Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 142) (1880 04 13)
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SSEEELEEEE ELE 9 ©." E> Ka fl a ea a et et at a at a a a at at a a at eta i NS _ 8508 year. ___ Entered at ‘the Post ‘Office at New ‘York, N. ¥., as as Second Class Mail ‘Matter. Mae eee gee in 1880 by B BEADLE 4 AND ADAMS, e] Vol. VL Sais le PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BE ADL E AND ADAMS, Price, Numbe er. No, 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents. Handsome Harry, the Bootblack Detective. BY CHARLES MORRIS, AUTHOR OF “WILL SOMERS,” “‘ PHIL HARDY,” “PICAYUNE PETE,” ‘‘ DETECTIVE DICK,” ETOC., ETC, ci oe $ hi a Ty ry < a ! oe y om a ' 7 a pe : F ee yy, , pe ¥ E * ‘, - <4 % .) ‘ Y Nm wees i | i aT = we al i r Mr ess } = ’ fl ily j Ay, HE WAS BENDING OVER AN OPEN CASKET ON A TABL¥, FROM WHICH HE TOOK IN SUCCFSSION SEVERAL JEWELS, WHICH SEEMED TO HARRY’S UNACCUSTOMED EYES OF MARVELOUS BEAUTY.
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B Handsome Harry, The Bootblack Detective. BY CHARLES MORRIS, avmaor or “wiILL somers,” “PHIL HARDY,” “ PICA- BNE PETE,” ‘‘ DETECTIVE DICK,” ETC., ETC. CHAPTER I. THE BOOTELACK’S DAY-BOOK. Ir was a beautiful spring morning. Winter had vanished with its frosts; the winds of March had blown themselves out; the rains of April had fallen; the hee sun of early May now warmed the soft winds. But at the point where our story opens, the traces ing were not visible in green fields and ver- ‘oves, but rather in muddy streets and. dis- overcoats. For six months past the street cleaners had been active in nothing except in draw- ing their wages, and the highways and se of New York were decidedly in need of the broom of the scavengers. But it is an ill wind that blows nobody good. Muddy streets are the harvest of the bootblacks, and that class of active young artisans was out in force this morning. In the broad, slab-paved space of the City Hall k, a knot of such young gentry had gathered, ces flung over their shoulders, many of their faces looking asif they had used them to test the quality of their blacking, but as happy asif each of them owned all of New York, and as full of mischievous tricks as a cage-full of monkeys out on a holiday. One of them, rather better dressed and with a ‘cleaner face than his companions, but as full of the spirit of fun as any of them, seemed to exercise a sort of control over the rest, as if force of character had raised him to a tacit Sear aber ag He was a good-looking lad, with bright eyes, and an intelligent expression, while the neatness with which his clothes had been mended seémed to be- a careful mother. Two of the young scapegraces had got into a fight. and were pumme each other as if noses an eyes were only made to be targets for fists. Look’y here, Harry,”’ cried a little Tom Thumb of a chap to the boy of whom we have spoken. “There's Bill Blunt a-pe; ’ it like fun into our Joe, PA conse Joe called him a lummux—and he is a ummux, too.”” The little fellow’s eyes filled with “Told my box, Tim,” replied the boy addressed. “Tl settle em.” He walked quickly across to the fighting boys, leach of them firmly by the collar. “Row, drop ee there,” he exclaimed. ‘‘ This millcan’t go on. you want to have the perleece down on ye, you cross-eyed young rats? Drop it right there, I say.” I ain’t done polishin’ him up yet,” replied one of the boys. ‘‘He called me a lummux, and I don’t ‘take that from no snoozer like him.” “pose he did! You just called him a snoozer; ‘won't that square it up, without smashing one another’s noses?” “We're by rl to have it out!” cried the other won * Jist you wage my collar, Harry Hunter, wor Pll rattle into your affections next.” large a boy of Harry, but the latter did mot seem much scared by this threat. “You'll rattle into me, will you?” he rejoined. “Took here, Bill, you know I’m not a fighter or ou wouldn't say it. If I was a bruiser like you I'd Fos shake you till your teeth rattled—this way ;” and sui’ the action to the word he shook the @ang belligerent as if he had been a leaf in his till it seemed as if he would shake him out of his 68. “That's what I’d do if I was fond ofamill. And Ta catch you by the collar—this way; and by the rareeches this way; and I'd lay you out on the ry—this A. And in a minute Bill Blunt, very muclf astonished, found himself flying head foremost over a bench, and bringing up with a surge on the soft grass of the -inclosure. “That's just to show you what I'd do if I was a fighter—which I ain't,” continued _Ww of dan card Handsome Harry, the Bootblack Detective. you could see to shave in, before a butterfly could flirt his wing.” The person addressed stopped, and looked super- ciliously downward. = “Tam d there is more talk than there is work rad you, | boy,’’ he said. “I don’t like so much e ’ y e, that’s all,” returned Harry. ‘“ Just let me get double-distilled, ee polish on them boots, and if you don’t th there's been a mistake, and that you’re somebody else than you thought you were, thenI won't charge you a red ; that’s me.”’ will do,” returned the gentleman sternly. “Don’t flatter yourself that impudence is smart- ness. You may go on, if you can hold your tongue.” He placed a muddy boot on H ’s box, and lanced at him with a disdainful look which the boy id not relish. ‘*Wonder if he’s King George, or the Prince of Whales?” muttered Harry to himself, as he brushed away atthe boot. ‘ Puts on as much style as if he was Emperor of China. Got half a mind to take him down a peg.”’ He brushed diligently away at the somewhat large boot, keeping silent with some difficulty, for speech flowed as readily from his tongue as water from a spring. “Hu up, there!’ cried the gentleman, impa- tiently; ‘I can’t stand here all day.” ** And do you s’pose a fellow's goin’ to get over a side of leather as quick as he would over a baby’s shoe?” retorted Harry, angrily, for he prided him- self on his quickness. ‘‘ There ain’t a boy around the Hall can beat me on a polish; but, when we take in wholesale jobs, we expect to have time to get over ’em.” Harry’s words elicited a laugh of derision from the other boys, several of whom were looking on. ‘“ What do you mean, you impudent young hound?” asked the gentleman, his face flushed with anger. “Nothing much,” returned Harry. ‘ Wholesale business is one thing, and retail’s another; that’s all. There wasn’t never a trotter yet that could get over a two-mile course in one-mile time.” “Confound you,’”’ exclaimed the irritated cus- tomer, whose boots were now shining ee: “Do you suppose I came here to listen to your impudence, which you call smartness?” cked the box fiercely away, and started to war ttold there!” cried H. afte’ * Hold on, there!”’ ¢ arry, run rT him brush in hand. ‘It’s cash in this ‘stablishment, Wo don’t charge no bills. Just please fork over.” “What do you want?” “T want the spondulicks for that job. Planked right down here,” and Harry held out his open hand. *Do you wei! that I am going to pay you for your impudence?”’ **T s’pect you're goin’ to pay me for my polish. rdence is fi in, free tis, for nothing.” we will let the impudence ‘stand against the polish,” retorted the gentleman, looking at Har- ry, with a smile of triumph. ‘“‘ You’ve had your fun. It’s my time now.” ~« * And you ain’t goin’ to plank down?” “T think not.” ou want me to charge it in my books?” “Yes, if you keep a set of books.” ** All correct,” said . “Dll charge it in the bootblack’s day-book, so that you won't forget that you’re owing me for one polish.” In an instant the brush which he held in‘his hand, well supplied with blacking, was daubed against the knee of the gentleman's light-colored pantaloons, leaving an unsightly black blotch. “ That’s cha up now,” cried Harry, as a roar of jeering ae ter broke from his companions. “Guess I won't stop to polish it.”’ In an instant he was off at full weet, Grasping his box as he passed it, and shooting like a deer around the corner of the marble near which they The gentleman stood dumbfounded, looking down at his disfigured knee, while an expression of savage anger came upon his dark face. He bit his lip impotent fury as the boys continued their jeers. “All right, my lad,” he fiercely ejaculated, as he walked away. ‘‘There are more days than one. I will pay you for this.” nwhile Harry, with his box flung across his pe app! walked gayly away, his face wreathed : * es. oe Bally for Handsome Harry !"" screamed the other “Wonder if he thought bootblacks was dogs?” he ‘beys, in delight. ‘He's the chap to rattle them | queried. Maybe next time he'll look out a little for ‘down. You get off the nm. B Don’t you see | his own tongue. It’s all imperdence it comes the sign? No ain’t allowed to get on the grass | from a boy, but it’s all perliteness when it comes im these here d a2 from a man, I s’pose. boys don’t always see it Bill gathered himself up, shook himself to see if ‘there was anything loose, and crept off, crestfallen ‘neugh, though there was something savage in the - Sook which he cast toward his athletic antagonist. But without paying further attention to him ‘Harry resumed his box, while the little fellow who Jhad held it capered around him in delight. “Oh, my, , if you ain't a daisy!’ he exclaim- ‘ed in ration. “that’s all right, Tim,’’ returned Harry. “I’m up for and quiet, you know. Only, ’s been gettin’ a little too much crow in him for barnyard. He wanted his comb cut a bit.” “You're jist an out-and-out daisy !"’ repeated little che et sar eon a fot th But He-ry had other ness on e aan left lide Tim to his admiration. He had caught ‘sight of a pair of very oryee ! boots approaching, on the feet of a well-dressed individual “Black your boots, sir?’ he c from his shoulders. ‘‘Polish ‘em _u Shine ’em ap! Pot rour footright here. Illgive you a boot 2 stood. Mea‘ alking ~ H “ft him ried, whipping his box | ! that way.” “ ey, Harry, are you open fora job this ing?” dalled a cheer} as og es eery voice near him. aay quickly, to see a _ well enial-looking young man, who stood just be **Good-morning, Mr. Li m,’’ returned e politely. ‘Iam always y to give you a polish; you know — Hoist up your foot on my box, and see me make the mud a. The boy went to work with a vim which he had not shown in his former job, brushing away as if life and death depended on his dispatch. “There; that will do, Harry,’’ said his smiling customer. ‘The other, now,” “No, it won't do. neither,” cried Harry. “ Ain't got the double-distilled polish on yet. S’pose there ain’t no artists in boot-b , as well as in other lines? Just you hold still.” The yo man laugh and pees his hand carelessly into his pocket. But, suddenly, a marked change of expression came upon bis face. He hur- riedly felt in all his pockets, biting his lips with ar expression of chagrin. “ By Jove! Can I have forgotten it?” he muttered. “Well—of all the awkward mistakes—and I don’t: see how I can go back.” “* There,” said , tapping his box. ‘That's a. job a fellow might be proud of. That’s ph a i out from the shoulder. Look at them shoes, sir.’ t- “Yes; very good,” replied his customer, a ben! “Hal” he quickly continued, as his eyes rested on Hi . “A good thought. I wonder if I could trust him ?*’ “Trust me, do you mean?” asked Harry. ‘Just lay down a heap of gold dollars here, and see if you can’t. Ibet no dog, that don’t know what money is, could watch ’em closer.” “Do you know New York well, Harry?” . 4 san lose me about this town, and you'll see if on’t. ‘‘ And would you mind doing an errand for me?"’ ; “Out with it, Mr. Livingston. I'll do any thing or you.” “Then you must be quick as lightning, for there is not a minute to lose. You will take the Elevated oo and go out to Harlem; then—but can you read?” “T rayther reckon so.” “Here are the directions then,”’ hurriedly writing. “Go to this street and number, and ask to see Miss Gordon, Don’t be put off, mind; you must see her in person, and hand her this note.’’ He gave Harry a note he had quickly indited. “That down,” answered Harry. ‘‘ What else?” “She will give you a package, with which you are toreturn as quickly as possible. You will find me at—but I had better write that direction too, to make sure. Remember, my boy, that this isa matter of the greatest importance. You must ket nothing de- tain you, in going or returning. I would go myself, but that is impossible.” “I’m your race-horse,”’ cried Harry. ‘‘ Don’t you worry a_skiver. I'll do all that’s in the wood; you can bet high on that.” CHAPTER II, WHAT HARRY SAW THROUGH THE WINDOW. A RIDE on the Elevated Railroad was anew expe- rience for Harry Hunter, whose profession of boot- black had so far made him use his own shoes for vehicles, and the shoes of his patrons as a means of livelihood. He had not been accustomed to such rapid traveling as this, and to say that he enjoyed it would be putting it rather mild. He simply luxuriated in it, leaning back on the soft-cushioned seats, and watching the long rows of houses which swept in stately procession past him, with a sense of pride in himself, and in the city which was honored by his presence. “Tfthis ain’t high old getting over ground, then you can bang me!’’ he_ soliloquized. _‘‘ Shootin’ through New York like a sky rocket, or a forty-horse- power balloon! And only the price of a po fora run from do town clean out to Harlem! Guess I'll charter this old team. And, just to think I’ve lived all this time, and didn’t know what old fun it was up here on the Elevated? Well, folks has got to live and learn, that’s sure.” He leaned back with an air as if he had already behcuchope my Bey Methusalah, and was only now be- ginning to find out what the world was made of. On and on oc Seni stopp at station after station, passing tral Park, and darting on into the benighted regions beyond it at an elevation that made Harry dizzy. “T wonder if we’re goin’ to cut loose from the und altogether?” he muttered, as the bottom of e valley over which the road_ now seemed dangerously distant. ‘I didn’t for_a balloon ride, and I din'* 5° no fancy fer goin’ to Heaven by railroad; sol sey ep t the old machine down ag’in. But, my stars, if there ain’t a big slice of all creation spread out yonder.” It was indeed a fine view of ey, 4 New York city, of ie ed Li gy a sony A habited er be- ond, W read ou ore Harry’s admir- and which roused the artistic taste which e lay cog hg his soul. ‘I bet high this ain’t my last holiday on the Ele- vated,” he said, in a satisfied tone. ‘ But, where’s the tarnation long road! Seems to meas if we'd been six hours now, and had come a hundred miles.”” At this moment the train slackened speed, and soon halted at the terminus of the road. Harry gotup with some dissa’ and followed his fellow pascenser down the long flights of stairs. He would ave to go on with about six hours more of this new and pleasant experience. “ It’s better than gettin’ down on your knee-bones: and scrubbin’ away atsome chap’s muddy trotters,’ he muttered. ‘But whereabouts am I now? 1 must get my bearins’.”” to morose fig, or over -strewn hollows. But. t was a bea warm sunny day, and Harry en- house in which he was to find It was plain. *‘There’s the house now,” exclaimed Harry,” and Jerusha, butit’sa ripper! Brown stone front near as: broad as the City Hall, and two ginuine stone lions on guard duty at the front door. And sich a rard- ‘
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ing! with a sensible railin’ that a feller can smell the roses through. Miss Gordon must be twice as rich as a Jew—and I don’t mean a Chatham street Jew, nary kn db et ito a idtme, and ew only one way to a house, an that was always by the Slatellost entrance it pos- sessed. Area gates were not made for young gen- tlemen of his position in life. In response to his a nobbily-dressed servant appeared at the door, with his chin in the air, and eyes bent upward at an angle of forty-five de- grees, A single glange at his supercilious air roused some of the spirit of mischief of which Harry had no slight share, ms Gordon live here?” asked our important yo messenger. - ” answered the footman, who had now got his eyes down to Harry’s level. “All right. Make yourself active, and tell her there’s a gentleman waitin’ to see her on important business. And, mind you say important with a big R._ Just roll it out lively.” The astonished servant surveyed the speaker as if anxious to make out what new species of animal this was. His chin went higher yet in the air. ‘Miss Gordon don’t see any beggars,”’ he replied. ‘Get away now,” “See here, sonny, “cried Harry undauntedly. “Don’tsay beggar to me again, if you aren’t want- ing that lofty nose of yourn barked, I’ve got to see Miss Gordon instanter; and you’ll know the reason why if you don’t stir yourself. Absquatulate now.” The Footman looked for a moment as if he would have liked to annihilate this saucy visitor. But wiser second thoughts soon came to him, “Very well,” he said. “I will tell Miss Gordon that there’s a young gentleman waiting to see her. What name I ee The insolence of the footman’s tone was quitea match for Harry’s impudence. But our young friend was equal to the occasion. ‘Say it’s Harry Hunter, bootblack. And you can say bootblack just as if you said lord, or duke, for it’s an honest business, and that’s as much as a lord's is. Tell her I’ve got a note for her which must go in her hands quick as lightnin’ 3 uicker.”’ The footman turned on eels, shutting the door carefully behind him. He was back again in a very few minutes. “You are to send the note up to Miss Gordon,” he said curtly. *T don’t know "bout that,”’ was Harry’s doubtful response, “T was told to give it into her own b “You will give it to me, or go about your busi- ness,” replied the servant. ‘“ And I can’t spend my time here all day, talking with a bootblack.’’ “You might talk with worse Conmneey and then be talking to your betters,”’ retorted ,as he reluctantly drew the note from his pocket, “‘ Here's the letter, then; and see that she gets it straight off, or you'll maybe find yourself in hot water afore you know it.” “See here, boy,’ exclaimed the an servant, “if there’s any more of this impudence, ‘ll tumble you head-foremost off the steps. I won’t stand it.” Harry’s intended retort was, prevented by the ap- proach of a gentleman, who at that momenc mount- ed the . He stopped with a surprised air. “What is the matter, James?”’ he asked, ‘This young chap has brought this note for Miss Gordon. And his tongue is a good deal too lively for his size.” “Oh! I sup it’s all right, James,” said the new- comer, glan at the superscription of the note which the servant held. On eee it, however, his face changed color. With a quick movement he took it from the foot- man’s hand, and looked at it more closely. “T am going in to see Miss Gordon,” he said, in a voice in which a quick ear might have detected un- quiet. ‘I will take it up to her.” “T didn't give it to you to take up,” cried Harry, Dour. “You aren't Miss Gordon's servant, are you Atthese words the gentleman, for the first time, turned to look at the messenger, and Harry got a good look at his face. An observer would have been amused at their sudden change of expression. Har- ry b wepere step by step, his eyes riveted on the face ‘© other. “By cats and dogs, if it ain’t the done me out of the price of a polish!” he ejacu- lated, as he noted the stern face, small, deep-set eyes, and long mustache of the man before him, A savage expression came upon the face of the latin I’ve cong you already, my street rat!’’ he exclaimed. “I leave my mark on you, now.” mad ick leap for Harry. But the latter ‘ae tee alert S be onantl so easily. One bound took him to the foot of the ste In another oe ihe e garden wall, ot bg fll aorta latter turned bass aft a minute, finding it quite impossible to overtake the = Come back for your answer to the note,” cried the Durpper, fiercely. ‘‘I will give it to you with good interest.” ; Harry looked on at a distance with chagrin, as his oe entered the house, and closed the door be- 1D im, “Tf this ain’t rich, then there’s no use talkin’,”’ he 50 “What will Mr. Livingston think of me now? If Icould getin to where Miss Gor- don is he wouldn’t touch me afore her, and I’ i get my But | can’t get in past that galoot a servant,’ 7 the hight of the garden railing, and all other per- ceptible details, There’s only the one thing for it,” he muttered. “I'm a-goin’ ie in that house, if I be took for a burglar the n minute. It won’t do to say that Handsome Harry was dished by a slab-sided rascal mean enough to cheat a bootblack out of his fees.” No sooner said than done. A stone wall ef three feet in hight, and five feet of iron railing, were slight obstacles to the agile lad. He went over them al- most as quickly as a monkey could have performed the same feat. The garden was chiefly laid out in flower-beds, But it had numerous trees, and some walks shaded by high bushes. Along one of these the interloper cautiously made his hh Arrived at the rear of the mansion, he stop to reconnoiter. Voices were audible in the kitchen, of which the back door stood open. But at the side of the house, near which Harry stood, there were no signs of occupancy. The shutters of the basement floor were men ye d bowed. But on the first floor, above his head, there was a window open, with the inner curtain partly raised. Up the side of the house, close to this window, ran the stem of a strong vine, which branched out over a shading arbor higher up. Harry looked at it an instant, “T can shin that,”’ he said. hg gt pove-genget te ‘by im cre yaarvge he —t, tion, he had grasped the vine, and was. go u hand over hand, as alertly as any old sailor. Ime sturdy vine groaned with his weight, but did not give way. Reaching the level of the window, he swung him- self around, and looked into the apartment from which it opened. What was his surprise to see there his late pursuer, engaged in a very suspicious action. He was bend- ing over an open casket on a table, from which he took in succession several jewels, which seemed to en unaccustomed eyes of marvelous beauty. “* This soli ” muttered the visitor, ho upa flashing ring. “I will never be suspected, can make good use of this, Livi mn was here this ees and the jewel-case must have been exposed en,” He suddenly paused, in a listening attitude. The next moment he hastily closed the casket, slipped the stolen ring into vest tine Vaya stepped quickly to the wall, where he seemed to be intently admiring a picture that hung there. The door opened, and a young lady entered, Or an el rather, as she seemed to Harry’s admiring eyes, for she appeared to him to be too beautiful to be a mere earthly creature. Her delicate complex- ion, finely-cut fea soft and full eyes, and masses of rich brown hair, were relieved rather than hightened in their beauty by the shimme folds of her amber-hued silk dress. She walked into the ae with a dignified, yet easy and graceful move- ment. “Mr. Stanway,” she said. The visitor turned, with a gesture of surprise. “Excuse me, Miss Gordon; I was so taken up with es new picture that did not notice your entrance. t is a beautiful piece.” “T hardly see how you can tell that, in this vague light,’ she plies. with a slight ripple of mu laughter, “Wait till I raise the c and let more light in on it. I think it fine.” As for Harry, he concluded not to wait. There were two ways of descending the vine before the young lady should get to the curtain. He chose the uickest, let go his hold, and tumbled headlong on the soft sward of the garden. Lest the noise of this hasty descent should alarm the house, he crawled quickly into a dense bush near him, and lay concealed from sight and hearing. CHAPTER Ii. ALICE GORDON’S LOVERS. Waie these events were progre Mr. Edward Livingston proceeded from the point of his meeting with making his way into the intricate plexus 5) of streets which form the lower part of New York city—the nose of the city, if we may call it so, pushed out into seething waters of the bay. into Beaver street he made his way along that avenue sacred to trade. “T never did anything before quite so awkward,” he muttered. ‘To fo that document at a crisis like this! It might endanger all, if these men were disposed to be obstinate, That comes from being taking prisoner by a woman's eyes. Alice Gordon has my sin to answer for.” He Reboot slowly, rons occasionally at the numbers e stores. He seemed see a ticular amy aabigt bs “T wonder if I can trust that ig’ pt he continued. I should have gone myself, but I must be present to soothe their ted souls until my messenger arrives. It is decidedly an awkward fix.—Ah! here is the spot. Price and Company,—Now for my En the doorway of a dingy-fronted but hi mercantile gs green he made his way to the second story, and ente a large room, furnished as an office, and occupied by some twenty individu- als, in whom his co: seemed to relieve a feeling of suspense, “You are late, Mr. Livingston,” said one of these, a large-framed but sharp-loo TSO) who oc- qo ne seat of honor, at a heh desk in the front te) m, ing at his watch, “Ten minutes after, sir,” retorted the other, tak- *s eyes were roaming about busily as he | ing from his pocket a magnificent gold-repeater. “ A “It is only ten,” replied Livingston, calmly, glanc- Handsome Harry, the Bootblack Detective. 3 Ten minutes each to twenty merchants is two hun- dred minutes, Just three hours and twenty minutes wasted for us because you choose to be careless about your watch.” “Your arithmetic is bid igo * returned Living- ston, a little vexed. ‘ of you has lost ten minutes reading of the Zvibune or Herald; for which Iam duly sorry. But you must excuse my delay. Had we not better proceed at once to orga- nize I, meeting.” , - ai agree “ We are organized, sir,’’ responded another of the merchants. Will Mr, Gordon be present?” “He is utterly unable to come,” was the reply. “He is quite prostrated, and under the doctor's eare. But his presence will not be necessary.” “No,” returned the first speaker. ‘If you have the articles of agreement duly signed and witnessed, I think we can excuse his attendance.” This remark precipitated matters with Mr. Living- ston. He was forced to the disagreeable necessity of explaining how he had left behind him this im- portant document, but that he had sent a messen- in all haste to obtain it, and that it would be e by noon at.the latest. An outcry of angry excitement was aroused in the assembly by this information, ‘‘ Unpardon- able!” ‘A ridiculous excuse!” “I, for one, shal) not wait,” and a dozen other such exclamations came from the buzzing throng of vexed merchants. Mr. Livingston did his best to try and soothe the angry entlemen, and to keep them from dispersing un Ty should arrive. “T acknowledge all my carelessness,”’ he exclaim- ed. “But in any case there is an hour or two’s work before us. There are a number of points of importance to consider, and we will be fully occu- pied until my messenger arri\ es.” “There is nothing we can’t settle in ten minutes,” lated the chairman. “Don’t you ine that,” replied Livingston, peng $8 “You won’t find it as easy to peng Krentz maen to one way of thinking as to move a shipment of sugar. Let us to business, gentlemen.” | ~ The business to be done was really but the settling of some minor points, but Livingston shrewdly man- aged, by opposition and adverse a: en pro- tract the discussion, and to occupy the minds of the merehants by pecige, Neae up to eager argument. It had been too difficult to get them together to let them separate until the missing pa was duly executed. The fortunes of the wealthy merchant, Gordon, rested upon his skill during these two anxious hours. meanwhile, the fortunes of George Gordon ing imperiled by circumstances quite Repond his control. All was not going well with Harry Hunter in his errand. The fates which had sent Hall Stanway there at that unlucky moment seemed about to prove disastrous. We must return to the room in which we left Miss Alice Gordon and her visitor. She had just crossed the apartment to raise the curtain, as we have seen. oe Mae her hand touched the chord she gave a slig t start of surprise. ~ What was that?’’ she exclaimed, asa hollow thud sounded beneath the window. Mr. Stanway quickly crossed to her side, raised the eurtain, and looked out. “T see nothing there,” he said. “And yet it sounded as if something had fallen. 2 ane have been deceived in the direction of the sound.” Y As she sod with slightly-parted lips and flushed cheeks, looking through the open window, Mr. Stanway gazed upon her with undisguised admira- tion, Evidently he was deeply smitten with the beauty of his fair hostess. “TI called principally to inquire as to the health of Mr. Gordon,” he explained, as she returned to him. ‘I hope he has had a good night, and is better this morning.” A sad look came upon the face of the beautiful girl, as she slowly shook her head in response. * He is still very unwell,” she replied. “I am in hopes, however, it is nothing more than a severe nervous shock, and that rest will prove the medicine needs. “Rest of mind,” added Mr. Stanway. ‘‘We are doing our best to settle this business trouble. If we have satisfactory success it will certainly relieve “God send that you may!’ she fervently re- . “You have my earnest thanks for your “Oh, Sabi tid fowmotien, "he exclsimed es ad forgotten,” he exclaimed, glanc- ing at the note which he had been holding earthy toward her. ‘There was a messenger bey, on the steps with itasI1 came up. I told James ey would hand it . Aaa e tore it open, an ced quickly over its pen- ciled d contents. . qeroF “<3 Ow provo !’ she exclaimed, in a tone of vexation. ‘Mr, Fsvinetbon has left behind him the document which he was to take in to the meet- ing this cAhaee * It was partly my forgetfulness, too. I hope it will occasion no trouble. must be sent without a moment’s delay,’’ she cried excit- She was already at the door of the room. James,” she called. “Yes, ‘um,” came a voice from below, and in a minute more the important footman ap eared. “Is the boy who brought this note still waiting?” As she spoke James’s eyes had wandered from her face to that of Mr. Stanway. A peculiar warn- ing look was upon the latter. He ain't, mum,” replied James, “He went right away. “ is too bad! He should have waited. Sce if spoke. He took in the froui aud rear of the house, , man of business should carry a correct time-picce,_ you can overtake him, Jamics.”’
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_ this stolen ring is traced to him.” 4. ‘°'Yes, *um.”” “There is no need of that,’”’ said Stanway, ity. “T am going immediately into the city, and take it in for you.” “Will you?” she exclaimed, her face lighting up with a look of joy. ‘I will be ever so thankful to you. That will do, James. Excuse me one mo- ment, Mr. Stanway. I will get it.” She hastened from the room, in a silky gleam, as her shimmering dress swept across the broad beam of sunlight. “Good!” he muttered between his teeth. “Iam getting the game in my own hands. Itis now or never. If she refuses me now I will ruin her father, and we will see then if my lady keeps her pride. As for Ned Livingston I have him under my thumb, too. He won’t stand so well in her good graces if He took the ring from his pocket, held it an in- stant in the flash of the sunshine, but dropped it egain as he heard her returning step. “Tt is true,” she excitedly exclaimed, on re-enter- ing. ‘‘He did leave it behind him. It is here, Mr. Stanley. I hope you will make all haste.” There was a peculiar expression on his face as he took the document from her extended hand. To her surprise he retained her hand in his. She flashed up a look of inquiry in which was mingled some displeasure, A single glance at the expression of his face, and she withdrew her hand with a somewhat hasty movement from his close grasp. “Pardon me, Miss Gordon— place for your kind,” replied the older woman. * \Whas’s tho usa, wicn I'm here now, to fetch one way. I wish to’ of you to let me in?”’ rejoined Harry, coolly seating himself. ‘Can't you go up and tell Miss Gordon there's a young gentleman here a-waitin’ to see her?”’ “* Miss Gordon don’t allow us to tell lies,” said the yee * So I wouldn't like to call you a young gen- leman. “Say then it’s a polisher of young gentlemen’s understandi Say it’s Harry Hunter, bootblack, and who ain’t no more ashamed of it than if he was * On poses wo grass with T ain't ou go your nonsense, Ia abontender, and I’ve got my potatoes to pare.” “Ts that all?” cried Harry. ‘‘Guess you never saw me parin’ pertaters. I’m justasteam-engine at that bizness. never see a pretty girl like Phe with apan of pertaters, but I always want to dive right in and pare.” Before she could prevent him Harry had taken the n of potatoes from her lap, snatched a knife from he table, and was busily at work, taking off quite as Hotes et as paring at every vigorous sweep of 6. The two women watched him for a moment in silence, and then burst into a roar of laughter. ** Well, if he ain't a lively young rascal I never saw one,” cried the elder. “You'd best go u " ap hi and tell Miss Gordon ‘bout him, or he” be tryin’ Oo cook the dinner next.” ‘“*That’s so, Sally,” responded the boy, as he made the potato — fly, ‘‘and I’m some guns at cookin’, too; only I’m afeared 1 might scorch the gravy, which wouldn't be quite comfortable.” Bally laughed again as she left the room, to break up the interview between Miss Gordon and her would-be lover, as we have already seen. CHAPTER IV. LIVELY TIMES IN THE KITCHEN. Mr. Stanway stood wpe: Spies lip with chagrin. His foot tapped the floor with an angry impatience. His downcast eye rested on the knee of his panta- loons, where there remained a trace of pei Ad han- Lib § though the most of the stain had n re- mov: “The young hound!’ he muttered between his teeth, his thoughts reverting to the boy. “See if I don't settle for him, and for his employer, Ned Livingston, Ay,and for our proud beauty, Alice Gordon. I have only to keep k this paper until the meeting breaks up, and George Gordon's ruin is earn 9 og You have despised my love, my haughty young lady. We will see if I have lost my She continued absent, talking to the girl. Witha ly-open door. “You must excuse my haste, “Pardon me, Mr. Stanway,”’ she replied, from be- yond the door. ‘“‘ Wait one moment only.’ “Wait! For what?” he said to himself, with a fierce intonation. ‘For you to tell me that you have thought better of your refusal of my love? No, in- deed; I read your look too well to fancy that. I will not wait, I will have the credit of haste. But, for, a that, Lyear the meeting will not get this paper me, : “Tell the boy to wait for a minute or two,” said Alice to her servant, as she dismissed her. “T will not be obliged to trouble you, Mr, Stan- way,” she continued, re-entering the room, “the messenger boy is—” She paused, and looked around her in surprise. The room was unoccupied, Her visitor was gone. “That is certainly a very impolite haste,” she ex- claimed, ina tone of displeasure. ‘And I cannot but mistrust this man. That he should take such a time to press his unwelcome suit! Is he truly our friend?” She rung the bell for James. That dignified individual quickly appeared. “Ts Mr, Stanway gone?” “ Yes, ‘um.’ “That will do, James.” “T must, at all events, send the boy to inform Mr. Livingston of what has occurred,” she continued, after James had retired. ‘He may be able to re- trieve the son danger.” Meanwhile Sally the servant girl had returned to the kitchen. Here she found that her substitute had finished the potatoes. In fact he had almost finished them in another sense, for there was about as much potato in the dish of parings as there was in the potato-pan. He was now seated beside the range, busily en- in shelling peas, and occasionally gi a vigorous stir to a saucepan of some compound over the fire. While his hands were thus occupied his tongue was rat away with nonsense to the girl at the ironing-table, whom he kept in a roar of laughter. ‘And here comes black-eyed Sally, and now we'll know all about it in a jiffy,” cried Harry, with en- thusiasm, ‘ Ain’t Miss Gordon just wild now to see me, and wonderin’ why I didn’t come sooner?” “Oh yes! dreadful wild,” retorted Sally, ina dis- dainful tone. ‘ Lhope you don’t fancy that a born lady like Miss Gordon hasn’t better company than bootb ** Ain’t I good-lookin’?” returned the boy, as he shelled away for dear life. ‘‘ Don’t every one call me Handsome Harry? And between you and me,’’ he continned, dropping his voice to a mysterious whis- per, “if she knowed what brung me here, she’d be wild enough to see me, I promise you." They were interrupted by a quick pull at the bell. But Sally had just then the hot saucepan in her hands, its contents being in that critical state thae they could not be left until after a minute or two's attention. Thus the bell was not immediately answered. Miss Gordon, impatient at a delay which might prove dangerous, quickly descended herself to the kitchen. She opened the door with a rapid movement, and then halted with a gesture of surprise at the tableau presented. At one side of the kitchen stood Sally, dropping salt in the hot saucepan with one hand, and stirring vigorously with the other, while her head was turned over her shoulder in some saucy reply to Harry. The girl at the ironing-table was also looking be- hind her and laughing, while the scorching hot iron was doing irreparable damage to ruffles and flounces. = As for Harry he was seated on one chair, with his feet on another, a deep pan in his lap, from which he was actively shelling peas out to the floor, and carefully dropping the shells into the pan, while his eyes were turned with a comical blink toward Sally, whom he had been busily chaffing. The sound of the opening door caused an instant reversal of affairs. An earthquake could not have roduced a greater convulsion than did this appari- Hon of the astonished face of Miss Gordon in the doorway. The hot iron slipped from the fingers of the laun- dress, hitting her squarely on the toes, and causing her to execute an Indian war dance about the floor, accompanied with yells of pain. As for Sally, her fingers went ba se into the boiling mess, scat- tering it about the table and floor, while she joined in the war dance of her fellow servant. Harry, the third member of the party, sprung hastily to his feet, tt: both chairs, and sending the ig flying e billiard balls in all directions over the kitchen floor. It was costatnly a most effective situation, and Miss Gordon, despite her momen sensation of angér, could not suppress an irresistible impulse to laugh, as she saw the two girls dancing and howling with ain ; and Harry, with a sheepish look pon his face, folding the pan at an inclination of forty-five de- rees, while the shells followed the peas to the oor, “Is this Miss Gordon?” asked Harry, the first to regain his senses. Tam not quite sure of that, or of as just now,”’ she re tied, still laughing. ‘ I hardly thought my coming into the kitchen would produce such a convulsion of nature. What does all this mean,” “T have only been trying to amuse the young ladies,” said Harry, again replying. ‘Indeed! I should hardly care to be amused in that way,” she laughingly rejoined, as she saw the older woman on the floor nursing her toes, her yells of pain being reduced to low moans ; while Sally We running to dip her scorched fingers into hot water. “If you produce such a commotion as this in all the families you visit, I should imagine that your calls would not be very welcome,” continued Miss Gordon, ‘Are you the boy who wished te see me?” “I’m just that boy, “he replied, ‘‘ Ha Hunter, bootblack, is my name and title. Icome here with a letter frcm Mr. Livingston, and I was to take him something back from you. And I’m afeared I’ve been dished out of both by a foxy-eyed sort of a fellow, who is mean enough to rob an honest me- chanic out of his wagos.” ““What do you mean?” Pe ay if Mh looked at his boots this morning you’d found them to shine so that you could have seen your own pretty facein’em. I put that lish on ’em, — Hie bs egos: me ape Tasked him to pay for the job. ut I've go charged u A him, and if he don’t have to pay it yet, with forty per cent interest, then the boys gon’ call me Handsome Harry.” She looked into his bright young face, flushed with indignation and excitement, and thought to herself that the boys were not far wrong in giving him that title. ; “Come this way, my boy,” she said, leading up stairs into the reception room. “Mr. Stanwav has got the package you were to take,” she continued. ‘I am sorry now thatI gave it to him, as I fear it may be delayed in reaching its destination. I will give you a note, explaining the circumstance, which you must take immediately to Mr. Aavingston. . - “*T wouldn’t trust Stanway half as far as I could sling an gerber by the tail,” soliloquized Harry, after she had left the room, “If I can catch up to him, I'll have that paper yet, in some way or other. But, Jerusha! ain’t this high old style?” He looked with admiration around the handsome- ly-furnished room, his unaccustomed eyes noting the brilliant carpet, the soft colors on the walls, the richly-upholstered chairs, with the greatest enjoy- ment, “It’s like walking over thick grass,” he continued as he moved gingerly alo the rnc that yielded to his tread. ‘‘ And them iF eters! d them bronze sojers on the mantle! such grandeur ain’t jist enough to take away a chap’s breath, I wouldn’t say Miss Gordon soon returned with a note which she had written. A few minutes’ conversation ensued, after which Harry was dismissed, with injunctions to make the greatest haste, Nor was he sent away without a gratuity that was eq to a fortnight’s bootblacking. ‘I ain't much given to take money that I haven't worked for,” he said. ‘‘ But I calculate to earn this. And I know it will b me good luck to have some- thing in my pocket that’s m touched by your pretty fingers, and looked at by your sweet face. So
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» Handsome Harry, the Bootblack Detective. 5 I’m very much obliged to you, Miss Gordon, and you'll never find me going back on you.” A slight blush, not unmingled with a look of pleas- ure, came into her face at his words. “Be off, you young flatterer,”’ she said, smilingly. “*T fear that you are learning the arts of the gallant too early.” P It was something more than rise that came into James's face as he was called to let the boy out. It was rather astoundment of the most supreme or- der. He could not comprehend at all how the boy had got into the house. ‘“‘Good-by, old dignity,’’ called out Harry, as he left the door. ‘‘ Best take a double reef in that nose of yourn, and hang a pound weight to the corner of both them eyes, or after a while you'll have to be stood Me your head every time you want to see the ground,” He was off ere his antagonist could recover from his surprise at this stupendous impudence sufficient- ly to reply. It was not long before Harry again found himself in a car of the Elevated Railroad on his return trip. He walked through the train to see if he could find a car still more to his satisfaction; and in doing so he made an important discovery. This was that Mr. Stanway was on the same train. The fact is that he had been in no haste to reach the cars, and Harry had not been many minutes behind him in leaving the mansion of the Gordons. A new idea came into the boy’s active brain. Mr. Stanway occupied a seat facing forward. The seat immediately behind it was unoccupied. This Harry boldly took, satisfied that his foe was too deeply en- ga in his newspaper to notice who sat near him. ‘The train was soon swiftly flying onward toward the city. But athe did not trouble his brains now about the surrounding scenery. His mind was too closely occupied about the gentleman who sat before him, and whom he investigated as thoroughly as a pair of ba 3 sharp eyes were capable of. ere’s a dockyment sticking out of the inside pocket of his coat,’’ said Harry to himself. ‘‘ That’s my game, for a brass dollar. I’m bound to have it, or somethin’s a-goin’ to bu’st.”’ Station after station was passed, Harry still vigi- lantly watching for an opportunity. Ere long they were among the down-town stations. Mr. Stanway ceased reaching, and began deliberately to fold his newspaper. “Park Place!” cried the conductor, while the train slackened its speed. Mr. Stanway rose and stepped into the car aisle, still folding his paper. Harry also rose and stood behind him. The car gave a slight jerk forward as the brakes took firmer hold of the wheels. Instantly the boy, as if he had lost his footing, plunged forward in the aisle, flinging his arms around Mr. Stanway, and hugging him closely, with seeming intention to save himself from falling. “Confound your awkwardness! Let go!’ cried the gentleman, angrily. “Excuse me, I tripped,’ said Harry, releasing him, and starting for the rear end of the car. Something in the tone attracted Mr. Stanway’s attention. He turned, recognized Harry at a glance, and with an oath rushed after him. It was a quick chase. The train was now nearly at rest at the station. The conductor opened the gate to the car platform just as Harry reached it. ith his usual agility the boy leaped from the car, ran_ hastily to the stairs, dropping his ticket in the box as he passed, and was in an instant more going down the stairs six steps at a time, ten feet in advance of his ursuer, a . And in his hand he held the important document, which he had managed to abstract from Mr, Stan- way’s pocket during the surprise of the latter at being so rudely grasped. CHAPTER V. TOO LATE FOR THE MEETING. , Tue two hours which Mr. Livingston had calcu- lated as sufficient for Harry’s trip was passed, and the boy had not yet appeared. In fact, two hours were too short a time for his task, even if he had met with no interruptions. His employer’s im- patience had run ahead of his judgment, or he would have realized that it was impossible for the eek to be back by twelve, or even by half-past welve. Indeed it was not impatience only which made him nervous and uneasy. There was much more to be feared than the co: uences of a mere ordinary delay, and he felt strongly the necessity of getting the signatures of the merchants present to the missing paper as soon as possible. He succeeded in keeping them ther until past the noontide hour. But when f-past twelve arrived, and there were no signs of the messenger, they w too restless to be longer controlled. nev his is about served out,” cried the burly man at the desk, in a very impatient accent. Tam willing to be easy with George Gordon, but I cannot give up my whole day’s business on account of the blunders of. his agents. Everybody knows where the estab- lishment of Jones & Brown is to be found. Bring me agreement there and you can have my signa- ure,” “And mine,” “And mine,” said several of the ne as ber Apna and prepared to leave ue prio “T hope, gentlemen, you are not going ut me to all that unn * ‘rouble? exclaimed Fiving- ston. “After Wek so long, surely fifteen min- utes, or even a half-hour, more would not matter greaely. You all know that [ have no personal in- rest in this matter. Iam acting only as Mr, Gor- don’s friend.” “Then we have a personal interest,” retorted the \ 4 representative of Jones & Brown. “Is it not enough to sign away fifty per cent of our claims, without giving up a day’s business to do it? Iam not so anxious to sign as all that.” He pressed his hat sternly down over his eyes, and walked haughtily toward the door. From the looks of the others, as well as from some words that esca them, it was evident that the were mostly of the same opinion. Yet the impend- ing break-up of the meeting was hindered by an un- expected event. rr ee = the room was ween fh a open, oe 1e re ofa yo man appeared in the opening his face red as with haste, a pen behind his ear, an no hat upon his head. “Mr. Brown,” he ejaculated, as soon as he could recover breath. ‘‘ Have you signed?” “Not rs Harry,” answered the burly merchant. “What ore “There is nothing wrong if you have not ed. Lonly wish to announce that suit has been entered against the estate of George Gordon, in the Roches- ter courts, for a claim of fifty thousand dollars, of which we knew nothing. If you had signed that iron-clad paper your hands would have been all tied. “As it ny the man who can push his claim through to judgment the liveliest has the best chance for his cash.” “By Jove, if that ain’t rich!” exclaimed one of the merchants. ‘‘And you, Ned Livingston, have sought to defraud us in favor of this snap suit.” “Tt will come to nothing, gentlemen,” said Liv- ingston, firmly, but a little pale. “‘It isa claim that has not an ounce of foundation, as I can prove to you.” “Save your breath to cool your porridge,” angrily retorted Mr. Brown. ‘My claim has some founda- tion, then, as you shall see. Harry Jones, you're a brick, Come, gentlemen, we are saved by good for- tune from being made the victims of a swindling trick. “That is false,’ cried Livingston excitedly. ‘It is George Gordon who has been cheated and ruined be swindlers and robbers. Ido not blame you, gen- tlemen, for your hasty action, but you will sorry for it yet.” There was an incredulous and angry look on the faces of most of the assembly, as they made their Way in a mass to the door. At no great distance from the front entrance to the building stood a young man, his shoulder care- lessly set against the corner of a re ton store. The smoke of a cigar curled slowly up from his lips and a covert smile marked his face, as he noticed the throng of irritated merchants issuing from the doorway of Price & Co.’s store, much like the an- gry amet of a bee-hive when disturbed at their work. He turned his head away as certain more familiar faces approached him. e evidently did not care to be recognized. There was little danger of this, how- ever; they were far too full of their own affairs to be intere! in this idle smoker, whose only aim in life seemed to be the burning of a roll of dried tobacco. But when, from the number who had come forth, it was evident that the hive must be near empty, a sudden change came ee this young gentleman. He raised himself from his lounging attitude, flung away his half-smoked cigar, and walked hastily to- ward the door whence they were issuing. “What is wrong, Mr. nm?” he eried, with an ap nce of concern, to one whom he met on the stairway. ‘ The meeting is not broken up?” “ Yes; thanks to our good luck.” “But T have the ment,”’ “You can keep it, then, for cigar lighters. That is all it is likely to be good for.” The new-comer ran quickly up to the room of the meeting. It was nearly empty. Only a small group remained, talking earnestly together, while Mr. Liv- ingston stood, his hand on the desk, looking angry, heated, and as if at an utter loss what next to do. ‘*Mr. Stanway!” he exclaimed, as the new-comer entered. “What is wrong, Mr. Livingston?” asked the latter. **T was at Mr. Gordon’s this morning, and have brought the agreement with all possible haste. Could you not oe them together?” “It is all up, Mr. Stanway,” returned Livin: nm, in an accent of chagrin. ‘There is a hitch the proceedings; and the document is not worth the paper it is written on.” You don’t tell me that!” exclaimed Stanway, with evident concern. ‘‘ Why, what has ? But here is the unlucky paper.—Ha! where is it? I had it in this pocket.” It was his turn now to be surprised. He hastily searched his pockets, one after another. No trace of the missing document was discoverable. “Well, that is the strangest thing. It must bave fallen from my pocket in the car.”’ A sudden thought struck him, and he continued, mentally: ‘* Aha! that boy; can he have taken it?—And the letter which I in the same pocket?” He again plunged his hand into the depth of his pocket, and grew livid- ly bsg as it came up empty. r. Stanway turned toward the door, walking with a hasty but trembling step. His lips were bloodless. y, Mr. Stanway, are you unwell?” asked Liv- in, sston, anxiously. No, no,” replied the other. ‘I was only vexed at = carelessness. I must go back to seek that lost “You need not, It will be of no use,” added Liv- —— after him. ut he left the room without paying any attention to this remark, ‘Well, I didn’t think that Stanway was so inter- ested in Mr. Gordon’s affairs. He turned as pale as if it had been his own loss. The fact is, I would have suspected him of feeling the other way, from some things I have seen.—But how came he with the paper? It seems that I have been especially unfortunate in gm ” ees thus speaking, followed the last of the merchants from the room. : Meanwhile that messenger was poonuiee in a very different affair from that on which he had been em- ployed. After escaping from Stanway’s pursuit by plunging through several streets and turning various corners, without looking around to see whether or not he was followed, he found himself in a quieter avenue than the most of those through which he had He stopped a few minutes to recover his breath and to dispose of the folded paper which he still held tightly clutched in his hand. *You can score one for Harry Hunter,"’ he said, triumphantly, as he crammed the recovered docu- ment into some inner pocket. ‘Guess I'll forgive Stanway that shine-up. But I ain’t goin’ to have him chasin’ me this way tt. time he sees me. Ill salt him worse than everif he tries it on again.— But T must hunt up Mr. Livingston now.” “Here he is, boys!” yelled a youthful voice at bres moment. ‘‘Go for the galoot! Pile it inte im!” Harry looked up quickly at this, to see before him the identical Bill Blunt whom he had laid out on the that morning. He was accompanied b two other boys of his own size, and they were ail three advancing belligerently upon Harry. It was a critical moment. e had no fancy for being pummeled. One quick look around, and he hastily threw off his coat, and backed up against ihe side of the building near which he stood. “Come ahead, now, my coveys,” he exclaimed. “One at a time, or all together. I don’t care a fig how; for I’m good enough for a dozen such gutter- wanes as you.”’ ith a howl of anger the three young savages a at him, crowding in so that they impeded each other’s movements. They thus were forced to strike wildly and at random. Not so with Harry. He was thoroughly cool and collected. He struck back with vim, making every blow tell. For every — that reached him he returned two with inter- “Pile in my hearties! Tumble up!" yelled Harry, his fists working away like hammers. “Come in and give me a polish. Wipe that blood off your nose, Bill Blunt, or it will spile yourdinner. Sail in, sonnies, and get your rations.” His three infuriated antagonists went at him more madly than ever, striking with tco much angry viciousness for their blows to be effective. Despite their numbers Harry had the advantage of them in his backing and in his coolness. “Look out for your nose, little one,” cried Harry, ta) ping that exposed organ in one of his foes. “And here’s to put your eye in mournin’,”’ and he gave the third of his antagonists a settler in the right organ of vision. *Come, = rats: what are you stopping up the pavement for?” called out a passing gentleman.. “Three on one;. that’s not fair,’ said another. “Let us separate them.”’ ‘* Leave them alone,”’ cried Harry coolly. ‘“‘ They’re gettin’ curried down. Here's Bill Blunt's rations,” His fist shot out, taking that young man squarel between the eyes, and knocking him flat on bac in the street. “You know I never was a fighter,’’ continued Harry. “I go in for peace and quiet, straight out from the shoulder. But you fellows can’t get along without a cooler, now and then.” As he spoke he caught his two remaining anta, nists by the hair, one with each band, and bro t their heads together with a resounding crack that might have been heard a block away. en, bearing them backward, and tripping up their heels at the same time, he laid the pair of them on their backs in the street, beside Bill Blunt, whe was slowly gathering himself together. “IfI was a fighting boy now, I might have hurt some of you,’ said Harry calmly. “ But as long eas I lay myself out for a maker, you're not a- goin’ to get me into any of your squabbles.” And he walked away with a look of pious gravity that set all the bystanders—of whom several had collected—laughing. *“Here’s your coat, my peaceful boy, don't leave that,” said one of them. Harry picked up his coat and put.it on, while his discomfited foes scrambled to their feet, and skulk- ed sheepishly away. With his hands in his pockets, and the dignity of a conqueror, Harry walked from the field of battle, his stately step starting a fresh burst of laughter in the meme ag ae “Appears as *"m never goin’ to get to Mr. Livingston; I’ve got so many mules od eure” he remarked to himself. “‘ But what was the directions he gave me?” e felt in the pocket in which he had put the per given him by Mr. Livingston. But it was not here. Faneying that it had dropped out during the fight he turned back. After some search he found a scrap which might have been it, but it had been trampled in the mud until there was no writ- ing distinguishable upon it. Well, if this ain't thunde unlucky, there's no use talking,” he ejaculated, “It’s all up, after all my trouble. And all my potater-parin’, and pea- shellin’, and_pocket-pickin’ is just flung away. Might as well have been — marbles all this time. A Jack I was that dn’t look at them di- rections afore I put em in my pocket. Mr. Living ston is dished out of his document, that’s sure.” He walked disconsolately onward, making hic ay ;
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————E———————ee ee 6 at random toward the eastern side of the city. baba we, not heeding or caring where he went. “Tf I could‘only stumble across Mr. Livingston now, it would be as good as a treat,” he said aloud. “Te you had stumbled across him an hour ago it might have been better,’’ spoke a familiar voice near him. Harry raised his eyes with a startled glance. There before him s the very person of whom he bad spoken. CHAPTER VI. A CHANGE OF BASE. THERE was a very disconsolate look upon Edward Livingston’s face as he slowly made his way along Beaver and up William street, too deeply sunk in thought to know or care just where he was going. “This business is bad in two ways,” he thought, “First that I have lost es labor, and Mr. Gordon Bias lost his property; and secondly that I have ained the reputation with these men of attempting . swindle them. It would be impossible now to make them see my real motives. I care not so much for that, however, as for the effect on Alice of this crushing blow. Poor girl, I fear that this will prove a sorry day’s work for her. And all through my stupid forgetfulness. If ever any one wanted a eart-whipping it is that confounded boy.” At that very instant the ‘‘confounded boy,” little less disconsolate than his employer, made the re- mark which we have quoted in the last chapter. Livingston caught sight of him at the same instant, and answered as quoted. M4 —_ hye Jollification! if it ain't Mr. Living- ston himself!” exclaimed Harry, in a tone of infinite relief. ‘‘ Well, if this ain’t just as good as a Fags Fi po nel have come straighter if I'd been shot out a gun ” “And you couldn’t have come more slowly if ats had borrowed the feet of a snail,’ retorted Living- ston, angrily. “You are a sweet specimen of an active messenger! And how came Mr. Stanway to get'the paper, and send you back empty-handed?” “Empty handed? Not much!” ejaculated Harry, his tongue in his cheek. “ ’Tain’t quite in that coon’s boots to sell Handsome Harry as cheap as that. Pact is, sir, I got ambushed by three boys, who laid Shemselves out to lick me. Now I wasn’t never no go ena fight, but I reckon somehow there ain’t as much fcht in them galoots as there was. Howsomever fiat aren’t the p'int. I lost your directions in the scrimmage, and I was ne along here, all at sea, when you and me come together, head on.” “But did you see Miss Gordon? How came Stan- way with the paper? And how is it that you are an hour beaind time?” ‘Le 's get around this corner, out of the crowd, avd iil icil youail about it,” answered Harry. ‘It’s tvo lor a scory to be told in a breath.” It, in fact, took Harry some time to relate al) he had seen and experienced, during his journey after She paper. One point only he suppressed, hardly knowing why—that of the theft of the diamond ring by Stanway. y Nor did he have much to say concerning his adven- ‘sre in the kitchen, for fear that Mr. Livingston wight think he had been wasting time there. “Well; you are an admirable messenger after all sand have done your best,” said Livingston. “% aan only sorry that you are too late, for the paper tw be of any use.” “So use?’’ cried Harry in dismay, as he drew the fcument from his breast pocket. ‘Why ain’t it of Meteo late, nay boy,” ret bend Lathan taking e ‘00 , my return ston, % and slowly anfold it. “It is not your fa ye am No one could have done more.”’ He held the open sheet before his eyes, and glanced at its contents. * This is it, sure enough,” he remarked. ka But you have dropped a part of it,” rejoined arry. In fact, as he opened the sheet, a folded paper had fallen out, and, caught by the wind, had fluttered to She ground ten paces away. Harry hastened to recover it. What is that?” asked Livingston in some surprise. “The agreement is all here.” “You've got me there,” replied Harry. “ All I hoe is it fell out of that dokyment that’s in your Livingston took it from the boy’s grasp, and opened %&.. it was folded like a letter. "3 Harry was looking him closely ny be! heed *y pad 8S - is great city. agrcoment now. We éon’t want any natures. all goes well the editors can have their hundred per cent. instead of itty. fe looked on astounded at this unusual display enpouon. . “Lgotit out of a rat-hole,” he ventured, for lack ef something better to say, ‘‘and that was Stan- way’s pocket.” 3 ey ” exclaimed Livingston, his face radi- aot with elight. ‘You're the premium ferret, Har- Rats have no chance before you,” ey. He seized the boy’s hand, and shook it with the Broadway, he walked carelessly forward, | utmost warmth. “I'm glad I've toed the mark so square,” said the pressed boy. “But now, Mr. Li ay taht by aven't no objections, I guess I'd best get bi to business. It’s a bootblack’s duty to be at his post on a muddy morning.” “One moment, Harry,” returned Mr. Livingston, again perusing the letter. e stood for some minutes in deep thought. “IT wonder if Stanway suspects your having the papers ” “T hugged him as close as if it had been a grizzly bear. e might ‘spect.”’ “Then I must work with dispatch," exclaimed Livingston, excitedly. ‘Go back to where Stanway found you this morning. Here is his document, which you can return to him if he asks for it. But you are to know nothing of this letter,"’ “Don’t talk about an oyster, or a ’Gyptian mum- my bein’ dumb,” returned Harry, with a knowing look. “If IT ain’t ten times dummer than the dum- mest oyster that ever drunk salt water, then there's no use talkin’, Just let old Stanway try me on.” Harry brought the conversation to an end by walk- ing away, as if he was in haste to give Stanway a specimen of the possibilities of dumbness., “T may need you this afternoon,” called out Liv- nee “Keep in the neighborhood of the City ““ Ay, ay!’’ came from Harry, who was already some distance away. In half an hour more he had recovered his box “place, and was back again, ready morning’s standpoint. Li ton, left alone, again the letter, and struck knee with an outburst of pleasure. “Tf this may ms A cop = go he fice hien a regular nugget. But I’ve wor e tning to play a counterplot on the rascal. from some hidi for business, at That boy is as sharp as a steel-trap; he may help me in my little ame.—But I must strike while the iron’s hot. I ancy I will succeed in saving Mr. Gordon from the ditch in which they are seeking to plunge him.”’ Carefully depositing the letter in his pocket-book as he spoke, he hastened away, with a very different expression from that with which he had met Harry. ; ut, as ha. have no — M prey ag with Mr. oars ngston at present, we ollow the young gentle- man who has must lett him. “Shine ‘em! Shine ‘em! MHere’s your double action, nicke!-plated polish!” called out Harry, in a eheery voice, as he swung his box over his shoulder. “Here you are, sir,” asa gentleman passed with a pair of soiled shoes on his feet, ‘* Put your foot right here. S’pose_your lady"d happen to see you with them shoes? Why she'd cut you clean out of her books. Hoist your boot-leather on to this box, and I’ll make you a pair of black looking-glasses in the twinkle of a cat’s eye.” With a laugh the gentleman obeyed, and was soon sent away with a brilliant polish. ** Who comes next?” edout Harry. ‘I’m open for jobs.—Shine ‘em! Shine ’em!—Here you are, sir. I’m the boy you was lookin’ for. Just see how nice this box fits your boot-sole. Will you have a Herald to read while I’m polishing ’em?’ “No, no,”’ laughed the customer. “TI didn’t bring my velvet arm-chair with me this mornin’. But maybe you can stand for two min- utes. Just you take a squint at the clock up there, and I'll discount one cent on the job for every min- ute I run over two.” Hi felt that his reputation was at stake, and he worked away like a small wind-mill. ‘There you are, sir, neat as a trivet. But I lost a meee pin the mud off, and that oughtn’t to coun “You have made your time,” said the customer, as he paid for the shine. Harry walked on, whistling heartily, and keeping an eye open for trade. ‘* Business is brisk this afternoon. "Tain’t been a bad nohow. Hallo, Bill Blunt, is that you? Stop that flood-gate in your nose, did you?” we: right, Harry,” sai Bill. ‘You're my boss. I givein. But don't open out on this to the boys. Will you now?” “T'wasn’t never a brag nor a blow, Bill; you know that. It’s quits between us.” “Look out, Handsome Harry,” cried little Tim, pomp: ft young admirer, ashe ranup. ‘Keep your eye a naar: Here comes the chap you marked this mo ng ” Harry looked up and saw Mr. Stanway approach- ‘T’ve run away from him three times to-day now,” exclaimed Harry. ‘That breaks the charm. I ain’t in’ to spend all my life runnin’ away from any pogiognhs at vigorously spitting into © spoke he was ro’ a box of blacking, into which he rubbed & bruch till it was with sable fluid. “Ha! I thought I'd find you here!” exclaimed Stead bas a wed worningly “Th $ ik c arry a aven’t ¢ no sword nor no pistol. ‘But I've got the boot- lack’s breech-loading rifle. If you don’t want to catch it on the t’other knee, you'd best keep off."’ Stanway backed in some dismay from before the dangerous brush, which Harry was brandishing in the air. “You villainous young hound!” he fiercely roared. “Where is the paper you stole from my ket this morning? If you do not deliver it up tly I will have you in the Tombs before an hour.” “Stole it?- I wonder!’ retorted Harry, still cpreerens with the brush. ‘* Who dished me out of it first? Maybe you'll tell me that. ButI don’t care for your old paper. I can’t find Mr. Livingston, so 7 Fie took tive fobted SGuhiint frou is Spot e e fo ocument from et, and handed it over, with a careless swing. ‘ Stanway seized it with the avidity with which a vul- ture snatches a morsel of meat. look of exultation was on his face. But it changed to dismay when he be aan the paper and found that it did not contain the letter. ““ Where is the other?’ he cried. “There was a letter caught in its folds.” “Was there?” asked Harry, innocently. “Itmust be in my pocket then. “And it’s not there,” he continued, after plunging his hand to the bottom of his ore . “You have it, you young thief. I will search you or have you esarched” “ Keep off!’ exclaimed Harry, with a warning sweep of the brush. ‘I never say what I don't mean. The boys here can search me, if they’ve a mind. But if you touch me, see if I don’t make an- other entry in my day-book.”’ At this dread threat Mr. Stanway drew back. “Go for him, boys,” he said. ‘1'll give a dollar to the boy that finds my letter on him.” There was never a boy of H ‘s size better searched than he was, on the viremath of this muni- ficent offer. He stood perfectly still, while Bill Blunt, little Tim, and one or two others, went through his clothes, from head to foot. But there was no letter to be found, and they finally gave it up in disgust. Mr. Stanway seemed to be thoroughly puzzled. “Didn't I tell you so?” remarked Harry, still keep- ing the black end of his weapon toward his foe. 4 faybe it was dropped in the Elevated when I pull- ed my dockyment out of your pocket, Liege for the conductor of that there train. Car %4, 8 Avenue Elevated, That’s what /’d do if Ijwasin your boots. But I don’t care a fig what you do. You can go to grass, if you want.” Mr. Stanway made another movement toward Harry, which the latter repelled by brandishing his dangerous weapon. The baffled villain stood for a moment in sus- pense; then turned on his heel. “The boy must be right,” he muttered, as he walked away. ‘‘He evidently knows nothing about it. I must try the car.” ““Good-by, old slider,” called Harry, after him. “Tf you ain’t the cheapest sold goose that was ever hung up in this market I wouldn't say so. I’ve cut out a good two hours’ business for you, anyway; ; and that'll give Mr. Livingston so much more to countermarch on zoe, As he spoke he esp he had mentioned, rapidly approaching. “Can you go with me, Harry?” he asked, as he came up. “Yes; to Hong Kong, if you say the word.” “Then get rid of your box and follow me at once,” and he walked quickly onward. CHAPTER VIL HARRY PLAYS A DOUBLE GAME, AND WINS. An hour after the date of the close of our last chapter Edward Livingston and Harry Hunter might have been seen traveling in very different direc- tions. The first was going up-town in the direction of the Gordon’s mansion; the second had c the North river at Courtlandt Street Ferry, and taken a railroad train for Newark. They are both on errands of some interest to us; but as we cannot follow them both at once, we dispose first of Mr. Livingston’s business, and then devote ourselves to the more interesting expedition of our young friend neg The meeting between Alice Gordon and Edward Livingston was quiet, but there was in it an unde- fined element which rendered it very different from her previous meeting with Hall Stanway. In fact, there is a quiet which is full of signifi- cance. Eyelids that droop on meeting, hands that tremble in ing, show that there is a stir in the depths of the soul which does not appear on the surface, and that which seems pure calm to_the looker-on may be a riot of the blood and a deep ey tg dropped no wo: ca oughts of love from their li Love could wait until the vital in- terests of this eventful day were settled. - So be- yond a tremor in their hands on meeting each other, and glances of furtive soqpenrs in their eyes, there was nothing to show that they were other than mere indifferent acquaintances. A momentary silence and hesitation was broken by Alice, who asked, py rege ‘ “T am so anxious to learn what has happened. Did the agreement reach you in time?—I fear it was largely my fault that you forgot it. Her eyes were again downcast in momentary confusion. “T cannot excuse my negligence so easily as that —by making you le for it,” he answered. rh! felt like never fo aye 4 ** But why? Was it too “Tt aden, Af far as its main object was concerned,” “What!” she cried, growing slightly pale “did Stanway—was it parpo delayed? “T would not like to accuse any one of that,” he | replied, ‘‘There has been a series of misfortunes. | The m peng r I sent for Tt, mare caused all the trouble is over~ e took the m Stanway Mand then failed to find me.” Pao 3 Now. fs is too bad!” she exclaimed, “But where you ever come across such a messenger! A handsome little fellow he was; but sooh a scape- grace! Why he almost created a revolution amon the giris in the kitchen,"" She laughed heartily a the recollection of the scene. ‘* He is the King of the City Hall bootblacks, But ed the gentleman whose name | HA
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ny } : Handsome Harry, the Bootblack Detective. va there is more in him than that. I intend to make further use of the boy, for I do not know where to find one smarter, or more wide-awake.”’ t “But you said) it was too late! Did the creditors refuse tosign? I fear that my poor father’s recov- ery depends on these signatures.” ‘Thope not, Alice. ey have not signed, But allis yet far from being lost.” ‘“Why was it that signature was so very ne- cessary to-day?”’ ** T will tell you, he replied. ‘‘ But to do so I must recapitulate the whole business. Of course you are well aware that your father’s threatened failure is through no fault of his. Very few merchants, in these hard times, could bear a loss of one hundred thousand dollars, and be ready to meet their engage- ments. The loss of the ship Good-Speed and her cargo, without insurance, was a hard blow. But the robbery of those securities was fatal, If we could recover them—” ‘* But you cannot recover them,’’ she aby toner “‘Everything has been done. The thieves have hidden their tracks too completely.” “T am not so sure of that,” he rejoined. ‘In fact, I fancy that Isee a clew now to their trial. But to return om —— After your puhars ye yet had agr sign a paper accepti ty per cen of their claims, we secelved a oa that a suit for a large sum was about to be entered against him in the Rochester courts. The claim is a false one, and will never stand acloseinvestigation. But the credi- tors would be sure not to sign a paper which binds them absolutely, as ours did, if they knew of this extra claim. They have heard of it, and there is now no hope of obtaining their signatures. If they bring suit it will be ruinous.” “But will they? You spoke just now of some hope remaining.”’ Her voice had a very anxious ring. “Itis not for myself I care, but for my poor father.” ““Bhere is ho hope of regaining the stolen bonds—hope that the Good-S may not be a total loss. Ihave not told you all yet, Alice.” But we will not trouble the reader just now with what further he had to say. It will all develop itself in time. ‘ **T beg,” he said, in conclusion, * that you will not change your demeanor toward Stanway. Nothing must be said or done to make him suspect.” __ “My demeanor is not so very inviting to him at any time,” she replied, her innate disposition to merriment showing itself in a smile on her lips. “He was here this morning, and—but there is some- thing I have been forgetting,’’ she hastily interrupt- ed herself. ‘I, too, have been robbed, Edward. M jewel casket was carelessly left in the parlor this morning. It has been opened, and my solitaire ring stolen. But what makes you look so disturbed?” ‘New troubles, Alice,’’ he responded, with a sickly smile. ‘‘So there is a new addition to the tale of robberies.”’ “There has been no one there except Stanway and your messenger boy. Yourself excepted, of course, and I hardly think it was you,” she lau, hed, as if amused at the idea. “From what Se ve told me I fear that Stanway may have helped him- self to my ring.” “Tt may be,” he returned, in a low, somewhat doubting tone. “I searcely think that the boy—” “Oh, no! Idon’t dream of such a He is thing. too frank, honest, and direct. He is no thief.” ‘*T am glad that you do not think it was he,’ was the rejoinder. | “T should be sorry indeed— after send- ing him here. ing at we must mse with the remainder of this conversation, to follow the boy—of whose freedom from theft Livingston was evidently not quite sure— in his new journey. “A hi x old time I’m having of it to-day,” he cogitated, as the rattling train bore him through the hills that environ Jersey City, and out into the wide marshes beyond, watered by the snake-like bends of their sluggish river. y ‘Never done so much railroading in one day in my life before. And it’s goin’ to pay like wild. Money’s just been a-shoveling into my kets. A month's shining up wouldn’t hold a candle to it.” Leaving the train at Market street station, he walked up that busy avenue, looking eagerly to the right and left. ‘I'm pretty much at sea here,”’ he muttered, “ for I don’t know any more about this here city than a cat knows about hunting possums, but I’ve got a tongue in my head, and I never knowed the time that I was afeared to use it. Ican ask my way to Simmons street.” Yet he did not findit so easy to discover this street by aski It was a small, obscure street, and most of those he asked had never heard of it, while those who had did not know just how to locate it. But by dint of continued Lag ee varied by an application to a city directory, he was finally enabled to find the street. It was anarrow, dirty passage- way, sep but one or two blocks, in the most un- inviting portion of the city. It was nearly four o’clock in the afternoon when Harry reached this new locality. The day continued bright and warm, the treasure of the sunshine falling here as richly as in the most aristocratic quarters, The boy looked keenly around, as he passed slowly through the street. ‘No. 27,” he muttered to himself. ‘Here is 23. Ah! yonder it is; that brown stone palace, built of brick, with a brown stone door-step, and the whole business as tumble-down as if it had gone through an a et Now if Ican only twig my man— pgs 97 long nose, five feet six, squint in his left eye. *d see such a chap in the dark I’d know him. But it won’t do to seem as if I’m on the spotting game.” Harry looked eagerly around him, in search of some excuse to justify his continued presence in | a low-browed ale-house, whic that street. It would not suit his purpose to run the risk of being taken for a Spy. Some _ three doors down the street a group of boys was collected, busily engaged in a game of marbles. Here was just the opportunity Harry wanted. He prided himself on his skill at marbles. For awhile he stood looking on, with one eye on the game and the other on the house over which he was keeping guard. “That's not fair,’ cried Harry at length, to the winning boy. “He told you to knuckle down, and that wasn’t nary a knuckle.”’ ““What do you know about it?” asked the boy angrily, Lngponiiogs 4 up his winnings. “I know enough to clean you out of all the mar- bles you've swindled these little chaps out of.” “Tt ain’t in your boots,” retorted the other defi- antly. “All right. Make your ring,” returned Harry. ‘“* We'll see who’s brag and who’s boss.” In a minute more they were deep in the intricacies of the ancient and honorable game of marbles, with all its mysteries of ‘“ knuckle-down, “ Fen-puds,” and other strange passwords, borrowed from some of the dead languages. But the Newark boy soon found that he was a tyro at the game. In Harry he recognized a master of the art; and the hoarded marbles flowed in a steady stream from his pocke’ to that of this skill- ful stranger. The younger boys looked on with exclamations of delight, as they saw that their victorious foe had met more than his match, in this wonderful stranger. “Peg it into him!” cried one of them eagerly. “He’s been a-scorching us, and a-bragging over us. Bn shont time somebody was a-taking the starch out of him.” “Get out of the way, you little devils!” called out a@ harsh voice, as a broad-shouldered man pushed his way through them. arry was on his knees, taking a difficult shot, but he stopped long enough to look up at the man. Side-whiskers—long nose—the squint not visible— but Harry missed his shot. His eyes followed the man, who walked boldly to the door of No. 27, and entered without oy ms From that time forward the fortunes of the game varied. Harry’s shots were not nearso marvelous as before, and his antagonist began to get back some of his lost marbles. “I believe my hand’s getting out of order,” re- marked Harry. He did not deem it ne¢essary to explain that mar- bles were now Comrs only one half of_ his thoughts, and that victory never comes from half- hea work. He continued to play, however, his small admirers lapsing into silence as fortune turned against their champion, and the flow of marbles began to ebb back into the pockets of his antagonist. A half-hour more sed in this hotly-contested ame, at the end of which time Harry rose to his eet with a yawn. “There, I'm tired-out playing,” he said. ‘* You chaps can finish the game.’’ And he distributed the remainder of his ae among his gladdened par- tisans. ‘Play like I did and you'll warp him yet.” Harry walked quietly away, leaving a buzz of ex- citement at his unexpected generosity behind him, There was more reason for this sudden movement than the boys dreamed of. The long-nosed man had just emerged again from the door of No. 27, and turned with a rapid step down the street, in the op- te direction that in which he had come be ore. He held in his hand a large leather pocket-book, which he carefully Ug stere in some interior pocket, as he hastened onward through the street. Harry followed, with a lou step, and a care- less manner, gradually letting the man get about half a block in advance of him. This interval was kept up, as pursuer and pursued pool through street after street, constantly tend- gz toward the Market street depot. As they drew near this place Harry hastened his footsteps. The man entered the waiting-room, which was already well occupied, and which our young trailer walked into a minute afterward. The man was examining the time-table, his foot tapping the floor with an impatient sound. Harry coiled himself up on one of the seats, and looked at anything except the man who was most of al in his mind, , r ere was no at occasion for impatience. A pains pame along within fifteen aco Harry fol- low unsuspecting quarry € cars, taking a@ seat just behind . He noticed that, ere they had gone far, the man took the leather book from his pocket, and opened it with a slightly nervous movement. e seemed anxious to see if its contents were all right. ay keen eye shot through the narrow opening, and caught a glimpse of some shining, parchment-like papas ere it was closed and return- ed to the pocket of its holder. The pursuit continued to the ferry-boat, and to the streets of New York, which they reached about half- past five o’clock, > The man walked up Courtlandt street to Broad- A Fay pyre distance along ci, busy aveenic. off at the ce, ani e wa a” toward the howe ; 4. ! arry Was now on his own stam ground, an readily followed his man without npg cre of dis- covery in the crowds which were on the street at may ae’ of es reap ay ang! B h \ rs) some di ce up the Bowery, he at le turned off at a narrow sitle street: He had fot gone far down this; when he pues and turned into occupied the corner of two streets. “Holed!” cried Harry to himself, in exultation. “And now I'd give a dime to see Mr. Livingston.” CHAPTER VIII. ANYTHING FOR HOGAN. Harry was not one to wait long for things to turn up. He was more inclined to turn things up for himself. The windows of the establishment within caper rags 4 re — ne view were partly eige pe y green blinds, but there was an open an inch in width at the bottom, through which the keen- eyed boy managed to get a glimpse of the inside, The man stood at the bar, talking with the bar- keeper. After a moment Harry saw the latter pass out a folded note, which his ill-favored customer hastily opened, and read its contents. The boy was not very favorably situated for clese observation, yet he distinctly saw that the reader changed countenance, and seemed to be annoyed. Crushing the note in his hand, he entered again into conversation with the man behind the bar, and for afew minutes they continued in earnest talk. He then walked back by a side door behind the bar, leading to the interior of the house. Harry did not know just what to think of these movements. He backed off and looked up at the front of the house, with something of the same hepe of getting at its contents which a reader has when he examines the title e of a book. “Tf 1 seen aman with a face like that house I'd think he wanted watchin’,” soliloquized Harry. “It's got a reg’lar hang-dog look. I bet there’s more passes over that bar than ale, or half-and-half. Let’s take a squint round the corner, and see what kind ef face it makes at the other street.”’ His squint round the corner told him more than he had calculated upon. It showed him that he had been on the point of losing the e which he had so well played up to this point. For there, not twenty yards from the corner, was the familiar brown coat and embrowned neck of the man he had been pursuing. The latter had, apparently, left the house from the rear, and was hurrying away from the locality at a rapid pace. Harry’s quick a caught in his hand the glint of white paper, as if he still held there the note which he had crushed in his grasp. “By Jeminy,if I wasn’t as near as a hair bein’ throwed,” qacuiated the boy, as he hastened on- ward down the narrow street. ‘“ That chap's _ as keen as a cucumber; but Harry Hunter ain't to be flung as easy as you’d throw off a chestnut-bur.” The man looked cautiously around several times, in seeming dread of Len Be rey but his pursuer walked on with a steady, bold step, as if home and a warm supper were foremost things in his th In this way the distance between them by tag. Jf di- minished. It decreased still more rapidly when Harry, at length, broke into arun. The man just then halted, and gave a cautious glance ee ly turning to the left, In his relaxed right he crushed note was plainly visible. As he paused, Harry, who was quite near, ran st him with almost force enough to dash him to the Mosca This collision was against his right side and arm, and gave a - gering inclination to the left, from which he ifficulty recovered. Harry fared still worse, for he tumbled on the edge of the sidewalk, only saving from injury by his flung-out hands, : A Se ae broke from pede oar i “You blunde: young en!” he exclaimed, “Td serve you right for your awkwardness by kick- ing we into the gutter.’ ‘Yes; you’re a high old aristocratic ‘coon, are!” mbled Harry, as he slowly scram to his feet. ‘‘ Nobody with a grain of common sense would stop in the middle of the pavement, so that everybody in a hurry must come butting up ag’in’ him. Guess you've been brung up in the Counting, and fed on buttermilk.” The man seemed still dubious as to whether or not he owed the boy a kick, as the latter limped away, grumbling to himself as he went. In a minute more Harry disappeared around the next corner. The man, after a moment’s hesitation, hastened on, saving to himself: “TU be shot if I didn’t think it was a ba ram, taking mein the back. That boy must be as as cast-iron. I'd like to pay him out with a foot-lifter — But, by the great guns, what’s become of my etter?” His right hand, in which he had held the erushed note, was empty. remember, the exact loc: lost note was visible. " “That blasted boy must have knocked it out of my hand, I suppose,” he muttered. ‘* And it's Hike— ly the wind finished the job. Let it go. N. could make out what it means, that’s some I must slide on.”’ Harry, a minute or two afterward, looked around the corner behind which he had hidden, the man was gone, He had turned or taken some other course. Search as he would the bey could not again get sight of him. “I thought he was comin’ straight on,” Harry, as if in apology to himself. : out—and I th tI was flung me sharp! Any piece of whi ht out an
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‘ston., occupied by writing. luck, Harry?’ asked Mr. Livi on, starting forward from the spot where he had been impatiently waiting. ‘‘I could not find the place mentioned in the letter, and have been waiting here for the last hour,” “Good and bad luck, the bad mixed through the good like raisins in a puddin’,”’ answered Harry with “ But Pll tell you all about it, Mr. Living- It took Harry some ten or fifteen minutes to get through the story of his adventures. He ended by mT Est him; but I got his letter. 1 knocked it out of his hand, and grabbed it when I was down buttin’ my head ag’in’ the pavin’ stones. Hereitis; andI dope there’s somethin’ in it,” ngston read the note handed him, with a curious expression. “There may be something in it,’’ he remarked, “but I don’t just make it out.” “Spin it out so I can hear it,” returned Harry. “Two heads is better than one, you know.” Livingston read as follows: “You must be wary. There’s danger afloat. Strike for new quarters, and leave word with Tim. ‘ Any- thing for Hogan,’ will be the password. I will be on your track when sure my own is clear. §."? “That is a decidedly mysterious document,” said Livingston. ‘ What does it all mean?” “*I s’pose it means that Mr. Long-nose is to leave ‘word at the ale-house where he’s strikin’ for, And ‘anything for Hogan’ is the password that’s to unlock that honest bartender’s tongue,” Livingston remained a moment lost in thought. “T imagine you are right,’ he then replied, ‘* We ‘will try it on him at all events. It may prove the “open sesame’ to let us in to their secrets. na short time they were in front of the ale-house the scene of Harry’s late adventure. He looked «gain through the open slit at the window bottom. “The coast’s clear,” he announced. ‘* Now's your time. . But that’s a cunnin’-looking chap. You've got to ba wide-awake.”’ Without replying, Mr. Livingston entered the open door of the tap-room, and passed around the screen which stood just within it. The rough-faced man behind the bar stirred him- self at thé prospect of a customer. * Good-evening,” was Livingston’s address. “ Good-ev’nin’ yoursel’,”’ returned the man, in a strong old-country accent, as he bustled to place glasses on the bar, “A noggin of ale,” ordered the customer. = S the brew fora mon of taste,” responded » the bar-keeper, seizing a deep goblet, “Draw one for yourself then,” answered Living- We'll drin together to the health of good old nut-brown ale.” The bar-tender’s rough face showed marks of con- tent, as he hastened to draw and place on the bar ‘two foaming goblets, with the froth streaming down their earthen sides! ““There’s Gene for a king,’’ he said. “Can't say that I’m so particular,” returned Liv- Ingston, as he lifted the brown mug, and looked at its foaming froth-cap. “Some folks are hard to Please, be for me, my motto is—* Anything for was spoken in an indifferent tone, but there was a_keen intelligence in the look which he gave the bar-tender. The latter slightly started, and glanced cautiously ‘toward a man who sat ata table on the other side “of the room, quietly sipping his ale. “That’s well put, where the brew’s a slack ’un,” rejoined the bar-tender. “Some sich i as B Lathrop’s, or Jake Blemdery’s, or say Joe Tod's, at pg and Apple streets. But it dunnot apply to e. ” ere was a peculiar expression of the bar-keep- er’s countenance Hera nag fom J the name of Joe Tod, which told Livingston it was intended as an. answer to his notice of it. But it was not his cue to take seemi Sls aga sipped his ale, with an air of great satis- nm. “Prime, that’s a fact,” he said. “I'd a notion ye’d come to that ’pinion,”’ respond- ef the pleased bar-tender. With a few. words more, Livingston took his leave, aad sauntered slowly from the room. “Any luck?” asked Harry eagerly, meeting him just beyond the door. “Yes. The new rendezvous is to be at an ale-house, kopt oy one Joe Tod, at the corner of—” ot another word!’ cried Harry, gleefully. ~ I know Joe Tod as well as I know my finger nail. I haven't done his shining twice a week for six likely there now. iaonths past for nothing.” 8 tter go at once.” ~ ; man is v It is not far from hére, and we'd t was not long before our brace of conspirators found themselves in front of another ale-house. This wasa more wide-awake establishment than , one they had late : n, in a at's to be done next “Why, to go in, and go through that sumptuous ansion," said Harry. “But how? It might be ojected to.” “Leave that tome, I've got ey that will un- lock every door in that shanty; will take me into every room,’ “T do not understand what you mean,” returned the doubting Livingston. “Tt’s the bootblack’s latch-key,” rejoined Harry, “the box and brush. And the pass-word is the boot- a ercn ch tey Guede Victory’s palace with Wee to t een Victory'’s Ww t.— Here, Jem, lend me your box for five seconds.”’ This was addressed to an uaintance in the same line of business with Harry, who was just then pass- ing. fie readily made the loan uested, and Harry went singing into the tap-room, giving vent to his cry of maga ‘em! Shine em!’ as soon as he was fairly within. “Not to-day, Harry,” said the landlord, a rubicund- visaged personage, who seemed the embodiment of good humor and good aa Maes hee some of your friends here?’ continued Harry looking around the room. ‘“ Ain’t there no- body wants an overshot, double-barreled polish? Don’t sneak all at once.” Nobody took the trouble to at all, and Harry shouldered his box again, exclaiming: “T never see’d so erg salted sardines afore, packed in one box. And there ain’t a pair of shoes among you that’s smelt blackin’ for a good six tiandsome Harry, the Bootblack Detective. a k and a pass-word that this morni | | months.—All right, if you ain’t got no respect for | yourselves, I won't try to Ung ¢ you on my con- science. I’m a-goin’ through the house, Joe Tod. a I'll find somebody there that’s been brought up in ‘spectable society.” : ane well,” said the smiling landlord, “ try your uck.”’ Harry went whistling back into the house. He had noted every face in the bar-room. There was no trace of his man among them. Instead now of go- ing into the rear rooms, for a chat with the girls, as Joe had expected, Harry made his way up-stairs. He thought it possible that the man he sought might have taken one of the upper rooms, “Shine ‘em! Shine ‘em!” cried Harry, as he opened door after door. The rooms were empty; and he went on from one to another, still with the ringing war-cry. He finally reached a door at the extremity of the passage, where it opened upon a view of the street. This door he flung open with the same reckless boldness as before. At last he had struck oil. There, standing on a chair, at a high closet in a corner of the room, was the familiar form of the long-nosed man. He was reaching uP to the highest shelf of the closet, but dropped his arm, and turned suddenly on hearing the door open. “Who in the blazes is there?’ he ejaculated with a fierce oath. “Shine ‘em! Shine ’em!’’ sung out Harry. “ Give ou a ripstaving polish. Get down and give me a air chance at them there dirty boots, and see if I don't make them shine like silver." “You thundering catamaran of an impudent oung hound, if you don’t take your ugly face from ane b fore a frog could croak his prayers, blast me He had sprung to the floor as he spoke. Harry | oe the door quickly to, cutting off this long- t in the middle. He ran like a deer down the ; and none too soon, for a boot-jack came flying after him ere he reached the head of the stairs. “What luck?” asked Mr. Livingston, as Harry emerged whistling into the street, a minute after- “Just the best. I’ve a notion our rat’s holed. Here's your box, Jem. Git, now, you young rascal, and don’t be losing jobs.” CHAPTER IX. MR. GORDON TAKES A HAND IN THE GAME. Harry had every right to sleep soundly that night, for his day’s work had been a busy one, and had led him far away from his legitimate business of polis the understandings of the good citizens of the metropolis. And there promised as busy labors for him duri the comin y; not only from the part of his wor left unfinished, bunt from new complications which were gathering around his devoted young head. But we must seek again the mansion of the Gor- dons on the morning of the next day. And we shall now be obliged to make the acquain- tance of Mr. Gordon, the ruined merchant, whom his business troubles had so prostrated. He was much better this morning. He had slept well during the night, and his oe ate ee seemed tly relieved. He was seatedin a deep paay-cliale, enoyi the sunlight that flowed in at the feet window, flowe dressing- glow- like a June parterre in the morning alow. e was a handsome, full-faced man, with some- thing arbitrary about his mouth, though kindliness encircled his wide blue 7. “What keeps Alice?’ he muttered to himself, im- patiently, as his glance sought the door. “She should have been here ten minutes ago.” He looked at his handsome Feld watch, as if to satisfy himself of the extent of her delay. At the same instant the door Spee and Alice entered. But before do so she t into her pocket an open letter which she had held in her hand. There was a pale, agitated look upon her features, and a suspicion of tears about her eyes, evidence of a men- tal trouble which was with difficulty supp F “Why, what ails the girl?’ he asked, with a look of * sc: “Here she is half as pale as a ghost, and— ae —-————~» ‘Oh, it is nothing, papa," she exclaimed, cpm | kissing him. ‘lam glad indeed to see you so w And [do hope you are going to be your own old self again.” ‘*Me! Why of course I am, child!” he returned, with the testiness of an invalid. ‘* But what has hap- ed to my Alice? It is no trouble with the girls, I ope. I will send them all packing if they worry you. Orisit that ring?—James told me that your ring was stolen,” ‘Yes, papa,” she quickly responded, apparently lad of some excuse to re 3 his inconvenient ques- oning. “It is too bad! owever, I presume that. I can do very well without it.” “But, girl, lost for once is not lost forever,” said the positive invalid. “There have been things found before, and that may be too.” “Yes, yes, papa; it may come back to me, I know,” she hu edly Hejotned, as if not satisfied with the turn the conversation was taking. ‘‘ Never mind the ring—we can talk about that again. At present—”"’ _ “Let's settle the ring question before we go drift- ing off into the land of nowhere,” he positively pro- tested. “There is no keep ou women ‘te enough to one point to get it definitely out of the way. You have such a bad habit of drifting off. Now if we merchants did business in that way—’’ and he shook his head in indication of what disas- trous consequences might come from doing business in that loose way. If it had been any one else Alice might have been tempted to say that his own way of doing business had not been a great success; but she kept silent. “Tt was careless in you to leave your jewel casket in the reception-room,” he continued, “I learn from James that there were but three persons in the room while the casket was there. Those were Livingston, Stanway, and an impudent beggar of a boy. Who was he, Alice?” “He was a messenger sent me by Mr. Livingston, after something which he had forgotten.” “But who? hat was his name?” “He called himself Harry Hunter. He was a a 5a whom Mr. Livingston engaged at the City a Ras “Isn't it plain enough then, child?’ asked the fa- ther, in vexation at her lack of shrewdness. “ Stan- way and Livingston! The idea of theft is prepos- terous as connected with them—that boy has your ring. Nothing can be more evident than that.” “No, no,” she hurriedly responded, her pallor ped gam “The boy is honest. You have only to look in his face to see that he is honest. I hope you will not trouble yourself about the ring. Let it go. Do not worry yourself, dear papa.” “ All very nice," was his querulous response. ‘ Of course, we are all honest. I, and James, and the girls, and te Se = All the world is honest, and that remarkable ring walked off on its own legs." ‘* Now, papa, dear, you will vex me ever so much if you keep thinking about that old ring. Do let us talk of something else.” She seated herself in his lap, and threw her arms lovingly around his neck. 43 Let us talk about the sunshine. No diamond was ever half so beautiful as that.” Mr. Gordon answered with a mollified growl, as if not half content to be coaxed out of a sweet morsel, “You are the most outrageous little coax, and I am the most ridiculous old ninny,” he mbled, as he kissed her sweet lips. ‘“ But what chance has a man to keep business in his head, when he is perse- cuted st fairies as you?” But ice had gained her pats and carried the conversation away from a subject which, for seme reason, she wished to avoid. In a half hour after- —— she left her father, apparently in self-satisfied content. But the pallor and agitation returned to her face, assoon as the door had fairly closed behind her. She took the letter again from her pocket, reading it with eyes that glistened as if with a dew of tears. “Oh, my God!” she exclaimed. Can it be? Can it be? The shock is enough to set my brain wild! That he—that Edward! I can scarce believe it; even on his own word.” Reaching the parlor she fell in a nerveless attitude upon a sofa, her eyes again perusing that letter which was apparently the cause of her overwhelm- ing distress. She crushed the epistle in her hands, and pressed them on her moistened eyes, as if she wished to shut out every vision of a hateful world. Meanwhile Mr. Gordon had returned to the subject from which she had sought to divert his attention. “Alice is entirely too simple-minded,” he said. “She is old enough to know more of the world; but one can not well gain wisdom without experience. That boy stole the ring. Of that, there is no doubt. He must be arrested and committed for the theft.’* He rung the bell for James, and sent him off into the city to enter a of theft against Harry Hunter, at the police court, and procure a warrant for his arrest. When taken he was to be thoroughly searched. If the ring was not found upon him, or at his residence, then Miss Gordon and the servants were to be notified to testify against him. Mr. Gor- don was sure that a commitment would force him to disgorge the stolen property. Hardly was this order given, and James sent out for its accomplishment, when Mr. Gordon received a visit from Mr. Li “ Certainly, Ned,” repliod Mr. Gordon, with whom Livingston was a favorite. The good can serve as an antidote for the bad,”
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“Hardly,” rejoined Livingston, “‘for the bad is a fixed fact, and the good only a prospect. However, you would probably prefer to judge for yourself. He proceeded to relate the events of yesterday, except that he avoided the introduction of Stan- way’s name, or any clear account of the pursuit of the lost papers. Itwas not advisable to have too many confidants before their business was accom- lished. : As apart of this revelation he read to Mr. Gordon the letter which had been taken from Stanway’s pocket, though he avoided telling him from what source he had obtained it. Tt ran as follows: “27 Simmons St., Newark. ‘DEER SUR: : “T got yourn all rite, but its plade out, and I ain't a-gone to kepe them plaguey dokkyments no longer nohow. Thar ain’t nothin’ in them fur me sept what I got now, and I’m bound tounlode. There’s bene some coons smellin’ round this strete aready, and if old Gordon’s got wind of our trac it mote be a ten yearer fur me in a ston jug. An’ thet won't go down. I’m a comin’ over to Tim Coin’s Old Baily afore six to nite with ther Sa ae ont an’ I ’spect you to mete me tharand saddle them yourself if you ain’t a b’ilin’ over fur trubbel. Cos I’m not goin’ to sing in a ston cage to sute nobody. ny “ Your Spectful Sarvent, ‘** JacK BRUNTER.” It was this precious epistle which had put Living- ston on the track of the stolen bonds; though it was pure Greek to Mr. Gordon until his visitor had ex- jlained his conception of it, and what measures he Ral taken. . As we have said he took care not to ex- plain these very definitely, lest Mr. Gordon, in spite of his promised caution, might prove too communi- cative. It is possible, indeed, that he would not have said anything of the matter, had he known that Stanway was even then in the house. The latter person was, in fact, calling upon the daughter, while his rival was closeted with the fa- ther. It was with a forced self-control that Alice re- ceived him. She had promised to be cautious in her demeanor toward him; though, for reasons which had come to her since, she distrusted Livingston's accusation of his rival. : i “The whole matter really lies in a word,” said Stanway, after their conversation had proceeded for some time. ‘Iam devoted to you_and to your father, and will do all IT can for you. But I cannot say that my devotion to you is the quiet one of friendship. What I said yesterday I wlll not unsay to-day.”’ * Nor I,” she answered briefly and coldly. “T am sorry, then, if Iam reopening a subject dis- tasteful to you. Believe me that I would not do so without coh my Ihave something to offer you in return for the gift of your love, Alice.” ‘What?’ she chillingly asked. “Your father’s safety. _I have learned much since Ileft you yesterday. I will not say that I can save his fortune. But if you will but give mea »sromise, a hope, of this dear hand in case of success, { will work as no hero ever worked, and be content to lose it in case of failure.” ‘Tg it on the principle that they who hide can find, Mr, Stanway?”’ she asked, witha stern accusing in- tonation that made him start despite . ‘“What do you mean, Miss Gordon?” His tone was pained and wondering. ; ‘Only that performances are sometimes as chea as promises,” she haughtily answered. ‘ And th more I will say—the man who truly loves acts first and appeals afterward. Idecline to sell myself to Hall Stanway; or to any man.” She was sweeping with an air of grand hauteur from the room, when his next words arrested her steps. ‘““Some one has been belieing me!” he exclaimed. “* Was it Ned Livingston, that false-hearted meddler, who has already— . She half turned, with an indescribable look upon her face, ‘‘Bdward Livingston isno more to me than are ou,” she interrupted, a deep tremor in her voice. ‘Hardly as much. You have no more occasion to fear him as a rival than he has to fear you.” She turned again to the door, but paused with an involuntary start. For there stood ny tne a his face full of pained astonishment, his han grasping the door frame with a clutch as if to hinder rom falling. A rifle shot could not have shocked him more deeply than had those few disdainful words. * Alice!’ camein tremulous accents from his white lips. He could say no more, but his eyes spoke volumes. What had come upon her? She bent upon hima look like that basilisk glance of old, that turned men into stone. There was deep pain in those eyes; but there was unquenchable scorn—not anger, it had nothing in it of the Saar Snyper | hg iate oosed old of the 4 ag: ie passed him gered like a drunken man, when she had and disa : i “Great Heaven!’ came ia low tones from his lips, “Is she or am I mad?” A cynical curl marked Stanway’s lips as he looked upon this scene. “Perhaps she is coming to her senses,” he said, as he also passed from the room. There was a sneer in his voice that almost tempted Li n to strike him, The astounded lover look- ed after his insulting rival for a moment, while a new My ge broke upon his mind. “It is you then!” he cried. “You that Ihave to thank for this sudden change! You that have poi- Handsome Harry, the Bootblack D ee eee ———————— 9 soned her mind with some deep falsehood against me! Beware, Hall Stanway! vy A will come. No lie can live in the presence of truth.” The sneering villain failed to hear these words. He passed on into the house; while Livin n, on 4 gre like one who has received a “es, ! low, wa ed slowly down the stairs and from the house. Had he dreamed of the lack of discretion in Mr. Gordon he would not have left sosoon. Stanway was with him less than a half-hour, yet in that time the invalid had let out, bit by bit, every word of the revelation which Livingston had made him, The latter had done wrong in not warning him specially against Stanway, in whom Mr. Gordon had every confidence. He had done wrong, in fact, in making him his confidant at all, if his revelation was to be partial. The only evidence of wisdom he had shown was that of concealing the details of his dis- covery; so that, when Stanway soon afterward left the house, he was stunned and frightened at what he had heard, but did not know just what course to take to baffle his unseen pursuers. CHAPTER X. HARRY IN AMBUSH. “Tuts is just the weight of my ’pinion,’’ remarked Harry Hunter, in the tone of an oracle, to Mr. Living- ston, who had lately joined him. ‘If we ain't sharp as pins and needles them coons will play some carom on us yet. NowI think you’d best keep a wide-awake eye on Tim Coin’s ale-house, and see if anything turns up. And I'll go to Joe Tod’s, and rumigate that room till there won't be a shadder left in it.’ Harry was decidedly taking the business into his own hands. He had more reasons than one for this. One was a thorough confidence in his own ability and in the sure working of a plan which la, dormant in his brain. The other was that Mr. Livingston seemed strangely preoccupied and gloomy, and quite | Seo for such delicate business as they had now on and, “It’s xe old Stanway will be scooting round here; or it might be Mr. Long-nose. You foller ’em if they do. ou must ’scuse me, Mr. Livingston, but you don’t seem to have enough bizness in you to- day to sell taters by the small.” “You had better accept excuses from me, Harry,” said Livingston, with a sickly smile. “I am not myself to-day. But I think I can do what you wish, and will give you the chance to try your fuck with | Joe Tod.” “You see, Joe knows me like a breeze,” returned Harry. “I’ve got my box this mornin’, and this is Joe’s blackin’ day. While I’m polishin’ his shoe- leather, see if I don’t tie some sort of a bow-knot in his brain-pan. I’m a-goin’ through that house, or I’m goin’ to make Rome howl; you may bet your empty pocket-book on that. Here goes for *em.” And throwing his box over his shoulder, Harry strode off, whistling Little Buttercup’s song in Pina- fore till the very street resounded again. *“T wonder if Long-nose has been back for his dokkyments,’’ Harry asked himself, as he halted in front of Joe Tod's, and gave it a scrutinizifig glance. “The best way to find out, I s’pose, is to go in and see. So here goes.” It was to the tune of the Admiral’s song that our young friend marched into Joe Tod’s hostelry. One would have thought, by the way he rattled ‘it off, that he had himself been brought’ up to “ polish up the handle of the big front door,” instead of to Sp up the uppers of countrymen’s boots and shoes, “ Here = are, Joe Tod,” cried the boy, as he fl his box on the floor. ‘Rattle out your boots, for I'm a-goin’ to shine you up till your grand- mother won't know you. if she don’t swear it’s the Duke of Durham, or some other big nobby that’s tryin’ to play itoff on her? And you won't go along the streets without all the young ladies wantin’ you to stop, so they can see their pretty faces in them looking-glasses on your feet.” ing. u’ve got more blow in you than a ten-knot breeze, Shine away, but put a clapper on that talk- box of yours.” “Do you want me to bu’st?” asked Harry, indig- nantly, as he worked away with both hands. ‘You ht as well set fire to gunpowder, and then try to | bottle it up, as spect me to stop talkin’, when I’m full of it.” “TI don’t know any one that wants corking up worse,”’ responded Joe that’s just broke its banks.” ‘Look at them boots now, and then say that I ain’t a rip-stavin’ shiner!” exclaimed Harry, as he pia to a 8 feet, and looked down with pride upon work, “Yes; pretty good for a greenhorn,” said Joe, in- bis eine horn,” cried Harry, indignant! ‘Much a greenhorn,” c ntly. “Just you find a chap of my size in’ all New York, that can flirt his elbows, and fling blackin’, up to my level, and I'll sell out, box and brush. Say, Joe, got a full house now?” *“ What in the thunder is it your business?” ““*Cause I want to take a room for a-day or two, that’s all.” “ Take a—what?”’ “Now, don’t stand on your ear ‘cause I asked you | a question, If you ain't got no rooms to spare, just say so, and I'll try at the Astor.” ‘You want a room, hey?” “Fact is, Joe Tod, I had a little difference of pasion up home last night, and dad got the best of the argyment.”’ “How was that?” “Why, he kicked me out of doors for an imper- dent young hound. That was a pint I couldn’t cir- etective. | cat could go along. “Dry 4 there, now,” returned the landlord, laugh- | Gy) “You're like a mill-race | cumvent, soI just toddled. Now I've got to take quarters for a day or two till he comes round ~ “Well, if = ain’t a sweet young honey,”’ rejoin- ed the landlord looking admiringly on the cool- speaking lad. “Hang me if I don't feel like taking . you in for your grit.” “*T calculate to Ray my way like a man,” rejoined Harry, proudly. “I haven't got no extra lining of dingbats just now, but [ll put up my box and brush for security, And there ain’t no gentleman of my bizness in York that'll go back on that. security.” “ Blast it, Harry, I'll e you in for a day or two, if I never see your cash. I don't like to see true grit go beggin’ or starvin’.”’ ‘““You’re a hoss, Joe. What room are you a-goin” to give me? You see I want to take a wash-up now.” “Well, toddle up-stairs then. Here’s No. 6 and 8 empty. Take your choice.” “And No. 4?” “That's full. It was taken yesterday.” “Allright. I'lltake No. 6. Trot out your key, for I want to interduce my face to some fresh water, and my hair to a comb. Slept in a coal-bin last night, and combed my head this mornin’ with a fire- shovel.” Joe laughed heartily as his irrepressible young friend made his way up-stairs. “That boy’s got the making of a man in him,” said the landlord to himself. ‘* Bless his bright eyes, I'd give him six weeks’ board before I'd see hi adrift on the streets.”’ Harry, meanwhile, was occupied with other thoughts. ‘*He still holds on to No. 4, that’s one comfort,” the boy soliloquized. “ Wonder if he’s in now?” He listened intently at the door of the room in question. No sound came through it. He next cau- tiously knocked at the door. There was no answer. ‘** Looks as if the coast was clear,” he cogitated. “Tf Lean only get in now.” He soon discovered, however, that. the door was locked; and, next, that the key of No. 6 would not open it. ‘**T don’t see what I’m to do, *cept it’s to lay in am- bush, and*wait for aecanapey to turn up,” considered the boy, as he opened and entered the adjoining room, ot which he had the key. “Let me see: Here’s a winder lookin’ out on the ard, And, by Jeminy! it ain’t more than six feet rom Mr. Long-nose’s winder. And there's a ledge of bricks just under the winders that a monkey ora I can’t say that I'm as spry as a monkey ora cat, but there ain’t no tellin’ what a boy can do till he’s tried. It isn’t so dreadful deep if I tumble.” The ledge in question was only some three inches in width, with no purchase for the hands save an oc- casional crevice where the mortar had worked out from between the bricks. But Harry was bold, alert and reckless. He never considered an object long enough to grow timidata oy Sober prospect. Be- fore two minutes he had his feet on the ledge, and was on ts working his way along, holding on to the edge of his window as he did so. But he had to loose his hold of this ere the other window was within reach, there being a space of some two or three feet, which it seemed almost im- possible to pass. Harry carefully scrutinized the brick wall. Just over his head was one of the narrow crevices men- tioned. Into this he dug the ends of his slender fin- gers, and found that he was able to sustain himself a shuffled his feet a short distance further onward. Other crevices erence beyond, and the bo soon, much to his relief, found himself within of the frame of the next window. The perilous pa had hardly occupied two minutes, yet it sbemed to him as if a quarter of an hour had elapsed. Getting a firm hold of the sash, he tried to lift it. It was, fortunately, not fastened, and in a minute more he found himself within that mysterious No. 4, which contained the object of all his present _ He looked heedfully around. It was furnished precisely like the room he had left, with a low bed, a oe bureau and washstand, a looking-glass and two chairs. **S*pose there’s no use foolin’,”? remarked “Tm a-goin’ through this room, and if them papers are here they’re my divvy._ First place is the top shelf of the closet, where I saw Long-nose a-rum- m a Harry's success was not very promising in this di- rection. The closet was high, and even when stand- ing on the chair he had culty in getting his hand into its recesses, He was about to turn the chair, so as to be able to mount te its back, and thus make the effort at better advantage, when a sound without the room made him pause. It was a step, which came along the passage stopped when opposite the door of No. 4, . Qui lightning Harry replaced the chair, and plunged under the bedstead, which was just high enough to admit him. The door was unlocked, and a n entered. What confounded noise was that I heard?’ came to Harry’s ears, ina tone of distrust. “Eve is aot enough now. It must have been a rat.” e bustled ‘around for a minute or two, p down the window curtain, and moving the chairs. “Tim Coin’s let the cat out of the bag, that’s sure,” he remarked. ‘‘ The fellow he says he put on the Joe Tod scent wasn’t Mr. Stanway, by a pailful. I must find a safer hiding-place for them Py se i“ pith by this time had wrigg] If into such a position as to be able to get an eye on the move- ments of his fellow-oceupant of the room, , and as
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_ gone. 10 He saw the latter on the chair, his arm in the closet. *Tt’s lucky Joe Tod let me into the secret of this hidden drawer in the closet,’ he muttered, “I might leave them here in safety, only Joe knows it himself, and there’s no surety ag’in’ his blabbing.”’ As he spoke, there was a clicking sound, as if some spring had been touched. The next minute he stepped from the chair, hold in his hand the large black-leather pocket-book which H had seen in his on the preceding day. He laid it on the edge of the bed, and stood a moment as if in thought. I know,” he exclaimed, slapping his hand on his knee. ‘It willbe safe there.—But I must fix Joe’s hiding-place first. Again mounting the chair he thrust his arm into the closet. The same clicking sound as before was audible. He stepped to the floor with an air of in- tense satisfaction, “That’s done,” he said, ‘‘and the coast’s clear. And now I'd best make a back-door flitting, for there might be awkward eyes on the front.—If they beat Jack Brunter they— Hallo! What in the blazes has become of the papers?” J There was reason for this exclamation. The pocket-book had disappeared. While he was occupied at the closet a hand had stolen up over the bedside, closed upon the prize, and drawn it down into the hidden regions beneath, “Well, if that ain’t a blazing uncomfortable queer dodge, I wouldn’t say so,” he ejaculated, nah | back in astonishment. ‘‘By the seven pipers, if find who did that I'll make it hot for him!—Did that rat make for a hole under the bed?” He stooped down to look under, at the same instant that Harry backed out, feet foremost, from the foot of the bed. ““Aha!” cried Brunter, catching sight of this movement. ‘ That's the rat, hey?” There was a savage expression upon his counte- nance as he ran around the corner of the bed, with arms outstretched to grasp the intruder, But he had not calculated sufficiently on the agility of the premium bootblack. With a quick leap upward Harry was upon the bed. He rolled over it as lightly as if he had been a billiard ball. Lighting on his feet on the floor, with the quickness of a cat, he sprung for the door at the same instant that Brunter recovered himself and started after him, Harry reached the door first, drew it quickly to after him, and held it with both hands. At the same moment he gave vent to a loud * Cock-a-doodle-do!” as naturally rendered as if a iy rooster been — * im th a curse of savage fury, Brun oy C) handle of the door, and ptilled with all 7 ag Roe ainst the feeble strength of the boy. rry sustained himself for a minute; then, feel- ing the door was slowly P agen he loosed his hold, In an instant it flew wide oh and Jack Brunter, who had been pulling with his strength, went down into a heap on the floor, Another ‘‘ Cock-a-doodle-do!”’ triumph from the boy’s lips. He dashed away, and none too soon, for Brunter — his feet and was after him in an instant. ut A ’s flight was not far. The door of No. 6 he had left unlocked. Into this room he darted, loc! it after him at the same instant that his foe = fiercely against it. ry’s irritating pay ot triumph again rung out: * Cock-a-doodle-do!” ost maddening his furious foe. aa the door, or Ill burst it in!” yelled the ** Bu’st and be blowed!” cried Harry, back. Brunter was as good as his word. Starting from the opposite side of the passage he flung his whole weight against the door. The insecure lock gave way, and the door flew wide open, It revealed Har- with his body half out of the window, his hands still clinging to the sill. With savage fury Bruunter drew a pistol, and fired a point-blank shot at the boy. Harry’s body sudden- ly drooped; his hands loosed their hold; he was came in shrill CHAPTER XI. A STERN CHASE IS A LONG ONE. We must return to Mr. Livingston, whom Harry had left on guard over Tim Coin’s ale-house. The truth was he had just then little heart for duty, or for any thing save sad remembrance of his morning’s bitter experience. Conjecture as he would he could not imagine the cause of Miss Gordon’s strange demeanor toward him, though it seemed to him most probable that Hall Stanway had in some manner imbittered her against him. “Tt is his turn now. It will be mine yet,’’ mur- mured Li n, as he stood at the corner of the street, la dly viewing the passers-by. ‘I am not in the best of moods for the work that boy has laid out, for me; yet Limagine, if I should see the villain— His curling lips showed that he wanted but an in- eentive to rouse him to vigorous action. Pg hang ogi soon — e. Rg oy peer Son e stree eye caught s of an app Zz form, which he aneilatety recognitel It was that of Hall Stanway. Livingston had no plan laid; yet evidently some definite action must taken at once. There was no time for cautious consideration. Coin’s tap-room. A glance around this broad-flanked, low-ceilinged apartment, showed him that everything was favor- able to his pero. There were no customers ex- cept a full-faced Englishman, who was sipping ale at the bar. The bar-keeper of the previous day was replaced by a half-grown boy. rdering a mug of ale from the latter, Li ton seated himself at a table near the window, his k races to the bar, and his hat drawn low down over Ss eyes. The f ing beverage was hardly served him when the previous customer turned to go, and as he did so he was upaenes in the doorway by the steps of a@ person entering. ivingston did not look up, but bent himself closer than ever over his foam-crested mug. The new-comer walked up to the bar, and ad- dressed the boy in a voice which the listener imme- diately recognized as that of Stanway. ‘* Where is Mr. Coin?’ he asked. | He is back in the house. Do you want to see i Livingston was well aware that the eyes of his suspicious foe would be fixed upon himself, during the absence of the boy. But he occupied himself in slowl sipping his beverage, contriving, without seeming intention, to quite hide his face from view. This momentary dread of discovery was ended b _ entrance of the landlord, who asked, in his harsh ne: ‘* Want to see me?” “T only wanted to see if I could make a sale,” re- eer Stanway. “I have an importation of fine rown Stout, better than you often see. But let’s wet our whistles before we come down to business.” A slight bustling sound followed, as the landlord drew the drink ordered, It was followed by a mo- mentary png Then Stanway said: “Draw another mug. There is a friend of mine here will keep us company. Mr. Livingston, I shall be glad to have you drink with us.” Livingston started at this cool evidence of discov- ery. e was deeply flushed when he rose, and the aed which he cast upon his foe was full of repressed ury. “When I accept such an invitation it will be made by another man than Hall Stanway,” he replied, with an effort to appear cool, He turned to leave the room. As he did so his opponent gavé vent to a sneering laugh, which angered Livingston almost beyond endurance. “Tt is your turn now, you think,” he remarked, half turning. ‘‘ Make the most of it, for your villainy has nearly reached its climax. The landlord there can tell you that I have already stolen a march on your rascally scheme.” With this ing thrust Livingston left the room; but he caught a shade of pallor on Stanway’s face, as if his last words had touched that gentleman in a tender point, ; “Tt is all up in that quarter,” thought pln gop as he walked away. ‘ They are on their now. I can only trust, for the present, to Harry’s suc- cess, He walked irresolutely away, turning street after street, in an utterly purposeless manner. A half- hour thus passed, at the end of which time he found himself at no great distance from his starting-point. Indolently turning a corner into another street, he hastily drew back, For there stood Hall Stanway, not twenty S away. He had just met a middle-sized, ill-favored per- sonage, who bore evident marks of haste and irrita- tation, It was no other than Harry’s furious foe, Jack Brunter. A few hasty words passed between the confeder- ates, and then they hurried off in great haste, their faces marked by fear and confusion. In a moment i disappeared around a neighboring corner. Livingston hastened after them, determined not to lose the advantage which had thus unexpectedly fallen into his hands. But for the present we must leave this pursuit, and return to the fortunes of Harry Hunter, whom we en is bod me “vag be cont ae nly as the pistol ball op suddenly as the pisto! whizzed toward him; but it was not in consequence of this ball. The window from which Harry h was some twenty feet from the ground, but some four feet be- low it was the top of a window of the story below, whose shutters stood slightly ajar. Between the two was the ledge along which he had already passed. On the violent entrance of his pursuer into the room, the boy was clinging to the window-sill, with his feet on this 1 half inclined to make his way, as before to the adjoining window. But the furious action of his pursuer left him but one course to Vera He immediately let himself drop until his feet just rested on the top of the part- y-oben shutter below him. Then, losing his hold on the sill, his fingers caught the projecting ledge; and from there, with the ty of an acrobat, he let He age fall and Geapel ke top of the shutter with 's hands. Harry’s quick eye caught the situation of affairs at a 8 ance. The yr ef ig whose gael now , Was open at the top, the upper n pulled dawn for ventilation. . Tn an instant the feet of the agile boy rested on the top of the sash, and he swung himself lightly through the opening. As he did so his head was for a moment thrown back. At the window from which he had just descended he caught a glimpse of the infuriated face of his pursuer, glaring down upon him, his hand ing oT ety as if ready to send another shot after the f ve. Harry seemed destined to create trouble in peo- ple’s kitchens. For he now found himself in a sort of outer kitchen of Joe Tod's establishment, where | two or three women were busily occupied in prepar- ing food for the approac dinner, e sudden advent of the boy, in this unusual way, created an intense fright in these previous occupants of the room y terrified by the pistol shot. Screams of terror resounded through the house and they backed off into corners, as if some wild apima: had suddenly leaped in through the window. “Don’t get skeered,’’ exclaimed Harry. “ There’s a chap up there er pistols a! me, and I thought I'd move. Hope you'll ’scuse me for makin’ tracks without waitin’ to be perlite.” Harry was off like a shot, through the open door. In a minute more he dashed through the bar-room, in which Joe Tod stood the picture of surprise, at the unusual uproar in the upper portions of his man- sion. All had passed so quickly that he had not yet been able to decide what course of action to take. “What in the thunder’s broke loose?” he called out, as Harry dashed past. “There’s a fellow coming down stairs will ’splain,” cried Harry. ‘You must ’scuse me, I’m in a hurry to ar to the post-office afore the next mail goes out. Harry went through the door like a flash. In an instant after his pursuer burst into the room. Joe Tod had now placed himself in the doorway. “I’m bunged if there ain’t too much of this!” he cried. ‘What in the blue blazes does it all mean?’ ‘* Did that boy go through here?” asked the breath- less man, “ Yes. ” “Then he’s my meat! The young hound has rob- pee me. If I don’t eat him alive, blow me for a ool.” He rushed through the door, despite Joe’s effort to detain him for fuller information. * Well, I’m fond of fun,’’ said the landlord, slowly rubbing his head, ‘‘ but they’re Caiy. teege an over- dose to-day. I ought to have scones that man. It must have been him that fired the pk If he hurts Harry, hang me if I don’t go for him.” Meanwhile the pursuit was vigorously kept u along the street into which pursuer and pursued h emerged. It was a somewhat quiet locality, but few persons passing at this time of the day, and these looked with surprise on the vigorous chase. Harry had gained some fifty yards advance on his pursuer, and though the latter was a good runner he could not compete with the le boy, who shot like a deer along the street, gradually increasing the dis- tance between them. ia Fees , or I'll send another bullet after you!” eried e r. “Send and be shot!” cried Harry, as he darted around a corner. The chase was too furious to be long continued at that pace. Both had slackened theirs at the point where we next take them up, and at which, as we have already seen, the pursuer had unexpected- ly encountered Mr. Stanway. A dozen words told the latter what was amiss, and the chase after the flying boy was at once continued, while Mr. Livingston, in his turn, put himself on the track of the pursuers. They were now entering on more frequented streets, and were forced to moderate their pace both from exhaustion, and from the difficulty of movement. It was hardly safe for the villains to raise the hue- and-cry against the boy. They preferred to do their own work in this line. This double pursuit continued for some little time, Harry slacking his as be lost sight of his pur- suers, and fancied t he had thrown them his track. He was, indeed, quite out of breath when he stopped his ‘ at the City Hall, toward which he had directed course with the same sort of in- stinct as that with which a hunted fox seeks his hole. Harry took a seat, breathing violently, while a crowd of-his young co-laborers gothaned round him, of hie digh multitudinous questions as to the cause of his t. The boy troubled himself less to answer their ques- tions than he did to assure himself of the security of the precious package which he had hurriedly thrust into his inner vest-pocket. ‘It’s nothing, boys,” he indifferently remarked, in answer to their questions, ‘‘ I’ve jest been scoot- g around a bit, that’s all. Practicing for the six days’ run, in the international walk-round.” “There he is now. That’s the young thief, Grab him!” came an excited voice near by. Harry started to his feet, and looked hastily around, There, not twenty feet away, and ig A approaching, were uhe forms of his pursuers, Hall Stanway and Jack Brunter. His quick eye also caught, at about the same distance them, the figure of Mr. Livingston. aon he ae he. hed heard come. mn none of ese. In his quic. ance around he Ma eo still another faure, at of the supercilious James, the servant of Mr, Gordon. Tt was he who had spoken, and, at the same in- stant, the hand of a policeman fell heavily upon Harry’s shoulder, and a stern voice said: ‘*Come along now, you young hound! None of your monkey tricks with me. You'd best come quietly. - at will I come for?” asked Harry, bo a ing Lan Sip ow seat cea have I done??? se ‘You’ out soon enough, my young roos- ee I've gota J hoe ab OF you—t atl da fornow.” e was was ng Harry away, when voice sternly taka v anovmer “What does this mean, sir? What has the boy 79 one? “Tl tell you, Mr. Livingston,” answered James.
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q Handsome Harry, the Bootblack Detective. 1l “The audacious little villain has stole a valuable diamond ring from Miss Gordon.”’ ‘*A diamond ring!” cried Livingston, in surprise. **T don’t believe he ever did it.” “T fancy he did, then,’ rejoined Stanway, a look of triumph coming upon his face. ‘‘I charge him, too, with stealing a number of valuable papers from a friend of mine. Where are you going to take him, officer?” ‘Before Justice Bigsby.” : ““Very well. Iwill be there to substantiate our charge.” f ind I, to have a word in the matter,” said Liv- ingston, to himself. s for Harry, he seemed confused, but not a whit frightened. "tht the mention of the diamond ring a quick light flashed into his face. He remembered what he had seen through the open window at the Gordon mansion. Siha. CHAPTER XII. BEFORE JUSTICE BIGSBY. Ir was no | gp cogeee sensation for Harry Hunter, to find himself the occupant of a police cell, and c ed with the commission of a serious crime. In the last twenty-four hours he had passed through a multitude of new experiences, and had his wits sharpened more than they had been in weeks before. During all his life until now he had been as free as a bird, going and coming when and where he chose, and doing almost what he pleased. But in all that time no one could have accused him of doing any thing dishonest, and it galled him bitterly to be thus c ed with crime. “It is that fellow, Stanwa: : who is at the bottom of it,’ he said to himself. ‘And Is’pose if I tell what I’ve seen nobody ’ll b’lieve me. I could brin the boys to prove my character—but who’s a-goin to b’lieve bo as a ain’t got no character— a boot wae ile Harry thus occupied himself in his uncom- fortable cell in bitter reflections on the uncertainty of human justice, other events in which he was destined to be connected were proceeding else- where. A hearing on the charge against him had been fixed for three o’clock that afternoon, and word had been sent to the Gordon mansion that the arrest had been made, and that witnesses should be on hand at the above hour, It was with surprise and indignation that Alice Gordon received this Pore to be present at the police court of Justice Bigsby at three o’clock that afternoon, to give evidence in regard to the loss of her diamond ring, against Harry Hunter, the sup- posed thief. A moment’s thought convinced her of the source of this arrest, and she walked hastily to her father’s room. Here she found the invalid still seated in his easy-chair, enjoying the morning paper. He was a man contr oie and easily depressed, and the hope which Livingston had given him that morning h — him more good than all the medicine he en. ‘“What does this mean, father?’ she asked, with some sternness of tone. “I am told that the boy who was here yesterday has been arrested for the theft of my ring. I certainly made no such charge against him,” **T did, wee gaat returned Mr. Gordon, his face slightly flushing. “‘You would never recover your ring if you go on believing everybody innocent. Somebody stole it, and there was nobody but that to do it.” bor ite had nothing to do with it,” she positively rejoined, “and I am very sorry that this false charge has been laid against him. I would not have it on my conscience to have destroyed the youth’s self- resvect.”’ ‘“Self-respect!? laughed Mr. Gordon. “The self- respect of a bootblack! Well that is slightly rich.” ‘Why not?’ asked Alice. “There is nothing dis- honest or discreditable in the business. A boot- black earns his money as honestly as a mechanic or amerchant. That he is a poor boy is not dishonor- able. Nor is it a crime to have to work for a living.” > “Now don’t go on he pe negteey 5 — - oe sad father, making a wry face. ‘‘ You know Ido - lieve in theories. Ihave not against bootblacks in the mass. But who stole the ring—that’s the question? I hardly ee Fi would charge Stan- way or Li ton with it. ere is nobody but this boy who could have done it.” “But that is not sufficient evidence against the “The ring may be found on him ; I suppose that ld satis our scruples.” we Tt will Ke she replied somewhat triumphant- “Why will it not?” *“‘ Because it is here,’’ was her unexpected answer. “T have it in my hand,” and she displayed the miss- ing diamond. “He can hardly be guilty then, even if he is a bootblack.”’ “ How is that, girl?” exclaimed her father angrily. ‘““Have you made all this pother for nothing? The ring was not lost, then?” j “Tt was stolen,” she returned, “but not by the boy. As it has been returned to meI prefer to let the matter rest.” ** But who stole it?”’ “Excuse me, father, for not answering that. There are some secrets which are best buried in oblivion. There was a deep sense of pain on her face as she spoke. “Tam sorry you acted without consulting me.’ **Oh, you can easily clear the boy. You will have to be present at the hearing.” “T suppose so,” she returned, with an expression as if the necessity was a very distasteful one. But we must close this interview, and h for- ward toward the hour set for the hearing of Harry Hunter, on the charge of theft. The pepe te court was located in a not very desirable part of a not very fashionable street, and Alice Gor- don looked around with an expression of utter dis- taste as she found herself in a locality widely differ- ent from any to which she had been accustomed. As she approached the office of justice Bigsby she encounte: Mr. Livingston, who was walking, some- what disconsolately, in the same direction. His face lighted up on Pe le her, yet he ap- proached her with a hesitatiug diffidence. A quick flush had come upon her face, followed by a cold, stern expression. She drew herself up haughtily and waited his approach. ‘** Miss Gordon,” he said, *‘I am very sorry for this arrest. Yesterday you did not believe the boy guilty. Have you further evidence against him now, justify- ing you in having him arrested?” ‘Tt was not my Going, * she coldly replied, “I am here to clear him of this charge, and I call on you to aid me.” ** Why, certainly,’’ he rejoined, “so far as I can. Unfortunately I can only speak as to his general character.” “You can do much more,” she answered, looking him sternly in the eye. “ it is your duty to clear aes matter how unpleasant it may prove to your- self. . be pee a to myself!’’ rejoined Livingston, in a puzzled tone. “Iam sureI do not know what you mean. peste I can do will certainly not be un- pleasant to myself.’’ She looked at him in silence for several seconds, with the same stern glance. “This assumption of surprise is a Mat strange one, Mr. Li m,’’ she severely remarked. ‘“‘ Why you should make it in my presence I cannot understand. There are circumstances in which revelations cannot be confined to two persons. This is one of those oc- easions. If you do not yourself take measures to clear the boy of this charge, I shall be obliged to, however disagreeable the duty may prove.” She walked haughtily away, leaving him the pic- ture of astonishment, with which was mingled a growing anger. His eyes flashed as he looked after er. ‘*What can Alice Gordon mean?” he muttered, bitterly. ‘She takes a tone with meas if I wasa criminal, and was called on to confess some crime of which Iam profoundly ignorant. There is some strange = wy See 2 here.”’ Meanwhile the case had been called before Justice Bigsby, and that self-sufficient person, was busy in hearing testimony. He was a burly, full-faced man, to whose complexion on dX pig & ad given a “Bago f tinge which made his face glow like the morn- sun. "itis dignity was simply indescribable. The ve desk of his court seemed permeated wit a reflection of this dignity, and it was almost im- possible to retain any self-assurance before this im- portant official. The servants of the Gordon mansion had been notified to attend, and were being closely questioned by the justice, James had given in his testimony in ~— to the pore behavior on the previous day. Accord- ing to this witness he had tried to force If into Mr. Gordon’s house, and had only been restrained by an exercise of haughty firmness on his part. He had finally run away in fear on the approach of Mr, Stanway. “Aha! afraid of Mr. Stanway, was he?” cried the examiner, with a chuckle. “ Why should he be afraid of Btanway? That has a guilty look. Is Stan- way here?” “Yes, sir,” rented Mr. Stanway, stepping forward from where he had stood by the side of his co-con- spirator, Jaek Brunter. “What do you know about this case?” questioned the examiner. ‘‘ Why is the by afraid of you?” “* Because he played a rascal M trick on me, and I owed him a chastisement for it.” “Tl tell you, judge,’ broke in Harry, at this a pee 4 Peaiebe anton a i caneanaee n me, so I just made a e ag’in’ the boot-black's daybook.” ad * Aha! what was that?” I give him a dab of blackin’ on his knee, so that every time he saw it he’d know he owed me ten cents. That's all.” “T believe you're a villainous young rascal,” cried the justice, looking at him with withering severity. 0 is the next witness?” “She is here, your honor,” replied the who had arrested H . “Tt is Sally vant at Mr. Gordon’s house.” The justice, after the necessary preliminary ques- tions as to name and residence, Fede ae so to ex- amine Sally in regard to her knowledge of the case. She was rather favorably inclined toward ee 2 and disposed to screen him, but she managed mare euch a Pin vant Ki pridence rt poqard to fence- c ng, potato-paring, pea-shelling, coer and finger-scalding, that it was almost impossible to get head or tail of what it all meant. What in the world has all this bosh to do with the stealing of a diamond ring?” exclaimed the jus- tice, impatiently. ‘We know that the boy was driven away from the front door, climbed the fence, and got into the kitchen. He didn’t steal the ring out of this good girl’s potato-pan I hope?”’ “T made a ring out of a potater skin,” said Harry, “and I flung it on the floor; and it made just the nicest S you ever saw. Is’pose that means t goin’ to get married to Sally.” liceman, rown, ser- | | ““You hush up!” cried Sally, with a deep blush of confusion. ‘Let the prisoner be silent!” yelled the justice. “Do you forget where you are, sirrah? You may not feel like joking when I am done with you.” Evidently Harry had prejudiced his own case by this lack of appreciation of the dignity proper to a police court. Justice Bigsby eyed him witha glance of deep malignity. “The most important witness has not yet arrived,” remarked the policeman. ‘Miss Gordon, the owner of the lost ring, has been notified to attend.” “T hope she does not imagine that a court of jus- tice is a ball-room, or an opera-house, where it is fashionable to come late?’ remarked the justice. “T shall discharge the prisoner if this delay con- tinues. Has he been searched?” “Yes, your honor. There was no trace of the ring found upon him, or at his residence.” ‘** What was found upon him?” “The leather pocket-book which lies upon your desk. It was taken from an inside pocket the prisoner’s vest.” ‘“* Ah!” exclaimed the justice, lifting the package. ‘*T remember now. There has been a distinct charge laid against him for the theft of this. Is the prose- cutor present?” “Yes, your honor. It was stolen from my room at the hotel this morning,”’ answered Jack Brunter, stepping forward. “I caught that boy in the act, but he got away from me. I followed him, and was about to catch him, when the policeman here ar- rested him on another charge.” *“So he’s been doing a double job of robbery,” said the justice, bending his eyes severely on Harry, who failed to quail before this withering glance. “What proof have you of this charge? Have you witnesses ?”’ “T can have, your honor,” yom Brunter. “ And Mr. Stanway here can testify that the pocket-book vy: roperty, and that he joined me in the chase of the boy.” Stanway was closely questioned as to his know- ledge respecting this new charge. His evidence seemed sufficient to prove that the pocket-book was the property of Brunter. He swore directly to hav- ing seen it in his possession. “ And I hope your honor will return it to me now,” appealed Brunter. “I have important business in Chicago, and must set out at once. I have lost valu- able time already by the delay which this yo thief has caused me. There are papers there iiek concern a most important transaction, which must be attended to without delay. As I have proved my PEP, L hope you will not detain me any longer.” “Don't let his thieving fingers touch it, ju ! cried Harry. “It ain’t no more hisn than it is yourn. The long-nosed,squint- ae galoot stole it himself.” ““We shall have to lock that boy up again if he is not still,’ roared the justice. “ This book seems to be your property, Mr. Brunter.” “Thardly think so,” spoke another voice. They all turned round at this interruption. The speaker was recognized by many of them as Mr. Livingston. Miss Gordon had also entered at the same moment, and seated herself on a chair prof- fered her by James. “What means this interruption?’ queried the jus- tice, angrily. “Tt means that the boy has told you the truth,” spoke Mr. Livingston, ina calm voice. “The an in that ket-book are stolen property, and ere charge the man who claims them with theft. I ask youto retain them in your on until I can prove my words. And also to not let this man es- cape until my age id is heard.” See that Mr. Brunter does not leave the court,” said the justice to the policeman, as he noticed that long-nosed gentleman edging toward the door, CHAPTER XII. ALICE GORDON TESTIFIES. Mr. Stanway sprung forward at these words, a great show of indignation in his face. ** Justice Bigsby—your honor—”’ he cried 3 ‘you have no right in law or justice to detain Mr. Brunter, or keep his papers after acknowledging that he has proved their ownership. As for this man—’ “Silence !”’ roared the justice, swelling with a sense of injured importance. ‘‘ How dare you address me sir, in this violent tone? I will have you know that the dignity of this court shall be sustained. Nor will I be taught my duty by you.” = “‘ITdemand my papers,” exclaimed Brunter, the cue from associate. “If they are not return- ed to me at once, I shall bring suit for their recovery, ont and Ts Sueno roawith stealing th “An ¢ you ea t ” re- turned Livingston. ‘*And, your honor, I ‘ons pre- pared to pr mo! Av your satisfaction,” “Very well, gentlemen,’’ responded the ir or official ‘‘Let me hear no more of this. shall listen to agg ye while the present case is on trial. But I retain those papers until their ownership is settled, and I forbid any party con- cerned from leaving the room until I have had time oT chal lear oueroani lied Stanway haughti eave the room!” re wa: - ly. “Ihad not heard before that a ice’s court was @ prison cell, where parties could be detained at the word of the little autocrat upon the bench, I shall leave the room, and it will be at your peril if you seek to detain me. The rights of an American citizen are not at the beck and call of the whole government of New York; and far less of one of its ce | self-important officials.” m He walked haughtily toward the door, followed, in | a sneaking manner, by Jack Brunter,
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12 beaten in his own court before. His face grew crim son as he saw this om pee. ig of his authority. But he was equal to the occasion. ‘* Officer,” he cried sternly, ‘‘ close the door, and see that no one leaves the room. What is your name?” This question was addressed to Livingston. ‘* Edward Livingston,’’ was the reply. “You prefer a charge against these two men of the theft of these papers, and ask for a warrant for ae ee and detention till the charge can be ea 7 “Very well, sir.’’ Justice Bigsby had already drawn before him a legal form and was busily writing. His eyes rested with a glance of triumph on the two baffled con- spirators, who had paused, with disconcerted looks, in their intended departure. “Sign your name here, Mr. Livingston,”’ said the justice. This request was immediately complied with. “Here is your warrant, officer,” continued the justice. ‘‘ Detain these two men as prisoners until I am through with the present case. If they seek to escape you willlock them up in a cell.” Stanway had played his trump card, and lost the trick. There was a shade of or on his face as he withdrew into a corner of the room, and entered into a whispered conference with his confederate. ‘*Quess you won't be racing bootblacks round the City Hall soon again,” cried the irrepressible boy, his face lit up with triumph. ‘“ You're a big ’coon, ou are, old Stanway, but when the judge puts his oot down your dog's dead.” “Silence,” exclaimed the official, but not with as jalan asperity as before. He liked to be called udge. “Are there any other witnesses present in the case now before me?” he asked. ‘* Miss Gordon is here,’ answered James. “ Will Miss Gordon please step forward?” remark- ed the justice. He had caught a eine of Miss Gordon’s face and fashionable attire, and deemed it judicious to assume a more polite tone toward this rara avis, 80 widely distinct from the ordinary cus- tomers, The fair witness advanced at this request. There was a tremor on her lips, and she seemed to be greatly shaken in her self-possession. This arose from the strange scene she had just witnessed, the arrest of Mr. Stanway on a charge of theft preferred by Mr. Livi n. But this was not the only cause of her disquiet. There were mental troubles of her own which made this ordeal a very severe one to her. ut upon oath, she at the request of the justice, detailed the events connected with the loss of her ring. “But,” she continned. “I prefer not to have this cha prosecuted any further. I do not be- lieve the guilty, and wish to have the suit dis- continued.” “Tt is not a question erat belief, but of the evi- dence,” calmly remarked the justice. ‘‘ You are not the prosecutor in this case, Gordon?” * No, sir; it is my father.” “Then I cannot discontinue it at your request. It must go on.” “But there are the best of reasons why it should not go on,”’ she earnestly repeated. : 1 you name them, Miss Gordon?” “This 1s the first and strongest,’’ she replied, hold- ing up her hand, on one finger of which glittered a large diamond. ‘I have here im my possession the stolen ! It has been returned to me!” “But t does not absolve the thief,” said the surprised justice. ‘Your father has had this boy charged with the theft of ‘ona ring—”’ “T never touched the old ring,” interrupted Harry. “What good would a diamond ring be to me, I'd like to know? Wouldn't I be a pretty figure blackin’ boots with a diamond like that on my hands!”’ ’s tone of scorn and contempt raised an in- ae laugh, which was sternly repressed by the us “Te you can clear the prisoner, Miss Gordon, I shall be glad to discha him. Have you further evidence offer as to who returned you the ring?” ‘** No, sir,”’ she replied, in an agitated tone. She glanced around the room as she didsa. Her eyes encountered those of Mr. Livingston, who stood just behind her. There was an appealing look in her ace which wargriene and troubled him. He stood irresolute, not knowing what to make of this ex- Pp ression. “Then,” said the justice resolutely, ‘I see noth- ing before me but to commit the boy for trial on the chai of theft. I cannot lay aside my duty, Miss Gordon, for the pu of obliging you in what seems but a mere whim of charity.”’ “ He did not steal the !” she cried, in a pained tone. ‘I have evidence to the cont “py “Very well,” returned the justice. ‘You will ny remember that you are sworn to tell the whole truth.’ Miss Gordon seemed deeply distressed. The color came and went in her face; her lips quivered, she hesitated, and continued silent. she looked around the room, and fixed her eyes on the face of Livingston. His surprise had at har Ros anger. What agree ber a peas 00 e wish him crimina\ hhnself some way soas to clearthe boy? He — impassive, with a slightly stern look upon his Some wave resolution seemed strengthened in Miss Gordon by demeanor. Her lip curled; her eyes flashed, She stepped up closer to the high Justice Bigsby had never been so openly brow- ; Handsome Harry, the Bootblack Detective. nnn 2 eg _ which sheltered the portly form of Justice | An ar his eye glanced over it, and then he by. ft an evidence which will convince you,’’ she remarked. ‘I do not care to have it made public, but the lad must not suffer for the crime of another. Will Ay please read this letter?” “You are just an angel Miss Gordon,”’ cried Har- y enthusiastically. * rd go to jail for six years if it was goin’ todo you any good. Iswow I would. But I know the chap that took the ring. Iseen him do it myself, and I wouldn’t go to jail two minutes to save him from hanging—’cause he ain't worth the rope that he'll stretch some day, if he gets what he’s born for.” As he spoke the justice was intently reading the letter she had handed him. His expression changed as he did so. A look of surprise came upon his features, “This is certainly an unexpected piece of evi- dence, Miss Gordon.”’ he said. ‘“*Do I understand She ye this letter accompanied the returned ring?” “Tt did, sir.” The eyes of Stanway flashed with triumph as he heard these words. ey seemed to convey more meaning to him than to the others present. Harry was watching him closely, and failed not to note this change of expression. “Then the accused is certainly clear of the crime with which he is charged,” remarked the justice. ‘* He will consider himself discharged from custody. “ “ Thankee, judge,” replied Harry, gratefully. ‘If you'd only asked me Id told = ong ago that I didn’t steal nobody’s diamond. But you asked everybody else cept me. How was you goin’ to find out what I done by askin’ somebody else, I'd like to know? Why, I'd sooner have a box of prime black- in’ than a di’mond, any day.” bee Be handsome face was flushed with joy as he walked out among his friends, and began a bus process of shaking hands with all present, as if all must necessarily take part in his pleasure. “IT wish to withdraw any further proceedings,” said Miss Gordon. “The party accused has been ee innocent. I decline to prosecute any one else.” “This will not do!” cried Stanway, stepping an- grily forward. ‘No one can be cleared on conceal- ed evidence, even in a ina court like this. I de- mand that the prisoner be recalled, or that the evi- dence clearing him be made public.” ‘“*I decline to have the letter read,”” responded Miss Gordon. “Very well, then. It cannot be admitted as evi- dence, without being made public. Even Justice Bigsby knows enough of the law to know that.” e justice castan angry glance at the speaker; but the latter stood with a determined attitude an expression. : : “ He is right, Miss Gordon,” replied the justice. “ The letter must be publicly read. Secret evidence cannot be admitted.” Miss Gordon flushed and paled. She glanced about nee with something of the expression of the hunted eer. “Why should it not be read?” asked Mr. Living- ston, addres her. ‘If it contains any matter not bearing on this charge, that can be suppressed.” She looked at him with a strange glance. ‘Is it possible that you wish it read?’ she queried, in a Jow voice, “T don’t perceive why I should object to it,” was his astonished reply. She haughtily drew herself up to her full hight. Hes tones e cold, her face impassive, as she said: “Very well then. I withdraw my objections to its being read.” The justice had noticed this by-play with wonder- ing eyes. There was evidently some secret feelin between these two persons. e carefully adjus' his spectacles, looked impressively for a moment pd hose present, and then read the letter, as fol- Ows: ‘*Dear Miss Gorpon: You will be mere than sur- prised—you will be horrified—by receiving this note, with its contents, in my handwriting. Do not ask me what induced me to take the ring. ThatI can- not answer. Your jewel casket stood there—at m hand. A sudden tempfation—from the evil one, verily believe—came upon me, I could not resist it. It was but a moment, and I had the stolen jewel in my possession. I dared not seek to return it, for you entered at that moment. ‘But when you afterward told me of its loss, and accused another of the theft, you stirred in me the sting of conscience. My whole soul is burning with remorse. I dare not keep it longer. Lreturn it to you, not asking you to forgive me, but hoping that you will not me ariel despise me. “Shall we not let this unfortunate matter die out of our memories? I shall not refer to it again, nor change my des,eanor toward you. Ihope you will show your forgiveness by not ¢ ng yours toward e. The reader pares and looked slowly over the assembly, all of whom were spell-bound in surprise. The eyes of Alice were fixed on Livingston, whose face was a medley of emotion. “ But the name? The signature?” cried Stanway. “Tt is signed only by initials, E. L.,’’ remarked the justice. “fh. L.! exclaimed Livingston, in a hot fervor of feeling. ‘* My initials!” “Yes; and your handwriting,” said Alice, in an agitated voice, “Let me see that lying scroll!” he ejacula Ftp | forward, and snatching it from the hands reader. ~ exc : “Tt isasI thought! It is a forgery!” “What!” cried Alice, with bloodless lips. ‘Can I have been so deceived? Oh, may God grant that it be as you say!” CHAPTER XIV. THE LEATHER POCKET-BOOK, Mr. Gorpon was not quite at ease in his mind in re- gard to his action of that morning. The indignation of his daughter had troubled him, despite himself. Behind her quiet manner and amiable disposition, she had a force of character which his somewhat va- cillating nature could not but yield to, and his fre- quent obstinacy usually ended in bis giving her her own way, whenever any imporatant question arose between them, He was therefore ill at ease, particularly when he learned that her daughter had left the house to tes- a in the case of the rae against Harry. e walked his room backward and forward, in a fretful, uneasy manner. **T believe everybody would be better off, if they’d quit meddling in matters where women are con- cerned,’ he muttered, ‘ Alice is always right, and Iam always wrong; and I expect that this business will turn out, as usual, with showing that I have been an unfeeling old meddler.—Ha! there 1s the bell! I wonder if any one is left to answer it; or if they have all gone away on this business?” It appeared that they were not all gone, for one of his servants immediately afterward brought him up a ar message. “Ah! what can this be?’ heasked himself, ‘ Tell the messenger to wait a minute. I will see if there is any answer needed.” ri He tore open the sheet with a nervous motion, but his eyes lit up with a flash of inward fire as they glanced over the scroll. “*Good news! good news!" he shouted, snatching up his pillow, and flinging it lightly into the air, ‘“The Good Speed is safe! Sheisin port! My ship is in port !—A truce to your medicines. That is the best medicine. Iam myself again, lam on my feet in every sense.” “Ts there any answer?’ asked the servant, re- turning. - “Yes, answer that I am well, and will prove it by coming into town immediately.”’ And he was as good as his word. The hopeful news had warmed his veins like a genuine elixir-of- life. In ten minutes he had thrown off all the insig- nia of illness, and was dressed for out-door exercise. “That's the beauty of your nervous troubles,” ho cried, with boyish enthusiasm. “Only invigorato your mind, and your whole body is enlivened. But won't they be surprised to see me!”’ They were certainly somewhat surprised in Justice Bigsby’s court when Mr. Gordon opened the door, and walked into the room. A cry of alarm burst from his daughter, as sho ran toward him, caught him by the arm, and looked with frightened eyes into his face. “Tt is myself, Alice,” he said cheerfully. all right again. Good news has cured me. you not heard? Has not Livingston told you?” “No, father,’ and she looked curiously from one to the other. Livingston, with flushed face, and an angry curt to his lip, still had his eyes fixed on the letter he had just seized. “He knows, Alice. He just telegraphed mo that the Good Speed was safe—was in harbor. It is this. that has put me on my feet again, as sound aj man as any here.” “T declare again that this is a forgery!’ exclaimed Livingston, eeriktie the letter with his open hand, and too deep excited to heed what was proceeding: so near at hand. “That remains to be proved,” said the justice, coldly. He was annoyed by the abrupt snatching: of the letter from his hand. “Now see here, jndge. cried Ha earnestly. “Mr. Livingston had no more to do y th that rin than I had, and I can prove it. If you want bai for him I’m just the fellow that'll go hisbail. *Cause ne ain't a-goin’ to jail on no such a bizness as that.” “What is the matter?’ asked Mr. Gordon, as he ressed up and took Livingston warmly by the hand. ‘Is there a charge against you?” “Ts that my handwriting?” asked Livingston, forcing the letter into his hand. Mr. Gordon looked at it fora minute or two in deep surprise. He caught the sense of the letter, and turned quickly to his daughter. “Was it this that ailed you this morning, Alice?” “Ted. or.’” “Then I have made an old ninny of myself again, that is sure.” * ; ‘But do you recognize the handwriting?” asked the justice. ; c “The handwriting!’ his eyes perused it again attentively. “Why it’s a deuced clever imitation of Ned Livingston’s hand. But [ilswear it’s a for- very, for that; for I know his writing better han I do my own.” y Will you testify to this under oath, Mr. Gordon?” asked Livingston, “Certainly. Under ten oaths. There's some deuce of a sharp rascal been at work here, Ned.” “Tam Have The face of Alice had reddened, and then grown deathly pale. She still clung to her father’s arm, but her downcast eyes only slowly and timidly raised themselves to Livingston's face. “Can you forgive me?’ she murmured. “My manner! My scornful tone! Oh! how strange and cruel they must have seemed to you!” “Forgive you! Alice!” was ell he said; but the
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_ my his hand, and the look in his eyes, supplied the rest. “ And now as you big folks have had your say I s'pose it's no barm if a little chap like me puts a word in sideways,” cried . “You ain’t got all the evidence about this case yet, judge. I know “pe een pd *bout it, which I'll reel out if you'll only et me.’ “Very well. Let me hear what you have to say.” “T ain’t swored yet, judge,’ said Harry, earn- estly. ‘‘I want you to swear ine, and just as hard as youcan. I ain’t goin’ to say a word that isn’t the truth, but I want to be tied right down to it.” ‘Very well, my boy,’’ returned the ustige, smil- ing. He had, somehow, taken a sudden neg # to Harry; perhaps from the latter’s dubbing him udge. d The boy was at once cd upon oath, and asked to tell what he knew about the theft of the Mint “T know the thief, your honor. I know him just like you know a book. And that’s him; that sneak- ing old cheat in the corner there,” and Harry’s fin- ger pointed rniesanaeng at Stanway. The latter sprung fiercely forward at this unlooked- for accusation; Ppa he could not keep back a guilty pallor from his face. ** Back, sir!’’ exclaimed the justice. that no violence is permitted.”’ “Oh, let him come on, judge,” remarked Harry erie E "2s omy ore a erg “3 a _ nateral, when an apple-thief gets stung by a hornet, that he'll jump. Best let the officer hold me back, for I ain’t done yet with Mr. Stanway. The officer had to exercise his strength and autho- rity to force back the infuriated man, whose lips were white as with the foam of passion. 2 ‘*He owes me for a shine-up, your honor,” said Harry. “Itold him I'd get paid for it yet, and if I don’t there’s no use talking.” Harry proceeded to describe his adventure of the previous day, at the Gordon mansion, He particular- ly detailed his climb to the ges window, and how he had seen Stanway open the casket and take from it the diamond ring. : The face of the accused man was a study as this evidence was givenin. Every eye was fixed upon him, and only anger seemed to sustain him from ut- ter quailing. ‘ : ‘Is the word of a lying little bootblack like that to be taken against a man of my known standing?” he ejaculated. “‘ He has already acknowledged a spite against me. This is the way he is taking to be re- venged upon me.” «Miss Kiice can have a wordin that,’ continued Harry. “ moe eg she won't forget how she came to raise the winder curtain, and how she heard some- thing drop outside?” Alice, with much surprise, assented to the truth of the boy’s remark. “That was me that dropped,’’ proceeded Harry. “T just let go, and fetched up at the bottom. And then I crawled in under the bushes.” **Go on,” said the justice. “*That’s "bout all, judge,” answered ae A * Only that I’ve got a notion that Miss Alice is a bit sweet on Mr. Liv on, and that old Stanway’s jealous. Don’t you see his game? He wants to get a clear track, so that he can have the game all his own * Officer, see way.” ‘Alice blushed crimson at this indiscreet suggestion of Harry’s. Her eyes fell before the ardent glances of her lover. Her confusion was painful to behold. “That's "bout all, judge,’’ continued Harry, in some surprise at the sensation he had created. ‘Bout allin this bizness mean. There's the little matter of the ers yet.” bi Can this be possible ?” asked Mr, Gordon, looking earnestly at Stanway. ‘That you—that a man like Hall Stanway, whom I would have trusted with my fortune—. But there must bea mistake in this.” ‘Not an ounce of a mistake,” ejaculated Harry ositively, ‘“’cept that you've trusted him too much. T woulda’ like to trust him with the ye of a bent pin. I trusted —F for a shine once; but I’ve got it charged w ‘in’ him.” : q “We 4 Wanting time here,”’ said the justice im- patiently. ‘‘ Mr. Livingston, these men are under ar- rest on your charge against them of robbery. I am prepared to give them a hearing.”’ ‘Will you please examine that leather book in your possession, and tell us of what its contents con- sist?” asked Livingston. “I deny your right to do anything of the kind!’’ exclaimed Stanway. “I claim that it was stolen from Mr, Brunter here, Its contents have nothing to do with the question. No one has a right to open it.” Are ou not rather anxious about Mr. Brunter?”’ asked the justice, ve a a age tone. ‘Let Mr. runter speak for himself.” z ‘He has given my sentiments, to a hair,”’ respond- ter, eine first place,” replied the official, ‘‘ you have not proved it to be yours. In the second place, you are charged with stealing it yourself. Now it seems to me that the best evidence of its ownership may — in Ley Gemenss of < Npeg = x 4a there- ore take the responsi y of ope le Sui the action to the word, the dignified official took a thick mass Pouca from the well-swollen book, his eyes fixed with a defiant expression on the Har bageart, palling: thor tion played tale, bast gar ing; the eir card, and lost the game, Stanway sCaked about him like a tiger, as if half inclined to make a burst for libe Y. ut the size and stern look of the burly officer, who stood near him, rather dissuaded him from his idea, All present remained in expectant silence while Justice Bigsby slowly ran his eyes over the mass of Eandso me Harry, the Bootblack Detective. pers. Then, pushing back his spectacles on his icheed he iadleedk for a moment over the room, as if to properly impress every one with a sense of the importance of the impending disclosure: “I find,’’ he at length remarked, ‘‘that we have here a valuable series of United States government bonds. And I also find that they are not the proper- ty of either Mr. Brunter or Mr. Stanway, but of Mr. orge Gordon." “My property!” cried Mr. Gordon, bursting for- ward. ‘Are they the bonds that were stolen from me? Oh! that would be too much good news for oneday. Answer me, Livingston, Stanway—are they my lost bonds?”’ ‘I know nothing about them,” growled Stanway, with affected indifference. ‘They are the bonds which were stolen from you,” replied Livingston, ‘‘and I hope to convince Mr. Stanway that he does know something about them. I got on their track by a mere accident, and—with the a of our wide-awake bootblack here—suc- ceeded in recovering them.”’ “You can bet we succeeded,” supplied Harry, earnestly. ‘It weren't no slouch ofa e, neither for I to jump out of windows, and dodge pistol — in the most amazing way you ever dreamt re) Publ The justice, who had been listening with the inter- est of curiosity to this colloquy, now returned to a sense of his relaxed dignity. “This is all too informal,’ he exclaimed. not listen to any more such ae This case must be heard under oath. witnesses, Mr. Livingston?” But we will not detail the evidence given in this hearing, as the reader is pretty thoroughly acquaint- ed with it already. The most important feature in it was Mr. Gordon's Sworn recognition of the bonds as his, and his testi- mony that they had been stolen from his office. He was not sure whether or not either of the accused had been in his office on the day of their disappear- ance. The evidence of Livingston and that of Hi was next taken, that of the latter exciting great interest as he graphically described his adventures in search of the Se oy ‘I fotched ’em at last,” he triumphantly conclud- ed, ‘‘ but I calculate they’d have snatched ’em from me if gpa honor hadn’t been kind enough to have me grabbed by a policeman at that identical minute. They was a-comin’ down on me like a 2:40 two-hoss team on the home stretch when this gentleman here, with the forty pound muscles, gobbled me 4 and toted me off. And that was what flung ol Stanway.”’ oes Be voice was full of triumphant scorn as he concluded. He evidently fancied his foe demolished. “I do not see any evidence bearing directly upon Mr. Stanway,’’ remarked the justice, doubtingly. ‘‘His evident anxiety to favor the other prisoner may arise from other causes.” “But the letter signed Jack Brunter, which was found in his pocket?’ queried Livingston. “Yes, yes, that is certainly important,” replied the justice, after in reading it, ““And we have the evident collusion of the two men through the whole business,” said Livingston en a , “And there’s the letter that was left for Jack Brunter at Tim Coin’s,” suggested Harry. “ And which I confistercated.” “The one signed $?” asked the justice, yas it up. ‘Can any one testify to this handwriting? Mr. Livingston and Mr. Gordon both examined it, and swore positively that it was Stanway’s writing. The countenance of the latter had brightened some- what during the last few minutes; but it fell when Justice Bigsby turned severely toward him, and said: “Your case is made out, Mr. Livingston. I shall commit these two men for trial on the charge of larceny.” “T can- roceedings. ho are your CHAPTER XV, WHAT HARRY SAW THROUGH THE DOOR. WE must step forward a few days before again taking up the thread of our story. De these days events had worked well for the interests of Mr. Gordon. As for himself his hasty action “on the day of the hearing had proved too much for his strength. It was the factitious vigor of high excitement which had sustained him through that stirring scene; and the inevitable reaction had followed—he was again a nerveless invalid. Yet thiswas but temporary. The good tidings which had come to him, were certain soon to bring him permanently to his feet again. The creditors had been advised to withdraw any ene Bi By cea ee ee to- ether. s e they came unwi 1, Be before, since it had become the wh -* fhe en town that a most decided improvement place in Mr. Gordon’s affairs. And it may be well imagined that they were not long in accepting an improved offer of one hundred cents on the dollar, in payment of their claims; or in granting to Mr. Gordon the slight extension of — he desired, so that he might get his affairs in er. “1 always had a notion that Hall Stanway was something of a sneak,” remarked bluff Mr. Brown. Mr. Gordon was too confounded a ar i I only hope now that he'll squeeze him as hard as he deserves.” “But who’s to be trusted?” queried another mer- chant. ‘I did not like the man, but I did not dream he would steal.” ’ 13 “There is another matter on which I desire to speak,’’ said Livingston, changing the subject. ‘“* You broke up our former meeting in co’ ence of hearing that a suit had been brought, in chester, against Mr. Gordon.” “Why, yes,” rejoined Mr. Brown. ‘The business to look blamed thin.” “‘T told you then that our settlement would not be affected by that suit,” rejoined Livingston. “I su pose some of you went away with the idea that I was trying some sharp practice upon you. But I happened to know that the suit was on a claim that would not hold water. Iam happy to be able to announce to you this morning that it has failed. The court has disallowed it.” After the breaking up of this meeting Mr. Living- ston made his way toward Mr. Gordon’s mansion to report its results. arry Hunter had also sought the same locality. This was at the desire of Alice Gordon, who wished to see the boy. But instead of disturbing the high-toned James at the “big front door,” our young friend made his way to the area gate, where he was admitted by Sally, the kitchen girl. ‘*Got any pertaters to pare, or any peas to shell?” asked H innocently. ‘I’m a hoss at parin’ and shellin’, and I’m goin’ around, in jobs.” “Yas. he es mighty good at it,’’ returned Sally, indignantly. ‘‘The last time there was more pota- to on the parings than there was in the pan. And as for the —"’ “*T wonder if a fellow could help spillin’ the peas,” interrupted Harry, ‘‘when you two were dancing Highland flings all over the floor, and scaring the life out of a chap?” “Tt was all your fault,” retorted Sally. “I don’t want any more of your om i “ But ain’t you got no cabbage to slice, or no on- ions to peel, or no—”’ “ Don’t let him in here!”” screamed the other wo- man, laughingly, as she caught sight of Harry. ‘I don’t want any more hot-irons on ref toes.”” “EF bg ad maybe I might get a job at shinin’,”’ re- marked Harry, perch himself on the back of a chair. ‘I've brung my box, you see; and I’m open for business. Won’t you have them little number one shoes of yourn toned up, Sally?” “Guess not,” said Sally, laughing: “ Number one, indeed! I don’t set up for a Cinderella yet.” ‘** And how about vont number sevens, Molly?” “T will let you feel the bh te of them if you don’t leave here soon,” answered olly, angrily. “ That’s ad like you women,” responded Harry, with a sigh. “You take me down past the same, whether I say you've got big feet or little feet. Ain’t you got no shinin’ you wantdone? I'll do any- thing for you, Sally, if it’s to polish up the fryin’- an +] “ Now none of your nonsense, H »” said the smiling girl. ‘‘ You're a vexatious little imp; but I like you, for all that. When you was telling how you fooled that Stanway, the other day, it was as much as I could do to keep my hands off of you. [ wanted to take you in my arms just there, and kiss you, for a smart little Handsome a. “Tt aint too late yet,” exclaimed Harry, moving toward her. With a scream of laughter Sally threw her apron over his head, and ran from the room. But he was too alert to be thus checked. Ina moment he had released himself from the blinding folds of the apron, and was after her. Through the entry, through room after room, the chase continued. Finally she darted stairs, still so full of merriment that she could hardly run. Harry shot up stairs after her with the agility of a squirrel, and caught her just as she had reached the hall in front of the parlor door. “Let me go, Harry,” she exclaimed, as well as she could speak for laughing. “Yes, when I've had my kiss,”’ replied the merry boy. Her head had fallen back over his may al arm; her red lips were oe parted, like the pe of a flower; Hesty's lips lighted upon them like a butter- fly on a rose—if we may indulge in a poetical simile. At this same instant the parlor door opened and ooked ingititingty out. the face of Miss Gordon Just behind her stood Mr. Livingston. ‘* What is the matter there?”’ she asked. Sally burst from the boy’s rasp in blus con- fusion, and ran hastily for the stairs, But stood his ground. “She challenged me,”’ he said, “and we City Hall polishers never go back on achallenge. And I'll tell you what it is, Alice,” he continued in a stage whisper, ‘“ there’s Mr. Livingston behind you looking as if he'd lost his cr tame abe andI know he’s as sweet _on you as honey on pound-cake, Just you take Handsome Harry's advice and challenge him a same bys HY 7 Harry ad anything further to say it was cut short by the sudden closure of the anlar door, as the sweet, blushing, confused face wiharew, “Tl be down in the kitchen, and I ain’t in no hurry. You can send for me when you want me,’’ called Harry, through the door, as he walked away. ote Mr. Livingston don’t take the hint after that I wouldn’t give a n persimmon for him,” so- pinaieed the mischievous boy, with a sly laugh to In fact the interview between the two lovers, pre- viously to *s advent on the scene, had been decidedly cold and dry. He was inclined to blame her for readily crediting him with writing the forged letter, while she declared that he should have demanded an explanation of her demeanor. “T could not act otherwise than I did,” che per-
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14 sisted. ‘‘I might, in time, have forgiven; but it is hard to bear to have our idols so rudely shattered.” It was at this moment thatthe Harry and Sally episode occurred. Livingston stood in a quiver of nervous excitement. She had spoken asif he was one of her idols. Was this but a thoughtless figure of apeeck, or had it a deeper meaning? There was a warm suggestion in the scene he had just witnessed, and in Harry’s mischievous words. ere was a warmer suggestion in the confused and Resins face with which she retreated from the oor, How it happened neither of them ever knew. It had something of the unconscious action with which the iron flies to the magnet. But it was certain that before either dreamed of such a thing Alice found herself clasped in Livingston’s arms, and his lips pressed in warm kisses on her lovely, rose- flushed face. But the parlor door had closed, and it may not be quite the fair thing to open it upon these two young lovers. From what we have seen we are sure that it closed in happiness, and closed out all the shadows of misapprehension which were threatening to en- velop them. As a spark sets fire to a barrel of very innocent and very quiet-looking gunpowder, so had Harry’s stolen kiss kindled the love that lay concealed in these two young hearts, and brought it flashing up into their eyes and burning upon their lips. rry was having so lively a time in the kitchen that he did not know how rapidly time was gliding by, and he could not have guessed that two hours had vanished since that eventful moment when he had seen the flushed face of Alice disappear behind the closing doors. The quizzical look with which he entered the par- lor had, then, nothing to do with the lapse of time, but with some comical thoughts which were wander- ing through his brain. ‘An involuntary blush came again into Alice's cheeks as she caught his humorously-questioning Ponce. He looked from her to Livingston, whose ace also was full of happiness. “ That’s ye gc? up to the mark,” he exclaimed joy- ously. ‘‘And if you don’t give me an invite to the wedding I'll never speak to you again. And I hope neither of you ain't mad cause I kissed Sally behind the lor door?” ‘*To show you that I am not, you handsome, mis- chievous little tease, I will kiss you right here,” ex- claimed Alice enthusiastically, * for you are as good and noble-hearte 1 as you are queer,’ It was Harry’s turn to blush as he felt the pressure of her soft lips. He retreated with a timid dismay unusual to him. But he was not long in recovering his equanimity. “You needn't be asking for that back,’ he cried Jor cnaly, to Advingeion. ‘* or claiming that it’s Vanier or I wouldn’t sell it for a barrel full of gold dollars; and if I’m ever goin’ to give it away, I'll give it back whers it came from.” The hearty laugh which followed these words was succeeded by a long conference, in which Harry’s future was the principal subject of discussion, They wished, in their new-felt charity toward all man- kind, to do a thousand things for the boy; but they found him particularly obdurate. “T’m a first-class bootblack, and I wouldn’t be worth a cent at anything else,”’ he said. ‘‘ Guess I’d best stick at what I’m used to.” * But Pye are getting too old for that business,” replied Livingston. ‘ And, besides, you need some education.” “Tt’s time enough for all that,"’ persisted Harry. ““Of course, I want a sprinkling of eddication; and maybe I'll soon have to strike out in some new line of bizness; but just now, if you ain’t no serious objec- tion, I'll stick to the box and brush. A bootblack’s a gentleman if he ain’t a millionaire. He goes where he wants and leaves when he pleases. He works when he feels like it, and he plays when he is in the humor, And he never calls no man master. Andif that aes being a gentleman, then that’s all I know *bout it.” And try as they would they could get no more out of Harry. An hour or two later of the same day we find Harry at his usual post, near the City Hall, with a throng of his young co-laborers around him. They are deeply interested in his narrative, for he is giving them a detailed account of the stirring series of adventures through which he has lately passed. “ And now I'll just tell you what it is,” says Harry inconclusion, ‘‘ That’s me, Harry Hunter, the boot- black. I ain’t a-goin’ to brag, but I’m a-standing on m ity, and if there’s a boy among you who thinks e can jump higher, run faster, hit harder, or swallow more bean soup, than this ‘coon, wh just trot him out, that’s all, Are you the boy, Bill Blunt, or do you give up the glove?’ “*] sell out, Harry, you’re the boss.” “That’s so!’’ screams little Tim in great enthusi- asm. “There ain't a feller of his size can take him down, if you hunt all over the city. Here’s three Fee ekg Handsome Harry, the boss of the boot- c The cheers were given with a will, and at this point we will leave them, with our young hero raised to the highest honors in the empire of the box and brush. And we have also our other characters to take leave of, for the present, at least. A few words will finish their errs The coming in of his ship, and the recovery of lost pa) , put Mr. Gordon again upon his feet, His health soon came back on the tide of returning prosperity. His business is now fully re-established, and more pros- perous than ever, and he is the happiest of easy- going people. Handsome Harry, the Bootblack Detective. There is only one thing that greatly bothers him, which is that women, and especially his daughter, will have their way. “ But she and my boy Ned are going to be spliced soon,”’ he — “and then I'll be clear of that trouble. But if she don’t make him back down if he tries to cross her too much, then my experience goes for nothing.” They are not married yet; but, by the way she does as she pleases with her happy lover now, it will not be likely to make him very unhappy, even if she does have her way in the future. As for Stanway and his associate, they have been punished to the extent of the law for their crime, and are now “chewing the cud of sweet and bitter fancy ” in the New York penitentiary. Harry is still the Boss of the Bootblacks, but he goes to school part of his time, and is rapidly pro- ese in learning. As to his future vocation, that Ss not yet decided on. ‘I don’t want no other business,’’ he declares. **T’m just as happy now asa clam at high water. I can wallop the blackin’ onto a boot, and fetch out the polish, beam and livelier than any boy in these parts. And I’m takin’ in learnin’ faster than an old turkey takes in corn. If that ain’t enough to satisfy any reasonable feilow, then IJl sell out!— Here you are, sir! Step up this way! Shine ’em! Shine ’em!”’ | And no customer can resist the boy’s bright face and cheery voice. THE END. THE Half-Dime Singer's Library 1 Waoa, Eva! and 59 other Songs. 2 Caprarn Curr and 57 other Songs. 83 Tae Garnssporo’ Har and 62 other Songs. 4 Jonny Moraan and 60 other Songs. 5 [Lu Strike You Wir a Freatruer and 62 other Songs. 6 GroraE THE CHARMER, and 56 other Songs. 7 Tae BeLite or Rockaway and 52 other Songs. 8 Youne Freiuan, You're Too FresH and 60 other Songs. 9 Say Youne Grru and 65 other Songs. 10 I'm THe GoveRNOR’s ONLY Son and 58 other Songs. 11 My Fan and 65 other Goo. 12 Comin’ THRO’ THE Rye and 55 other Songs. 18 THe RoLiickine IRIsHMAN and 59 other Songs. 14 Otp Doe Tray and 62 other Songs. ~ 15 Waoa, CHARLIE and 59 other “ty ¢ 16 In THIs WuHeat By Anp By and 62 other Songs. 17 Nancy Lee and 58 other Songs. 18 I'm THE Boy THAt’s Bounp To Buaze and 57 other ngs. 19 THe Two ORPHANS and 59 other Songs. 20 WHAT ARE THE Witp Waves Sayina, SISTER? and 59 other Songs. 21 InpIGNANT Potty Woe and 59 other Songs. 22 Tue Oty ArmM-CHaArr and 58 other Songs. 23 On Congy Istanp Braon and 58 other Songs. 24 OLp Simon, THE Hot-Corn MAN and 60 others. 25 I’m in Love and 56 other Songs. 23 PARADE OF THE GuARDs and 56 other Songs. 27 Yo, Heave, Ho! and 60 other Songs. 28 "Iwitt Never do To GreirvurpSo and 60 other ngs. 20 Brut Bonnets Over THE BorpDER and & other ngs. 30 Tae Merry Lavenine Man and 56 other Songs. 81 Sweer Foreet-me-Nor and 55 other Songs. 82 LeerLe Basy Mine and 53 other Songs. 83 De BANJO AM DE INSTRUMENT FOR ME and 53 other Songs. 34 Tarry m7 - other Songs. 35 Just To P E THE Boys and 52 other Songs. 36 ——_ oN ONS IN-THE GuTTER and 52 other ongs. 87 KoLorep Kranxs and 59 other Songs. 388 Nit DesPERANDUM and 53 other So: 39 Tue Grau I Lerr Beninp Me and 50 other Songs. 40 'Tis pur A Lirrte Fapep Fiower and 80 other So: 41 Paprry Weteeeine and 60 other Songs. 42 DaNCING IN THE Barn and 63 other ape 43 H. M.S, Prxarorr, COMPLETE, and 17 other Songs. Sold everywhere by Newsdealers, at five cents per copy, or sent post-paid, to any address, on re- ceipt of Six cents per number. BEADLE AND ADAMS, PustisHers, 98 Wr11AM STREET, New York. The Sunnyside Library. 1 Latta Rooke. By Thomas Moore........... 10c, 2 Don Juan. By Lord Byron... .............. 2e, 8 Parapise Lost. By John Milton ......., .., 10c. 4 Tae Lapy or THe Lake. Sir Walter Scott... 10c. 5 Lucttx. By Ower Meredith .. 6 UNDINE; OR, THE WATER-SpiRir. From the German of I'riederich De La Motte Fouque... 10c. For sale by ail newsdealers, or sent, postage paid, on receipt of twelve cents for single num i double numbers twenty-four cents. ADAMS, VICTOR & CO., Publishers, 98 William street. N. Y. THE NEW YORE Fireside Library Of notable works by notable authors. Beautifully printed in the popular folio form, from clear, open type; each issue a complete novel and sold at the uniform price of Ten Cents each. No double price on double or extra size numbers. The cheapest library peer published; embraces only the choicest of recent on. 1 Was Sue His Wire? Mrs. M Reed Crowell. 2 FLEEmG From Love. Harriet Irving. 3 Dip He Love Her? Bartley T. Campbell. 4 A STRANGE Woman. Rett Winwood. 6 Two Girts’ Lives. Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell. 9 THe Wark or Hearts. Corinne Cushman. 10 LEIGHTON GRANGE, Miss M. E. Braddon. 11 THe Fatsz Wipow. Mrs. Jennie D. Burton. 12-13 Lost For Love. Miss M. E. Braddon. 14-15 TormERS OF THE SEA. Victor Hugo. 16 THe QuADROON. Catharine A. Warfield. 17-18 UNcLE Smuas. J. 8S. Le Fanu, 19-20 DEAD-SeA Fruit. Miss M. E. Braddon. 21-22 LirrLe Kate Kirpy. F. W. Robinson. 23 Sowrnae THE WIND. Mrs, Mary Reed Crowell. 24-25 Brrps oF Prey. Mrs. M. E. Braddon. 26 Tat Boy or Norcorr’s. Charles Lever. 27-28 CHARLOTTE’S INHERITANCE. Miss Braddon. 29 A Grru’s Heart. Rett Winwood. 30-31 Rep as A Rose 1s SHE. Rhoda Broughton. 82 Tue Lity or St. Erne. Mrs. Crow. 33 STRANGELY WED. 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82 Large Three-Column Pages, 1.A Hard Crowd; or, Gentieman Rak’s Sister. By Philip S. Warne. 2. The Dare-Devil; or, THe WincEpD Wrrcw oF THE SEA. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 8. Kit Carson, Jr., THz Crack SHor or raz West. By Buckskin Sam, 4. The Kidnapper; or, Tue Great SHANGHAI OF THE NorTHWEsT. By Philip 8. Warne. 5. The Fire-Fiends; or, HERCULES, THE Houncupack, By A, P. Morris, 6. Wildcat Bob, Tue Boss Bruiser ; DR, THE BorDER BLoopHounps. By Edward L. Whee- ler, author of ‘“‘ Deadwood Dick,” “ Double Daggers.” 7. Death-Notch, THz DesTROYER; OR, THE Spirtr Lake Avencrers. By Ol Coomes, 8. The Headless Horseman. A strange story of Texas. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 9. Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover, 10. Vidocq, THE FrReNncH POLICE Spy. Written by himself, 11, Midshipman Easy. By Capt. Mar- Tyat. 12. The Death-Shot; or, TRACKED To Deatu. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 13. Pathaway; or, Nick WHIFFLES, THE Op TRAPPER OF THE NorTHWEST, By Dr. J. H. Rob- 2. 14. Thayendanegea, THE ScourGs ; or, THs War-EaGue or THE Monawks, By Ned Bunt- ine, author of ‘‘ The White Wizard.” 15. The Tiger-Slayer; or, EaGur- Heap to tHe Rescvuzr. By Gustave Aimard. 16. The White Wizard; or, Tur Great OF THE SEMINOLES. By Ned Buntline. 1%. Nightshade, Tue Rosser PRINCE oF Hounsbow Hratrs. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 18. The Sea Bandit; or. THe Queen or THE Istx. By Ned Buntline. 19. Red Cedar, Ture Pramm OvutLaw. By Gustave Aimard. 20. The Bandit at Bay; or, Tux Pr- RATES OF THE Prarries. By Gustave Aimard, 21. The Trapper’s Daughter; o THE OvrLAaw’s Taser Dy Guitere Titard. » 22. Whitelaw; or, Natriz or THE LAKE Suore. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 23. The Red Warrior; oR, STELLA De.Lorme’s CoMANCHE Lover. By Ned Buntline, 24. Prairie Flower. By Gustave Ai- mard, author of “ Tiger-Slayer,”’ etc. 25. The Gold-Guide; or, Steer Arm, THE. Recuuator. By Francis Johnson. 26. The Death-Track; or, Tur Ovrt- LAws or THE Mountain. By Francis Johnson, 27. The Spotter-Detective or, THE Greats or New York. By Albert W. Aiken. 28. Three-Fingered Jack, THE Roap- AGENT or THE Rockies; or, Tae Boy Mrver or Harp Luck. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 29. Tiger Dick, THz Faro Kiva; or, Tue CasHier’s Came. By Philip S. Warne. 30. Gospel George; or, Fimry Frep, Yue Ovrtaw. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. . The New York ‘S oR, THE Mi. or Licgutnrixa. By pele | gm 32. B’hoys of Yale; or, Toe Scrapes or A Haap Set or CoLtuecians. By John D. Vose, 33. Overland Hit. By Albert W. Aiken. 34. Rocky Mountain Rob. By Al- bert W. Aiken. 35. Kentuck, the Sport. By Albert W. Aiken. 36. Injun Dick. By Albert W. Aiken. 37. Hirl, the Hunchback; or, THE SwWORDMAKER OF THE SANTEE. By Dr. J. H. Robinson | 38. Velvet Hand; or, Tue Iron Grrr or Insun Dick. By Albert W. Aiken. 39. The Russian Spy; or, THE Brors- ERS OF THE STARRY Cross. By Frederick Whittaker. 40. The Long Haired ‘ Pards;’ or, THE TARTARS OF THE PLarns. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 41. Gold Dan; or, Tur Wuirr SavacE oF THE GREAT Sar Lake, By Albert W. Aiken. | 42. The California Detective; or, | Tae Witcues of New York, By Albert W. Aiken. 43. Dakota Dan, Tue Reckiess RANGER; or, THe Bee-Hunters’ Excursion. By Oll Coomes. 44. Old Dan Rackback, Tue Great EXTARMINATOR; or, THE TRIANGLE’s Last Tra. By Oll Coomes, 45. Old Bull’s Eye, Tae Licurytne SHor oF THE Piains, By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 46. Bowie-Knife Ben, Tae Limrie HUNTER OF THE Nor’-west, By Oll Coomes. 47. Pacifi¢é Pete, Tur Prince or THE ReEvotver. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 48. Idaho Tom, Tue Youne Ovutrtaw OF SILVERLAND. By Oll Coomes, 49. The Wolf Demon; or, THE QuEEN oF THE KANAWHA. By Albert W. Aiken. ul; f. KIT CARSON, JR.—No. 3, 50. Jack Rabbit, Tux Pramsm Sport; or, THE CHILDREN OF THE LLANO Esracapo. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 51. Red Rob, THe Boy Roap-Acent. By Oll Coomes. 52. Death Trailer, THz Curr or Scoors; or, Life and Love in a Frontier Fort. By Hon. Wm. F. Cody, (Buffalo Bill.) 53. Silver Sam; or, THE MystTERY or Deaiwoop Crry. By Col. Delle Sara, 54. Always on Hand; or, Tue Sportive Sport or THE Foor Huis. By Philip 8. Warne author of ‘A Hard Crowd,” “Patent Leather Joe.” 55. The Scalp Hunters, A RoMancs or THE Piams. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 56. The Indian M a; or, THE Map Man or THE PLams. rt W. Aiken, 57. The Silent Hunter ; or, Taz ScowL Hawt Mystery. By Percy B. St. John. 58. Silver Knife; or, WIcKLIFFE; THE Rocky Mounramn Rancer. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 59. The Man From Texas; or, THE OvuTLAW or ARKANSAS. By Albert W. Aiken. 60. Wide Awake; or, THE JpIoT oF | THE Buack Hitus. By Frank Dumont. | ; 61, Captain Seawaii, THE PRIVATEER. By Ned Buntline | | VERSUS CROOKEDNESS, Price 10 cts. Each Number Complete. 62. Loyal Heart; or, THz TRAPPERS OF ARKANSAS, By Gustave Aimard. 63. The Winged Whale. W. Aiken. 64. Double- Bight, the Death Shot, By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. . 65. The Red Rajah; or, Tur Scovres OF THE INDIEs. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. A Tar By Albert 66. The Specter Barque. OF THE Paciric. By Captain Mayne Reid. 67. The Boy Jockey; or, Honesty By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 68. The Fighting Trapper; or, Km CaRSoN TO THE Rescuzr. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams 69. The Irish Captain; A TALE op Fonrenoy. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 70, Hydrabad, THE SrTRANGLER; or, ALETHE, THE CHILD OF THE Corp. By Dr. J. H. Robinson, 71. Captain Cool-Blade, or, THz Man SHARK OF THE Mississipri. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 72. The Phantom Hand, A Srory or oe York Heartus anp Homes, By Albert W. en, 73. The Knight of the Red Cross; or, THe Maaicran oF Granapa. A Tale of the Al- hambra, By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 74. Captain of the Rifles. A Romance OF THE Mexican Vatury, By Captain Mayne Reid. 75. Gentleman George, or, PARLOR, Prison, STAGE AND SrreeT. By Albert W. Aiken. 76. The Queen’s Musketeer, or, THISBE, THE Princess Patmist. By George Albony. 7%. The Fresh of Frisco, or, Tux HEIRESS OF BUENAVENTURA. By Albert W. Aikex 78. The Mysterious Spy; or, Goiprx FEATHER, THE BucCANEER’s DAUGHTER. By A. M. Grainger. 79. Joe Phenix, tux Potice Spr. By Albert W. Aiken. 80. A Man of Nerve; TRE DwarF. By Philip 8. Warne, 81, The Human Tiger; or, A Hxari oF Fire. By Albert W. Aiken. 82. Iron Wrist, the Swordmaster. By Col. Thomas H. Monstery. 83. Gold Bullet Sport; or, raz Knrants OF THE OVERLAND. By Buffalo Bill 84. Hunted Down; or, THz Were Wrrceu. By Albert W. Aiken. 85. The Cretan Rover; or, ZvuLerKan, Ingraham. or, CALIBAN, | THE Beautirut. By Col. Prentice y 86. The Big Hunter; or, Taz Qurey oF THE Woops. By the author of “ Silent Hunter.” 87. The Scarlet Captain; or, Tux PRISONER OF THE TowER. By Col. Delle Sara. 88. Big George, THE GIANT OF THE Guicu; or, Tas Five Ovurtaw Brotuers. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 89. The Pirate Prince; or, Pretrx NELLY, THE QUEEN oF THE Istx. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 90. Wild Will, THz Map Rancurro or, THe TERRIBLE TExan. By Buckskin Sam. 91. The Winning Oar; or, Tux Inn KEEPER’s DavGuTer. By Albert W. Aiken. Ready April 7th. 92. Buffalo Bill, Taz Buckskin Kine. or, THE AMAZON OF THE West. By Major Danger field Burr. Ready April 2ist. 93. Captain Dick Talbot, Kryu cr THE Roap; or, Tse Biack-Hoops oF SuasTa. Py Albert W, Aiken. Ready May 5th. A new issue every two weeks. Beadle’s Dime Library is for sale by a? Newsdealers, ten cents per copy, or sent by mail on | receipt of twelve cents each. BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York. i
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BEADLE’S HALF-DIME LIBRARY. Every one of them “ Live’ Stories by ‘** Live®? Authors, Each numbe a Complete Novel, at the extraordinary price of a HALF-DIME, Deadwood Dick, THe PRINCE OF THE Roap. By Edward lL. Wheeler. Yellowstone Jack; or, THe TRAPPER OF THE ENCHANTED GrounD. J. E. Badger, Jr. Kansas King; or, THe Rep RicutT Hanp. By Buffalo Bill (Hon. Wm. F. Cody). The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Capt. Mayne Reid and Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 5 Vagabond Joe; THE Youne WANDER- Inc Jew. By Oll Coomes. 6 Bill Biddon, Tra THE NoRTHWEST. By 7 The Flyi Yankee ; or, THe OCEAN Outcast. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. & Seth Jones; or, THE CAPTIVES OF THE Frontier. By Edward §. Ellis. 9 The Adventures of Baron Mun- chausen. 10 Nat Todd; or, THe Fate oF THE Sroux Caprive. By Edward §, Ellis. 11 The Two Detectives; or, THE er; or, LIFE IN ward §, Ellis. Fortunes or A Bowery Girt. A.W. Aiken. Gulliver’s Travels. A Voyage to Lilliput, and a Voyage to Brobdingnag. The Dumb Spy. By Oll Coomes, author of ‘“‘ Vagabond Joe,” etc. 3 or, THE WONDERFUL Lamp. 15 The Sea-Cat; or, THz Wircn or Darien. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 16 Robinson Crusoe. His Life and Surprising Adventures, (27 illustrations.) 1 7 Ralph Roy, The Boy Bucca- neer. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 1 bs Sindbad the Sailor. His seven voy- ages. From the Arabian Nights. 19 The Phantom Spy; or, THE PrLoT ‘ oF THE Prairie. By Buffalo Bill. 20 The Double Daggers; or, Drap- woop Dick’s DeFIANcE. By E. L. Wheeler, 21 Frontier Angel. <A Romatice of Kentucky Rangers’ Life. By E. 8. Ellis. 22 The Sea Serpent; or, Tur Boy Roprnson Crusoe. By Col, Juan Lewis. 23 Nick o’ the Nigh ; or, THE Boy Spy or 76. By T. C. Harbaugh. 24. Diamond Dirk; or, THE Mystery OF THE YELLOWSTONE. By Col. Ingraham. 2 5 The Boy Captain} or, THr Pirate’s DaventTer. By Roger Starbuck. B y 26 Cloven Hoof, the Demon. Edward L; Wheeler, 27 Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide. By Oli Coomes. Qe Buffalo Ben; or, Drapwoop Dick In Discutsr. By Edward L. Wheeler. 29 The Dumb Page; or, THE Doar’s DAUGHTER. = | Sapt, F. Whittaker. 30 Roaring Ralph Rockwood, TH: Reckiess Ranaer, By Harry St. George. 3 Keen-Knife, THE PRINCE OF THE Prarries. By Oll Coomes, 32 Bob Woolf, the Border Ruffian ; or, THe Grau Drap-Snor. E. L. Wheeler. 33 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, THE Rep PrraTEs OF THE CARIBBEES, S, W. Pierce. 34. Oregon Sol; or, Nick WHIFFLES’ Boy Spy. By Capt. J. F. C, Adams. 3 5 Wild Ivan, Tur Boy CuAupE Duva.; By Edward L. Wheeler. 36 The Boy Clown; or; THE QUEEN oF THR ARENA, By Frank 8. Finn. 37 The Hidden Lodge; or, Tux LitTtLs HUNTER OF THE ADIRONDACKS, Harbaugh. 38 Ned Wylde, Tur Boy Scout. By Texas Jack, 39 Death-Face, the Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler. 40 Roving Ben. A story of a Young American. .By John J. Marshall. 4i Lasso Jack, Turk YounG MUsTANc- ER. By Oll Coomes, 42 The Phastom Miner; or, Drap- woop Dick’s BoNANzA. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 43 Dick Darling, the Pony Express Rider. By Capt. F. Whittaker. Rattling Rube; or, THe Nieut- HAWKS OF KiENnTucKY. B wap George. 4 5 Old Avalanche, the eat An- nihilator. By Edward L. Wheeler. 46 Glass Eye, the Great Shot ofthe West. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 47 Nightingale Nat; ox, Tux Forest A prains. By T. 0. Harbaugh. 48 Black John, the Road-Agent. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 4 Omaha Oll; or, Drapwoop DICK IN Dancer. By Edward L. Wheeler. 5 Burt Bunker, THE Trapper. A Tale of the Northwest. By C. E. Lasalle. The Boy Rifles; or, THz UnpDER- GRrounp Camp. By Archie C, Iron. 5 The White Buffalo. A “Tale of Strange Adventure. Charles E. Lasalle. 5 3 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., THz Boy PHENIX; or. THROUGH TO THE Deatu. E. L. Wheeler. 5 Ned Hazel, THe Boy TRAPPER; or, THE PHantom Princess. By J. F. C. Adams. 5 5 Deadly-Eye, THe Unknown Scout; By Buffalo Bill. 5 or, IN THE Vauiey or Deatu. Capt. J. F.C. Adams. Nick Whiffles’ Pet; Deadwood Dick’s Eagles; or, 57 s agles r THE PARDS OF FLOoD Bar, . Wheeler. 58 The Border King; or, Tur Secrer For. By Oll Coomes. 59 Old Hickory, or, Panpy ELLIs’s Scatp. By Harry St. George. 6 The White Indian; or, THE Scout OF THE YELLOWSTONE. By J. F.C. Adams. 6 Buckhorn Bill; or, THz Rep Rirte Team. By Edward L. Wheeler. 62 The Shadow Ship; or, Tue Riva LyEvTENANTS: By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 63 The Red Brotherhood; or, THE TWELVE AVENGERS. By W. J. Hamilton. 64 Dandy Jack; or, THe OvTLAW oF THE OREGON TRAIL. By T. C. Harbaugh. G 5 Hurricane Bill; or, Mustane Sam AND HIS ‘‘Parp.”’ By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 66 Single Hand; or, A Lirz ror A Lire, By W. J. Hamilton, 67 Patent-Leather Joe; or, OLD Rat- TLESNAKE, THE CHARMER. By P.S.Warne. 68 The Border Robin Hood; or, THE Prarrie Rover, By Buffalo Bill. 69 Gold Rifle; or, Taz Boy DxetrctIve or THE BLACK Rancw. By E. .L. Wheeler. 70 Old Zip’s Cabin; or, THe GREEN- HORN IN THE Woops. By J. F.C. Adams. 7. Delaware Dick; THz Youne Ran- CAPTIVE OF THE Harpss, By J. J. Marshall. Robin Hood, THE OuTLAWED EARL. ager Spy. By Oll Coomes. es 2 Mad Tom Western, Taz TExaNn Ranoer.. By W. J. Hamilton. 73 Deadwood Dick on Deck. By Edward L. Wheeler. #4 Hawk-eye , THe Youna TRAPPER RANGER. By Oll Coomes. q 5 The Boy Duelist; or, THE CRUISE or THE Sea Wor. By Col. P. Ingraham. 76 Abe Colt, the Crow-Killer. By Albert W. Aiken. a7 Corduroy Charlie; or, THE Last Act or DEapwoop Dick. By E. L. Wheeler. 7 & Blue Dick; or, THz YELLOW Cur=Er’s VENGEANCE. By Captain Mayne Reid. 79 Sol Ginger, Tue GIANT TRAPPER. By Albert W, Aiken. SO Rosebud Rob; or, Nuccrt Neb, THE KNIGHT OF THE GuLCH. By E. L. Wheeler. Si ng re Jo, THe TERROR OF THE RAIRIE. By Captain J. F. C. Adams. 82 Kit Harefoot, Tux Woop-Hawk; or, Op Powper-Face. By T. C. Harbaugh. 83 Rollo, the Boy Ranger; or, THE HErRESss OF THE GOLDEN Horn. Oll Coomes. & 4 Idyl, the Girl Miner; or, Rosrsup B oN Hanp. By Edward L, Wheeler. beg Buck Buckram; or, BEss, THE FE- MALE TRAPPER. By Capt, J. F. C, Adams. 6 Dandy Rock, T'ne-MAN-FROM-'EXx- as. By G. Waldo Browne. : $7 The Land Pirates; on, 1H#E LEAGUE oF Drvit’s IsLanp. By Capt. Mayne Reid. & Photograph Phil; or, Rosmspup Rop’s REAPPEARANCE. By Ed. L. Wheeler. t3 Q Island Jim; or, Tar Per or THE Famity. By author of “Jack Harkaway.” QO The Dread Rider; or, THe TEXAN Dveuist. By George W. Browne, ’ 91 The Captain of the Club. By Bracebridge Hemyng, (Jack Harkaway.) 92 Canada Chet; or, OLD ANACONDA rn Sirrine Buiy’s Camp. By EB. L. Wheeler, 4 3 The Boy Miners; or, Tat ENCHANTED IsLaND. By Edward §. Ellis. 94 Midnight Jack, Tun Roap-Acent. By T. C. Harbaugh. 9 5 The Rival Rovers. By Lieutenant Col. Hazeltine. 96 Watch - Eye, Tux Derzcrive. By Edward L. Wheeler. 98 By Prof. Stewart Gildersleeve. 99 The Tiger of Taos. By George Waldo Browne. 100 Deadwood Dick in Leadville. By Edward L. Wheeler, The Outlaw Brothers; or, ‘THE | 1 O 1 Jack Harkaway in New York. By Bracebridge Hemyng. Z 102 Dick Dead-Eye Tx Boy Smuc- G@LER. By Col. ntiss Ingraham. 103 The Lion of the Sea. . By Col. Delle Sara. 104 Deadwood Dick’s Device. By Edward L. Wheeler. 105 Old Rube, THe Hunter; or, THE Crow Captive. By Capt. H. Holmes. 106 Old Frosty, the Guide. By T. C. Harbaugh. 107 One-Eyed Sim; or, THE ABAN- DONED Forest Home. By J. L. Bowen. 10 Daring de , THE YouNG BEAR TILLER. arry St. George. 1 O Déadwood Dick as Datestive. By Edward L. Wheeler. 1 10 The Black Steed of the Prai ries. By James L. Bowen. 1 1 1 The Sea-Devil; or, Taz Mmsurr- MAN’s Lecacy. By Col. P. Ingraham. 1 12 The Mad Hunter; or, THE Cavre or DgeatH. By Burton Saxe. 1 1 3 Jack Hoyle, THE YounG Spxcv- Lator. By Edward L. Wheeler. 1 1 4 The Black Schooner. By ROGER STARBUCK. 1 ] 5 The Mad Miner. By GrorGE Waupo Browne. 1 1 The Hussar Captain. By CoL. Prentiss INGRAHAM. 1 1 6 4 Gilt-Edged Dick, Tne Sport-DE- TECTIVE. By Edward L. Wheeler. 1 1 Will Somers, THE Boy Dersrc- TIveE. By Charles Morris. 1 1 9 Mustang Sam; or, THE Kine oF THE PLains. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 120 The Branded Hand; or, THE Man or Mystery. By Frank Dumont, 12 1 Cinnamon Chip, Tur Girt Sport. By Edward L. eeler. 122 Phil Hardy, The Boss Boy. By Charles Morris. 1 23 Kiowa Charley, Tar WuirE Mus- TANGER. By T. C. Harbaugh. 124 Tippy, the Texan; or, Tur Youne HAMPION. By Geo. Gleason. 12 5 Bonanza Bill, Miner; or, Tux FrMALE Forcrer. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 126 Picayune Pete; or, NicopEmvus, tue Doc Derrective. By Chas. Morris. 127 Wild-Fire, Tue Boss oF THE Roap. By Frank Dumont. 128 The Young Privateer ; or, THE PrratEes’ StRONGHOLD. H. Cavendish. 129 Deadwood, Dick’s Double. A Story of Wild-Cat City. E. L. Wheeler. 13 Detective Dick; or, Tux HERO tn Raas. By Charles Morris. 131 The Golden Hand; or, Danpy Rock To THE RescuE. G. W. Browne. 132 The Hunted Hunter; or, Tue * §SrRANGE Horseman. By Ed. 8. Ellis. 133 Boss Bob, THE KING OF THE Boorsiacks. By Edward L. Wheeler. 134 Sure Shot Seth, Tue Boy Rirtz- MAN. By Oll Coomes. 13 5 Captain Paul, THE MoonsHINer oF KENTUCKY. By C. D, Clark. 1 26 Night-Hawk Kit ; or, tux Davau- TER OF THE RancneE. J. E. Badger, Jr. 137 The Helpless Hand; or, Bacx- woops RETRIBUTION. Capt. Mayne Reid. 1 38 Blonde Bill; or, Deapwoop Dicx’s Home Bast, By Edward L. Wheeler. a | 329 Judge Lynch, Jr.; or, THE Boy VIGILANTE. By T. C. Harbaugh. 140 Blue: Blazes; or, Tor BREAK 0’ Day Boys. By Frank Dumont. 141 Solid. Sam: or, THE Boy Roap- Acrent. By Edward L. Wheeler. 142 Handsome Harry, THE Boor- BLACK Detective. By Chas. Morris. 1 43 Sear-Face Saul, THE SILENT Hunter. By Oll Coomes, 1 44. Dainty Lance, THE Boy Sport. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. April 27th. 1 4 5 Captain Ferret; or, Boss Bos’s Boss Jos. By Edward L. Wheeler. Hickory Harry; or, Tue Trai The Half-Dime Library is for sale by all Ready May 4th. 1 A6 The Border Detective. By or Free. By Harry St. George. Ready May 18th. Newsdealers, five cents per Pont, sent by mail on receipt of six cents each. DLE & ADAMS, A’ Frank Dumont. Ready May 11th. A new issue every week. Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.