Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 11) (1877 11 19)
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Single Number. BEADLE AND ADAMS, S wee \ TT ao eot LI, Copyrighted in 1877, by BEADLE AND ADAMS. The Two Detectives; OR, The Fortunes of a Bowery Girl, BY ALBERT W. AIKEN, AUTHOR OF ‘‘ OVERLAND KIT,’’ ‘‘ ROCKY MOUNTAIN BOB,” ‘*KENTUCK, THE SPORT,’’ ETC, CHAPTER If. THE GIRL OF THE STREETS. ‘*Don’r you dare to strike me!” A girlish voice high in anger and fierce in de- termination. The scene, an underground drinking-saloon known as “The Dive,” situ- ated on the Bowery, not a dozen blocks from Canal street, in the great city of New York; the time, night; the hour, twelve, and the ac- tors in the scene—we will de- scribe them. Ta the center of the saloon, which was but a common basement, fitted up with a bar and a half a dozen small tables, stood a girl about six- teen years of age. She was slight in figure, with a er face, lit up by great black eyes, that now were flashing bright withangry fires. Great masses of silken hair, black as the diamonds of the Penn- sylvania mines, and soft as the fleece of the merino, gath- ered in a simple knot fit the back of her well-shaped head. The face of the girl was white with passion; her bosom was heaving tumultu- ously, and the warm breath came quickly through the dilated nostrils. The full red lips, almost perfect in their beanty, were firmly shut to- gether. One passion alone swayed all her nature—anger! Within a few feet of the irl stood the person to whom she had addressed her pas- sionate warning. It was a man—an Italian, as one gifted in reading nationalities in the face would have guessed at once. The olive complexion, full black eyes, and cri curly hair of inky hue, ‘told his race. The Italian was a man of forty-five, dressed roughly, and an evil look lurked in the lines of his dark face. Now, his swarthy features were convulsed with anger, and his hand was raised, as if to strike the girl to his feet. Two persons alone, besides the girl and the Italian, were in the saloon. One a woman, an Italian like the man, who stood behind the bar, leaning her elbows on the counter, and gazing upon the angry pair in the center of the room, with an expression of careless unconcern upon her olive- tinged features. The other was a man of that peculiar class, common to the great metropolis, and whom the world places under the generic head of ‘‘ rough.” This man was sitting on a corner of one of the tables, swinging his legs carelessly, and smok- ing a cigar. e was Goabedl in a flashy light suit; a heavy chain—looking remarkably like | PAR ae te it wasn’t—dangled over his vest. n his ruffled shirt-bosom gleamed a huge pin; had it been a diamond, a ‘‘cool” thousand dol- lars would not have bought it; but, as it was only an imitation, a ten-dollar bill had paid for it. The rough had a coarse, brutal face—bull-dog; ‘ALL RIGHT, SONNY; GO AHEAD,” PETERS SAID, PLACING HIS FOOT UPON THE BOX,” PUBLISHERS, > i > | y FE . AATAINN Pre, =o. 11, “Why I no strike you, eh?’ angrily demanded the Italian, who was called Giacomo, and was the proprietor of the little den known as “ The Dive.” By long custom the eal boys had abbreviated the name of the saloon-keeper into “ Jocky.” ** Because if you do, it will be the worst blow you ever struck in all — life, = bet!” replied the girl, defi- an Be ‘Better look out, ae she’s red-hot!” ‘cried the Pea who was enjoying the display of temper, ashe would have enjoyed a dog-fight or any thing else brutal. “You one cussed beggar!” exclaimed the Italian, gesticu- lating wildly. ‘‘ You no do vat | wish; diavolo/ I will kill you dead!” “Tm no beggar, Jocky!” returned the girl, in a passion. “IT work hard for every crust of bread that you give me, you old miser! I won’t be struck any more. I don’t care what I do; the cops can take me as soon as they like; Pll give ’em something ‘to take me for, too, if you go for to strike me again. I’m all black and bluenow. I'd justas lief be dead as stop here with you. Who gave you the right to beat me? You ain’t my father. I never had no fa- ther, and I don’t care much.” **Oh! you imp of ze devil!” cried the Italian, in wrath. “T pick you out of ze mud- tter, bring you up like a ady; give you beautiful clothes, and you no do as I tole you!” “T ain’t a-goin to steal for anybody!” cried the girl, quickly. ‘ You dress me like a lady! beautiful clothes! This is a gay dress, this is!” And the girl surveyed the ragged gown that she wore, in contempt. ‘See here Jocky, I've always acted square with you! I never went back on you; I always give you, fair, just what I sell. I never say that I lost some of my money, like the rest of the girls do. All I ask is decent treatment. I ain’t a.dog to be banged about. I wish I was a dog, sometimes; then I’d run away.”
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> “Why don’t you run away, now?” asked Rocky, with a leer upon his brutal face. “Where could Trun to?’ cried the girl, des- perately, ‘‘ Wouldn’t Jocky, here, run after me and bring me back? There’s only one thing for me to do.” ; “‘ What’s that?” asked Rocky. “Jump into the dock. I'd do it, too, if I wasn’t such a coward. Maybe I will soon, for I ain’t a-going to stand such a life as this much longer,” and the girl sighed heavily as she spoke. ‘Oh, you are ze imp of ze devil!” cried the Italian. ‘‘ Why you no do as I tell you, eh?” “T won’t be a thief for anybody!” cried th girl. ‘* Ain’t it bad enough for to make me tramp the streets all day and nearly all night, selling your mean shoe-strings, and hair-pins and buttons without trying to make me do somethin that ll send me to the Tombs and up to the Island? Maybe it would be better for me to go there; I'd be out of your reach anyway. But first and last, I won’t steal for you, nor nobody else!” “Oh, you're a sweet one, you are!” exclaimed Hooky, in a tone expressive of the highest con- tempt. ‘‘Why don’t you preach us a sermon, now?! Why, we ought to go right down on our blessed knees and worship such an angel as you are, Oh, my! ain’t you cutting it fat, or noth- ing! You’re giving us altogether too much pork for a shilling, Just think, Jocky, she’s a-cuttin up all this rumpus, ’cos I told her for to jus yly slip a bundle out of a woman’s basket as she was a-follerin’ on behind. Nobody would have see’d her; but she’s a virtuous kid, she is!” ** Did I no tell you, you must do as Rocky say, eh?” cried the Italian, approaching still nearer to the girl with upraised hand. The girl did not shrink from him in the least. “T told you that I wouldn’t and I didn’t!” she replied, defiantly, her face plainly showing the an, passions raging in her ree § that’s so!” eried 5 ‘*You no mind me, beggar, eh?” “ No |”? Like angry tigers, the two glared at each other with flaming eyes—the muscular, swarthy- faced man of forty, and the slight, pale-faced girl of sixteen. _ Rocky looked on in delight; the woman lean- ing on the counter—the wife of Jocky—with un- concern. “Hi, hi!” ejaculated the rough, “ why this is as good as a the-a-ter; oncore, oncore!” and he clgnged his hands together in huge delight. “You mud-gutter imp! did I not look out for you since you was a little child, so high as my knee? and now you no do what I want?” ed the Italian, foaming at the mouth with rage, and the big veins on his forehead and throat purple with an blood. ‘*Oh, you’ve done a great deal for me, you have, you bet!” exclaimed the girl, contemptu- ously, ‘‘Ever since I could walk, ’'ve worked all ew how for you. I’ve earned every bit of bread that I’ve put in my mouth, twice over. And what have I ever got from you, except just . enough to keep life in me? a gay life it has been, too!” and the girl laughed bitterly. ‘‘ But now, I’m tired of being beaten; I’m too old for that, and don’t you dare to strike me again! I’ll work for you; work as hard as I know how to; but, I won’t steal for you. I don’t know much, but I do know that it ain’t right, and I won’t do it.” ** You no do it, eh?” **No, I won’t, Jocky; it’s played out!” cried the girl, firmly. The child of the streets used the lan of the class who had surrounded her from child- hood. It was more forcible than elegant. “* Diawolo! I kill you, some!” exclaimed the Italian, making a terrible blow at her, that, had it fallen on the girl, would surely have felled her senseless to the floor. But the t life of the orphan had made her as quick as a cat. Antici- pats the blow, she dodged under the arm of e Italian, and as he was carried past her by the force of his blow, she turned quickly and struck him with all the force of her clenched fist. The blow took the Italian just under the right ear and sent him reeling across the room, despite wy ee —_ weighs. 2 . . Nerved as she was to desperation, the girl’s nea Te goat yaled Roky, dat or you in ht. «Round first! the old un gets a hot un under the ear. Round two, come to scratch, Jocky; time!” - The Italian red across the room, im- pelled by the violence of the blow he had re- ceived from the determined arm of the girl, un- til he brought up inst the wall; that alone prevented him Half stunned by the blow, for it had lighted Beadle’ 8 Half-Dime . Library. on a tender spot, Jocky felt of his neck in won- der. He could hardly realize that the slight fig- ure of the girl could command strength to deal such a stroke. ** Diavolo!” the Italian cried, in a rage. “Time!” yelled Rocky, in glee; ‘‘come up smiling, Jocky, or I'll throw up the sponge!” Then the Italian seemed suddenly to under- stand what had happened. He drew a long, glit- tering knife from his bosom, and darted toward the girl, CHAPTER II. UNCLE AND NEPHEW. In the handsomely-furnished lor of a brown-stone front mansion on Thirty-first street sat two men; one, old, the other, young. The old man was short and thick-set in build. His face was a peculiar one; the skin was yellow and tightly drawn over the bones; the eyes, gray in color, and sharp as the orbs of a hawk, were never still, but restlessly roamed from ob- ject to object; a thick mass of stubby, iron-gray hair crowned the head; the face was smoothly shaven. The old man was called Obadiah Ollkoff, a re- tired merchant, whose name on ‘‘ change” was once good for a hundred thousand dollars. What the retired merchant was nef worth was, probably, known only to himself alone; rs the worl that, by sagacious calcu- tion and prudent investment, the ex-merchant had so increased the wealth made in trade that he could write his check for two hundred thou- sand dollars, at the least, and have it honored. The young man, who sat before the merchant, and by the look upon his face reminded one of a criminal waiting for the judge’s sentence, was naar to Obadiah, and called Algernon Oll- off, The man was about twenty-five years old. his face he bore no resemblance what- ever to his uncle. His features were weak and unimpressive. Ina crowd no one would have taken him for a hero. His blue eyes lacked fire; the scanty yellow mustache, struggling for ex- istence on his upper lip, seemed like a type of the character of its owner—feeble and uncertain. One point Mr. Algernon Ollkoff had in his fa- vor. He was superbly dressed. The skill of his tailor was plainly evident in the clothes that adorned his person. The ‘‘ cut” could not be ex- celled; it was perfection itself. “You sent for me, sir?’ the nephew asked, in a tone wherein abasement and fear were blend- ed. It was evident that the young man had just ont Yes, sir)” replied the old h Th es, sir,” replied the old man, sharply. The contrast between the languid tones of the = Oe and the sharp, metallic voice of the uncle was great. “What is it, sir?’ Algernon and from his manner one could easil ‘ora he felt very far from being comfortable. os 2s much do you owe?” asked the old man, abruptly. ss ‘* Owe, sir!” stammered Algernon, in confu- on. “Yes, sir; didn’t I speak plain enough? How much do you owe?” “‘T—I really don’t know,” the young man mut- tered, in utter confusion. “Oh!” there was a great deal of meaning in the simple exclamation, so dryly uttered, and Algernon trembled in his gorgeous patent-leath- ers as he heard it. e You — so —- a that Ss not carry the figures our . Hadn’t you better have a clerk to ph hes in ascertaining the amount?’ the uncle continued, sarcastically. ‘** Oh, sir, it’s not that,” Algernon muttered, in 4 “Then the debt is so small that you don’t trouble your head about it, eh?” BL» ey and the nephew paused ment. “ ha) ou wonder why I should put such a gestion to you, and how I come to haws any information on the subject. I received a ight bill of yours this morning; your tailor’s ” and as he spoke the old man drew an en- velope from his pocket; ming it he produced the bill. % ‘Vout te tailor poorg & like fre Trish- man’s aS bill,” and the uncle chuckled dryly, as he spoke. ‘‘ You owe him the modest sum of two hundred and ten dollars. That is for your sp outfit, suppose. When I was your age, sir, dollars a year would have been an extra + sum for me to have paid for cloth- vagan ing. But I-worked hard and earned my money —you- understand, J earned my money,” and he shook his finger, expressively, in his nephew’s face, ‘‘I didn’t have any rich uncle to foot ah bills for me, This tailor of yours sent this b in an envelope addressed to me. Of course, 1 understand. He looked in the directory, found my name—same residence—naturally thought that I was your father. Hadn’t an idea, of course, that lavas only your uncle. Now, then, what are you going to do about this bill?” “TI don’t know,” Algernon stammered, in blank dismay. “How many times already have I paid your * debts?” asked the old man, suddenly. HY y, sir, I—” and again the hopeful nephew broke down. ‘Three different times, sir!” exclaimed the uncle, ‘‘ You see I remember, if you donot. I Bes oy Yr you think [ will pay them again, eh?” ‘It is almost too much to expect, sir,” began Algernon, but the uncle cut him short. “But you do expect it!” he cried. ‘You will not be deceived. I shall pay your debts once more.” The face of Algernon brightened up. “‘ But, it is for the last time.” Algernon looked astonished. ‘“‘Tsent for you that we might have a little serious conversation together,” the old man said, gravely. ‘‘ You know I am thought to be wealt y?” “Vea air” ‘You have doubtless fancied that, as you are the only living relative I have in the world, you will be my heir.” re a dear uncle, I am sure that I have never thought of such an event as your death,” Al- gernon hastened to say. ‘Such a calamity would—” “Now, don’t be gushing, young man; it don’t become you. You have no idea how much you resemble a dying calf when you try to be senti- mental,” interrupted the old man. Algernon subsided. ‘As I said before, you expected to become my heir. I deem it my duty to tell you that there - Sst the slightest possibility of such an event a : gernon looked at his uncle in blank amaze- ment. His brain was bewildered. For the life of him he couldn’t understand what his uncle meant. “You are silent—you don’t understand, of course. It’s natural; how could you be expect- ed to understand?” the uncle exclaimed. “ But ee em: je a ope you. Ae I said before, pay these debts of yours; perha ive you a few hundred dollars to hep Eontin world; but, after that, expect no further as- sistance from me. Of course you are welcome to a home in my house as long as I live, for you are my brother’s child; but money assistance no. Possibl you wish to know the reason of this sudden determination?” ” replied Al- ‘Yes, sir; if you do not ob, timi radio e could not gernon, timidly. Ik was a solve. “The reason is, that I think it my duty to preserve re 4 property for my heir,” said the old “ Your heir, sir!” exclaimed the young man, we his eyes wide in astonishment. “Bet slays dora en ar only relative that you had in the world.” The mind of the young man was in a fog. Exactly; and I have no doubt that it will greatly surprise you when you hear that I ex- pect. @ arrival of my rr ter daily.” Your daughter!” cried the nephew in blank amazement. “Yes, sir; my daughter.” The old man was en yo the surprise of the ox ‘But, sir, I never knew that you had a a el rnon said, utterly confounded. “Very likely; but I have a daughter, never- theless, as you shall see with your own éyes be- fore you are many days older,” Obadiah said, ly. at uncle, I never knew that you had been ma I never heard you speak of it.” “Ah, yes; one forgets those little things once in a while, you know,” and again the dry chuckle was in the voice of the ol man. Algernon felt the blow severely. All his life he had looked forward to being his uncle’s heir. He had never dreamed of the possibility of any one snatching his inheritance from him. But now, the golden dream had vanished, and black d stared him in the face. ae have acquainted you with this knowledge, you might prepare e world on your own pea ye I said you on in the said, finding that did not reply. “T am much ob for that, sir’? re age the nephew, y: d as he spoke e rose as if to leave the room.
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The Two Detectives. ‘“‘Oh, by the way!” extlaimed the uncle, in his sharp, restless way ; ‘‘ I’ve got something else to say to you; wait a minute.’ “Yes, sir!” For a moment the old man and stroked his face thoughtfully. “Tt’s about Miss Blake!” the uncle said, sud- denly. The young man stared and seemed confused. ‘‘Thave noticed that you and Miss Blake seem to be very fond of each other’s society. I have | never spoken about Miss Blake to you before, but I will now. Her father was a sea-captain in | my employ. He died abroad in the Chinese seas, murdered by pirates while protecting my ship and goods from the villains. He his life, like the good and honest man that he was, to protect his employer’s interest. He left awife and child. I couldn’t go to that widowed woman and helpless little one, and say: ‘ Here’s a thousand dollars—or more; your support, your all, died for me; let that pay for him.’ No; gold can’t supply the loss of a husband and a father. I did the best I could. I took Mrs. Blake and her child into my family, which consisted of myself, solely. rs. Blake took the whole charge of my household. When she died, her daughter took her place. I look upon that daughter as being ost as dear to me as m own child. Therefore, sir, no nonsense wit that girl. She's too good for you—not your style at all. She wants a man for a husband; you’ve been very little better than a tailor’s sign all your life. You understand? sense !”” “No, sir,” and Algernon left the room, anger and despair swelling in his heart. No non- CHAPTER IIL. ON THE SCENT. On the corner of Canal street and the org A stood a man agent dressed in dark clothes. He was a smallish, stoutly-built fellow, with short, curly hair of a yellow tinge, and a cool, clear eray eye. @ man was whistling softly to himself, as he waited on the corner; for waiting for some one he evidently was. Not a man, woman or child passed by him and escaped the notice of the shrewd gray eyes. “Well, he’s precious long,” he muttered, im- Prilently. **T wonder if he’s hit off the scent? erhaps he’s been more lucky than I have. Finding a needle in a bundle of hay is a fool to this job. But I won’t say ‘die’ yet. We may et the clew, just by accident. is the third ay we’ve been at it. A bond-robber couldn’t give more trouble.” Again the detective—for the man waiting on the corner was the celebrated detective, John Peters, reputed to be one of the keenest detec- tives in the country—commenced to whistle. Then a man came up the Bowery, crossed Canal street, and approached the detective. The new-comer was a tall, lank person, with short yellow hair, and a rough-looking, honest face, whereon was an expression of t sim- plicity. One would have guessed eg to be some countryman fresh from the rural dis- tricts. And yet this see ly guileless youth was Peters’ partner, Henry Henry, more com- monly called Hank Henry—a detective officer with a reputation second to none other in the country. “ What luck, Hank?’ asked Peters, as the other approached, : “None!” the officer replied. One pena about the countrified detective was, that he sel- dom used many words. His speech was laconic and terse to a Spgres, “ By thunder! the luck is against us!” Peters exclaimed. “ Have you failed too?” couldn’t discover any trace of the “ es; 1,” ‘* What’s the pro e now?” ‘Well, I hardl ow. I think we have ex- amined every saloon on the Bowery, from Di- vision street to Canal.’ “T think we have,” Hank rejoined, “The clew is such a faulty one. The party forgot the name of the saloon and the exact lo- ca’ but as near as he could remember the direction, it was on the Bowery near Canal street,” “Perhaps it’s above Canal street?” Hank ob- served “Maybe SO, er,” Peters replied; ‘to- aaa Bg ve a attention to vet sa- oons above here, Pagok Raita 3 come down handsomely, and we'll stick to it while there’s a hope left of discovering the person.” “You've got the description? azed at the floor, | | deal. gave up | | tumble onto the girl just b “Yes; all correct.” ‘Peters, I’ve got an idea!” cried Hank, sud- denly. “ part ery ’re af in the street a good This y we're after is e a She ought to be known to the bootblacks, we pump them; we might accident.” “That’s a good idea, Hank!” cried Peters. “We'll try it on right away. Let’s look at the description.” Then the detective took a memorandum-book from his pocket, opened it, and read aloud: *** Girl about fifteen or sixteen; jet-black eyes and hair; hair worn in a knot behind. Rather tall, slen- der figure, Complexion fair. Peculiar hands. ng, slender fingers. Poorly dressed. Deep, musi voice. Face rather pretty and Jadylike; Looks above her station. Sells small articles on the Bowery. Lives in a basement saloon on the Bowery, above Canal street. Mem.—Doubt about being above Canal street; may be below.’ “There; that’s the description, and all the rticulars known about the girl. It’s getting ate, but as we’re like the birds we hunt down— owly in our ways—it don’t make much differ- ence. The first boy we see we'll go for.” And even as the detective spoke, a shrill yoice at his side cried out: “Black your boots, sir?—shine ’em up nice— only five cents!” The detective looked down and beheld a wee little fellow, dressed in a ragged suit, with a coat much too big for him, that hung from his neck to his heels. A rovnd, almost shapeless hat covered nis head, From under the hat came tangled, curly masses of bright red hair, Keen little blue eyes, as bright as the eyes of a rat, peered out from amid the elfish curls that clus- tered on his forehead. His face was ornament- ed with streaks of dirt that almost hid the true color Of the skin. For such a little urchin, the boy had an enormous mouth. He seemed a happy, contented little beggar, for his thin face was bright with a cheerful smile, and his shrewd eyes twinkled like two tiny stars as he looked up into the face of the detective. ‘Jes’ lemme black ’em, boss; make ’em shine, now, so you see yer face in ’em!” the boy ae as he unslung his box from his shoulder, an planted it persuasively by the foot of Peters. “All right, sonny; go ahead,” Peters said, 3g te foot upon the box. The boy unpacked his kit and proceeded to operate on the boot. ‘““What’s your name, bub?’ the detective newsboys, etc. 8’ asked. “ Shrim sir,” the boy answered, rubb: industrious av ths hook . ne “Shrimpy, eh? Why, that’s a queer name.” “Yes, bos; I ’spect I was called it’cos I'm a little cuss,” said the boy, cheerfully, “Where do You live?” «No particular home, eh?” te) icular home, e “No; I jes’ lay *round loose.” “Do you travel on the Bowery, here?” “Yes; this is my stampin’ ground,” the boy replied. ‘Doing pretty well now?” **Only middlin’; times ain’t wot they used to be; biz is dull,” and as he talked he worked away industriously on the boot. “T sup ou know all the rounders that travel on the Bowery?” “Well, I guess I do,” the boy replied, confi- dently. 4 Do you meted ‘2 gh aoe beigrory ae hair and eyes, who sells little thi ike shoestrings peg ty the Bowery?’ the detective as carelessly. the boy — ~ ~~ work and cast a shrewd glance in the face of the man. Saat Br “ Well, T don’t tow ay val like that,” the boy hegis weg tty and he commenced operations on the othe . Bh! qgne Send, did gy ever go to school?” as e de ve, quietly. “Yes; an’ I werea glad to git out, ’cos it was dull to hear the cove up in the box a-talkin’,” me Tied Fou Meat te y what will happen t0 nm Ow W. you if you tell a lie?” we + Sigs I do. f geeriel Shrimpy, quickly. you . “ You bet! I told a lie "bout a feller once, an’ e co me and wallo me, ’cos he was bigger Poe I ine ye aida have no show for ‘You lied to me just now, when you said you br know the girl I asked about,” Peters said, y. Shrimpy looked up in the face of the detective, with a ar toe look upon his thin features. — “Well ain’t a-goin’ for to get a cove in trouble,” the boy said, with a sniffle. ‘*Oh, you know me, then?’ “In course I does. You're a de-tective. I see’d you one Fourth of July, on Broadway, when you jammed a feller’s head through a window ’cos he fired a pistol at you.” “Now, my young friend, you have made a great mistake in one thing; though I am a de- tective, I don’t intend an harm to this girl, but a great deal of good. ere’s a friend of mine who is very eager to find the girl and reward her for a service she did him. Ihave a suspicion that you know where the girl is to be found. It may not be the one that I want, though; but I am willing to pay something to find out whether it is or not.” ‘Tf it’s all square,” said the boy, again pro- ceeding to polish the boot. “Tt is; I give higg my word for that,” said the detective, gravely. ' ‘How does she look?” Shrimpy asked. Peters took the memorandum out of his pocket, and read the description aloud. “That’s Lill,” the boy said, when Peters had finished. “ Lill?” “Yes, the ‘Bowery Gal;’ that’s wot everybody calls her. She’s a reg’lar stunner, she is!” cried Shrimpy, aig vereg Bs . ‘You know where she lives?’ said Peters, eagerly, ‘Yes; she lives with Jocky, down in the ‘Dive.’” ‘How far from here is that?” “Only a little way; I'll take you right there, if you want me to,” ee the boy, giving the boot the finishing touches, “Pll give you a a es cent stamp for your trouble if you will,” Peters said. “Tm very much ’bliged to you, ’cos I want to raise stamps enough to get me a spring suit,” re- plied the boy, with a glance at his ragged coat. ‘But, I say, you ain’t a-comin’ any gum-game, is you?” the boy asked, rising to his feet, with a look of distrust upon his sharp features. nie that’s honest. I don’t mean the girl any *“°Cos I wouldn’t go back on a feller I know; *tain’t square,” Shrimpy said, with a wise shake of the head. ““You’re a little man; but go on,” the detec- tive remarked. ; The boy led the way down the Bowery, while the two detectives followed in the rear. Five minutes’ walk and the three descended the i that led into the saloon known as ‘‘The ive. CHAPTER IV. IN ‘‘ THE DIVS.?? Wir the keen-edged knife glittering in his oy Ba Italian, mad with rage, rushed toward Ths, read, seated on the table, and the wo- man, leaning on the bar, looked on ey with- out stirring a r to protect the girl, or to save her from the death that seemed so near, But, as the Italian struck at her, with the quickness of a cat, she jum to one side, thus evading the murderous stroke. And, as the Ital- ian turned, as if to repeat the rush, she on aed up a chair, which stood near at hand. With a strength which one would not have to have dwelt in her slight frame, she whirled the chair over her head and brought it down with terrible force upon the Italian. Jocky threw up eg ettet tend his head. The force of the blow hurled him headlong to the floor; but little injured though, for his arms had saved his skull. e girl then retreated a few steps, still grasp- ing the chair in her hands; still prepared for another attack. . “Set ’em up !” cried Rocky, in huge de- light. ‘Round two: the old ’un goes to grass. Round three: time !” But the Italian slowly rose to his feet, and showed but little inclination to again renew the a The desperation of the girl astonished him. i Diavolo ! you have broke ay, Reade He Cried, anger. ¢s Ww ey don’t you let me alone, owt exclaim- ed the maid, keeping h prepared for another assault. Her face deadly white, and the full, red lips shut tly ther. “Time, Sick ” Sed rough ; you ain’t a-goin’ to ‘give it up so, Mr. Brown,’ are you?” “You better let me alone!” the girl cried, her eyes and her whole manners e deeperation born of despair.
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4. Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. “Go for her, Jocky!” Rocky exclaimed. * Are you going for to let a girl back you down? Pretty sort of a rooster, you are! wouldn’t bet my stamps on you, nohow.” The rough was di , and expressed his feelings in his e. ‘Put down ze chair, you imp of ze devil!” the Italian cried, cautiously advancing toward the still defiant girl. ““T won’t!” she answered. “I give you fair warning that, if you attempt to strike me, Pll hit you with it again.” In the eye of the girl the Italian read that she would keep her word, or, at least, attempt to do so. ‘Come, Toc , the audience is a-gettin’ im- patient!” exclaimed the rough. “If you ain’t a-goin’ to put up your bunch of fives, you’d bet- ter throw up the sponge and quit to one’t. Id be ashamed for to have a girl k me down, I would!” “Tf you no put down ze chair, diavolo ! I will kill you!” cried the Italian, fiercely. ‘You tried it on one’t, and you didn’t do it!” the girl replied, still defiant. You better not try it again. ou’ve got my temper up, an’ I had just as lief die now as not. is ends you and me. I don’t stay here no more!” The girl made a movement toward the door, but the Italian quickly anticipated her motion and Bnew himself before it. “You no go!” he cried, in rage. “Well, now, thisis interesting,” said the rough complacently. ‘‘Now hit him over the head er the cheer, ’cos you can’t git out till you 0. “What! you tell her to hit me over ze head viz ze chair?” cried the Italian, in astonishment, ‘Tn course; what a feller you are, for to want to spile the fun!” said the rough, in an aggrieved tone. ‘Rocky, I gives * be one dollar to take ze chair away from this devil’s imp!” exclaimed the Italian, glaring upon the girl. “A dollar! Now you're talkin’, man!” and Rocky got off the table. “Don’t you dare to come near me!” the maid cried, fiercely, retreating, and placing her back inst the wall as she spoke. **You jes’ teach your dmother to milk ducks,” said the rough, agrin. ‘ You jes’ ut down that cheer, or Pl walk into you, live- y; “cath ty can’t emg a Mg eo as he 6, he slowly approac the gir Pi Keep away !” a cried, every muscle in her body trembling with excitement. “Take ze chair, den I kill her, some!” exclaim- ed the Italian. “Oh, jes’ look at me now,” said Rocky, shak- his head with a knowing air. ‘‘See me as- tonish her weak nerves.” Then the rough made a sudden dart forward, as if intending to seize the girl. Withd te force she brought the chair down, intending to fell the rough as she had made the Italian seek the floor; but the wily Rocky knew a trick worth two of that, for, as the chair descended, he suddenly back and avoided the blow. Then, before she could again raise the clumsy weapon that stern necessity bad forced upon her hands, he seized it, wrested it from her hands, and sent it spinning across the floor. The Italian uttered a shrill cry of triumph. The child was helpless in his hands. “¢ All done by the turn of the wrist!” exclaim- ed Rocky. ‘Old man, I'll trouble you for to fork over that dollar.” With white face, flaming eyes, and — ee pr eta: passion, the girl stood; her little fists tightly clenched, as though, even now, she was red to do battle wi her enemies. e door against which Jocky was standing was opened suddenly. As it turned into the room, the force of the concussion pitched the Re Eo pee e with joy. 6 a ce of the strangers she saw a chance of escape. Through the doorway came the two detectives, Peters and Henry, followed by the boot-black, known as pene The keen eye of Peters took in the details of the scene at once. The Italian, with the long, glittering knife in his hand; the girl pale wi rograe and the hoe = with an ugly scowl upon is brutal face, produced there ‘By the sudden a ce of the strangers, told plainly that ey had entered at an opportune woment. “Hallo! what’s the trouble?” Peters asked, in his quiet way. “What's that to you?’ demanded Rocky roughly. “And who trod on you, young man?” asked Peters, knitting his b rows. I'm your pre “See here, we don’t want no talk out of you; you jes’ git /” cried Rocky, in anger. ‘‘Have you bought your coffin?’ asked Hank stretching his brawny arms out, carelessly, and approaching the rough. ky measured Hank with his eye; took in the muscular power that evidently laid in the well-davelopal shiewi of the detective’s power- ful frame, and slowly retreated toward the bar, as if in search of a weapon. ‘What ze devil you want here, eh?” asked the Italian, in surly anger. e was not pleased with the appearance of the forse a and guess- ed that they were intent on mischief. ‘Well, our wants are easily explained and easily satisfied,” Peters said, quietly. ‘‘In the first place we want this girl.” Had a bombshell exploded in that under- ground saloon it could hardly have created more excitement. The rough stared; the Italian uttered a fear- | ful oath; the girl took a step forward, with clasped hands, and even the wife of the Italian, behind the counter, manifested some emotion. ‘You want zis girl?” the Italian demanded, in wonder. ac the programme!” Peters replied coolly. ‘*You can’t have her!” cried Rocky, defiantly. air —— individual, just you keep your oar out until you’re asked to row,” said the detec- tive, provokingly. ag k a-here, now; it hurt afore you kin git out of this now!” cried Rocky, in indig- nant warning. “‘T wonder how thick this wall is here?” said Peters, interrogatively. ‘‘Doyou think it would damage it much if you knocked that fellow through it into the next basement?” ““S’pose I try,” and Hank made a step toward Rocky. The rough seized the heavy water-pitcher that stood on the counter. * Now, you jes’ i) A ytd !” he cried in anger. d away? Diavolo!” ex- claimed the Italian. ‘* Your child! How long since?’ asked Peters in contempt. “Oh, don’t believe him, sir; I ain’t his child!” cried the girl, quickly. “He's called me a beg- gar’s brat every so many times, and, jes’ as you came in now, he swore he was a-goin’ to kill me! “She tell one big lie!” exclaimed the Italian. “Don’t you believe him, sir. It ain’t a lie: it’s the truth, sir!” protested the girl. Peters took the memorandum-book from his pocket and glanced over the description of the girl he was in search of. ‘*She answers to it,” he muttered. “I say, my girl, did you tell a gentleman onthe Bowery a few days ago where you lived?” “Yes, sir,” answ the girl, eagerly. ‘¢Then you're the one I want.” “You want my child! You no take her!” cried the Italian. “Don’t talk so much with your mouth!” said Hank, tersely, to the Italian. “Don’t you let’em take her away, Jocky!” cried the rough. “Putty piece of business for to take a man’s own gal away!” “Do you want to go with us?” Peters asked, addressing the girl. “Yes,” she answered, eagerly. ‘I would rather die than stay here. I'll go anywheres with you. Jocky, here, allers beats me, but I made up my mind to-night that he shouldn’t beat me any more, and when he tried to, I knocked him down first with my fist, and then with the chair,” said the girl, proudly. Peters looked at’ her astonishment. The detective had met with many strange charac- ters in his career; but this girl was something out of the common run of the Arabs of the street. “She no go!” cried the Italian, fiercely. “She my child! Ino let her go. You take her away I ao ae ze police—put you in ze Tombs, dia- v0 “That’s right; stick to it, Jocky!” said the rough, enco ingly. “ Who are these two fellers, I’d like for know, that come to take away an honest man’s girl! The Italian had hid his knife away at the com- mencement of the conversation, and now, with both hands outstretched, he sprung forward as if to seize the girl, but he stopped suddenly in his onward motion, for the girl, with eyes and clenched teeth, drew k her armas i to strike. The Italian had felt the force of her little knuckles once before and did not caare to encounter them again. At the same moment, Rocky, bran water-pitcher. orward and placed - selt before the door, thus barring all exit from 6 saloon. the | | cool CHAPTER V. THE VIRGINIAN COLONEL. Arter the interview with his uncle, Algernon slowly proceeded u i The brain of the Ai man was in a whirl. He could hardly re that the interview which had just taken place was not all a dream. ‘This is really delightful news!” he muttered, “Tes a brilliant look-out ahead for me. I’ve always thought that I was safe to come in for a un thousand at the least. Oh, this is pleasant!” At the head of the stairs, he met Miss Blake. She was just coming down as he was going up. Dorothy Blake, or Dolly Blake, as all in the Ollkoff household called her, was a pretty, lady- like girl of two and twenty; a round face, clear red and white complexion, and dark-brown eyes and hair. ** Hallo, Dolly!” cried the young man, “ I’ve some news for you.” “For me?” the girl asked, looking with a pleas- ant smile into'the face of her lover; for that was the position that the young man held in re- gard to her. a Olikoff had made a shrewd guess at the truth. Dolly Blake and Algernon Ollkoff had been oben ia ie together from childhood. Naturally they ad fallen in love with each other. eee, ee said, replying to the girl’s question. “I’ve Phage had a few minutes’ talk with my uncle. In the first place, he ‘ pitched’ into me on account of my extravagance, as he calls it, and told me that in the future I mustn’t expect any thing from him.” ‘Oh! how cruel!” ‘Well, rather; then he further informed me that he expected his daughter would soon arrive.” “ His daughter!” cried Dolly, in astonishment. “ Exactly ; you’re astonished of course. I know I was,” said Algernon, grimly. “But I never heard him speak of a daughter before!” ‘No, nor anybody else. You can judge how astonished I was. But the old gentleman was in sober earnest. His manner told pretty plain that he wasn’t joking. So, you see, my nose is out of joint.” **Oh! how dreadful!” and the girl looked pa- thetically, into the face of Algernon. “T should say it was, and then, on the to this pleasant information, he gave me a bit advice, and that concerns you.” ‘Why, what did he say about me?’ Dolly asked, in wonder. ee Not much about you, in person,” Algernon replied. ‘‘He simply told me that I mustn't make love to you.” “T wonder if he suspects that we are engaged?” oy a - Leg mantled the cheeks and forehead of e girl. : “No, but he’s evidently afraid that something of that sort will happen. * What did you say?” Dolly asked, anxiously. “Nothing; what the deuce could I say. Yi was bad enough to have him coolly inform me that I needn’t expect to inherit any of his for- tune, without ae warned against falling in love with the girl that I was already engaged to. I was so taken aback, I couldn’t say any thing at all,” er tes said, dismally. * But, why does he object” **Don’t ask me! Ican’t tell you! Some whim that he has taken into his head.” “T feel that when I tell him how much we love each other, he won’t object.” “T wouldn’t say aay thing at present!” Alger- non exclaimed, quickly. Then a ring at the door-bell sounded through the house. ‘“‘T think that’s some one forme, I expected Colonel Peyton to call this afternoon. e's a deuced clever fellow, and I’l] ask his advice in regard to this a ‘I was going down to sit with your uncle a little while, but I don’t feel like iow? Dolly said, with a mournful face. ‘If he looked at me, I know I should burst out crying, Come and see me as soon as your visitor Sere ‘ “Yes, I will. I think you had better not let uncle know that I have told you what he said; he might be angry.” “Tl go and shut myself up in Mehioe at Oh, dear, I feel so miserable, Alge. 1 think that it’s mean for your uncle to object to our loving each other!” Then Dolly retreated quickly, and sought shel- ter in her room, She cast herself upon the bed with a ye buried her face in the pillow, as thoug y the act she would blot out the memory of the world and all its cares, of of
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Leaving the girl to her reflections, we will re- turn to Algernon. The young man stood at the head of the stairs, waiting to see if the servant would ascend with a message to him. He was not disappointed in his thought, that the visitor was for Sins for ina few moments the servant brought him up a card. On the card was written: “Colonel Roland Peyton.” ‘‘Show him up, James, please—to my room,” Algernon said. he servant descended the stairs, and Alger- non entered his apartment, which was on the same floor as that of the young girl’s. In a few minutes the servant conducted the visitor into Algernon’s room. Colonel Roland Peyton was a tall, slender per- son, with jet-black hair, that curled in crispy curls all over his head, and was worn rather long behind, the curls reaching his coat-collar. A pair of juxuriant side-whiskers, and a full mustache, black as his hair, ornamented his face. Yet, strange to say, with all this mass of dark hair, the colonel’s eyes were a light blue in color. The colonel was dressed a little extravagantly, not to say pene A semi-military hat, some- thing of the style worn by the officers of the United States army, was set in a rakish fashion upon one side of his head. In his hand, which was gloved by the brightest of red kids, he car- ried a switch-like cane, which he twirled about in a devil-may-care manner. From his neck a pair of double eye-glasses hung. The face of the colonel was a strange mixture of the gentleman and the bully. On fronaway a detectivo officer would have picked him out instantly for one of the gentry ‘who toil not, neither do they spin,” but who make a living by the aid of nimble fingers and a ack of cards. ‘‘ A gentleman who always aids ortune by holding a food hand, or always throwing sixes,” as the French say. As for the colonel’s account of himself, it was simple, and he never hesitated to tell it. The son of a wealthy Virginia family, he was reared as a gentleman should be. At the age of twenty he visited Europe. It was just at the time of the Crimean war. He enlisted in the English service—was one of the famous “ six hundred” who rode into the jaws of death at Balaklava, and was one of the few who escaped the slaugh- ter. Then, during the war for the Union, he had commanded a regiment under Lee in Vir- ginia, and acted an important part in all the terrible fights which reddened the soil of the ME yn of States and statesmen ” with human And now that the white wings of peace once more were spread over the land, the ex-colonel had taken up his residence in New York. As he carelessly said, “‘ The South has gone to the dogs, my ancestral acres won’t sell for the taxes on them, and, as I like New York, in future I shall reside at the North. I bear no malice for the past. A noble foe, sir, I respect, by Jove!” There were some few people in the great me- tropolis who looked askance at the colonel when he passed them, swinging his light cane, and plainly sti tized him as “the great Ameri- can fraud.” But, all men have their enemies. ‘How is my worthy young friend to-day?” cried the colonel, with a flourish, as he entered the room. “Tm feeling deuced badly!” replied Alger- non. ‘Sit down, colonel, and take a cigar. “ Ah, thank you!” The gentleman accepted both the cigar and the chair, ‘Ah! there’s nothing like a good cigar for enjoyment,” he ex- claimed, as he fighted the fragrant “ weed.” “I love to watch the perfumed smoke curling, like holy incense, up to heaven!” said the colonel, with a wave of the hand. ‘‘ But, why does my Damon feel ill at ease? Let him confide in his Pythias.” ‘““You_ know, of course, that I have always expected to become my uncle’s heir? I’ve spo- ken about it to you.” “You have, ‘many a time and oft, on the Ri- alto’!” said the colonel, theatrically. “Well, if you had e rs pee life to come in some day for about two hundred thou- sand dollars, and then should suddenly discover that you had about as much chance of it as the man inthe moon, wouldn’t it rather snncy. you?” “Perhaps, upon some, it would have that ef- fect. When say some, I mean nearly all the world. But, to a man like myself, you know, who has been used to the ups and downs of for- tune, why, it would be a mere trifle. Ah! my dear boy, when, like me, you have rode into the very jaws of death, ‘cannon to the right, cannon to the left,’ before you the whole Rus- sian army, you will learn to laugh at such a The Two Detectives. trifle as the loss of a bit of beggarly money: There was a time when my estates in Virginia brought me in at least thirty thousand dollars a ear; and now, I barely receive two thousand. But, t laugh at it. Money! whatisit? Filthy lucre—the more one has, the more he is troubled to take care of it. But, by the way, explain; what oo hp this sudden change in your r ts te ou’ll never guess!” ‘*Oh, I rayther think Ican. I think I’m up to almost everything in this world. Bet youa bottle of ae I guess it the first time!” cried the colonel. “No, I won’t bet, for, hang me, if I think I'd be able to pay, if I lost,” replied Algernon: “but I defy you to guess, a “Ah, my boy, a man who served with Lee’s army, where we used to satisfy our hun- ger by buckling our belts tighter around us, is not easily puzzled. The reason for this change is, the old boy’s going to be married.” e colonel laid back in his chair, and puffed his cigar in triumph. CHAPTER VI. OUT OF THE DARK. ‘““HALLO!” exclaimed Peters, as he surveyed the threatening demonstrations, ‘‘are you in- sane enough to imagine that you can prevent me from leaving this place?’ “*’You shan’t take the gal, nohow!” Rocky re- plied, defiantly. ‘‘ You kin git out yourself, jes’ as soon as you like. Your room’s a good deal better nor your company.” ‘You no take my zal?” exclaimed the Italian, in ees brandishing the glittering knife as he e. ‘Tf we leave the girl, you’ll let us go then?” Peters asked, quien. ‘** Jes’ as soon as you like; the sooner the bet- ter!” replied the ete “and you kin jes’ thank your lucky stars that you don’t git a head put on you for poking your nose into other peo- Pitthe tace of th 1 paler and paler; sh e face of the gir w paler an er; fancied that the men ee had come so timely to her aid were now about to desert her, frighten- ed by the threats of the rough. She knew little of the iron wills of the officers. “Tl give you just one minute to get away from that door, my friend,” Peters said ¢ calmly, not a trace of agitation in his voice. A long breath of relief came from the m5 of the child-woman, and the rigid muscles of her face relaxed. Her quick instinct told her that there was yet hope of escape. Rocky looked into the stolid face of the detec- tive in wonder. He could hardly believe his hearing. “Wot did you say?” he demanded, roughly. “Your hearing must be bad; I spoke pein enough,” Peters said, a half-smile creeping over his face. ‘‘I said that I would give you one minute to get away from that door, you ugly whelp!” And the detective put his hands in his coat-pockets, and surveyed the astonished rough with a scornful smile. Sie Oh! git away from the door?’ responded coul which the rough himself wiht ce F no ** Will you hold wot ‘Wot are you per. to do aboutit? You don’t s’pose you kin me away from this door, do you? You ain’t sich a flat as all that? Wot are you a-goin’ for to do now, say?’ “Put a_ bullet through your head, you ugl brute!” cried Peters, suddenly drawing a revol- ver from his pocket and leveling it full at the head of the rough. At the same moment Hank, by a dextrous kick, knocked the knife out of the I ’s hand and sent it whizzing against the wall. The tables were turned completely, Rocky glared in astonishment into the mouth of the little shining tube leveled directly at his head, while the old Italian stood with outstretch- | ed arms, speechless with rage.. The face of the irl brightened up with joy as she beheld the iscomfiture of her persecutors. “Drop that pitcher, or Pll blow the whole top of your ugly head off!” cried Peters sternly, adifvembie the rough, , defiantly. | 5 Slowly Rocky lowered his hand, in sullen rage. Would you go. for to murder a cove?’ he ed, doggedly. . “Tt would only be cheating the hangman of a job,” Peters replied. ‘‘Now stand out of the way. lowly Rocky obeyed the command. ‘Go ahead, girl,” Peters said. With a bound like a frightened deer, she sprung forward and ascended the stairs. No need to repeat the command a second time. The Italian tried one last appeal. **Oh, good sir, you no take my child?” he im- plored. ‘‘I no beat her no more!” =~ Ses 7 ” said Hank, laconically. aie meaning of the terse sentence was perfectly plai even to the foreign ears of the Italian. The ret mp gave place to threats. “* Diavolo ! I kill you both for zis, some day, you see!” Jocky cried, in wild rage. “‘Save your breath to cool your soup with!” replied Peters, quietly. ; he two officers then proceeded to the door— still keeping, however, a wary eye upon the rough and the Italian. “Tl git square with don’t, cuss me!” cried Roc ed hand in menace at the men who him at his own game. “Let me know when that rn gc will you?’ Peters rejoined. ‘I'd like to round wher that little affair takes place. Good-by; I’m sorry I can’t stop any longer. I'll come and see you some other time: by-by!” The door closed behind the two. They as- cended the stairs, re ess of the curses that followed them from the baffled villains. The girl was waiting on the sidewalk at the top of the stairs. ‘Come right along with us,” Peters said, kindly, as he gained the pavement. “Yes, sir,” the girl replied, a bright smile on her pale features, and a glad light shining in her great dark eyes. The three proceeded along down the Bowery. you for this, see if I y, shaking his clench- beaten “Now, then, my girl, I must have a little talk with you,” Peters said. “‘ What is your name! ‘Lill, sir, though almost everybody calls me the Bowery Girl,” she replied. ““What’s the reason of that?” “Because I sells things, sir, on that street, I s’pose.” ‘** Are your father and mother living?” ‘** Never had any,” was the singular reply. “*No father or mother?” ‘*No, sir; none that I ever heerd tell on.” “Have you always lived with this man?” oy, sir. ” “Oh, no, sir!” the girl replied, quickly. ‘‘ He’s often cursed me for a be; ’s brat. I was has.” ‘““You must have had a pretty hard time of ened as it was by constant contact with crime and its votaries, felt a great degree of pity for **Oh, I have, sir, lots of hard times!” the said, earnestly. ‘‘I’ve been running in hings -for Jocky, ever since I’ve been able to walk. I’ve allers let him beat got my mad up to-night—I’ve got a temper of my own peor Praag | I didnt care whether “Then, you are man and come with me?” Peters asked, f girl’s ae “ Willing to go with you?” exclaimed the girl “—: You bet I am!” pe shrewd face of the detective at the “slang” used by the girl. The words grated on his ear, com- e in an instant, and guessed that, in some way, she had displeased her pro- “But he’s not your father?” his child he wouldn’t treat me as bad as he allers it,” the detective said. Even his nature, hard- the Bowery Girl. irl the streets, a-selling thi me without saying a word, but, somehow, he I lived or died.” rfectly willing to leave this quite a strong sentiment of admiration for the culiar sort of expression came over the ing from girlish lips. Lill’s eyes were quick; she detected ere smi i a eval tector. ‘* Wot’s the matter, sir?’ she asked. “T hope I ain’t said nothing that I hadn’t ought to?” ‘No, no! Of course not!” replied the detec- t makes you tive feeling a little guilty. “ think so “Why, I see’d it in your face,” she said. “Oh, my eyes are precious sharp ones. I said some- thing that you didn’t like. I wouldn’t do that for anything in this world.” The earnest tones of the girl told that she spoke the truth. “You're the first one that ever took my part, and I’d do anything for you, I would. Jest you try me and see!”
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7 6 Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. Peters could not help smiling at the maid’s e Well, nay. girl, I ly acti tf ell, my girl, I am only acting as agent for somebody else. T ama detective officer.” “Do you know I thought $0?’ cried the girl quickly. ‘‘ You’re so Saker cool, and no afeard like.” Again the officer smiled—this time at the com- pliment. “Yes, as I said,” he continued, ‘‘I am em- ployed by a certain party to hunt you up, and take you away from this life that you are jead- in ‘Somebody a-thinkin’ of me?’ cried Lill, in wonder. “Yes. Do you remember the old gentleman that asked you where you lived a few days ago, in the Bowery?” ** An old gray-headed chap?” “ Yes. ” “Oh, I remember! He asked me a lot of queer questions, “‘He’s the party that sent me to hunt you up. I found you, by the aid of the bootblack named Shrimpy.” And as Peters happened to glance around, he found that the boy had been follow- ing along, discreetly, in the rear. ‘‘ Oh, I for- got; I promised him twenty-five cents. Hank, give the youngster a twenty-five cent stamp.” Shrimpy received the money, ducked his head in acknowledgment to Peters, grinned at Lill, and immediately departed. ‘“ What does this old the girl in astonishment. nt want of me?’ asked “That I don’t know,” Peters replied. ‘‘ All I know is that he employed me to find you. Per- haps he knows something about your parents; or, it may be, that he has taken a fancy to you, ane has resolved to provide for you in the fu- e. ** Wot! take care of me?” asked Lill, quickly. And Peters noticed, to his astonishment, that there was an earnest look upon the girl’s face and that she did not seem to be overpleased at the idea. ‘**'Yes, I suppose that is his intention. Mind Tam only guessing what he intends to do, and why he wants to find you, because he did not tell me what his intentions were.” For a few steps the girl walked on in silence. Her ber were cast upon the ground, and she emed deep in thought. Peters watched her in- mtly. The detective flattered himself that he was a ak hand at reading faces, but this Girl of the Streets puzzled him. CHAPTER VII. A STRANGE GIRL, ‘WHEN am I to see this gentleman?” the girl asked, suddenly. ** To-morrow afternoon,” the detective replied. * Where?” ‘At his house. I am to take you oe get *T don’t want to go!” Lill exclaimed, abrupt- ly. icp cried Peters, in utter astonishment. “T say that I don’t want to go to see this old ges i said the girl, petulantly, a pout upon her ps. “Don’t. want to go?’ The shrewd detective was utterly astounded. “No; I never saw him but once, and I don’t care if I never see him again,” Lill replied, a look of vexation upon her face. “But, he may be able to tell tio something about your parents,” Peters urged. = t dol care for ’em?’ the girl exclaim- ed, quickly. ‘They never-did nothing for me. I don’t care whether I ever see’em or not. They must have had cruel hearts to leave me in the wer of Jocky all these long years. A rough ringing up I’ve had. The Bowery has been my father and mother; leastways it allers protected me. Many’s the night I’ve slept on the cold stones, afeard to go home, ’cos Jocky ’d beat me. I’ve curled myself up like a dog in a dark corner and slept and dreamed of a home such as some je have—a home all nice and warm; lenty of loving faces ’round me and kind words, aed of blows and curses.” * And yet now, when that home is offered Pou, you say that you don’t want to go,” said eters, whose naturally kind heart fel deeply for the friendless girl **T don’t know anything about him—the gent, I mean,” the girl replied. ‘‘ Why should he trouble himself *bout me? I don’t believe that ve got any father or mother anywhere in this world. Inever see’d anybody trouble themselves *bout anybody else yet, unless they thought they could make something by it.” : The detective fully realized how dark the life of the girl had been by the one little sentence. The cold, hard ery of the world was in her mouth, Each for himself, none for his brother. ‘* Well, but won’t you go and see the gentle- man to-morrow?” the detective asked. ‘*T’'d rather not!” the girl exclaimed, quickly. ‘* But he has given me twenty dollars to buy you new clothes. He wants to see you all dress- ed up like a poe ag A wishful look came over the girl’s face, and her eyes brightened up for a moment at the words of the detective. It was only for a mo- ment though; and then again the dull, vacant expression was on her features. ‘« Fine fea- I ain’t a lady,” she said, slowly. thers don’t allers make fine birds. ‘* But this old gentleman will make a lady of you, the officer urged. ‘‘ Dressed up nicely, ew girls on this street will look any better than ou. Why, Lillian—I suppose you name is Lil- ian, or maybe, Lily?’ ** No, Lillian.” ‘Well, as I was going to say: when you’re retty.” The Sbeufineds of the question as well as its bts —— eerie * ‘Yes, I thi that you are very pretty,” he said, slowly. ‘‘ When you are dressed up you bie th to passed idl the girl’s f smile rapi over the girl’s face and, as she looked into the face of the detec- tive, he saw a strange, iar light ma in the full black orbs of the child. Never before had he seensuch a light in the eyes of any one of womankind. The smile and the look were the girl’s answer to the speech of the detective. Finding that she did not speak, Peters con- tinued: “This old gentleman is wealthy—more money than he knows what to do with. He either knows something about your parents, or else he has taken a fancy to you. At any rate, Iam sure from what he said me, that he intends to look after you for the future.” Again the girl did not reply, but walked si- lently on fora few moments evidently in deep ba (se ‘Tf my father is alive, and he should find me, would he have the right to make me do as he said?’ she asked, abruptly. ‘‘Undoubtedly,” replied Peters, somewhat as- tonished at the question. ‘‘Do you think that this old gentleman is my father?’ she asked, quickly. **No, I do not.” The detective began to won- der why the girl was asking all these odd ques- tions. “Then he has no right to make me do as he pleases?” ‘“‘Of course not, unless you give the right by allowing him to adopt you as his daughter.” “Not much, you bet!” cried Lill, suddenly. and with great determination in her earn features. « Again the words grated on the ear of the de- tective. Yet he had heard many a woman use the slang of the streets before. The quick eyes of the girl detected the look of sy) ene upon the officer’s face. “There it is again!” she cried, in an injured tone. ‘What have I done? I know that I either said or done something wrong, ’cos you wouldn’t look that way if I hadn’t made you feel bad. What is it?” “Well, nothing particular,” replied Peters, slowly; and in his own mind he instantly de- cided that the Bowery Girl was one of the strangest characters that he had ever met with in all his life. “Yes, there is!” said«the girl, aggrieved. **Tt’s real mean that you won’t tell a feller.” And Peters detected a tear scents in the dark eye of the girl—tears in the eyes that had only flashed lightning at the Italian’s threat. “Well, if you must know: why do you use those rough words?” ‘What words?” - Ys that slang; ‘you bet,’ and ‘not much? The girl looked at the er in wonder. ‘* Everybody says ’em,” she replied. “But it isn’t right for a girl—a lady, to use = words; it may be all right for men and ys. “Isn't it nice?” the girl asked, wonder in her | pe are eyes. ‘ YO. “Tl never say ’em no more!” Lill exclaimed, with great determination. more that ain’t right, jest you stop me and tell | me of it, and I won’t do it.’ _ ell, that’s a bargain, But, to come “Tf I say anything | back | to what we were talking about—the old gentle- man. “JT won't go with him!” said Lill, decidedly. ‘But, what will you do?’ “JT don’t know. Do you think Jocky can make the police compel me to go back to if I don’t want to?” “No; I'll take care of that.” *‘ And the old gentleman can’t make me go with him?’ “Not unless you want to.” , “That’s all right!” Lill exclaimed, with an air of — satisfaction. ‘‘ Then, ru stay with you ‘‘Stay with me!” cried the detective, in utter astonishment. ““Yes—I haven’t got stay with you, ’cos Lik tome.” In the face of the girl Peters read perfect faith and trust. ‘ But, what will you do with me?’ Peters ask- ed, in bewildarssenk. ‘Any thing you want me to. I can wash dishes, and sweep, and clean house. I used to allers clean the saloon for Jocky. “You can take me home to your wife, and I'll tell her how good you’ve been to me, and how I want to pay you for it; and she can teach me jest what she wants me to do.” Peters listened tert while the girl sketched out the new career that opened so bril- liantly before her. He watched the eager face, the beaming eyes, and the full, red lips, rich in their dewy f ess. “But, 1 haven’t got any wife!” Peters ex- claimed. “Oh!” Lill was disappointed. She thought fora moment. ‘‘ Don’t you know any nice lad that you could get for a wife, so she could teac me?” she asked, with a glowing face, as the bright thought came to her. eters was obliged, reluctantly, to confess that he didn’t. Again the girl was silent. The odd, thought- ful look, that made her seem old beyond her years, came back over her face. és Oh, I know!” she cried, suddenly, her face brightening up again; ‘you can give me some money to buy some things, and I can go and sell them on the Bowery, and bring the money to you, as I used to to Jocky.” “But, would you rather do that than go and live with this old gentleman, and have nice clothes, and plenty to eat, and every thing com- fortable?” Peters asked, in some little astonish- = : anybody else; and I'll ) you—you've been good ent. ‘* Yes,” the girl ans-vered, promptly. She did not hesitate an instant in her pe = ‘But, I can’t understand why you should turn away from a life of comfort to one of toil.” ‘*T can’t tell,” the girl said, mag Peters did not stop to consider that, perha’ the reason she could not tell was that she did not wish to—he accepted her words in the other sense—lack of ee “Tm sorry—I thought that the gentleman By this time the Pet! of three had arrived at the office of the of Peters & Henry, on Broadway, just above Broome street. The front room was the office, the back one a ae : “There, Lill, you stay here to-night; we’ll go to a hotel, and come for you in the morning. You can lock yourself in. Good-night.” The Bowery Girl had sweet dreams that night, CHAPTER VIII. THE RECOGNITION. ALGERNON shook his head, dubiously, at the confident words of the ag colonel. “My uncle going to be married? Oh, no—he has no idea of that sort,” the young man said. The colonel stroked his mustache, thought- fully. “Wot to be married, eh? Well, I cgnfess, then, that my wits are at fault. But oo say an “te will not inherit your uncle’s pro- y “ Exactly.” : “Has another relative appeared—one nearer | than yourself?’ “Veg: now you have guessed it.” “But, [have often heard you say—that is, if my memory serves me right—that you were only relative that your uncle has,”
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The Two Detectives. “So I’ve always thought, until I was in- formed by the old gentleman, an hour or so ago, that I might expect to see his daughter very soon.” : ‘“His daughter!” exclaimed the colonel, evi- dently in great amazement. ; “ Yes,” replied Algernon, somewhat astonish- ed at the colonel’s manner. A strange look was on the face of the South- erner—a look which puzzled the young man. He could not understand what possible interest, except that dictated by friendship, the colonel oui have in his words. “You look surprised, colonel,” Algernon said. ‘“Oh, no—not particularly; only, as I have often heard you say that you were the only re- lative of your uncle, the sudden appearance of a bens. ge astonishes me a little,” the colonel repli Ett astonishes me a po deal. Why, you could have knocked me down with a feather.” “Then, this daughter is to inherit all your uncle’s property?” “ Yes. ” The colonel caressed his long mustache in an absent manner. The lines upon his face told that he was deep in thought. . E ‘* It’s an awful look-out for a fellow, isn’t it?” asked the young man, mournfully. “Yes; id is not pleasant to lose even the pros- pect of a fortune; but, never say die—never give up the race till the winner’s past the post!” cried the colonel, cheerfully. ‘“ What do you advise me to do?” : “Well, this daughter is, probably, quite a oung lady. Why not try to captivate her? tare her, and thus get back the fortune that her coming has taken from you.” rnon shook his head. ‘*Won’t do, eh?’ the colonel questioned. “No. In the first place, uncle might object to the match; in the second ‘erm the girl might not be pleased with me; and, in the third place, I am already engaged to be married.” ‘The deuce you are!” exclaimed the colonel, in amazement. ‘‘ Who is the lady?” ‘Miss Blake, my uncle’s ho per.” “What! some siren, older than bh who has entrapped you into an engage- men ““No—nothing of the sort!” replied Algernon, coloring be Ba he spoke. ‘The lady is younger than m —a mere girl. Her mother was my uncle’s housekeeper, and when she died, Dorothy —that’s her name—took her mother’s place.” ‘*Ts she pretty?” “ An angel!” “ Ah, yes,” said the colonel, dryly; ‘the girls that young men fall in love with are always pe But, do you really intend to marry this girl? “ Yes.” “Ts she worth anything?” “On the pee eT, uncle has forbid me to think of Miss B t was only at our last interview hé warned me that there must be no love nonsense between us,” Algernon said, in a dismal tone. ‘Til luck at all “Yes. The fu for me.” ‘ “Don’t despair—the darkest hour is always before the dawn. An old saying, but an ex- tremely true one!” exclaimed the colonel, con- solingly. ss ave you any advice to offer?” asked Alger- non, neg ty little encouraged by the cheering manner of his friend. “T can give you some information,” the col- onel replied, meaningly. “‘ Information about what?’ asked the young man, in wonder, “ About your uncle’s daughter.” “* Well, what can you possibly know about it?” exclaimed Algernon, astonished. “More than you think,” the with a knowing smile, “I years ag hid You did?” : “ Yes,” replied the Southerner, quietly enjoy- ing the young man’s astonishment. 3 . . But Inever heard you say anything about “Very likely,” the colonel said, yrs “Ty never thought it to mention ae it it is the truth. Your uncle and I were quite inti- mate years ago. And now for the information. ints of the compass!” et doesn’t look very bright colonel replied, w your uncle . In the first place, I am almost certain that your uncle was never married.” “But this daughter?’ exclaimed the young man in astonishment. ** A mystery which I will solve before long.” ‘* But still, if he makes her his heir, it doesn’t matter whether she is his daughter or not. His wealth will go to her.” ‘“Very true. At present it is of course im- ible to decide upon any plan of action. The Senehier must come. We must see her—I sa ‘we,’ for I assure you that, for pure friendship’s sake, [feel deeply interested in this affair,” the colonel said, blandly. ‘‘ Well, as I said, we must see the daughter—see what she is like, and then decide what must be done.” “Colonel, to be frank with you, I must have some of my uncle’s wealth!” Algernon exclaimed, ina ney, emphatic tone for one of his weak nature. “If the girl is really his daughter, then, of course, she has a better claim to it than I; but if she is a stranger not connected by the ties of blood, why, then, she robs me of my rightful inheritance.’ ‘* Exactly, my dear boy!” exclaimed the colo- nel, decidedly. ‘‘In my opinion you are fully justified in using any and all means to prevent the consummation of this foul wrong; and I feel that, bound as I am by the ties of friendship, I am justified in aiding you to the extent of my wer,” and he leaned back in his chair, and ooked dignified. “Colonel, you shall have a fair share of the property if you succeed in getting it for me!” Al- gernon said. ‘Don’t speak of the filthy lucre!” the Southern- er exclaimed, loftily. ‘‘ We settle as to terms hereafter. The first thing is to see what the daughter is like.” ‘** When she arrives, I’ll arrange it so that you shall see her,” rnon said. “Yes,” and the colonel rose to his feet. ee = I suggest a promenade down Broad- way?’ ON ot at present,” Algernon replied, in a slight confusion that did not escape the vigilant eyes of the colonel. ‘** Another en ent, eh?” “T—I was talking with Miss Blake when you came, and I promised her that I would return to her as soon as you were gone.” Bs spoony, my dear boy, eh? Well, we all have a touch of it sooner or later in our lives. It’s deuced awkward for you just now, I’m afraid; but time will tell.” re one accompanied the colonel down to the oe As they kegs AD the em rung. e young man open edoor. Pe the desactiie. and Lill, the Bowery Girl, now neatly in a plain dark suit, were stand- ing on the step. ‘Mr. Olikoff in?” the detective asked. “Yes, sir,” Algernon replied, darting a glance at the colonel, as if to call his attention the girl. ‘‘ John ”—Algernon addressed the servant who was just approaching—“ show this gentle- a y into the parlor, and call Mr. Oll- off.” The servant obeyed the order. Hardly had the three entered the parlor, when | the young man turned eagerly to the colonel. - ou see her?’ he asked, but then — in asto ent as he caught t of the of his friend. It wasas white as a sheet, we) eH drops of perspiration stood like waxen upon his forehead. The usually cool and smiling colonel was strapgely excited. “Yes, yes; I saw her,” the colonel murmured. ‘**Why, what is the matter, colonel? You are as white as a sheet.” ‘Am I?’ The Southerner made a feeble at- tempt at a smile. Yes; are you ill?” “Oh, no; a sudden faintness, that’s all.” The colonel took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the drops of perspiration from his forehead. “T shouldn’t be surprised if that girl was the expected daughter of my uncle,” Algernon said, in a tone of conviction. ‘* Perhaps so,” the other replied, absently. “She’s pretty; did you notice what splendid dark eyes she has?” “Eyest—oh, yes!” The colonel was answer- ing eamanina 6 ‘ What on earth is the matter with you, col- onel?” exclaimed the young man, in astonish- 7 SE | the daughter or not; but, if she is, you give me a note for five thousand dollars, payable when you come into your uncle’s property, and I'll agree to remove this girl from your way.” ‘You wouldn’t attempt any violence?’ “My dear boy, Iam a gentleman, I trust. I shall use only the strong arm of the law. Is it a bargain?” “Yes.” The compact was made, CHAPTER IX. LILL’S PROTECTOR. THE detective and Lill were shown into the parlor by the servant, who then went in quest of Mr. Ollkoff. Lill looked around her in astonishment. Nev- = in all her 7 uaa sg seen such jn gy urniture, such splendid paintings, such evi- dences of wealth and 1 2 ‘ Peters, with a quiet e upon his shrew face, watched the girl as her eyes wandered in wonder around the room. “Well, Lill, this isn’t much, like the Bowery, is it?’ he asked. “Not much, you—oh! I forgot!” and the girl ut her han er mouth in great confusion. Pp t her hand to h th t conf ‘I forgot that I said that I wouldn’t say those words any more. It’s hard work to remember, but I will, though.” Peters laughed at the frank confession. ‘**But what do you think of this place?” ‘Oh! it’s beautiful!” the girl replied, an earn- est expression upon her face. ‘I used to dream of just such a place as this, often, when I’ve gone tosleep in a doorway. But Inever thought hat there was any such nice p in New York; it seems like fairy-land.” “This is dead earnest?” “Yes; I’ve often wondered when I’ve seen the ladies riding in their carrisgey, all dressed up in silks and velvet, what kind of places they had to live in, and whether they eat off of gold and silver dishes or not. But it always seemed to me as if they belonged to a different world from the one I lived in. The entrance of Mr. Olikoff put an end to the speech of the girl. Peters rose and introduced Lill. was a e. look upon the face of the old merchant as he looked upon the girl—a iar light in his eye that few in this world ad ever seen there before. Long and earnestly he looked upon the girl. ‘*Do you remember me?” he asked. ‘Yes, sir,” she replied, ‘ “‘How would you like to come here and live with me—be my daughter!” he said, his voice kind and gentle. “Tf he wants me to,” Lill replied, looking at the detective. Olikoff turned to Peters, in astonishment, at the abrupt sentence, ‘* You see, sir, this young lady looks upon me as a sort of protector,” Peters explained. “I came into the saloon, which has been her home, at quite a critical time last night, Tworoughs were about to assault her. Y sudden . ance saved her from them and she has taken it into her head to consider herself a sort of a ward of mine. I have explained to her, as well as I could with the slight know] I , what your intentions are, and she is perfectly willing to do as I say.” “Yes; if he says I must stop, I will,” said y: “‘T understand,” the merchant said. “I take a very strong interest in you, my girl. You do not seem like a stranger to me, because you are the perfect image of one whom I knew a very long time ago. That one I am sure was your mother.” ** What was her name?” asked Lill, suddenly, cc Louise. ” ‘* That was my mother’s name!” cried the girl, “‘T know, ’cos Jocky’s wife told me so, once, ** Jocky?’ questioned Ollkoff. Peters explained who Jocky a and gaye the merchant a brief account of the life that the girl was leading when he had found her. ‘“‘Tt is as I thought; you are her child. Your mother was a very dear friend of mine, and for her sake, I wish to have the right to take care of you for the future. What do you say? Do you think that you could be happy here with me?” “ Ask him,” Lill replied, | spe’ to the de- “THI do any thing he says.” tective. “She has great faith in you,” Ollkoff said to ment. , ‘Oh, nothing,” and with a great effort, the | Peters, smiling. Southerner roused himself from his abstraction. “So you think that young lady is the one who is going to take your uncle’s fortune away?’ es. “Well, of course I can’t say whether she is ‘Oh, yes,” the detective replied, rather em- barrassed by the strong partiality evinced by the girl. 52 Mr. Peters, I must apply to you.” “Pm perfectly willing, sir. Py aisvedy told
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8 Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. eee eee Miss Lillian—that’s her name, sir—that you will take good care of her.” “Then, if this gentleman is willing, you are?” the merchant asked, addressing Lill. “Yes, sir,” Lill replied, slowly; ‘‘ but, sir, if I come to live with you, I won’t see this gentle- man any more, will 1?’ And there was an anxious look upon the girl’s face as she put the question. “Certainly you will,” Ollkoff replied; “he can call to see you whenever you wish him to.” “* You see, sir, he’s the only friend I’ve got in the world, and I’ve only just got him, and I don’t want to go back on him so soon,” Lill said, earnestly. And as she looked at Peters’ face, she saw the smile there that her odd expression had called forth. ‘“There!” she cried, pices) “T’ve gone and said eae bese crag ought to. ot a-tryin me, sir, how speak properly, but, I’m such a stupid head, Pll never learn.” i = i | aa ny . y ie ! **Good-by,” she murmured; “‘ don’t you forget me; I shan’t forget you. I'll try very hard to be a good girl, and remember what you told me about saying those ugly words.” Theti she - renin carefully around her, as if seeking to iscover whether they were observed or not, But no one was in sight. Ollkoff had discreetl remained in the parlor. Peters noticed the loo and wondered at it. **'You won’t be angry?’ she asked, slowly, with downcast eyes. An at what?’ exclaimed the detective, in astonishment. Again the girl glanced around her; then, timidly, she came close to the detective, put her lump arms around his neck and held up her ips. The detective laughed and kissed the little mouth. her chee “You ‘ed child!” he said, caressingly patting “PLL GIVE YOU JUST ONE MINUTE TO GET AWAY FROM THAT Lill’s tone was one of thorough despair. Oll- a laughed. The innocence of the girl pleased “Oh, Sat will learn in time, my dear; you mustn’t be impatient. And, as this gentleman has commenced to teach you, suppose we ar- range to have him come here two or three times a week, and so continue his lessons?” gs eyes of Lill sparkled with delight at the i ea. ‘Will that please you?” Ollkoff asked, though he plainly perceived the joy of the gir) in her face ‘Oh, yes, sir! ever so much!” she exclaimed. it was arranged that every Wednesday and Saturday the detective was to call and spend the afternoon with Lill. Peters then took his departure, much to the regret of the girl, whose dark eyes filled with tears as she shook hands with him in the hall. ‘You are the only friend that I have ever had, and if you hadn’t kissed me before you went away, I should have felt so bad.” a4 oat again. T’ll come Saturday.” And the next instant the door cl behind the officer. Lill returned to the parlor, and seating her- self by the side of the old merchant at his re- quest, she related to him the simple story of her life. Ollkoff listened attentively. He watched the | face of the girl as she spoke, There was ar | less, vacant expression upon it which did not | escape his attention. Nor was he long in doubt as to the cause of the look. The girl missed her protector. In the presence of Peters she seemed | to be a different being. : Skillfully, Ollkoff turned the conversation, and spoke of the officer. 5 The moment she began to speak of him, and relate how he had rescued her from her persecu- tors, in the underground saloon, her whole man- ner changed. © warm blood flushed her cheeks; her eyes sparkled, and her voice was earnest as she told of the deeds of the man, who was a hero in her eyes. A peculiar look came over the face of the old man. It was not noticed by the girl, whose eyes, fixed on vacancy, saw, in ed the face of the one who had befriended her. “‘Confound it!” the merchant muttered to himself, as the girl finished her story, ‘I see I shall have to adopt the detective officer also. The girl will never be satisfied without him, in this world.” The shrewd guess of the old man was correct. The detective was all the world to the girl whom he had rescued from misery. Leaving the girl to wonder at the splendor that surrounded her, and the old merchant to become more and more interested in the waif DOOR, MY FRIEND.” that he had transplanted from the squalid mis: ery of the streets to the hot-house life of the lor, we will follow the officer, Strange a me were passing through his mind as he slowly descended the steps that led to the sidewalk. The rich perfume of Lill’s warm kiss was yet lingering on his lips; still—in imagination—he felt the soft pressure of the plump, white arms around his neck. Memories of bygone days came back tohim. Again he was a lad, stand- ing in the staid old Vermont village. Again he heard the whirr of the spindles that gave life to the little hamlet. Again he looked in the co. quettish blue eyes of the only girl he had ever loved, and heard her calmly say that all wag over between them. A mist came over the clear, cold eyes of the detective, as he thought of his boyish days— thought how he had once loved—how, despair
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The Two Detectives. 9 —S—OOeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaoaonnn@000@anananann@nnquqummtteeeeeee See ooo he had left the quiet country village, and ne, into the bustle of the ‘ictropolig “Tt’s strange! What brought Debby Stark into my mind?’ he muttered, as he walked along the street, deep in meditation. ‘‘ Debby was a pretty girl, but she wasn’t for me.” Then the detective turned the corner of the street, and, as he did so, he raised his eyes. Across the street he beheld the bootblack, Shkrimpy, gesticulating wildly to him. Peters looked at the oy in astonishment. ‘What does he want, I wonder?’ he ex- “aimed, The boy ran across the street, and approached Peters, with a beaming smile on his dirty face. ‘“‘ How are you, boss? Got somethin’ ‘ticular to tell you,” the boy said, mysteriously. ‘“Spit it out,” Peters replied, laconically. ‘‘T don’t want ’em for to see me a-talkin’ with or they’d chaw my ear right off!” cried ou he boy. NAN iy ‘ | an iH = i; ar i = And thus matters stood in the Ollkoff house- hold. The parlor clock had just chimed ten, when John, the servant, entered the room where the old gentleman sat, deep in the columns of the morning paper, and presenting a card said that the owner, who was waiting at the door, de- sired to see Mr. Ollkoff on particular business. “Col. Roland Peyton,” muttered the old gen- tleman, thought ys he read the name on the card. ‘I don’t know ay such man. Are you sure he wants to see me, John?” “Yes, sir,” replied the servant, “‘and he de- sired me to say that his business was very ur- gent. ** Very well, show him in,” said the merchant. ‘‘T wonder what the deuce he wants with me?” Ollkoff murmured, trying to remember if he had ever heard the name of his visitor before. The servant conducted the visitor into the par lor, then left the room. oA 4 fee RDS ities al sar et Ne ee i do" ans i 5 ae oa ~ HU i de =H | Piss } n gat \ style of the stranger’s speech he anticipated an attack upon his pocket-book. “ Allow me to introduce myself,” continued the colonel, with a ful wave of his hand; “T am Colonel Roland Peyton, of Virginia, though at present residing in New York.” ‘“‘T beg your pardon, sir,” Ollkoff said, coldly, “but if you have business with me, I must trouble you to proceed to it at once.” “‘Ex-actly !” replied the colonel, with another flourish. ‘I see, my dear sir, you still retain the habits of a man of business, although I be- lieve you have long since retired from the busy re tied gnc i Sl ‘Will you have the ess, Sir’, ain your business without further prefix?” oxi ed the old man, impatiently. ‘Of course!” cried the adicaild. in his oily way. “T trust you will not think for a moment that I desire to infringe one little second longer on your valuable time than is absolutely necessary au Wh nn A STRANGE LOOK WAS ON THE FACE OF THE SOUTHERNER—A LOOK WHICH PUZZLED THE YOUNG MAN, CHAPTER X. BEGINNING THE ATTACK. Lit had been a resident at the Ollkoff man- sion just a week. She had changed greatly dur- ing that time; altered both in looks and man- ners. Few would have recognized in the lady- like girl the street-wanderer. Even the shrewd John Peters wondered at the change. As for the retired, merchant, whose bounty had effected the wonderful alteration, he grew to love the girl more and more. There was a keen common sense, an honesty, inherent in the girl’s nature that was strangely captivating. Lill spoke her mind with a frankness truly re- freshing. The old merchant chuckled a odd speeches. ) he never had met a girl like her before; and Dollie Blake told the young man I Confidence that she couldn’t help liking Lill, although she had tried her best to hate her. her | Algernon wondered at them, for | The Virginian colonel—for old Ollkoff’s visitor was Algernon’s friend, Peyton, in person—ad- vanced with an easy grace and bowed with ex- aggerated politeness to the old gentleman. At a single glance, Ollkoff summed up the visitor. He had encountered many a scheming adventurer in his life, and he understood the breed too well to be deceived. “You wish to see me, sir?” he said, curtly, be rising from his seat or tendering a chair. ___“T presume I have the honor of addressing Mr. Obadiah Ollkoff?” the colonel said, not in the least abashed by his cool reception. “Yes, sir, that is my name,” Ollkoff replied, shortly. | ‘It gives me great pleasure, sir, to meet with 'a gentleman as distinguished in the annals of | trade as yourself.” Ollkoff gave vent to adry cough. From the cuse me if I take a chair.’ ging errand. ; S nk you,” said the colonel, very area Then taking a chair he drew it up near to Oll- koff and sat down in it. Once seated, the nel cast a suspicious glance around him. Oll- koff opened his eyes in astonishment at the strange manner of the other. p “T suppose, sir, that otr interview will be strictly private?” the colonel said, in a tone of | question. 1 | “What do you mean, sir?’ demanded the a a little annoyed at the words of the other. “Walls have ears, you know—the old say- ing,” replied the colonel, mysteriously. ‘“‘ Those to explain my business. | I trust you will ex- Olikoff nodded. He did not think it worth his while to waste words on the man who he felt convinced was some adventurer on a beg- colo-
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, | | | | 10 doors, for instance, lead to a back parlor, I st ¥ EAVell, sir, what if they do?’ cried Ollkoff, bar 7 ME “Oh, nothing,” replied the colonel, carelessly ; “only if. any of your servants or any other members of your household should happen to be in that room,” and here the c>lonel’s manner became very mysterious again, “‘ they might be able to overhear our conversation.” “Tt is not likely, sir, that any one in this house will condescend to play the part of an eavesdropper upon us; but, even if some one by aecident ehould overhear what we have to say, Ican not see what difference it would make.” Ollkoff’s manner was far from being amiable. ~ “To me it wouldn’t make the slightest differ- ence, of course; buf to you it would doubtless be very unpleasant,” the colonel replied. Ollkoff stared at his visitor in astonishment. He detected that there was a hidden meaning, fraught with menace, in the words of his visitor. ne Uapleaneenk to me?’ the merchant said, slow- Vie Of course!” the colonel exclaimed, a look of surprise upon hisface. ‘‘Oh! I forgot! how stu- pid Iam!” and the colonel tapped his forehead with his fingers. ‘‘ You don’t know what I’m going to say to you. Of course not! how could you?” And the adventurer smiled beamingly in the face of the merchant. ‘For the last time, sir, mays request that poe will have the goodness explain your usiness?”’ cried the merchant, petulantly. “Of course—certainly!” and with another beaming smile, the colonel adjusted the double eyeglasses upon his nose. ‘In the first place you will have the kindness to answer me one question?” “That depends altogether upon what that uestion is,” replied Ollkoff, 7 . AR! and the colonel Bet hs his head in a knowing manner; ‘‘T see —," dear sir, that you have not forgotten the leg: experience which long years of business has instilled into your na- ture. You do not commit yourself . See how different I am; a soldier, 1 only know enough about law to teach me to keep away from it all I can.” “Will you explain our business, sir?’ ex- claimed Ollkoff, i g to lose his temper. the first place, the question: You have a yo = x house who answers to the name o i Olikoff started in amazement, and stared in the smiling face of the colonel. The blow was an unexpected one. He felt that it was the commencement of an attack. The keen eye of the colonel noted the confusion of the merchant. With an effort, Ollkoff recovered his composure. “Well, sir, I don’t know that you have any right to ask such a question!” the merchant ex- claimed, in a tone of anger. ‘Ah! and Shag decline to answer it?” the colo- nel said, coolly. os the question an impertinent one, and I question your right, sir, to question me, re- ding the inmates of my house!” cried Oll- off, defiantly. “Let me see!” said the colonel, thoughtfully ; ‘“‘ ‘when you have no case, bully the opponent’s lawyer.’ That’s something like the good old le- al advice, isn’t it? And that’s what you are Erving to do in this instance, but, my very dear sir, it won’t work. Iam a man of the world, and one not easily bullied. To use the ms that sort of thing is ‘played out’ with me. It is useless for you to attempt to evade or deny the fact. You have in this house a young girl named Lillian.” “Well, what if I have?” demanded Ollkoff, indi, tly. “Do you know the history of this girl?” asked the colonel quietly, and as he spoke, he bent forward and fixed his eyes full on the face of the merchant. Olikoff’s face flushed for a moment and the muscles of his mouth contracted. Then, with a great effort to appear calm, he spoke. “T decline, sir, to answer your questions, and if you have no other business with me, the quicker you end this interview the better.” “Oh, Pve got a great deal to say yet,” re- plied the colonel, coolly. ‘* You see, I thought it proper before if explained my business, to, in a@ measure, —- you for it; the same as ina hattle, you know, we fight on_the skirmish line Lefore we attack in masses. If you don’t know the history of this young girl, I propose to relate it to you.” “You know it?’ cried Olkoff, in wonder. “Oh, yes,” replied the colonel, in his usual cool way; ‘a man who travels round the world, and hooks his eyes o n, sees many strange things. understand that you intend to adopt this girl.” “Who told you that?’ demanded Ollkoff, gruffly. : “‘ Suppose, now, I should reply as you did, but a moment ago, and say that I decline to answer your question?’ asked the adventurer, with a sarcastic smile. ‘Enough, sir; you need not reply!” cried Oll- koff. “ But, you have been rightly informed, sir; I do intend to adopt the girl.” ‘**Man proposes, fate disposes,’” said the colonel, with a smile full of meaning. “What do you mean, sir?’ Ollkoff’s anger was again rising. d “Just what 5 said. You jee to adopt this girl known as Lillian; fate disposes that you shall not do anything of the sort. Olikoff began to believe that he was talking with a madman. “T tell you again, sir, that I intend to adopt the girl!” he said, angrily. ** And I tell you that, if a certain person ob- jects, you won't do anything of the sort,” replied the colonel. ** And who is that person?’ asked Ollkoff, in wonder. ‘Her father!” replied the colonel, triumph in his voice, CHAPTER XI. THE PROPOSAL. ‘Her father!” ejaculated the old man, in ut- ter astonishment. “ Yes—her—father,” replied Peyton, coolly and. bt Ms was plain that he was en- joyi is triumph. He is not living!” cried Ollkoff. “Oh, yes, he is; you see, my means of infor- mation are much better than yours.” “ Hark ye, sir, I do not believe that you know an. about the girl at all.” How incredulous you are!” exclaimed the colonel, in a tone wherein wonder and sarcasm were strangely blended. “TI have already told you that I gp se to relate to you the history of this girl, and, now, you deliberately tell me that ie do not believe that I know anything about it at all. To convince you that you are wrong in your surmise, I will relate to you a short story. Eighteen years ago, in the employ of a ce firm in this city of New York, were two clerks; one named Obadiah Ollkoff, the other Harry Belford.” The merchant started at the name, and looked searchingly into the face of the other, but the colonel bore the scrutiny without flinch- ing. 3 Oh, you needn’t look at me!” cried Peyton; he had guessed the thought of the other. “You por’ see the features of Harry Belford in my ace.” He was right, for Ollkoff could not detect the slightest resemblance to the man who had once n his fellow-clerk. “The two men—to continue my story—were chums, although their habits and di itions were as unlike as day and night. Belford was a free-hearted, dashing gprs me nothing of the Puritan about him, while Ollkof€ was sober and reserved, ‘the parson,’ as he was commonly called. You'll excuse my personal allusion; the man who relates history must speak without fear or favor!” exclaimed the colonel, grand-eloquently. ; “Go on, sir, and be as brief as possible!” said the merchant coldly. “Certainly; these two men, fellow clerks, fell in love with the same woman, a black- haired, black-eyed beauty, named Louise Car- man, The speaker paused after he pronounced the name, as if to note the effect of it upon Ollkoff. He was playing with him as the cat plays with the mouse. But, except that the face of the merchant was a shade paler, he betrayed no sign of emotion. ‘Of course a man of your keenness would in- stantly guess, even if you did not know—as you do—the facts in the case, that the lady prefer- red the and dashing Harry Belford to the sober-minded Ollkoff. lford wooed and won the lady. Two years only he enjoyed his bride; then the storm of misfortune came thick about him. His wife deserted him, carrying with her the baby-girl that Heaven had sent to bless his home. From that day to this he has never seen his wife; but, at last, fate has proved kind to him, and he has found his ebild.” ‘**T do not understand,” said Ollkoff, slowly. “Because you do not wish to understand. This girl, i is the daughter of Louise Bel- ford, Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. “You cannot prove that!” “Do you want me to ahaa I can or not?” asked the colonel, quickly, Ollkoff did not reply. __ “Tn the first place, the girl is the living es of her mother. That resemblance betrayed the secret to you. You loved the mother; lost her; but now you have obtained possession of her child. I think that it is extremely probable that the same hand that took the mother from you will also take the daughter.” ‘You are speaking of the man once known as Belford.” ‘Exactly. I understand what you mean by ‘once known.’ You are insinuating that he is no longer known by that name.” “To use your own word, ‘exactly!’” replied Ollkoff, dryly. “A criminal from justice— gambler—forger—rascal of all grades; it is not Be) Spy he dares to bear his own tame.” “ 6; in the wildness of youth, he may have committed some foolish acts, that, for a while, necessitated his speedy departure for a foreign clime; but, that was years ago. Time brings forgetfulness, It is extremely probable that he cou walk the streets of New York to-day as Harry Belford without endangering his personal liberty in the least.” “ ell?” “ Well!” cried the colonél, in affected amaze- ment. ‘‘ You k in a tone of question. Don’t you understand? This girl, Lillian, whom fea propose to adopt as your daughter, is the child of your former companion, Belford. Belford is still alive: isin New York to-day; he has seen his child; the holy feelings of paternal love swell in his breast, and he has made up his mind to have the girl Lillian.” Full of menace was the tone of the colonel. “Give the girl up to his tender mercies? Never!” cried Olkoff, impetuously. “Then he appeals to the law. What power can tear a Sis freon its parent?” ‘“‘His bad character—his vile associates—” “T beg your pardon,” interrupted Peyton uickly; ‘‘ you are speaking of the past, not of the fu . Suppose they put you on the wit- ness stand, what can you tell of Harry Belford pa Bd The chances are ten to one that you wpuldn’t know him if you met him in the street. ou can say that, sixteen years ago, he fled from New York, escape a prosecution for forgery; but, since that time, what do you know of him? Can you say aught good or bad? No! What his life has been since that time, you cannot even guess. His record may be as black as ink, or as white as snow.” “You have come here, then, I suppose, as an 7 we of this man, to demand this girl?” said Olikoff, thoughtfully. ‘That is my errand.” “ And if I refuse to give her up?” - “Then the father call upon the courts of law to do him justice.” “Be it so. 1 will never resign the girl to his Olikoff, firmly: “Now I think of it, there may be a way in which this matter may be arranged,” the colonel said, caressing his glossy side-whiskers, with a thoughtful air. “* Indeed—how ?” “Of course, when Mr. Belford discovered that his daughter was in your care, his ancient foe, he naturally felt angry. He was for taking the girl away from you at once, without warn- ing; but, yielding to my counsel, he consented to abe to reason. Mr. ord is not rich; you are—” “T understand!” ‘cried Ollkoff, scornfully. “This father, whose feelings are outraged be- cause the child—for whom he has never pro- vided—is in my hands, is yet willing to sell her to me!” Peyto . : “Exactly,” replied Peyton, coolly; ‘you have hit @scrle t nail on the ee EE Ae leasure to do business with such a thorough usiness man as you are,” “IT begin to perceive that Mr. Harry Belford is as big a scoundrel as ever,” Ollkoff said, dis- dainfu y: “Oh, don’t call names. In justice to my prin- cipal, I shall have to put them in the pill The more abuse, the more money it will cost you,” and the colonel laughed, quietly. & “In fact, taking advan of my love for this poor girl, you are going to use her to wring money out of me?’ y “That’s the idea. As I said before, you are rich—able to pay for your luxuries, We—Mr. Harry Belford and myself—intend that you shall pay for this one,” said the colonel, coolly. “We strike oil in you.” ‘* How much?”
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SS EE La SAaSaaeaaashoseseessmesseesoeomeenecad ‘“* Ah!” and Peyton rubbed his hands together, leefully; ‘‘ that’s business. Five thousand dol- ” ‘‘ Five thousand?” : ‘Yes. For that sum the father will sign the 1 over to you. It’s cheap. _ Consider the acerated feelings of a father’s heart—parting with his only child. ’Pon my soul! if I were in Belford’s place, I shouldn’t let you off under ten thousand.” ¢ ‘Have you calculated the difficulty that your principal may have in establishing his claim to the girl?” asked Ollkoff, . “Oh, yes; we have calculated everything,” replied Peyton, confidently. ‘You are not dealing with chickens, but with two tough old roosters. We've traveled some—seen the world —Inow the points—how to play ’em; and, bet- ter still, we’re not afraid of our game, for we know we hold the winning hand.” ‘‘ Suppose I refuse to accede to your demand and you-beat me at law, and thus take the gir from me, what will you do with her?’ ‘Make her support the parent, who is getting old and lazy, and doesn’t feel like supporting himself any longer, She’s young and pretty, tough and strong. If she takes after her mother, she’s got a good ear for music. Why, they give large salaries in the music-halls for pretty girls who can sing.” “‘And her brute of a father would doom her to such a life?” cried Ollkoff, in indignation, ““ Any thing to make money out of her,” re- plied the colonel, coarsely. ‘‘If you don’t want er to go to ruin, you had better give our price. Plank down five thousand dollars, and we'll never trouble you again.” “ How long will kre give me to think over this matter?’ asked the old man, thoughtfully. “Just four-and-twenty hours,” replied Pey- ton. ‘Of course, you will not eae > any un- derhand work between now and then?’ “No, sir!” said Ollkoff, quickly. “Tt wouldn’t do you much good to attempt it, because you’ve got keen hounds on the scent, and they’d run you to earth in no time, double as you may.” ‘Threats are useless, sir; I have given you my word,” replied the old man, slowly. ‘Now that we have come to an understand- ing, I will take my departure,” said the colonel, rising. ‘I trust that you will see the wisdom of submitting to our modest demand, ’Tisn’t every father that would sell his only daughter for five thousand dollars. It’s dirt cheap. At this hour to-morrow, I shall have the honor of calling upon you — By the way, have the five thousand in bills—no check; great trouble to cash them sometimes, and, once in a while, they conceal a trap. Good-morning.” Bowing gracefully, the colonel departed. CHAPTER XII. THE DETECTIVE’S COUNSEL. Wir a smiling face, and a self-satisfied look in his crafty eyes, the adventurer descended in- to the street. He twirled the little cane around in his fingers as usual, and marched down the street with head erect. He scented triumph in ie air. “ Aha! Ishall get that five thousand!” he mut- tered. ‘It is a deuced sight better to finger the cash now than to wait and depend upon young Algernon. The chances are fon to one inst his ever getting the old man’s estate. No, no, I have managed it far better. Mr. Harry Delford ought to Le satisfied with the very able r-anner in which I have carried the affair through. I came near losing my temper once, though; and if that had happened, the fat would ‘have been in the fire. This cursed hot temper of mine has worked me evil enough already. It’s about time that I got it under. Let me get this money, and hard fortune and I will part com- y for awhile. This is the most pleasant pros- pect that Ive had presented to my view for many » long day.” The colonel swaggered along with a far bright- ¢ mune on his wan features than they usually showed. To judge from his face, Colonel Roland Pey- ton had scen some pretty hard times in his life. Ollkoff, after the departure of his visitor, sat for some time in deep thought. The blow that had fallen upon him had been totally unexpect- ed. By accident he had met Lill in the street, saw the wonderful resemblance that she bore to the only woman he had ever loved, and guessed that she was the child of that woman. Actin- on the thought, he had dispatched the detective in quest of the girl, And now, as he thought over the past, the shrewd detective, Peters, came into his mind. ; “The very man!” he cried, emphatically. The Two Detectives. ‘He can advise me in this matter if any one ean. I'll send for him at once.” The old gentleman wrote a note to the detec- tive, and dispatched the servant with it. “There; when he comes, I will lay the whole matter before him. He is a shrewd fellow; used, too, to dealing with these rascals; his ad- vice will be valuable.” Ollkoff waited with impatience until Peters arrived. The detective was shown into the lor—the servant had luckily found Peters at home—and the old merchant proceeded at once to relate the whole particulars of his interview with the entleman who had called himself Colonel Ro- and Peyton. Peters listened attentively. “What do you think of it?’ Ollkoff asked, anxiously, after he had finished. “ An ugly case,” replied the detective, with a shake of the head. “Do you really think so?” Ollkoff questioned, in alarm. ‘‘ Yes, if this fellow has spoken the truth.” “Oh, there’s no doubt but what the girl is the Say of the man that he represents— y Bel- ord, ** Ah, but there’s the point!” exclaimed the detective; ‘‘ does he represent this man? How can you tell that this isn’t a clever device to swindle you out of five thousand dollars? This colonel—about as much of a colonel as I am—is evidently one of these.clever ‘ confidence men ’— a genteel swindler. You see, he has presented no ; reas that the man he pretends to represent is alive.” an That’s very true,” said Olikoff, thought- “Tf the father is alive, why should he employ this man to act as a go-between? He’ll have to pay him for his services, of course.” ‘That is very reasonable; I wonder that I did not think of that myself.” ‘‘ Well, you’re not used to dealing with these slippery gentlemen. Bless you! they are worse than an eel; Fe must sand your d before you can hold them.” ‘‘ What is your idea of this affair?” ‘‘Simply this: by some means this fellow has become possessed of the girl’s history. He comes to you, representing himself as acting for the girl’s father; his game is to frighten you into buying him off, by the threat of taking the girl away.” ‘*¢* And suppose I defied his power?” “Tt is extremely probable that you would never see or hear of him again. That’s one t ee “Oh, there’s another side to the question, then?” “Of course; and that is, that this man has spoken nothing but the truth—that he is the agent of the father; that the father is living, and will attempt to take the girl away from you, if you refuse to accede to his demand. ou see, sir, to make a successful defense we must prepare for him on both points: first, that he is acting without authority; second, that he is sommetinna of full power to act in the prem- “Yes, I see,” Ollkoff felt convinced that he had acted wisely in calling in the aid of the de- tective. ‘‘ But evenif the father appears, can he take the girl?’ “Yes, sir, I think he can; the law will give her to him. I think I have got all the points in the case. The wife dese the husband, car- rying the girl, then an infant, with her?” ‘Yes; she fled to avoid his brutal treatment.” “That doesn’t make any difference; besides, it will be a difficult thing to prove after all these years. He did not desert the child; there’s the or ge After the wife had gone, the husband ed to escape the consequences of a forgery that he had committed.” “That is correct.” ‘Was this forgery business brought to trial?” ‘No; the criminal had fled; the made no efforts to me him, and so the affair never came into the courts.” “Well, now, Mr. Olikoff, our case is as fol- lows: if we act on the assumption that this fel- low is a fraud from beginning to end, we will simply laugh at him and his threats, and threat- en his arrest as a blackmailer. But, if we act on the other belief that he really is the agent of the girl’s father, and has this Belford ready to come forward and claim her, we have Swo modes of defense: first, rake up the old fozgery charge and threaten him with it; sécond, <liscover, if possible, if some other serious crime isn’t attach- ed to his skirts.” “But that will be very difficult!” . “Oh, yes; but not impossible,” replied the 11 officer, in a confident tone.. ‘' From what you have be me of the ue I have - idea = is not one disposed ive by honesty, C) easy paths of rascality lie open to him. We must gain time; bg ee given four-and- twenty hours; we will take a few more than that =, rai ae. wend a decided advan- tage; the girl is in our hands; possession, you know, is ‘Sine points of the law—a good old legal maxim. The first move we take is to place the girl in some secure retreat.” “But I gave the fellow my word that I wouldn’t use any underhand means between now and to-morrow.” The detective made a comic gesture of de- spair. ej dear Mr. Olikoff, if this fellow had agreed to run you a race for five thousand dol- lars and then requested you to tie up one le egg you started, wouldn’t you have objec it “Why, yes, of course.” “That is precisely what you have done b giving him such a promise. Underhand means!” exclaimed Peters, with an accent of contempt in his voice: ‘‘ why this fellow would use any means to beat og out of yourmoney. Hedon’t want the girl; e wants your five thousand dol- lars. Don’t you be alarmed; evenif the father be living, he won’t bring the affair into a court of justice, except as the resource, He may threaten, but he won’t do it until he discovers that you are firm in your determination not to pay the money. But since you have given your word, all right; let Lill stay here until to-mor- row; that will clear your conscience, I will be present at the interview between yourself and this Colonel Peyton. Ill hide in a closet or in the back lor, where I can hear every thing without his suspecting the presence of a witness. Perhaps I know the bird; these fellows, you know, have as many names as they have fingers and toes—a new one for every day in the week. If he should happen to be an old acquaintance, I may be able to spring a mine upon him that will upset his calculations.” ‘“My dear Mr. Peters, I leave everything in our !” the old merchant exclaimed, “Tl do the best I can to beat ’em, sir, and I haven’t much doubt that we'll come out ahead. But touching this forgery business, do you tage the forged paper is still in exist- ence “That is doubtful; the affair happened a long time ago; still, it is just possible that it may exist. The junior member of the firm is ill living, Mr. William N. Grainger. He re- sides at Stamford. He has quite a place there; any one in the village can tell you where it is.” ‘Tll take a run out there at once,” Peters said, decidedly. ‘‘If we can only hold that forgery over his head the e’s ours; that is if the father is living: if he isn’t, I shall have very little trouble with this colonel.” With this assurance, Peters departed, leaving the old gentleman quite easy in his mind. ‘Sharp as a steel-trap!” exclaimed Ollkoff, in admiration. He referred tothe detective. The merchant did not say a word to Lillian regarding the matter that so nearly concerned her welfare. He thought that the knowledge of the conflict that was about to take place as to may quacilinnchss , had better be kept from her. airs passed on as usual that day in the OU- koff mansion. No one could have guessed from the manner of the old man that anything un- usual had taken place. The household retired to rest early, as was their usual custom. But when, in the morning, the family gathered around the breakfast-table, one was missing. That one was Lillian! The old gentleman wondered at her delay, and sent a servant to call her, thinking that she had overslept herself. The servant returned with the astonishing news that the young girl was not in her room, and that her bed had not been slept in the pre- vious night. es An instant examination confirmed the truth of her words. Olikoff understood what had occurred at once; Lillian had been abducted. The mer- chant guessed the hand that had dealt so ter- rible a blow. CHAPTER XIII. THE DETECTIVE’S RUSE. | CONSTERNATION reigned supreme in the Oll- koff mansion. The mysterious disappearance of illian astonished all the hov~ shold. ‘1 ne old gentleman cross-examined the servants but gained no information. illian had retired to rest about ten o’clock as usual, She had bidden her maid good-night,
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Tt 24 ON > =4Evaa ete SSO = Fst BeR ewe © BL LT Se st ht GIRS 12 Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. and closed the door of her chamber behind her. The girl was the last one who had seen Lillian. But her evidence afforded no clew. In utter astonishment, Ollkoff sent at once for the detective officer, Peters. He had grown to have great faith in the keen wits of that gentile- man. Luckily for the merchant, Peters happened to be in his office and so was able to come at once. Just one hour after the girl’s absence had been discovered, the detective officer stood within her room. ietly, and with apparent unconcern, the detective’ cresticouad: the girl who had bidden Lillian g — : The maid told a plain, straight-forward story. She. was coming up-stairs just as Lillian entered her room. Lillian paused a moment, looked to see who it was, said, ‘‘Is that you, ary? the girl answered, ‘‘ Yes;” then Lillian said ‘* Good- night,” entered her room and closed the door behind her. “How was Miss Lillian dressed?’ asked Peters. ; ; : “Tn her house-dress, sir, a merino, wine- color.” ‘¢ Where does Miss Lillian keep the things she wears in the street, shawls, cl and hats?” “Tn that closet, sir,” replied the girl, point- ing to it. ‘You know all the articles of that sort that Miss Lillian had?’ “ Yes. sir.” “ Look and see if anything is missing.” The girl obeyed the order. — It may be as well to mention that the only witness to the conversation between the detec- tive and the girl, was the old merchant. “Oh!” cried the girl, suddenly. : “ Something gone?’ asked Peters, quietly “Yes, sir, a plaid shawl.” ‘‘ What colors?’ “ Black and white.” “Ah! now we're getting at it,” observed the detective, carelessly. ‘‘Mary—I believe your name is Mary, isn’t it, my dear?” ‘Yes, sir. “Did you happen to notice what sort of shoes Miss Lillvan hed on last night?” ‘Yes, sir; her house slippers.” In her own mind the girl set the detective down as being a perfect gentleman. : ‘ ‘Ah! now we are getting at it,” exclaimed Peters, in a sort of self-satisfied tone. ‘‘ Mary, where does Miss Lillian keep her shoes?” “Tn this closet, sir.” “ See if they are all there.” “Yes, sir,” replied the girl, promptly The shoes were right before her eyes; no need of an examination. ““They are all there? none missing?’ Peters ed * No, sir.” “Ah! now we've got it!” and Peters smiled beamingly. ry Tor. have discovered a clew?” asked: Ollkoff, anxiously. ere “Yes, sir; the explanation is a reasonable one. Miss Lillian, after bidding this Joune lad good-night, and closing the door, suddenly $odks e idea into her head that she wanted something; a paper of candy or something of that sort, most probably; so she just slipped the plaid shawl over her head and ran out to get it. On the way to the store, or back, something happened to her; a fainting-fit, perhaps. [ve no doubt that I'll find out all about it at the sta- tion-house.” ; k Olikoff was about to expostulate against this reasoning, but catching Peter’s eye, a knowing wink warned him to be silent. “Oh, yes, of course—very yp omens ” he said. “By the way, Mr. Olikoff, how about that rare book that you wanted toshow me the other day?’ Peters said, carelessly. ; lIkoff understood the detective’s meaning. He wished to speak with him in private. “‘ Certainly—come into the library.” ; Olikoff Ted. the way; Peters followed, while Mary descended into the lower region to tell the servants of the detective’s explanation of Miss Lillian’s mysterious disappearance; and also to sing the praises of that worthy and astute of- “i A perfect gentleman!” Such was the house- maid’s opinion. In the libr: Peters closed the door carefully behind him. The careless expression upon the features of the a tpi passed away and a thoughtful one took i ace. “Well, well?” Ghusticned Olikoff, nervously ; ‘you don’t really believe in this explanation that you have given?” Be i ‘Of course not,” Peters replied; ‘but it is necessary that the girl should believe, and say, that I am satisfied. If certain parties think that I am on a false scent, they won’t be so care- ful to cover up their tracks, as otherwise they might be. . “But, Mr. Peters, pray relieve my suspense!” exclaimed the old gentleman, anxiously; ‘‘ what do you think has become of the girl?” ‘*She-has been carried off,” replied the detec- tive, quietly. His composed manner forming a strange contrast to the nervous excitement of the old gentleman. “ Carried off!” cried Ollkoff, in horror. « “That is precisely what has occurred: Do you remember that I remarked that ssion was nine points of the law? that brilliant idea has also occurred to somebody else. They have put it in practice, too, by carrying off the girl.” ‘* Ah! then you think that this colonel, who retends to represent the girl’s father, is at the fotioes of this rtiteae, ‘That ismy thought exactly; and now, I am more and more me ap with the belief that I had first; that is, that the father does not exist; that this colonel is both agent and principal. After his interview with you he came to the conclusion that you might defy him to do his worst, and knowing that he could not produce the father and thus take the girl away from you, by due process of law, he kidnaps her.” s — it be possible!” exclaimed Ollkoff, in an . ‘** My dear sir, there are stranger crimes com- mi in this world than you read of in the columns of the newspaper. Thefellow is play- ing a game of bluff with you would prove as good a hand at that as him- self. He gets you to make a promise to do nothing underhand ; that is, not to hide the girl away, and in the mean time he coolly steals her himself. Yesterday you had the advantage; to-day he sses it. When he comes to see you he will offer to sell the girl to you for five thousand dollars. By Jove! Mr. Onkof, this colonel is a far more clever rogue than I thought.” ‘* What is to be done?’ a Temporize—promise everything and give nothing,” replied Peters, coolly. “We must meet this fellow at his own game and use his weapons.” ‘* But how in heaven’s name could he manage to carry off the girl? Surely she would not have gone with him of her own free will.” ‘*No,” replied Peters, are “‘the last time I was here, she promised me that she would not leave this house. She gave me her word, and she meant to keep it, sir; no fear of that. She never left this house of her own free will.” ‘“‘T believe it!” cried Ollkoff, emphatically. “Don’t spare money to aid you in diacovetas her, Mr. Peters; call on me for all you want. love the girl as if she were my own child.” “Til find her, sir; don’t fear as to that!” said the detective, with determination. ‘‘ And for a clew, I didn’t discover much up-stairs. The shawl that is missing was probably used by the abductors to wrap around her head, and so con- ceal her face.” “But I should have thought that she would have given an alarm.” ‘*Bless you! they didn’t give her the chance!” exclaimed the detective. ‘‘The fellows were probably concealed in her room; the moment sho entered it, they —— upon her and applied a drug, which stupefied and robbed every day in New York. The doc- tors say it can’t done, but, nevertheless it is done, as the police records show. The parties then wrap the shawl around her head, and carried her out of the house, probably had a carriage in waiting, put her in it, and drove off.” ‘* But I can’t understand how they could dare to attempt so bold an outrage!” said the mer- chant, inamazement. ‘‘ The hour was early; the chance of encountering some one of my eon hold great. How could they tell that we had gone to bed?” ‘‘Simply enough; whoever carried out this abduction had an accomplice inside the house.” ‘“ What!” and Ollkoff started in amazement. ‘Some one inside introduced the ruffians. con assuring himself that everybody had to bed. I had this icion when IT was deeetion= ing the girl; that’s the reason I led her off on a false scent. Of course she will repeat my words | down-stairs among the servants. The one who | has acted in collusion with the abductors will | believe that his part in the affair is not t- ed. He will be off his guard, and the first thing he knows, Ill catch him ene “Mr, Peters, Heaven will surely aid you, for ou; he feared that | her. Men are drugged | The ed the girl; then the inside fell Joctod them from the house, of mone fon rae | the chambermaid, Sarah, the cook + plying you are fighting the battle of the weak against the strong, of the helpless girl against her bold, bad enemies,” said the old man, impressively. ““T trust so, sir,” replied Peters: ‘and now I must see your servants; and without exciting their suspicions as to the object I have in view. ‘* How can it be effected “Tve thought of a way,” replied the detec- tive, his mind ever fertile in ideas. ‘Have you a a eiaran applied to your house?” “No, sir.” ‘You want one, of course, and you ask m advice in regard to the proper places to attac the aforesaid. In order to give you an opinion I must examine the basement-floor. You, o | course, gO with me, and during the examina- tion I shall be enabled to see all the servants.” ‘* A capital idea!” exclaimed the merchant. “It will work,” replied Peters, complacently. “We must take occasion to speak about the alarm, so that the servants will understand what we are after.” ** You think you can detect the one who is in league with the ruffians?”’ ‘Well, I can try,” replied Peters, non-com- mittal in his speech. ‘A man can’t do more, you know.” CHAPTER XIV. AT HIS WIT’S END, OLLKorr and Peters proceeded to the lower part of the house. As they descended the stairs that led to the kitchen-floor, Peters commenced to explain the theory of the burglar-alarm in quite a loud voice. Ollkoff led the way to the kitchen, which was in the back of the house, “You'll excuse our intrusion, Sarah,” the merchant said to the presiding genius of the cu- linary department. ““Oh, yes, sir,” replied the cook, who was a good-looking woman of forty. “Do you think that it had better be applied to the windows here?’ asked Ollkoff. ““Yes, sir, decidedly,” replied the detective who at a glance had taken in all the inmates of the kitchen. There were only three persons be- sides Ollkoff and the officer in the room—Mary, and a lout- ish-looking young man, her son, who attended to the cleaning of the knives, blacking of the boots, and various other little odd jobs about the house. After a careful inspection of the windows, and a full discussion of the advantages of the “alarm,” the detective and the merchant pro- ceeded up-stairs. Olikof€ could hardly conceal the impatience he felt to learn whether the acute professional | had discovered a clew or no. ‘“ Well?’ he asked, anxiously, as he closed the parlor-door behind him. Peters understood the merchant’s meaning. ao succeeded, sir,” he said, with a quiet smile. “You have!” exclaimed Ollkoff, in aston- apa and a smile of delight came over his ace. “Yes, sir; as I expected, in the kitchen de- partment I hit off the scent. Now, in the first place, your cook’s name is Donnehar.” “Yes; that’s the woman I addressed as Sarah.” “Exactly; Michael.” ** What! do you think that he had anything to do with the affair?’ asked the merchant, ut terly astounded. “Yes, sir; Iam almost certain that he is the very identical individual who opened the doorg of your house to the ruffians who carried Misg illian away.” “Why do you think so?” ‘*Do you know anything about the character of this young man?” asked Peters, abruptly, re , “Yankee fashion,” to one question by asking another. “Well—no; I—I vA don’t know anything about his character at all, though I have Enown him for over ten years. His mother has been in my employ for that time. I have had the boy round the house to run errands and do little odd jobs. He seemed to be a little stupid, but I never thought him dishonest.” “You are right, Mr. Ollkoff; he is stupid, but he’s more knave than fool.” ‘You know him, then?” “Yes; I met him once, about two years ago,” replied the detective in his quiet way. ‘Nature has given me one very valuable gift for a man in my line of business; I never forget a face, and very seldom the i where I saw it,” “And where did you see this young man?” ‘* At the Tombs police court. He was sent up and that young man was her son,
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The Two Detectives. to the Island for six months, for being concerned ina robbery. The sentence was alight one; first, on account of his youth, and it being his first offense; and second, as it was proved on his trial that he was merely a tool in the hands of older and more experienced rascals. Thatis ex- actly the part he has played in_ this affair. When a man once gets mixed up with these fel- lows, he doesn’t often get rid of them, even though he tries to lead an honest life. They have a pull on him from the fact that he has been in trouble; as long as they are in the mire themselves, they don’t like to see one of their pals attempt to cheat the hangman.” “ But, how is it possible that this colonel could have come in collusion with Michael?” “‘ Ah, that is difficult to guess,” Peters replied, with a shake of the head. ‘‘ The secret ramifi- cations of crime are hard tofollow. The rascals enerally know one another. Itwas just .cci- pe this time that served the villains so well. By some means this colonel found out that the boy was in the house. The moment that fact was known to him, the rest was easy enough.” “Yes, yes; I see,” said the merchant, thought- fully. tion?” “The moment my eyes lighted on this fellow, I saw the road ahead, plain as the nose on my face,” the detective answered, confidently. “The first thing is to keep an eye on this young man. That I'll leave to my ner; Hank.” “ But, what is the object of that? “Why, don’t you see?” asked Peters, in aston- ishment. *“No, I confess Ido not,” the merchant re- plied. ‘The fact is, Mr. Peters, I haven’t been catching thieves all my life. You have a de- cided advantage of me there.” “Yes, rather. Well, the idea is this: the par- ties who carried off the girl will naturally want to know how much row you make about the af- fair, and what measures you take in the matter. They have instructed this young fellow to keep his eyes and ears open—to see and hear all he can. Then, to-night, he will meet them in some den and tell all that he knows. In possession of this information, they can judge what measures “Have you thought of a course of ac- to take to defeat any = ay on your to discover them or the girl. I’m putting the pro- ou see. babilities, “Yes. I understand now; you watch him that he may lead you to those who employed a “That's the idea exactly,” replied the detec- ve. ‘““Remember, Mr. Peters, money is no object so that you rescue the girl from the hands of these villains!” cried the old man, earnestly. “Tll do my best, sir; never fear! Ill go down-town at once, and arrange with my part- ner to take up the scent. Hank will run Mr. Michael to the earth, unless he’s a deal smarter chap than I take him to be.” Peters moved toward the door, when it open- ed suddenly, and John, the servant, entered witha card. The same gent as came yesterday, sir,” said J ohn, a the card. _ “Colonel Roland Peyton!” the merchant said, in amazement, as he gazed at the pasteboard. For oncd&in_ his life the keen detective looked utterly astonished. “What shall I do?’ asked Ollkoff, ad the detective. The merchant was astounded a’ the visit. ; ‘Why, have him shown in, of course,” Peters replied, instantly. The detective had determin- ed apon a plan of action, immediately. John retired to usher in the colonel. “Tl retire into the other room; the fellow is playing a bold game; we haven’t got any com- mon rascal to deal with here, sir; it will take all eit Wins Set the best of him !” ced Fotats, rapidly, re pee 98 he ke, throu e door that led into the back parlor: : ‘But, what shall I say to this man?” demand- ed Ollkoff, who was completely bewildered. “Hear what he to say first; then sa what you like in reply; it don’t make much dif- ference.” E. that you are enjoying good health this morning,” the colonel said, urbanely. eg at the adventurer = ; he co Y restrain his passion; dared to trust himself to speak. % * As you have forgotten to ask me to be seat- ed, I trust you will excuse me if I take a chair without waiting for an invitation,” and the col- onel sat down. The merchant could hardly choke down his anger. The cool impudence of his visitor as- tounded him. - : ‘* Now then to business; I trust you will par- don any lack of ceremony on my part; busi- ness is business, you know,” Peyton said, comin directly to the point. ‘‘Have you considere the proposition that I made to you yesterday? Are you ready to give me your answer?” - wer, sir!” exclaimed Ollkoff, making a great effort to subdue his rage. “That is precisely what I said,” replied Pey- ton, coolly. ‘‘ Which is it to be, five thousand dollars or the girl?’ “You have the impudence to come here and put that question after what happened last night?” cried the merchant, in anger. e colonel stared in amazement at this out- burst of passion. ‘‘Well, sir, I haven’t the remotest idea to what you are alluding!” the colonel replied, as- tonishment in his face. ‘‘Of course, it is utter- ly impossible for me to a what happened last night. If you will inform me, and explain in what way it concerns me, I shall be much obliged to you.” “Upon my word! I think you are the coolest rascal that I have ever seen!” cried Ollkoff. ‘*T am really much obliged to you for the fa- vorable opinion that you have given of me,” replied Peyton, not at all disconcerted. ‘‘ But as I have once before remarked, to business. Mg is it? your election—the money or the irl? “How can I give you the girl, sir, when you have already stolen her from me?” cried Oll- koff, in anger. Hy at’s that you say?” cried Peyton, spring- ing to his feet. “Your bluster won’t avail you here, you in- fernal scoundrel!” cried Olikoff, in wrath. “You abducted the girl from my house last a No to th 1 ?” ‘Do you mean to sa e girl is gone a Son know she is es you villain !” and the merchant shook his clenched fist in the face of the colonel, who retreated a step at the menac- ing movement. ‘Oh! I see your game!” cried Peyton, be- ginning to show signs of anger. ‘ You have idden the girl in spite of promise not to do anything underhand. ou won’t beat me! Tl find the girl if she’s a thousand miles away! Just you mark me, you shan’t have her unless you pay five thousand dollars for her. You need keener wits than you have in your h Obadiah Ollkoff, to measure strength with me.’ Then the colonel made a hasty exit from the house. Peters re-entered the parlor. “T don’t know what to think!” he exclaimed; “T own up clean beat!” CHAPTER XV. THE WAY IT WAS DONE. At ten o’clock on the evening previous to the morning when the events related in the preced- ing chapter took place, Lilli bid the girl, ys sootaghs,” and entered her apart- men The gas was burning dimly, being turned down quite low. Lillian closed the door behind her. Hardly had she taken her hand from the door-knob, when she was suddenly seized by the — arms of a dark form who had been conceal behind the open door. Before she could scream or struggle, a sponge saturated with chloroform was pressed upon her nostrils. Lely Lillian strove to free herself from the ve of iron that made her prisoner; she at- mpted to scream, but a broad hand pressed over her mouth choked her cries. Little by little her senses reeled under the in- fluence of the powerful Geng. A horrible sensa- tion numbed her limbs and brain; it seemed to her as if she was under the influence of a terri- ble tmare, The dimly-lighted room swam around before her eyes. Within her to be whirli a to hold yeaa unto the slimy coil of a gigantic serpent crush- ing the life Com her body; a thousand deaths she died, all in that little instant, and then—all was a blank to her, 13 The potent drug has done its work; Lillian lay insensible in the arms of the dark form; helpless in the power of her enemy. * Quick, Looney, git a shawl out of the closet for to put around her head,” said the man who held the girl in his arms. A second dark shadow, not quite so tall or as heavily built as the first, who had been con- comes: behind the closet door, obeyed the com- man The shawl was carefully wrapped around the girl’s head. : “Now, git out into the entry an’ jist let on when the way’s clear.” Again the slighter-formed one of the two obeyed the command of the other. Cautiously, he opened the door and stole out into the entry. e hall gas was burning, turn- ed down low. No sound broke the stillness that reigned within the house. Lifting the form of the girl from the floor, the ruffian approached the doorway. All 3. K., eh?’ he asked. ‘Yes, there ain’t a mouse stirring,” the other replied. Quietiy, with cautious ste the =n stole down the stairs, bearing Fy ently lifeless form of the girl in his arms, e other rough closed the door of the girl’s chamber, then followed his leader. The two arrived at the front door. ‘“* Look out into the street, Looney, and see if there’s anybody in sight, and if there ain’t, jist drive the wagon right up to the door. I don’t want to this gal any further than I kin help; she’s b heavy; jist like lead.” e man whom the other addressed as ‘**Looney,” opened the front door, descended the steps into the street and cast a hasty glance around. No one was in ae. Looney proceed- ed hastily to the corner of the street. A com- mon covered wagon, such as are used by the grocers, stood there. ‘* Looney ” jumped into the wagon and drove it slowly up to the door of the Ollkoff mansion. The wagon, being light, made but little noise, and just at the same moment acoach rattled through e street, so that the sound of the wagon-wheels and horse’s hoofs were completely drowned. The rough who held the insensible girl in his arms had been on the watch, and descended the ~— just as the wagon drove up. t was the work of a minute to deposit the girl in the wagon, jump in, and drive off.” ‘We're in luck to-night, anyhow!” cried the rough in triumph, as they turned into the ave- nue. ‘“ Not a ‘cop’ in sight, neither. Maybe somebody won’t do some tall cussin’ when they miss the gal to-morrow. Oh, no] not much, you know; not for Joe!” **Looney ” drove the horse, while the other one held the helpless form in his arms. was still under the influence of the drug. With a careful forct!.ouslit, the rough laced the girl on the seat between himself and tion by his strong arm. , The head pe in the shawl, reposed on his shoulder. “There,” the rough muttered, “if anybody should take it _— ye gee thing ae = wagon as we drives » eve 00) Fated lar. The - is sleepy—or sick— that’s better! The sick dodge is the one for to play, in case anybody should take to askin’ guestions which ain’t none of their business. git the chloroform ready, too; I may have to give her another dose if anybody should hap- er i td us, an’ she gits over wot she’s The plans of the ruffians were well laid. Jolting over the rough stones and the cool air of the night had a tendency to rouse Lillian from the stupor into which the subtle influence of the sowed drug had thrown her. It seemed to her as if she was awaking from a terrible dream. Vainly she tried to recover her senses and re- member what had taken place, All was con- fusion and disorder. Thought ran riot in her brain. One thing only was clear to her; terri- ble danger was hanging over her life. But she was powerless to prevent or to against it. She felt as if she was near to the borders of the ve. Strength and motion both were e; e could not move hand or foot. She was help- less in the power of cruel es. On still went the wagon. The horse wax now going ata erp trot. = Goer come cold it is,” muttered the ro moe arm encircled’ the slender waist of is companion, supporting her in the ares lt, b ‘That's so!” lied the other, em : “ this wind goes right through « felled like
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a ede 14 for to take the shawl off the gal for to wrap round me.” ‘¢ And leave her face unkivered 1or any * cop’ for to see that she’s been shanghaed? Not much now,” growled the leader; “I ain’t a-goin’ for to have all this trouble for nothin’, or go up the river to the stone jug, jist ’cos you wants to keep your precious karcass w ie on only said as how Id like to,” replied the other. Just then they turned the corner into a nar- row stfeet that led to the river. The horse slipped down on the uneven stones and lay on his side without making an effort to rise. **Cuss the luck!” cried the older rough, in an- er. “Did anybody ever see’d an ing like at afore! Git down, Looney, and punch him up. Obedient to orders, ‘‘ Looney” jum from the wagon and proceeded to try to get the horse upon its legs again; but the animal was not particularly accommodating in his di ition, and absolutely refused to budge an inch. ‘*He won’t git up!” said Looney, in disgust. “Kick him in the ribs! cuss him!” cried the rough, brutally. But as he spoke, a new-comer appeared on the street. A stout, red-bearded man, wearing the blue uniform of the metropolitan police force, came round the corner and approached the wagon. (EP hat the divil’s the matter wid yees?” ques- tioned the Fer agg with a rich brogue in his voice, which left no doubt as to the soil that gave him birth. Looney’s first impulse had been to take to his heels on the approach of the policeman, but a warning cry from the other rough stayed him. ‘*My hoss has fallen down, and the cussed brute don’t want for to git ae replied the leader, in the wagon. ‘‘If you'll be so kind as to give my young feller a lift, ’'d be much obli to you.” ‘““Shure an’ I’ll do datsame. Be after takin’ bould of his head, now. Git up, ye divil! ye murtherin’ thafe of the wourld, will ye come out of dat?” Under the combined efforts of the policeman and Looney, the horse at last was persuaded to stand up. ‘* Has he broke a iy ‘*No,” Looney replied. The policeman had glanced with a curious eye into the wagon. ‘Phat have yees there?” he asked. ‘“« This is my sister,” the rough answered readi- ly. on An’ where are yees goin’ at dis hour, any- ow ‘“You see, the gal is sick an’ I’m takin’ her to some folks of mine at Eastchester.” ‘Why don’t yees goin the daylight like da- cent min?” “Don’t dare to—didn’t I tell you she’s sick?” “ An’ phat the divil has that got to do with it, T’d like to know? The poor crathur ’ll catch her death of cowld.” “Don’t I tell you she’s sick, an’ I can’t take her in the daytime?” cried the rough, impatient- ly. Vin ae is it? Phat is she sick bet estioned the ceman, approaching near © wagon. i Bmatl-pox !” said the rough, mysteriously. “ By the holy poker!” and the policeman re- treated in dismay. ‘“ y the divil didn’t ye say dat afore, ye murtherin’ villain, ye! May pte sot it! Drive on, ye spalpeens! Go to the The worthy officer retired in haste, muttering in indignation as he went. A faint moan came from the pallid lips of the girl. ‘Jump in, quick, Looney; we'll git up an’ git ad fast an-we tint” cried hia roegeoT git, The other obeyed the command. Again the wagon proceeded on its way. The ruse of the rascals had succeeded com- pletely. The policeman did not care to make any further inquiry about the “sick” girl. e rough an anxious — at the face bP girl, lifting the shawl that covered her ““She’s all right! We've done the trick this time!” he cried, in exultation. CHAPTER XVI THE IMPRISONED BIRD. Wren Lillian recovered her senses, she found pe Boos ale do Si a bed; all around was ess. For a few moments the girl could beri ee alize what had taken place. Then the truth flashed suddenly upon her: she had been ab- Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. ducted! But by whom, or for what purpose, she could not guess. She rose from the bed and red around her, vainly striving to discover where she was. . When her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, she saw that she was in a small room, scantily furnished. To the right was a door; to the left, by the head of the bed, a curtained window. Eagerly Lillian raised the curtain. The first gray streaks of morning light were beginning to line the eastern skies. he girl looked forth upon a vast extent of water, evidently a river running close to the house, for in the distance she could detect the dark line that denoted land. The white sails of many vessels dotted the surface of the water. The scene was strange to Lillian, but she guessed that she looked upon the waters of the eee and that the opposite shore was Long sland. Long and weary were the minutes that she waited until the daylight came. The head of the poor girl was aching terribly from the ef- fects of the werful drug that had been ad- ministered to her. When the light became strong enough, Lil- lian examined the little window. It was fas- tened securely by nails. No chance of escape by bea it. “Patience!” she murmured; ‘‘ whoever has committed this outrage will come to see me soon. Perhaps I can learn then whereIam. I aS be many miles from New York.” 0, having come to this conclusion, she sat down on the bed, and laying her head upon the pillow, strove to forget the peril which sur- rounded her. A long, long time she rested, then she was suddenly disturbed by the door opening, and a tall, masculine-looking woman, with coarse and brutal features, entered the room. In her hand she carried a cup of steaming hot coffee, and a few slices of bread. These she put on a little table and drew the single chair that was in the room up to it. ‘“‘Here’s your breakfast,” the woman said, in a harsh, grating voice. ‘“ Where am I?” demanded Lillian. ‘Don’t you worry "bout that,” replied the woman, with a coarse laugh. ‘“Why have I been carried away from my home?” “* Ax’ no there’s your breakfast, eat it an tongue.’ Lillian rose to her feet and made a movement toward the door, but the woman anticipated her design, and quickly placed herself before the entrance. “No, you don’t, Bs !’ she exclaimed; ‘vou mustn’t at on, ’cos it won’t be healthy for you!’ “Do you think that you can keep me here?” demanded the maid, indignantly. ‘Oh, I ain’t got anything for to say about + replied the wo carelessly, ‘ "cept not for let you get out of this room. There’s somebody down-stairs that’s a-puttin’ up the job. If you want to see ’em, maybe they’ll come up.” *‘T do wish to see them,” said Lillian, firmly. “Tf they are not careful they may be made to repent this outrage, I’ve good friends, who will not see me wronged without attempting to right that wrong.” ‘¢-You kin tell that to the cove wot bosses the job; I ain’t got nothing for todo withit. Pil ll ’em that you want to see’em.” With this assurance the woman retired, closing the door behind her. Lillian heard the grating sound of the key turning in the lock. She fully realized that she was a helpless prisoner, but who her captors were she could not guess. in she went to the window and looked fo: upon the water. The window was onl some ten or twelve feet from the ground, 4 poem of escape flashed through the mind of the “Tf I could only open this window, I could easily jump from it the ground,” she mur- mured, as she noted the distance. ‘“ But if they should see me from the house? I know!” she fea inter cong * as a bright thought flashed into her mind. ‘I will wait until it is dark; then, in the gloom, I may be able to make my ae nmi of hes footsteps approaching th e sound 0 vy ap 8 door of her room interrupted her thoughts. It was a man’s tread, The turned in the lock, the door opened, and Rocky Hill, the bruiser, stood before her. There was a smile of exultation upon his brutal features as he looked upon the-astonished girl. questions an’ I'll tell See Ay lies; old your * -mornin’, my dear!” he said, with mock politeness; “I hopes I sees you well!” “Rocky!” the girl murmured, in despair, all her old-time terror reviving at the sight of her ancient foe. “The wery idemical cuss!” cried Rocky, leer- pn the girl in a manner that made her sick at heart. : ‘““You are the one, then, that has done me this cruel wrong!” Lillian said, slowly. ‘* You kin bet all your stamps on it,” replied the rough, complacently. ss Why have you taken me from my home and friends?” ‘Did you never hear tell as how little gals shouldn’t ask questions?’ demanded Rocky, en- joying the anguish of the girl. ‘‘ But, in order for to relleve your mind, I don’t know but what Til tell you. Furst, and foremost, I don’t like the way in which the little cuss took you away from the protection of Jocky. I made up my mind that [’d git square with him for that, an’ I guess I’ve done it, I jist tracked you arter you left the saloon with him, an’ the next day, , | follered yer to that house up-town. Kind- er a change from sellin’ things on the Bowery,” and Rocky chuckled at the idea. ** What do hare: intend to do with me?’ asked Lillian, calmly. “Now, that’s puttin’ the question sensible-like; owre improving, you are; gittin’ to be quite a ady. Inever see’d sich a change afore in all my life, an’ I ain’t no chicken, you bet!” said Rocky, in evident admiration. ‘‘Since you’ve axed the question, blame me if I don’t answer it. I’m goin’ to make a stake out of you, that is, me an’ Jocky together.” ‘* How can you do it?’ Lillian asked, not able to guess the intentions of her abductors, Jist as easy as nothing at all,” replied the rough. ‘‘ Now, you see, Jocky’s got a kind of a claim on you, ’cos he’s looked arter you since you were a babby.” ‘Looked after me!” cried Lillian, her lip curling in contempt. ‘TI have looked after my- self since I was able to walk. He never spent a cent on me, that wasn’t returned to him with interest.” ‘‘Well, that’s what you think; now, Joc thinks differently, an’ I sides with Jocky, ’cos can’t make a stake unless I do. You see, I put the case to Jocky an’ offered for to go in with him for to make a strike out of this old cove, wot has took you. I told Jockey it was a burn- ing shame for him to have to lose you, just as you was beginning to make money for him. He greed with me; so, together we puts up a job for to carry you off, an’, I flatter myself, we did the trick nicely. Lil bet a hat that the cutest detective in New York would be bothered for to foller you.” “That remains to be seen,” Lillian said, barre ‘‘ Well, I’m blessed if you ain’t changed!” ex- claimed Rocky, astonished at her coolness. “ As I said afore, you’re gittin’ to be quite a lady; learning for to keep your temper.” “You do not suppose that you can ever make me live with that brute again, his slave?” Lillian asked, a peculiar liglit shining in her car Te. , no, that ain’t our little game at all: we knows better nor that.” Pe J ‘“ Why have you stolen me away then?” ‘Por to make a stake.” “T do not understand.” “Clear as mud!” answered Rocky, with a hoarse laugh. ‘The old -nob that wants to be a papa to you will feel awful cut up about vour sudden disappearance. We'll let him fret for two or three days, an’ then Rocky goes to him and says, quietly, that for ‘stamps’ he kin have you back ag’in, There it is plain enough. In course the old feller comes down with the green- backs, an’ then we lets you go back to him. Ain’t it nat’ral that the cove wot has been a second father to you, would want something for to console himself for your loss, the little gal that he has always thought so much off?” But if Mr. Ollkoff puts the detectives on the track—as he will—and they discover me, your little game will not only be spoiled, but you will have an excellent chance of going to Sing Sing for a few years!” Lillian exclaimed. Don’t you bet on that, ’cos you'll lose. There ain’t a detective in the country smart enough A scowl came over the face of the rough at the quick reply of the girl.
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“You think so, do you?” he said, not over- pleased. ‘ “T know so,” she replied, paras re His manner had told her that the guess had hit the truth. “Well, you’re a putty smart guesser; but you're a heap of miles from New York.” ‘ait oe ?? The tone of the girl indicated dis- ief. ‘Yes; you’re on an island off the Connecticut shore. ou can’t git to the main laud without a boat, an’ there’s only one here, an’ when I goes back, I takes that away with me. So, even if you got out of this house it wouldn’t do you any good, ’cos you'd be ee agin, right away. ’m tellin’ you this for your own good, ’cos if you cut up rough, it will only hurt ourself. You jist be satistied to remain quiet ere until the old gent comes down with the stamps, and then you kin go back to New York. You understand, don’t you?” ‘Yes, I understand.” There was a hidden meaning in the oe sentence that Rocky did not catch. Satisfied, he left the room, locking the door carefully behind him, CHAPTER XVII. THE LEAP IN THE DARK. LILLIAN listened until she heard the footsteps of the rough dying away in the distance. A few moments she remained fixed as a statue, lost in thought. She felt sure that the rough had lied to her regarding the distance she was from New York. **Tt cannot be possible that I could be carried Se) anny Garg railroad, of course—and then by t transported to this island, without my knowledge. e, by means of a powerful drug they rendered me insensible, but it was about ten o’clock when I went to my room last night, and when I recovered my senses here, the daylight had not come. That proves that my swoon could not have lasted many hours, No; I feel sure that Iam not many miles from New York, and when the night comes, I will make a desperate effort to escape from this place. Though I have grown to be quite a lady in a few days, as Rocky says, he shall find that Ihave not changed in spirit in the least.” With this determination, Lillian sat down and eat up her breakfast. She knew that she would need all her strength in the attempt that she was resolved to make to escape from the hands of her captors, and fasting was not the way to preserve it. Having finished the bread and coff she drew the chair to the window and am her- self by looking out upon the river. _ Wistfully she watched the water-crafts sail- ing upon the bosom of the tide. She longed for the wings of a bird that she might fly far from her foes. As she sat by the window, a little steamboat came puffing round the point, that ran out into the stream. She could just discern the name on the wheel-house as the steamboat passed, “Sylvan Shore!” she murmured, in delight! “So, he did deceive me. I know that boat; she runs to Harlem. Then this house must be in New York. If I can only get out of this place and reach the street, the first policeman I meet will protect me. Escape from here!” and the girl sprung to her feet as she uttered the sen- tence; ‘Til do it if I shee, = vo Bam The flashing eye, the com ps and the hightened color ‘in her cheeky told that she would keep her words. Rocky, daparting from the house, chuckling at the success of his plan and meditating how much he should require the old merchant to “come down” for the production of the girl, had no suspicion that Lillian discovered the whereabouts of her prison-house. If he had had, it is not Eee that he would have pro- ceeded so gayly on his way. 3 Lillian spent all the morning in gazing out of the window, and in thinking over the means of escape. At nbdm; the old woman who served as her keeper, brought = a scanty dinner. After placing it on the table, she examined the win- ow, as if for the purpose of whether the girl had tampered with it or not; but finding ate as she had left it, and being fully satisfied that Lillian had made no attempt to free herself, she left the room, locking the door after her as before, and wearisome was the afternoon; the hours seemed to move on leaden wings; never before = the pours been so long to now! of Si y the window an er ow upon the om that was denied her, she paced up and down the room with the same she had but little appetite, for the The Two Detectives. restless motion that characterizes the wild beast in its captive cage. She ted for the hour to come when she might make the attempt to break the toils that hemmed her in. She waited for night to wrap the earth in its sable mantle—for the gloom which was to hide her fleeing foot- steps from the pursuer’s gaze. t last night came, Slowly the gloom descended upon the earth. The white sails first seemed like tral forms floating in the hazy air; then, slowly they faded from view as the mists of night closed in upon the heaving surface of the restless waters. The opposite shore, farinthe distance, became a dark, indistinct line: then the darkness crept over the rippling tide, that was shining gold, crimson and pores; reflecting the last rays of the dying day-god. The river faded from her sight. A dark, shadowy wall rose before her eyes, pierced here and there with twinkling shart the lights shining from the opposite shore and from the passing vessels. The hour was near at hand for the bold at- tempt for freedom. <A faint hope had been in her mind that help might come ere night—help from the keen-eyed, quick-witted detective John Peters, The only man in all the world who was to her a hero. Many atime during that long, weary day his image had risen before her. She had pictured him tracking her out, as the sleuth-hound scents its prey. But, night had come and no sign of rescue. Lillian was not disappointed, for she fully realized how dif- ficult the task was. The ruffian who had car- ried her off was an adept in crime—one not likely to be easily tracke The woman brought in a cup of tea and some crackers for Lillian’s supper, made a few re- marks, saying how sensible she was to take her imprisonment quietly, and without making a fuss that wouldn’t do her any good, anyway; then retired, taking care to lock the door after her, as usual, The woman carried the light off, saying grim- ly, that “‘folks slept better in the dark.” It was evident she feared, that, if she left the light, her prisoner might set fire to the house, trust- i escape in the confusion. » fdlHian sat down and eat her supper, though our of es- cape was near at hand; that thought strangled hunger. The meal finished, Lillian rose; she had decid- ed upon the plan of action. uietly, little by little, inch by inch, shedrag- the old bedstead out from the wall and oved it against the door, using it as a barri- cade to prevent any one from coming into the room, as the door opened inward, So skillfully did she perform this maneuver that it excited no alarm among the inmates of the apartment below. The door thus firmly barricaded, the girl tore down the curtain of the little window. With her hand she tested the strength of the wood- work. The window was one of the small, old- fashioned kind, common in the houses of forty years ago. The woodwork was light, but ss enough not to be broken by the mere strengt of the arms alone. This did not disconcert her, for she had calculated upon it to be so. She crossed the room, took up the chair, and approached the window. moment she poised chair in the air; then brought it down with all the force she could) muster against the win- dow-sash. Crash went the glass, every pane in the win- dow shivered into ents by the shock. But the woodwork, Risk 3 started: from its place, still held. Lillian heard a commotion in the room below. Her captors had been alarmed by the noise! With desperate energy, she again struck the chair against the wooden bars that separated her from freedom. _ The shock shattered the wood of the casement in the center, but it still held fast at the sides; the chair had broken, though; the upper part alone was now fit for a weapon. » Lillian we at the stub- , the courage espair nerving eve muscle in her frame, She heard, too, the rash of heavy feet upon the stairs and along the en- try, leading to her door. The key turned in the lock, but thanks to the barricade of the bed, the door refused to open. With desperate curses the ruffians—there was more than one—threw themselves against the door, striving to force it open. Every blow that Lillian struck removed one obstacle to freedom. But, each moment now was pencions. She could plainl that e ruffians were gradually Yoreing their way into the room. 15 Another desperate stroke and the shattered casement, fr from its fastenings, dropped to the earth, leaving an open space—an avenue to ewith of joy Lillian leaped th Jith ac joy Lilli ea upon the window-sill ge the same moment, the ruffians forced the door half open. Their hot curses rung in the ears of the girl, but boldly, without a moment’s thought, she leaped fearlessly into the darkness. A howl of rage burst from the lips of Rocky, who, with the Italian, Jocky, and young Donne- har—‘ Looney ”—composed the party forcing open the door. Succeeding at last in forcing open the door, they rushed into the room, just after Lillian had lea from the window. “Blast my eyes, if she ain’t cut her lucky through the window!” cried Rocky, in disgust. “Diavolo! We run quick after!” exclaimed the Italian. ‘* Tf she hasn’t broke her leg she’s lucky!” ejacu- lated Rocky. The three rushed down-stairs and out of the door into the darkness of the night. There was but one way she could have gone, “vi the house was surrounded by water on three sides. “There she is!” cried Rocky as they ran to- ward the avenue. He had caught sight of the girl pees 3 toward the street. The roughs redoubled their pace. ed rapidly upon their victim. Just as she reached the avenue they closed upon her. But the yell of triumph was choked in their throats, when a dozen blue-coated shadows sprung upon them from the darkness. The roughs were surrounded by a squad of wee oo police, headed by the detective eters! In the twinkling of an eye the steel bracelets clasped the wrists of the three. The fortunes of war had changed. The hunters had turned into the game. They gain- CHAPTER XVIII. TURNING THE TABLES. THe clock in Mr. Olikoff’s parlor had just or x e merchant was pacing impatiently up and down. He had received a message from the de- tective that afternoon that he might expect to see Lillian before ten that evening, as he—Peters —was on the trail. Ten minutes more and the girl, accompanied by the two detectives, stood in the parlor. off’s joy was great, indeed; nor could he suppress his astonishment at the speedy success of the detective’s plan. “Tt was part accident, sir,” Peters ‘*When I left the house this morning, r that colonel had been here, I was clean bothered. I felt sure that he had nothing to do with the af- fair. The first thing I did was to set Hank here to watch young Donnehar, as I was pretty sure that he was mixed up in it, someway, en I suddenly remembe what a little bootblack had told me about this rough, Rocky Hill, that I rescued the girl from in the underground saloon. He watched me when I brought the girl here; the bootblack—a little fellow, named Shrimpy—watched him. Well, when I thought of this, it suddenly occurred to me that Roc ng have a finger in the pie. So I immedi- ately set out to look up this rough. I couldn’t find him anywhere, but I stumbled on Hank here, who was keeping an eye on young Donne- har, ‘Looney,’ as hi call him; and, lo and behold! he and Roc Hill came_ together. After that it was all plain sailing. We tracked Hill to the den in Harlem where he had carried Miss Lillian; went for a squad of pore, and e beauties as they came just in time to nab were going to nab her.” : ‘““Mr. Peters, I don’t know, sir, how I shall ever be able to reward you for this service!” ex- claimed the: merchant, warmly. “Nor I,” said Lillian, quietly, but with an earnestness in her tone and eyes that flushed the face of the detective crimson. “Tm sure—I’m very much obliged—I—” and the cool, courageous thief-taker broke down and blushed like a woman. cried the old merchant, hastily.
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SS ee a ee 16 Beadle’s Half-Dime Librar John turned, to find himself face to face with the colonel, who had followed him to the or. “John, you needn’t trouble yourself to do any thing of the kind,” the adventurer said blandly, —t in the face of the astonished John. ‘And I am sure, Mr. Olikoff, that you will see the necessity of meeting me to-night and thus spare unpleasant explanations.” There was a threat concealed under the colo- nel’s smooth manner. “Sir, I~” * John? you may go,” said the colonel, inter- rupting the merchant, ‘‘I see that you are de- termined that I shall speak out, and we might as well keep this family matter to ourselves.’ John looked at the merchant; Ollkoff nodded his head, and John withdrew in profound as- tonishment. After the servant had closed the door, the colonel spoke again. “T trust you will excuse my somewhat abrupt | entrance upon this little party; but, as Linform- ed you this morning, off, old boy, I am not to ‘done’ easily; I’m a tolerably tough old chicken, and up to snuff. I dropped to your lit- tle game in 1 this young lady away. I knew that she would come back, sooner or later, and I made up my mind to watch this house un- til she did come back. So, since I left you this morning, either myself or deputy has kept a devilish close watch upon this mansion, I con- fess it rather astonishes me to think that you thought me green enough to be thrown off the scent by such a shallow trick as this.” ‘May I be allowed to ask, sir, what you in- tend to do?” asked Peters, quietly. * And who may yoo be, young man?” said the colonel, fixing his eye-glasses on his nose, and ‘fezing superciliously at the detective. “This gentleman’s professional adviser.” “Oh, his lawyer, eh?” the adventurer said, contemptuously. ‘Perhaps it was your advice that put him up to this neat little trick, which pea have deceived a green boy, let alone an old hand like myself.” ‘Let us proceed to business, sir; what do you want?” the detective asked, blandly. ‘A certain sum of money, or that girl Lillian started in astonishment. What meant this strange demand? ‘‘ And if we refuse?” “T whistle—you see the little instrument?” al !? | he’s the only witness I want. pocket. ‘‘My man who is waiting outside will summon a policeman to enforce my rights.” ** Your rights?” “Exactly, young: man; my rights.” one man has any rights in the premises— “ Exactly; I am that man!” ‘“‘ Impossible! you can not be—” ‘Harry Belford! But I am!” cried the ad- venturer. “What?” and the merchant stared. ‘‘Oh, you may look! Of course I’ve changed eatly ; my yellow hair is now black; this hair- | upall claims to this youn ye is a wonderful thing. You, Obediah, you're | as gray as a badger, while I’ve i my youth, | despite the fact that I’ve led a life hard and fast enough to kill a dozen ordinary men.” “You think, then, that you can prove the right you assert?’ the detective asked. ‘What's the use of asking foolish questions? You know I can prove all I say. Ask Obediah; | Come, hand over the money, that’s the only way.” “But if youare Harry Belford, how comes it | that youare called Colonel Peyton?” Peters asked. ‘‘Only a whim. A man has a right, I believe to use any name he likes, as long as it is not used for an illegal p tes “Then you assert that you are Harry Bel- ford, once a fellow-clerk with Mr. Olikoff here in the wer ow d of the firm of Grainger & Co.?” ‘‘-Yes, sir, | am Harry Belford. How many times do you want me to tell you so?” demanded the adventurer, arrogantly. “I think you have said all that is necessary,” Peters replied, a lurking devil in his eye. ‘Hank, get the bracelets ready.” ‘“You bet!” replied Hank, laconically, while, at the same moment, the colonel rose in alarm from his chair; he scented danger. ‘‘Go for him,” was Peters’ curt command. In a twinkling, Hank threw himself upon the adventurer, and before that worthy could re- cover from his surprise, or offer resistance, the steel handcuffs were clasped around his wrists. ‘*You shall answer for this outrage!” howled the adventurer, foaming with rage. “ Go slow,” Peters rejoined, in sarcastic style. ‘““Mr. Harry Belford, allow me to introduce myself: John Peters, detective officer. ‘ You’re wanted,’” y. ' and the colonel drew a silver whistle from his | | | “Tf I understand this case correctl f only | } ‘“‘ For—for what?” the adventurer asked, striv- ing to appear calm. ‘Forgery. The signature of the firm of | Grainger & Co.” ‘*You can not prove it!” gasped the baffled villain. ‘‘Here’s the bill. Mr. William Grainger is still living. No trouble at all to prove it, since you have confessed that you are the man, The identity question was the only weak point in the case.’ “‘ Mercy!” the adventurer cried, humbly, ‘One condition. Sign an obligation giving g lady.” “*T will!” he cried, quickly. The handcuffs were removed, the deed drawn | out, signed and witnessed; then with an angry look on his sallow face, the adventurer departe He was never seen in New York again. “‘T sent a friend of mine to see Mr. Grainger. Luckily this forged bill had been preserved,” Peters explained. Not until the next day did Lillian know the relationship that the heartless adventurer bore to her. Then the old merchant told her her his- tory. Just one week after these events took place, Peters was summoned to a private interview with the old merchant.” Mr. Olikoff spoke straight to the point. ‘‘T wish to adopt Lillian, but she obstinately says ‘no; that she is your ward; and as you are a little young for a guardian, suppose that you become her husband, and settle it in that way? eed we relate the joy of the honest detective who had learned to love the girl that he had saved? Lillian became his wife. A long life of wedded bliss seemed fair before them. After a great mony tearful speeches and earnest promises, Dolly Blake and Algernon Ollkoff won the old merchant’s consent to their union, although, to the last, he declared that she was far too for him. Rocky Hill, Jocky, and the half-foolish lad, 43 one are doing the State yeoman service at Sing Sing, breaking stone; and bitterly they curse the evil thought that tempted them to in- terfere in the fortunes of a Bowery Girl. THE END, “A lokermotive ginerally whistles to get off the track, guess these Sea Captings don’t carry no whistle.”—See The Boss Boy. | { \E NUMBER AS \\ as nS New York weekly story In No one of the best stories of boys’ York, by the prince of sto stories of the day are, by penny-a- amed 0 “T don't allow no sea monkey to climb over me.”—See The Boss Boy. No. 405 of the New York Sa announcing it as the greatest combination ever aper, for quality, quantit , . 405 oF the New York SaTurpDAy JOURNAL, we will commence adventures in and around New tellers, Mr. Cuas. Moris, author of ‘Picayune Pete,” “The Gamin Detective,” etc., entitled The Boss Boy; Or, Taz Mystmry or THE Stronesow. This story is not written, as most of the boys’ breadth adventu No. 405, \\\\ Wee es er No E turday Journal warrants us in resented by a popular and novelty! gallan soldier: whose fame ts onl eee “S'pose we was w'arf rats, that don’t make you no better than @ salt water lubber,”—See The Boss Boy. iI day Journal par ceriagS No, 405 of the NAL, in addition to its usual serials, sketches and miscellaneous matter, will have a full lengt Mf ae of the universal favorite of all boys, from cigs t to eighty! the great story teller, traveler and Capt. Mayne Reid! bounded by the world. His scenes are drawn, not from the experience of others, but from his own life and adventures. Capt. Mayne Reid has no equal, living, that commands so wide a reading world! Capt ayne ry THE HELPLESS HAND . amie in No. 405 of the New York SATURDAY ’ a, ae quality and a ag THE Granp Dovusi_e Numser the most satisfactory copy of a popu Every boy should make the acquaintance of the Boss Boy, and after following him in his hair- they will pronounce him the Bose Boy in the dest sense of that much abused phrase, tae RAND DOUBLE Numper with the opening chapters of the Boss Boy; or, the Mystery of the Strongbow; with a portrait of Captain 2 : Six Ce nts Mayne Reid, and his splendid story of boy-hunters’ life: The Helpless Hand, complete, rice, . best very bes of any author in the field of stories of the_better class of boys’ literature, The Boss Boy should be read by every boy, as it will prove both a great pleasure and a source of profit. EW YORK SATURDAY JOUR- Reid’s very best ‘boys’ novel,’ we will paper ever published. "ROG 880 PY,L M——,, UO YB} IVY} edvios 07 SiO9UpINJ 10; souoys ,ujavd 4,uTe eA SAO S} OAd JT,, ,