new enterprise of the burglars, lest they should be frightened off. eir conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Will, in company with Miss Arlington. He turned a quizzical look hy the apparent OY merchant as he politely handed dhe late a seat. Mr. Leonard looked on in utter surprise at this un- expected visit. I've got a trifle of secret bizness with you, Mr. Leonard,” said Will, quietly. ‘“ But your friend needn’t go. I guess he won’t blow.” “Secret business?” repented Mr. Leonard. “* Well, as it is no secret from a ab ssp! let us have it.”’ ‘Ever see that handwriting before?’’ asked Will, handing an oper letter to the country merchant. “Me?” said the latter, in mee: “Yes, you,’’ replied Will. ‘Didn't think you sold me with that toggery, I hope? Know you likea breeze, Mr. Fitler. Jist look at that letter."’ “You needn’t be afraid of that boy not be shrewd enough,’ said the officer to Mr. Leonard, viewing Will with admiration. ‘‘ Ah! where did you get this?’ he exclaimed, as he glanced at the letter, ““You know it then?” asked Will. “Of course I do. It is the very handwriting of the scrap we found in the cellar signed Jessie Powers, The same initials, J. P. This is most important. Who is Jessie Powers?” ‘He is the man who gave Mr. Elkton the scrap of silk which has consigned him to a prison cell,” Miss mg See excitedly. ‘' He little dreamed that it would fall into my hands, and under the eyes of the man whom he had robbed. So it is that Villains fail when most they seem secure.” “But how have you learned this?’ cried Mr, Leonard, ‘Through Mr, Elkton?” “No. He was too org to his friend to reveal it, He owed this man a debt of gratitude, and was wil- ling to repay it by suffering in his stead, rather than injure one who had saved his life. It was I who learned the secret, and who obtained from Powers a letter addressed to his imprisoned friend. That let ter on now hold.” “Where can this man be found?” ‘‘In Brown and Felger’s store, next door to you.” “This is so. I know him,” cried Mr. Leonard. “Shall we arrest him?” N “We will do nothing pegs omy th said the officer. ‘‘We may be enabled after to-night’s work to arrest the whole gang. If you will excuse me will take Will outside for a while. I wish to talk this matter over with him.” “ Certainly,” said Mr. Leonard. The n and ward were left together. rene silence reigned between them, Neither ap peared willing to break it. At length Mr. Leonard ke: Pe You have done me a great service, Jennie,”’ he said. ‘Tome andto Mr. Elkton both, in fact. Of course all charges against him will now be with- drawn, and he can be released at once, I am sorry ou took the precipitate step you did in leaving my ouse. I hope that you have given no one your reasons, and that you will now return.”
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“Not until John Elkton is fully vindicated," she firmly replied. “But he will be vindicated. There will not be a shadow of e reston him. This is no reason.” “It is not your fault that he is not disgraced,"’ she earnestly replied. ‘tI am sure that when the public know how nobly he has acted the of this affair will be changed to honor. But he has only himself to thank for it,”’ “Tam sorry that you should assume such a tone,” he replied. ‘“Icould not do otherwise than I did. His refusal to explain forced me to this arrest. You must return home Jennie.”’ “T have other reasons for not doing so,"’ was her resolute answer, “Other reasons?’’ ee: yon hinted at somet: disgraceful con- nected with me, yet refused to tell me what it was. 7-00 must explain this mystery ere I set foot in your ouse ; wef fan a and spoke hastily,’’ he answered. “T meant no = i “That is a subterfuge, Mr, Leonard,” she said, looking sternly in his face. “ I demand to know to what you referred.” pate And I decline to tell, It is better you should not ow.” “TI might have been better,” she firmly replied. “had you said nothing. But you should Door that half-confidences are always worse than the truth. I cannot and will not rest content under such an im- putation. I must know to what you refer.” “You will not thank me for telling you, Jennie. It had better rest in oblivion.” “Tt shall not rest,” she in antly cried. ‘If you donot reveal this mystery this is the last time I Shall ever tie to you. There will be other ways of learning it.’’ “You would force me to a most unpleasant task,” he replied. “Be it so, sir. There are certain paths it is best never to start on, for there is no turning back.” “You must not blame me for what you force from me!” **No, no, of course I will not,’’ she cried, impatient- ly. “Unless you have yourself done me an injury. A that case I will make no promises.” “You would oblige me now to do you the only in- jury I have ever thought of.” Proceed, sir, I can bear it, however severe your revelation may be.” “ 4 revelation is steniphy, ula, Jennie,” said the merchant, impressively. “* You have no claim to the name of Arlington." “No claim to my name?" she cried, clinching her hand on the chair. “You were only an adopted daughter of Mr. * Arlington’s,"’ he continued, as if in haste to dispose of an unpleasant subject. “Can be true? Who were my parents?” * That I cannot tell > al apa yan hinted at disgrace. There is no disgrace 8. “T said nothing of disgrace. I simply spoke of its being unpleasant.”’ “In what way? There is something behind all this. You would not have made so great a mys- tery of what you have told me, You know more. I demand to know the rest. From whom or whence did Mr. Arlington adopt me?”’ “That is the one matter I prefer not to tell.”’ “And that Linsist on knowing. You cannot and shall not stop now. You have told too much not to tell all. Whence did I come?” “Since you are so persistent, Jennie, do not blame me,"’ said the merchant, gravely. ‘He adopted you from the alms-house.’ She gave a quick gasp, as of a person drowning; turned, and walked to the door w.th trembling step. In a moment she was gone. It was the hardest blow her proud spirit could re- ceive. Sick at heart she walked resolutely on, spurning the proffered sympathy of Mr. Leonard, who followed her in alarm. But we must accompany the reader to a different scene, That night found Will Somers safely ‘at home” in the basement of Mr. Leonard’s store, where he had managed to remain without attracting atten- tion. He did not act as on the previous occasion, but hid nimself carefully away in a corner, among the nu- merous heavy cases that covered the floor. Here he awaited developments. The hours slipped by and found Will resolutely awake. Sleep di visit his eyelids once or twice, but could not remain long with such a pressing weight upon his mind, Yet for a boy of his age after a weary day’s labor, and resting in quiet an darkness, it was almost impossible to resist slumber. After a hard fight, which lasted till late in the night, sleep was getting the best of him, and he was grad- ually sinking into a deeper oblivion than before, when he was suddenly and fully wakened by a pecu- lier noise, With ail bis senses on the alert he listened atten- tively. It was the sound of muffled steps, 4 ri ug e ow, shuffling steps were incessant. This lasted for fifteen or twenty minutes, during which time Will did not risk raising his head above the boxes. He was well satisfied as to what was g0- on. ng othe end of this time the light ess poe bm ned wantin iae = The youthful Nenad care that Tex a sound should arise Phe hat ae ne Will Somers. The light was turned from him and he advanced in almost total darkness. It glimmered on the head of the sub-cellar stairs, where stood, sharply defined, the forms of two men, Will could scarcely repress a chuckle of triumph as his quick ore recognized both these men, * Bet there'll be fun to-morrow,”’ he said to him self, as he cautiously followed. Step by step he pursued the men, down the stairs, into the sub-cellar. There were three of them now, They were gathered in the corner of the cellar where the fr: ent of letter had been found, The light faintly shone on several bundles of goods which they were handling. Will did not ven- ture to advance, but remained in the darkness while some hasty evolutions were proceeding. But what was this? The goods had disappeared. One—two—of the men were gone, Only the third remained, Will pushed more boldly forward. He had seen aman disappear in almost the same spot on the former occasion of his cellar adventure. He bad failed then to penetrate the mystery. He was de- termined not to be foiled now. The light had gone. Only a faint glimmer re- mained. This, too, disappeared for a moment, and Will drew within a few feet of the mysterious spot. The light again shone and at a flash the secret lay revealed before him. It shone from the neighbor- ing cellar, through a hole quite large enough for a man to through. Through hole the men and 8 had passed into the cellar of the next- door store. While Will stood looking in admiration at this contrivance two large stones were pushed back into the hole, fitting it closely, and leaving Will again in darkness, But mentally a new light had broken upon him. “Tt’s a good dodge, but if you ain’t sold I'm a Hoosier!" was s1o38e., remark. CHAPTER XXII CAUGHT IN THE ACT. Tuer stores of Mr. Leonard and of Browr and Fel- ger opened upon a narrow street, deserted at night. save that occasionally a passing policeman down its dark depths. On the night of the robbery, however, the three men Will had seen stood converaing ust inside the rear door of Brown and Felger’s establishment, the door standing ajar. “Don’t move till near morning,”’ said one of them, cautiously. ‘‘The police may have been warned, and we will need to be wide awake. Wait till the milk-wagons and market-wagons are on the street,” “All right. Joe can play butcher,” was the re- ly. Py We will have to leave Leonard alone for a good while to come, after this pull.” “T think we had peat pe our addresses next to our stool-pigeon here. e have made enough off of your boss. e ought to five Powers's friend a good wakener, and then subside.”’ own enough to think about that,” said the third. **T will be off home now,” said the first speaker, “*and leave you two to finish the job.” The door was closed behind him as he left the store and carefully made his way along the street, seeking the deepest shadows, and keeping in close to the houses. He age ae out more boldly after he had reached a main street. Late as the hour was, the street was not quite deserted. Af w people were moving. One of these, in fact, was moving quite closely be- hind the burglar, and seemed to be following him. The latter was utterly surprised when a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder, and a voice. sounded in his ear: “You are my prisoner.” ‘*What does thismean?” he cried, tu in t in tion, ‘Who are you that lest a quiet traveler on the streets?” “ Save all that,” said the other. “I know whatI am doing. You had best walk along quietly if you know when you are well off.” “TI will do nothing of the kind. By what right do you assault me?”’ “By this right,’ said the other, displaying the brass star of a policeman. ‘And by this right,” showing a pistol. “You are ees J a grand mistake, my friend,” said the burglar, quietly. ‘I can soon satisfy you who I am.” “Come along now, and save your breath,” said the officer, sternly. ‘‘ You can explain to the alderman to-morrow who you are. I know what lam doing, and am going to put you in safe keeping for to- night. the other continued his remonstrances, but was round mo- | | forced along by the officer, who still held him by the | shoulder, and refused to his remarks. As they neared the station-house, the prisoner said: “This mistake of yours is very annoying tome. I would rather spend considerable money than be dis- graced by being locked up inacell. I will make it worth your while to let me go.” “I have been a policeman five years and have not been bought yet,” was the indignant rejoinder. “You can’t buy me. Another thing, don’t think that I am arres you at aventure. I know just who you are and what you have been at to-night. I have been on the watch for hg since dark.” The prisoner, with a sudden, on igh looked nervously around. He seemed in to an. an escape. But his vigilant or was too awake that. In five mineles up bee btu Wain e any further reply to ‘ / be the song walle of the station-house, and safely locked up in a cell, ‘That's one of them bagged,” he said. Daylight was faintly showing in the east, and the occasional rumble of wagons had been fur some time audible in the streets, when a light team stopped at the rear of Brown and Felger’s. Yor ten minutes the driver, and the two persons inside this establishment, were busy in remo rolls of goods to the wagon. Then the door was closed, a key turned in it, and the driver and one of the burglars entered the wag- on, which drove ey The bearer of the ey moved hastily fiom the lo cality, in the opposite direction. But their retreat was not effected so easily as the had anticipated. The pedestrian met the fate of earlier companion, by feeling a hand upon shoulder, hearing a voice at his ear. The men in the wagon tried to ride over the offi- cer, who suddenly clutched their horse by the head. But he held on vigorously, and two more strong po- licemen sprung into the wagon, making them pris- oners, Inside of half an hour the three men were locked | had been graced up iu the same station-house which by their comrade for several hours, The w Hho its spoils, was drawn into the yard of the po “Peonard Mr. Leonard was at once sent for, as also the mem- bers of the firm of Brown and Felger. They had been on the alert, and were at the station-house be fore seven o'clock, ‘Have you avy witnesses whom you desire to present before we hear these prisoners?’’ asked the police magistrate in attendance. “* Here is ry f pripaipal witness,’’ said Mr. Leonard, as Will came in with his usual easy sw: . “The officers who made these arrests are also important witnesses. I would like to have Mr. Wilson here, if we have time to send for him.” “T have thought of that,” d the alderman, smiling. ‘‘ Mr. Wilson will be here.” A om of delight came upon Will’s face at these words, ‘*We had better proceed, then,” said Mr. Brown. ‘Officer, bring up the prisoners.’ In afew minutes the four men so lately captured were ushered into the room. ‘*Mr. Wilson!” cried Mr. Leonard, in utter aston ishment, as he gazed on the pallid face of his confi. dential clerk, foremost among the prisoners. ‘‘ Jesse Powers!’ cried Messrs. Brown and Felger, in a breath, and with equal astonishment. * Black-eyed Joe, the grog-shop keeper, and Tom Guinn, one of the worst burglars in town,”’ cried ill. “It’s a pretty good haul.” “But what does this mean?” asked the merchant, ina breath, ‘There is some mistake here,” “There isn’t as much mistake about it as you little finger,’’ said W: king figures of the prisoners, “TI son was the man who was goin’ through you. [have these other chaps nailed, too, There the ars agg “This is astonishing,” said Mr. Leonard, “I trusted that man as I trusted myself.”’ “‘They were taken in the act,’’ said the officer. Mr. Fitler now made his appearance, as also Will's friend, Joe the bootblack, whom he had notified to be _ present. The magistrate pacoenes to take evidence the prisoners, but contented himself with the officers who had captured them, of Will, who recognized them as the men he had seen in the cel- lar, and the silent testimony of the rolls of cloth, which were ep: into the room and identified by a ay oe as ede property. P e four men were formally bound over ip nage and retired to their cells, lad to escape the fire accusing eyes. The sudden ending of their career of villainy was a terrible blow to the two p in ae robbery, as their “This evidence is very conclusive, said the magistrate, ‘‘so far as this single robbery is con cerned, I presume you have other evidence relating to the past burglaries?” ‘“*T have evidence that Jesse Powers was co with the custom-house robe as also with f my name at the bank,’ said Mr. Leouard. ‘Do you geciemen recognize that handwriting?" he anding the scrap of letter to his neighboring ac a said Mr. Brown. “It is undoubtedly Ne i Wy r, Brown. “ft undow Jesse Powers. Who would have dreamed of that man being such a villain? I hope he has not been victimizing us in like manner.” “You are safe enough,” said the detective, ‘Hae used your place as a safe passageway for the re- moval of goods from Mr. Leonard's. He and Wilso: between them have managed to remove those stones’ in the wall, and make an unsuspected passage. Is your lower cellar much used?’ “No, scarcely on Of said Mr. Brown. A “They could easily then hide their work, by filling the cracks of the stones with dirt after each opera. tion. I have seen the stones this morning: y i ae and form a kind of dovetail into the wall, from veri “Could have told you their npn eWeek ,"? hem. I was loc Follsred thor down stairs, mai ip afore 1 could t of pallid, haggard features tes- 4
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{| 4 { { i H 18 sorry that he was thrown into prison,”’ said Mr. Leonard, “He brought it all on himself by his obstinacy,” said the detective. ‘I cannot understand now why he refused to explain his possession of that silk.” “ He did it to screen his frieud,’’ replied Mr. Leon- ard. “It seems that this Jessie Powers saved his life once, and he would not inform on him. He sent a message to him to come to the prison, hoping to get an explanation of the matter, but Powers would not tome,”’ “There is some gratitude left in the world, then,” said the officer. “ Elkton must be released at once, and an explanation of his conduct published to put him right with the public. I suppose that piece of silk was one of the samples they speak of having put ont forthe purpose of creating a demand for their stolen goods.” ‘They seem to have fallen into the wrong hands in this case,” said the elder man. ‘“ But how about these silks? They have not yet been sold. They must be in some hiding-place of the burglars. You should know these men, Fitler, and know where ic ' look for their plunder.” “T know that Quinn for a cracksman, but no where he is living. The other manis a new hano I will soon hunt them up. ‘“*And meanwhile everything will disappear,’’ said the alderman, : “Not if I know myself,” cried Will. ‘‘I can give om a ae or two about that. It they want to savo heir plunder they'll have to shift it inside au hour.” “What do “Come u ou mean?” asked Mr. Leonard. ere, Joe, and tell the gentlemen what p you seen,’’ said Will, dragging up his bashful asso- | ciate. ‘“Himand me smelt out Black-eyed Joe’s and nailed the rascals right at head-quarters. Don’ be afeared, Joe. Tell the gentlemen what you seen.”’ Joe, thus requested, began a long, rambling de- 7 aa, a of how Will had come to him in the aha He detailed their talk, and went with great prolixity through the whole story, till the time they over- ed the burglars in council. Will helped him with re, opened here and there, and managed to dove- own story into that of his associate. “This isa mighty important business,” cried Mr. Fitler, eget | ap. ‘**You boys are worth your weight in gold. e must investigate this house at once, Can hte point it out?” “Yes, with my eves shut.” “Take a squad, Mr. Fitler, and go down and make a thorough search of the place,”’ said the alderman rapidly writing. ‘‘Here is your warrant. Don’t leave a rat-hole unsearched.” “Tf there are any stolen goods there I will brin them,” said Mr. Fitler, confidently. *‘ Come, boys, will want you.” “Within the next hour a squad of policemen marched into and took forcible possession of Black- eyed Joe’s mansion. The search instantly commenced, and was speedi- ly successful. In one of the upper rooms wasa enn constructed, deep and wide closet. The oor of this being forced it was found to be packed full of goods, among which Mr. Leonard’s silks were #~rominent. The latter was sent for, and identified nearly all the s in the closet as his property, the proceeds 62 robberies that had gone on for over a year. Wagons were produced and the goods sent to his store. Then, under the leadership of the bootblack, Mr. Fitler proceeded to the lurking place of the re- burglar, whom he succeeded in arresting. CHAPTER XXIV. THE LOST FOUND, Aut the members of the council which the two boys had seen at Black-eyed Joe’s were now in custody. These consisted, as the reader may have a the two professional burglars, and Messrs. ilson and Powers, who were the persons whom Will had recognized at the time. Will had now given up his old residence, and was larly loca at the residence of his new-found father. The old gentleman was exceedingly happy in the possession of this strong, handsome lad for his son, and doted upon him with an affection which Will, in good measure, returned. He made himself as much at home in this well- appointed residence as he had ever been in his less savory dwelling-places, and adopted the manners and customs of good society with a readiness which could hardly have been expected. It would not be easy, however, to cure him of his assurance, and his rude, reckless habits of speech; all that could be done would be to confine them with- in more decorous limits, He told his father with much vim of the morning’s events, the arrest of the burglars, and the part he had n in it. The old gentleman was delighted with the pre and shrewdness of his son, and shuddered as he heard of the perilous adventure in the dark cellar. Will painted his enterprise in no mild colors. “ And now, my dear son,” said Mr. Somers, ‘since you have so successfully finished your enterprise, I wish you to help me carry out my plans.” “Depends on what they are,’’ said Will. “T refer to your going to school, You are young eno’ yet, to learn a business, and miuch as I dis- like to part with you I must give you the benefit of | an education.” “Ain’t no use to with me. There’s good enough schools here,’ said Will. “ Jist to think of a teller of my size goin’ along the street with baby- sthool-books under my arm.” Will burst into a laugh at the absurdity of the tt. MIs is tron, Wik aeldittid”' oS ‘pintindan. | Will Somers. thoughtfully. “I would hardly like to subject you to the unpleasantness of going to a primary school. I will have to get you a private tutor, till you are somewhat advanced. “Suit yourself. It don’t make any difference to me,”’ said Will, carelessly. ‘‘Never was ashamed of anyth honest. Andif anybody tried to poke fun at me I'd soon them down. I ain’t it’d last lo Kind of hate to leave the store, but I do want to learn something. Can’t get myself ona level with other folks ’cept by learning.” “You are right, Will. Lam glad to_ see that you take such a sensible view of the case. I will at once provide you with a tutor.” “What am I expected to do? To kick him if I don’t lke him?’’ “He will be a gentleman and must be treated as such.”’ “Allright! I jist wanted to know what folks gen- erally did with such, Didn’t want to be out of the fashion,’’ said Will, laughing. “You are incorrigible, Will,” said the old gentle- man, A Soap | fondly upon his handsome son. “T don’t ay myself out for a smooth board, easy planed,” sai ll. ‘I’m full of knots, and ain't going to be shaped so easy. I’ve got another job to put through yet afore I tie myself down to school- D ” ‘What do you mean?” asked his father, anxious 0 know what new whim had seized him, “Want to find my little lost sister. Poor Jennie is ist like me, kicked somewhere about this big town. m goin’ to scour the whole city fcr her. Bet I now her if I set eyes on her.” “T earnestly hope you may succeed,” said his ther. “TI will lend you every aid in that search, ntend to go to the alms-house this very day, and s»rn if any trace can be found there.” ‘I want you tocome with me, first, to Mr, Leon- wo’s store,’ said Will. ‘It’s about time we was velling him of our plans.” A. hour later found them in Mr. Leonard’s private office. Mr. Fitler was present, and there had been a long debate on the subject of the robbe: The merchant had been ap rised of Will's good fortune, and met his father with much pleasure. **T hope x8 intend to let Will continue with me,” he said. ‘‘ He is going to makea good business man, and [ should be sorry to lose him,” ““T may let him return to you in the end,” said Mr. Somers. ‘At present I feel it necessary to give him an education.’ “*T cannot object to that,’”’ said Mr. Leonard. “*T want to find my lost sister, Jennie, afore I strike into anything else,” said Will. “Jennie, Was that her name?” asked Mr. Leon- ard, curiously. “Yes,” said Mr. Somers. ‘‘The villain who car- ried off my children seems to have made no effort to change their names. He seems to have trusted to the distance he brought them to hide them from me.” “Thave made inquiries at the alms-house,”’ said Mr. Fitler, ‘‘as I Pe you to do. They have a record there of the admission of two children, William and Jennie Somers, with date is only one other record about them. a few years afterward.” ** And Jennie?” asked Will, laughing at the ere of his early exploit. ‘“‘She was took out, and I couldn’t stay without her.”’ “Yes, she was taken out,” continued the detect- ive. ‘“ By whom, I could not learn. She was adopt- ed by a party who refused to let his name go a the record. He wished to hide all trace of her origin.” But the date is there,” said Mr. Leonard, in some excitement. ‘ What date is given?”’ “The 8d of September, 18—.” The merchant hastily rose and seized his hat. “Come with me,”’ he said, briefly. He led the way through the store and into the street at a rapid pace, giving no intimation of his object, but evidently in a state of growing excite- ment. He continued at this pace for a considerable dis- tance through the streets, finally stopping before a private house in a fashionable locality. Ringing the bell with a nervous pull they were speedily admitted into the house. Mr. Leonard had asked to see Miss Arlington, and they were ushered into the parlor, while the servant went for the 4 In a minute she returned, and Miss Arlington was ushered into their presence. She was pale and hag- ard looking, and had eviienny, suffered much from e revelation which her guardian had made her. She looked in surprise upon the party who had called to see her. Two of them, at least, were utter strangers, and she could not conjecture the object ven, There ill ran away | of this visit. ‘“We have called,” said Mr. Leonard, ‘‘on impor- tant business. But first let me introduce you to ¥ Fitler and Mr. Somers.” “Mr, Somers,” she repeated, looking from him to Will who sat beside him. “T told you once that I had lost my parents,” said Will, * or they had lost me, which comes to the same thing. I have found my father,” “And I have found my son,” said Mr. Somers, looking proudly on his boy. “ Were but my daugh- ae to me, my cup of happiness would be ‘ull, “‘T congratulate you both on pout gyot fortune,” said Jennie, with much interest. ‘“‘I am sure you pat have reason to be proud of my young friend, “T have no doubt of t ” said the happy father. “I have,” said Will ‘Folks, so far, ain't felt overly proud of me.” eard | ‘*But you wished to see me on business,” said, turning to her guardian. > oe Yes,” he replied, ‘‘in reference to the matter I mentioned to you at our last meeting.” A look of deep displeasure came upon her face. ba xe hn eet taka she said briefly. “It is enough to have to me. Do you wishto pu lish it to the world?” - 34 “Tt need not go beyond the parties resent,” “ And ny so far as that?” she sharply asked. aon it their affair? I can see no necessity of “T will tell you why, Jennie. I something important connected with you, since I saw you last. It is necessary to broach it before these gentlemen, who are already conversant with the facts.” “Tecan see no such necessity, and must decline | hang my affairs publicly canvassed,” she coldly re ; r. Somers was involuntarily leaning forward in his seat, and devouring the face of the young lady with hungry, eager eyes. He seermmed to forget all present in his absorbing interest. “Listen, then, to another story,” said Mr. Leon- ard, uietly. “Mr. Somers here has had in his life experience the greatest misfortunes. He is a gen- tleman of great wealth, and surrounded with all that generally makes life desirable. Yet with it all he has been very un. ath His wife died; his two “4 f have learned children, a boy and’agirl, were stolen from him by an enemy; his whole life has been devoted to the finding of these Icst treasures.” “‘Tam glad to see that he has partly succeeded,” said Jennie, looking with new feeling into the hand- some, cultured face of the old gentleman, Mr, Somers had broken from his rapt regard of her features, on attention being Girectek to him “We have a learned,” continued Mr. Leonar ', ‘that the villain who carried off the children left them in the alms-house here in Philadelphia—dying there himself.’’ A quick thought flashed across Jennie’s mind. She grew pale, and sunk back in herchair. She was beginning to guess the object of this revelation, They were left there under their own names, William and Jennie Somers,” continued Mr. Leonard, fixing his eyes upon his intently listening ward. ‘The life there did not please young Will. e took occasion, after losing his sister, to run away from the institution. He is now before you,” ‘“* After losing his sister?’’ she repeated, abstracted- ly, a feeling she had never before experienced com- ing upon her as she continued to gaze at Mr. Somers, es. The sister was removed from the institu- tion, on the 8d of September, 18—, by a gentleman, who was attracted by her beautiful face and charm: ing manners. He adopted her as his daughter, giving her his name, and concealing the facts of her origin. ‘“Yes,” said Jennie, listening to his words with breathless interest. “On the 38d of September, 18—,” continued Mr. Leonard, “a friend of mine, Mr. James Arlington, adopted from the alms-house a young child, giving her his own name of Arlington, but retaining her original name of Jennie Somers, She is now known, in her full name, as Jennie Somers Arlington, and is the heiress to Mr. Arlington’s estate, I being her guardian.”’ Mr. Somers had risen and approached Jennie with a motion as if drawn by some unseen force. “Can this be possible?’ she murmured, restin with one hand upon her chair, which shook with nervous emotion. “Mr. Arlington not my father! whe nae ner my father!” ‘* Yes, she is my daughter—my Jennie!”’ he cried. “T know her now, her face, her eyes! She is the image of her poor mother!’ He would have clasped her in his arms, but she held him off, while her large, eager eyes : azed with devouring intentness upon his face, as if not quite believing in this sudden revelation, yet drawn to- ward him and longing for his love. Will, with his usual impulsiveness, broke the sus- pense. ‘‘Didn’t I tell you so?” he shouted. “I knowed you was my Jennie! Felt itin my bones. My dear, sweet, lost sister Jennie!” lve 20 Ker in his arms with a bear-like hug, he kissed her with a boy’s earnest though boisterous affection, his whole face thrilled with love for his new-found sister. “This is our father, Jennie—yours and mine,” said Will, pushing her into the old man’s arms, ‘ Don’t be doubting that. There ain’t such another nice old father in Philadelphia.” She yielded to the old man’s embrace, tears springing to her eyes as she felt his gentle kiss upon er ; er rave never had father or mother," she mur- mured. “Mr. Arlington was kind to me, but he, never seemed to me like my real father. I know\ why now, I feel it in my heart that I have at last found my own father.” The warmest congratulations followed. Mr. , Leonard was quite forgiven in the joy of this mo- ment, and she turned to him with all her old impul- sive affection. ‘“You only want John Elkton to make you pers fectly happy,” he said, smiling. ‘He is out of rison now, and I suppose is hunting this town over tor his betrothed.” CHAPTER XXvV. CONCLUSION. A voxe and confidential interview ensued between the father and his two newly-discovered children. It was not easy for Jennie to take in the fact of her new relations. Such a sudden and surprising reve a ae + ; te L &
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\ lation oan a ig ae her, and it was only by de- grees that the lingering doubts faded from her There was something very gentle and lovable about the old man, and she felt herself strongly drawn toward him. To Will, also, she had felt from the first a sense of attraction, which had caused her to like him desp‘te his rudeness. Gradually the belief stre ened upon her that this was indeed her father and her brother, and she grew rary hoppy as she sat listening to the old man’s story of past life, and remembrances of their dead mother. Only one lingering uneasiness dwelt upon her mind, and that was dispelled. A ring at the door, an an- nouncement of a gentleman to see her, and she was ushered into the presence, and clasped in the em- brace of John Elkton. c * me congratulate you, dear Jennie,” he said. “T have met Mr. Leo . He has told me of the surprising change in your relations, I am glad to learn that you have found a new father.”’ “Ts it mot strange, John?’ she murmured, yieldin to his caresses; ‘‘and so sudden. I have hardly go accustomed to the thought yet, though I am grow- to love him. You know all?” shadow of doubt as to how he would view her alms-house be came upon her, “J know all,” he replied. ‘‘You are from the alms-house and I from the prison, If there is any race attaches to either of us it is to me.” ‘** No, indeed, you braye, noble fellow,” she cried, warmly kissing him. “TI love you for what you did. Every one will respect you that you were willing to suffer for your friend.’ “ How was it all found out?” “T discovered it,’’ she cnswered. “ You?” “Yes. On my visit to the prison I learned that Jesse Powers was the man who gave you the silk.” we ey told you nothing of the kind!” he ex- “No, but I found it out. Iam a better detective than you think,” she said laughing. ‘“‘ Sit down here and I will tell you all about it.” John was surprised and laughed at her shrewd- mess, as she told how she had arrived at his conceal- od hom iedee, and described her interview with his end, “T have not been very much deeeived in Jesse Powers,” he said. ‘But I felt that it was not for me to him, I owe him a debt which honor fo me to repay in the way I did.” “*Tt was a noble action,”’ she replied. A half-hour afterward the two happy lovers sought the presence of the father and brother, who were still where Jennie had left them. It was an embarrassing task for Jennie to intro- duce her lover to a father who was almost a stranger, although she had felt toward him the im- pulses of natural love. But Will took all the trouble of the introduction off of her hands, “Hal I’ve caught you now, Jennie,’ he cried, with a quizzical laugh. “This is the young man that I wanted you to throw overboard. Father, this as ont Jennie’s beau, and a first-rate fellow, you can Mr. Somers looked with some doubt from one to the other. “Will is right,” said Jennie, in a low tone, and deeply blushing. ‘‘ Mr, Elkton and I have been en- gaged for some time. I wish now to present him to my new father.” ‘And I hope he may prove a dutiful son,’’ said Elkton, as he warmly grasped Mr, Somers'’s extend- ed hand. “I love your daughter so well, sir, that I gannct but transfer part of my affection ‘to her father.”’ “T do not know you,” said the father, with a happy smile, ‘‘ but I trust in the choice of my daugh- ter, and in the discretion of Mr, Leonard.” “ And in Mr. Elkton’s face,” cried Will. “That's a port to honesty.”’ ‘Thank you,” said John, turning and offeri bis hand to the impulsive boy. ‘ You have p me under obligations to live out the promise of my “Told Jennie once I was bound to cut you out,” said Will. ‘‘ Guess now though that I'll let you have ber. She’sa good girl. Make much of her.” “She is all the world to me,” said John, turning and taking the hand of the blushing girl. It was a happy family Ani which time and for- tune had thus reunited, after a life of many vicissi- tudes, and it is time we should leave them, and seek ether less happy inmates of our story. The capture Of the burglars was an event which peedniced. a considerable sensation in police circles, and Mr. Fider gained praise for his shrewd- ness in work out this case. Of course Will's share in the b ess was credited to him, and quiet- accepted. V3 oom lete search of Black-Eyed Joe’s domicile t to light the fruits of other bu es. It was evident that the thing had been of long con- tinuance, the goods being sold as fast as they could safely be put on the market. The goods had been sold cheap on the pretense of being smug- & . The arrest of Augustus Wilson and Jesse Powers was a terrible blow to their friends. . Leonard particnlaxty was troubled in mind to think how im- verges he trusted in this man, how terribly he been deceived. Strong efforts were made w procure their release en bail, but their employers brought all their in- _ fluence to bear to nage ve this, fearing that they to too t renee allow ther the opportunity pent Will Somers. Mr. Leonard deeply regretted his action in the ar- rest of John Elkton, and yet he could not see that he could have acted otherwise under the circumstances. The latter had certainly laid himself open to: deep a mye: no doubt from a noble motive. But noble motives are not appreciated till divulged. The trial of the burglars came on in good time, and the evidence against them proved so strong and conclusive that but one verdict was possible, It was proved conclusively that Jesse Powers was the active person in the plot, that the various spe- cimens of handwriting shown in court were all his, and he was recognized as the person who had pre- sented the forged check at bank, and the stolen or- der at the custom-house, The assumption was that this had been removed by Wilson from the safe before his journey to Harris- burg, and passed over to Powers to operate with during his absence, Such a plan was well adapted to divert suspicion from the real burglars, and to make this theft ap the work of some other of Mr. Leonard's employes. There wasno evidence to offer, however, on th Agent except to show that there had been very slight opportunity for any one else to approach the safe, The or ries were traced back, by a close ex- amination of Mr. Leonard’s books, for a period of a ear and a half, thus fully tty meson ill Somers rom any participation. Nothing had been taken from the store of Jesse Powers’ employers. The thieves had a feared :o provoke an in- vestigation here, since they could not get their booty to the street in the same mysterious mode in which it was taken from Mr. Leonard’sstore, There was evidence, too, that goods had been left con- cealed in this establishment on some occasions for several weeks before removal. The two main operators had then no connection with a receiver, and did not remove their spoils till they had ef- fected a sale. Evidence of the intimacy of Powers and Wilson was forthcoming, as also of their gradual falling into habits of gambling. Their losses in this direc- tion seemed to have been the moving cause of their eo Page grew more bold and frequent through unity. Finally they became so involved in gambling debts as to render necessary some more profitable robbery than any aed had yet attempted. This resulted in their connection with a gang of professional burg- lars, and in the suecessful forgery and robbery which had been consummated. Wilson’s confidential intimacy with his employer kept him fully posted in all the purposes of the la ter, and he knew just when and how to conduct his burglaries so as to divert suspicion from himself, Only Will Somers’s suspicions of him, and strict charges of secrecy given Mr. Leonard, had enabled the officers to catch them in the act. Will’s evidence was the most direct and positive of any given in the court, and the deepest interest was manifested as he described his early suspicions of Wilson; his first night in the cellar, in which he had failed to discover the secret of the burglars’ opera- tions; the finding of the torn letter; and the ambus- cade of himself and Joe the bootblack, in which he had positively recognized Powers and Wilson in the receiver’s den He finished with a clear description of his last night’s adventures in the cellar. His rag ed friend, Joe, fully sustained that part | vidence that related to the ambuscade; and | of the e een. recognized the four men in the dock as hose who had been present on that occasion. He had a clear recollection of the scraps of conversation they had overheard from the burglars, Other corroborative evidence was brought, finish- ing with the positive testimony of Mr. Fitler and the other officers, who had caught the prisoners in the very act of removing the stolen goods, But one verdict could be given, dcspite the strong efforts of the defense, and the jury were not twenty minutes in forming a verdict of guilty. With this verdict our story ends, so far as these characters are concerned. vere sentences, rang- ing from six to twelve years at solitary imprison- ment, were given by the Judge, and they sunk from the surface of the living world into the slow death of a8 nln went well with those without. Mr. Somers and his zenmined family were as happy as family could be, and Mr. Leonard was fully for- given by Jennie for his somewhat selfish course in relation to herself and her lover. This lover’s attentions were more pressing than ever, and it was not long before a mai cere- mony broke the quiet of the Somers. household, and Jennie again changed her name to Elkton, Will gave up his position in the store to ed Joe, whom Mr, Leonard accepted at his strong solici- tation. He had a better opinion of street boys, too, than he had formerly entertained, Will proved as enter eg a student as he had been in his former avocations, and made immense pro- gress under his tutor, and at the schools which he afterward attended. His school intercourse, too, brushed off the rude- ness of his demeanor and ted his manners a new aaron! a result tly assisted by the example and essons of his sister, who did her best to make a gentleman of her roughly-trained brother, Fortunately Will had good sense enough to per- ceive the value of her advice, and to profit by it. 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7 | Deadwood Dick, Taz Prurcz oF Toe Edward L. Wheeler. Bill’ (Hon. Wm. F. asee Hunters. Meier A A Capt | eae WanpER- ns. |6 BEADLE’S HALF-DIME LIBRARY. re Every one eof them “ Live” Stories by “Live” Authors, Each number a Complete Novel, at the extraerdinary price ef a HALF-DIME. 50 Bart Bunker, Trarrgr. A The. Bo the Korthwest._By At og ree WL eu kuae Paba 52 The a White mutates A Tale of 53 Jim Bludsoe, Sv.» Tux Bor Punts; Tae DeaTa. aot ns ws 54 Ned. para ig THE Boy TRAPPER; THE Puawrom Panioess, By J. "F.C. Adama 5 5 tag + he UnkNewn Scout; 56 Wick hiffies’ Pet; or, In Tas Vataeyx oy Deats. Capt. J. Fc. OC. Adama. 5'7 Deadwood Dick’s 3 Or, Tax Panps or Fioop Bar. E, L. Wheeler, Wheeler. 62 The Shadow ssn g tend pt i Tus Rrva. 63 The Red 1 Brotherhood; or, Ta TwELve Avuncrns, W. J. Hamilton, 15 The Sea-Cat; or, Tam Wrrom = 64 Dan Jack; or, ia mene oe 16 Robinse Bh A once, His Life and 65 — 3 Psy owsawe aie 17 Ralph Hoy, The’ neer. By Col. Prentiss 1 bss aeee the Sailor. His seven voy- tucky Rangers’ Life, By KE. 8. Ellis. The Sea Serpent; or, Taz Bor dy) aseuient Gubseae By Gol, Juan 26 Cloves E Hoof, the Demon. By QT Antelope A Abe, the Boy Guide. ee ease THe QUEEN oF Frank §, Fin, oe ae 166 67 Pateut-Leather . Joe; “8 af The Border Robin Hood} or, Tax 68 Praline Rover. B = Hoo 69 Geld | Rifle; oe, THE eae go teieg 70 old Zip’s 5 Cabin 5 or, Teme Guezw- BORM Ix Tae Woops, J.¥. 0. Adams, V4 tures 2 Harry, Taz Yovune yd So og Duclist jo, x Gnomm — ca Woxs, 76 Abe be Colt, hol Crow-Killer. By yf Seay Aot or Dzapwoop Dicx. may wh Lwhee 18 Biue Dick; or, Tint Varziow Comia’s at aeatihe Behar cla ppt Reasbud Reb me Nag aig ly TAZ secied ieb) ve L. Wheeler, GQ] Mghtnt Tee teat Scapa doula Gaptain J. F. C. Adams, QQ Hit Tux Woop-MawsE; or, Op Powoer-Fiacn. By T. 0. Harbaugh, . the Boy Ranger or, Haxauss or THe Gotezun Horn af ag 4. the Girl Miner; or, om Hawn, By Edward L, Wheeler. §5 eso tenacrigg Lire Buss, THE FR- Capt. J. F.C, Adams, 86 Dandy Rog, Tur Mas-rnow -Tex- a! The Land Pirates; or, THE Lzacur Bn capil tn By Capt. Mayne Reid. h Phil; RosEsup mao EARANCE. By L. Wheeler. Jim; ox, Tax PET oF THE Famiuy. By author of “Jack Way.” “ee 90 The Dread R itek i oe. Tue Texan 91 Me Gcokein or dk aioe By matinee Homyne, Gack Berkey) The Rival Rovers. By Lieutenant Col. Haxzeltine. $5 06 Watch - Been Drerzoriva. By 97 The Outlaw Brothers; or, Taa 98 CaPrive or Tux Harrus, By J. J. Marshall. Robin Hood, Taz Ovttawzp Ean ildersleeve, 99 ™ wit Prof. Stewart G@ — He” nella Taos. By George 100 ‘Deadwood Dick tn Dick in Leadville. 101 Jack Harkeway ia New York. 102 Dick Deed res c, Tam Bor Save 104. Pgrirgt Dicks Devien 105 “a Fae ey go 106 ola 6 ee: the Guide. By 1O7 One Eyed Stns 9,5 sour 108 Daring eee ee oe Youre Bman 109 Deadwood Dick ne Dete — 11 The Black Steed of the Prai. vies. By James lL. Bowen. 111 Tee Rea Davis ot, Tax See man's Leaaex. By Col. P. Ingraham. 112 Tas bate yeaa A 113 %«2 ye. eS peue Saas 11.4. The Black Schooner. By Rocz 115 ye eee 116 The Musser nar Captain. Br Cox, Teorive. By Edward L. Wheeler. 118 will aly Bor ~ Men DErEo 119 Mustang Sams o, Tas Mave ct 120 sea 1B] Cinnamon ae Tax Graz Srorr. 1832 Ps ae y, ‘The ‘Boss Bey. 12 Kiowa Oharley, fueled ph ge 1 24 Tippy. the ja nae yng THE Younes 125 Bonanza Bill, Miner 5 ex, 2 os. Be 126 Picayune Pete; SN sage 127 _nouosom fam lay Mi 128 "The 3 he Young me Evivatont 5 Soh 129 Dee te att 130 Deteative Ae aes pe, ix THs Heno 131 "Sate Bent g Dem aceon ete 132 The Hunted Gentes or, wrench ict ay awast 6. in, Bondy Foiraary Se ain tg 132 Bob, tHe Kuve oF THs iat th,