Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 179) (1880 12 28)
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1h 3 ii es Aidit Oh WM WwW" Mill UO IMI wl &. ska >» k = = x feel —_— ———EEeee = ~ Sat (at Ul Yi esi rere) 2 AU ht Vil Vl Ul a UK i a al Aci!!! | S250 a year. Ane Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., at Se i JBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS Vol. VIl. ae: PU 5 V <LY BY BI ADAMS, Price, No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents. BOB ROCKETT, THE BANK RUNNER; or, THE ROAD TO RUIN, BY CHARLES MORRIS, AUTHOR OF ‘‘ WILL SOMERS,” ‘‘ PHIL HARDY,” ‘PICAYUNE PETE,” “DETECTIVE DICK,” ‘‘ HANDSOME HARRY,” THOROUGHBRED,” “BLACK BESS, WILL WILDFIRE’S RACER,” “BILLY BAGGAGE,” “ WILL WILDFIRE IN THE WOO ‘“WILL WILDFIRE, THR ‘MIKE MERRY, THE HARBOR POLICE BOY,” Ds,” ‘‘A TRUMP CARD,” ETC., ETC, ae | wet | \ : THE ALERT FINGERS OF THIS ADROIT PICKPOCKET SLIPPED THE BOOK FROM THE INSIDE POCKET OF HIS COAT fa \ 2 7 jl aa at aii ~ y Copyrighted In 1880 by BEADLE AND ADAMS, December 28, i88u.
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~ Bob Rockett, THE BANK RUNNER: OR, THE ROAD TO RUIN. A TALE OF LIFE IN NEW YORK. BY CHARLES MORRIS, AUTHOR OF ‘‘BOB ROCKETT, THE BOY DODGER,” 4 YRUMP CARD,” “BILLY BAGGAGE,” ETO. | CHAPTER I. AN EVENING’S SPORT. Iv was evening in the great city of New York. The gas-lights had been long kindled, and shed their dim luster on the crowded streets, for | see’d him afore, somewhar. these were the long winter evenings, when night | soon followed the shortened day. There was a chill in the air, as if snow hung in the mid heavens, waiting its due time tofall. The way- farers were hurrying homeward out of the | shivering breeze. At the corner of Chambers street and Broad- way, near the buildings, and out of the hurry- ing human tide, stood a young man. He was in figure short and stout, his broad shoulders indi- —e great strength, while his face was one ‘which it was somewhat puzzling to decide upon. Small, deep-set eyes, thick lips, anda nose that uuad received a slight twist from some old injury, were the unattractive features of a face that vas otherwise good looking. He was stylishly dressed, and wore adiamond | .in in his shining shirt bosom, and a gold watch | «hain of such size and dimensions that if looked trong enough to hold an ox. The slender, elas- tic cane in his hand tapped nervously against his polished boot, as he closely eyed the passing ‘throng. * Is he playing on me?” he muttered between his clenched teeth. ‘‘ Let him look out if he is. He may find that he is barking up the wrong free.” His face lighted up with a sudden gleam as he sought sight of a figure in the crowd. It was that of a handsome, slenderly-built young man, with a nonchalant expression on his somewhat dissipated countenance. “Hey, Roger! You’re not going toslip by at that rate, without even a good-evening to a fel- Sow?’ asked the first mentioned young man, as he laid his hand on the shoulder of the other, “Ts that your way of keeping an appointment?” “Ha, Bob, isit you? 1 was looking for you. ‘How are you, anyhow? It’s a confounded ‘shiverer to-night. Come ahead; let’s get under shelter somewhere.” “* All right, my boy,” returned Bob, as they vevalked on together. ‘‘ You haven’t forgot? «Come provided, I hope?” “Provided for what?’ replied Roger, with a haughty look. ‘* Will you be kind enough to ex: yourself?” For that little sef-to,” answered Bob. “ You’ve got such a confounded short memory, that you mustn’t mind my stirring you up,” “« Perhaps you'll wish you hadn’t,” was the re- inder. ‘‘ You a waken up a wild-cat. ut you’re early. I haven’t had a bite of sup- yet. Shall we go down to Joe Cracker’s? steaks are divine. And you never tasted such a Welsh rabbit.” ‘Pm convenient. I'll take a snack with you. ‘Then we'll travel down to Harry Blake’s, if “you're on it.” — ; “fm your man.—This corner, Bob. Joe’s piace lies just below here.” : In a few minutes more they found themselves within an English eating-house, celebrated for its good suppers. It had a sanded floor and tables sitting here and there, around which sev- 1 were gathered. - gave his orders with a quick air of r, and fell into conversation again with - he waited for his sw fog : you know if that little thing was done forme to-day?” he asked, carelessly, as he sat idly balancing a fork on his finger. “Lord! yes. Why, they’re always done. ‘Yow have the credit of a Rothschild.” “More credit than cash, perhaps,” replied Roger, easily. ‘Ah! you’re my man,” to the ter, who just then appeared with smoking latters. ‘‘ Now, a brace of your London stout. k about lively.” ** How the fiends do you Pee 8% 4 et these fellows to watir so? y, there are tables over there still - “waiting. Let me into the secret.” “st keep the whole concern in my pay,” an- swered Roger. somebody else’s supper. tip must learn to wait.” At that moment an ill-looking fellow, dressed in coarse, rough attire, entered the saloon with a swaggering gait. Passing the table where the two young men “Likely enough we are eating were engaged at their supper, he suddenly | stopped and fixed his eyes on Bob’s face with a look of half-recognition. threatening in his glance. There was something | Bob Rockett, the Bank Runner. He that don’t learn to | The young men went on eating, without no- | P o ’ ] ticing him. In an instant he swaggered on, a low curse escaping his lips. ‘““T must twig that coon’s nose ag’in. Lve got a crow to pluck with him.” Pouring down a glassful of whisky at the bar, with as much ease as though it were so much water, he turned back. This time he brushed past Bob, so close as to jostle his chair. ““What in the blazes ails young man, with quick anger. big enough for you and me?” ‘ I6 were only an accident,” replied the man, apologetically, ‘‘Owiw to whisky, maybe. A *Tsn’t the room | chap can’t help getting tangled up sometimes. Beg pardon.” As he spoke his eyes were fixed with a keen glance on Bob’s face, as if bent on gaining the secret of that countenance. “Don’t try it on too much,” rejoined Bob, ungraciously, as he looked up. On catching sight of the man’s face a sudden shiver seemed to run through him. His eyes fell; but were immediately raised again, with a defiant look. ‘‘ Well, do you want to take my photograph?” he angrily asked. ‘Make tracks now, my friend, while you’ve got whole bones. I’m not the sort to try your horse-play on.” ‘‘Diamonds! gold chains! and talks like a colonel!” said the fellow, insolently. ‘* Blessmy eyes, he’s my Lord Somebody from somewhere; and I’m only Mr. Nobody from nowhere. Guess Tl make tracks while l’ve got whole bones, as he advises.” Bob half rose, as the fellow swaggered away. But Roger touched his arm with a light but authoritative gesture. ‘* Sit still now,” he said, in his low, easy tone. “Tf you rub your hands on a black kettle you only get them smirched for your pains; and the kettle is none the worse for your rubbing. Tap some of that London porter. ‘You'll find it more agreeable than to tap an insolent rough | on the nose. steak.” Bob seated himself, but his eyes followed the man with an angry lock. Nor had Roger failed to observe that his usually brown complexion was, just now, somewhat sallow. “Blazes! He knowed me at sight. And maybe I didn’t know him,” growled the man to himself. ‘‘ You bet he didn’t like the look of my phiz. Six years in the stone jug ain’t none too comf’able, and he’s one of the coons as done it. But if I won’t git even, shoot me!” The young men turned again to their supper. Finishing it they each lighted a cigar, and sallied out into the street. “Step out now,” said Roger. “I’ve got through to the bones in at Joe’s and don’t want to get chilled to the marrow.” * Allright. Shall it be to Harry’s?” ** Suit yourself. I’m open.” Ashort walk brought them to an establish- ment to which admittance was not so easy as at Joe Cracker’s, A door opened on a flight of stairs that led to the second floor of a plain- Joe’s perter is as prime as his fronted building. Here Bob gave a peculiar knock, that was answered by the door opening a crack, and a fellow peering out. ‘Who is it?” he asked. “ Friends, and performers,” answered Bob. The chap now seemed to him, and threw the door open, giving free entrance to the room. It was a large apartment which the friends entered, and brilliantly lit up, its lights a ing a considerable number of persons, variously en At one end of the room several men stood be- fore a table on which were represented the thirteen cards of a suit, from ace to king. person seated behind the table was dealing out a pack of cards, alternately to right and left. On some of the cards painted upon the table lay variously colored round checks, which the you?” cried the | I’ve | Seems to me as if observers anxiously watched as the dealing | : 3 | Bob, with a peculiar glare in his eyes. proceeded. In another part of the room was a horizontal | wheel, to which the performer gave a quick | whirl, as he flung into it, witha skillful move- ment, a small ivory ball. Elsewhere were tables at_which sat parties diligently engaged in play. It was evidently a full-fledged gambling sa- loon, fitted up with all the appliances for the | dangerous sport, and apparently well patronized by the gaming fraternity. ““Good evening, gentlemen,” said the proprie- tor. ‘‘ Won’t you take something to warm you up? It’s chilly outside.” ‘*Don’t care if we do.” He signed to a black waiter, who brought them two wine-glasses of liquor,, which they quickly drained. : “‘ What's your play to-night? Are you going to buck the tiger?’ ‘““No. We have a private game of poker laid out, Let us havea deck and table, Harry.” In a few minutes they were seated and the cards were brought them, “ What is it?’ asked Harry Blake, the pro- prietor. ‘‘A set thing, eh? Are you in forhigh play to-night?” “Oh, no! Only a bit of social sport. A dol- | lar ante.” ** And bet as high as you choose?” ‘Or as our hands will warrant,” laughed Roger, as he dealt the cards. : The game passed very quietly for several hands, their winning and losings being near|y equal. ‘“‘Tt’s rather prosy fun, eh, Roger?” remarked Bob. ‘ What do you think of that for a band Harry?” ‘“ Whatever you want me to,” responded Har- ry, in a non-committal tone. ‘“‘Tt’s worth a five-dollar bet, anyhow.” ‘** And this hand will see it, and go a ten bet- ter,” replied Roger. “Rake itin, my boy. You don’t bluff worth a farthing.” Harry turned on his heel and walked away. The game was not interesting. ‘Send that darky over with a taste of bran- dy,” ordered Bob. ‘‘We want something to waken us up.” Whether or notit was the brandy that did it, but they began to play with more boldness. Their bets ran from five dollars up to fifty, and Roger won with ja steadiness that seemed to annoy his antagonist. A hard, set look came upon the face of the latter. “There’s some more of your confounded luck,” he ejaculated. ‘* A chap can’t help itif he is born undera lucky star,” Roger lightly replied, as he drew in his winnings. But a a thought was passing in the re- cesses of Bob Recketit’s mind. ““T must win, or I am ruined,” he was repeat- ing to himself. ‘I have taken a big risk for this,"and by heavens! luck seems to be going dead against me.” His lips closed with a firm expression ; his eyes grew keen and glittering. But_as for Roger not a line of his face changed. He looked as if winning or losing was equally indifferent to im. Bob dealt the cards with a touch of savage- ness in his movements. Roger looked at his hand, and ten-dollar bill upon the table. Bo intently for a minute. **] will see you, and_make it fifty,” he said, taking a fifty-dollar bill from his pocket-book. and laying it in the pool. Rosas gence again in his easy manner at his cards. Then he pushed his heap of winnings forward. “ A hundred and fifty better,” he said. “ That makes an eveh two hundred.” iat dark f eh aoe on Bob’s brow. He look- again irresolutely at his cards, dropped his hand to the table, and then picked it de euain, with a nervous twitching of the eyelids. “I didn’t come provided for a heavy bout,” he said, somewhat hoarsely. ‘ But I fancy my watch and chain will cover your bet. Here's the plunder.” He drew from his pocket a heavy gold watch, and was about loosening the massive ehain, Nee) Roger stopped him with a touch on his nd, “Never mind that,” he said. ‘Call your hand.” , Bob looked at it again, bis brows contracting. “ A pair of fours,” he said, with @ hardly per- ceptib e quaver in his tone. j ‘And you accuse me of bluffing,” replied Roger, laughingly. “The watch is yours, I suppose,” remarked uietly laid a studied his ‘**No, my boy. Rake down the pool. you did not accuse without reason. of fours wins.” Maybe Your pair
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Se” A new light came into Bob’s face. His hand was slightly nervous, as he drew the money toward him. ** [t’s your deal,” was all he said. The game went on. | Betting proceeded cautiously for some time, | *hough the turn of luck in Bob’s favor continued © hold out. His money pile grew steadily as ihat of his antagonist diminished. ‘ Fifty on this hand,” cried Bob, with a quick iook at Roger, ‘See it if you have the nerve.” Roger, who had not yet examined his cards, dicked up the hand and glanced at it. He laid it down and took out his pocket-book. He carelessly counted a small package of bank- notes, and laid them on the table. ‘* | eaise the bet to two hundred,” he said. Bob’s eyes flashed. The lineson his face deep- ened. There was something of the haggard in bis expression. Yet he did not hesitate. Grasp- ing the heap of his winnings that lay before him, he dashed it into the center of the table. ‘Three hundred better!” he exclaimed. * Cover it if you dare!” The loud talk had attracted a group of spec- tators, who were gathered in a curious crowd around the players. Not a feature changed in Roger’s face. With quiet ease he took some more notes from his pocket-book, ran them over quickly between his fingers, and laid them lightly in the pool. ‘*T see your bet, and go five hundred better ” Bob started violently, and a hardly repressed curse hung upon his lips. There was a danger- ous gleam upon his hard features. ‘* You are reaching too high for my pile,” he said, with enforced ease. ‘You will have to cut your bet down within my reach.” “Your word is good for-iv.” ‘The devil it is!” was Bob’s mental rejoinder. ‘* Don’t trust too much in that, my lad. ‘* You're a gentleman,” he replied aloud. make the bet good on tick then.” He flung his cards, face upward, on the table, his eyes fixed on the countenance of his antago- nist with a look of mingled anxiety and fierce- ness. ‘*There’s my hand,” he hoarsely said. Roger’s eyes fell coolly upon it. His face was impassive. No one could have told from his expression whether he had lost or won. But there was a hard, fierce glare in the eyes which were so keenly rive upon his face. Evidently the result of the bet was of deep mo- ment to Bob Rockett. Some of the spectators took a step backward, as they marked his des- perate expression. CHAPTER II. TWO GAMES OF CHANCE. In a large, well-lighted room, on one of the fashionable avenues of upper New York, was seated a group of several persons, variously en- gaged in evening pursuits and amusements. ome were occupied in reading, a well-filled book-ease at one end of the room supplying plentiful material. One old lady was busily en- gaged in knitting. A young gentleman and lady had just concluded a game of chess, he having won with little difficulty. She rose from the table with a gesture of as- sumed vexation. ‘* Don’t say that you played fair,” she laugh- ingly exclaimed. ‘‘ You have some secret way of cheating. Of course you could have had no chance in a fairgame. But if you will cheat + lg ridiculous fashion, what is a poor girl to a) ‘*Tt was a double game, and a double victory,” he replied, in a lower tone. “What do you mean?” her bright glance flashed sbarply upon him. ST ror with my hands. You with your eyes, e both won,” his voice had almost sunk toa whisper. “If you will play so unfair a game, what is a poor man to do? The young lady turned her beautiful face to- ward him with a momentary bewilderment. Then a light laugh parted her coral lips. “] declare, Paul,” she cried, ‘you are de- cidedly improving. But you must excuse me. I cannot run the risk of having another arrow shot at me in that direct fashion.” She turned laughingly away. The young man bit his lip, as if to repress some emotion. “What have you been doing, Grace?” asked a or 4 handsome middle-aged gentleman, as he closed | the book he had been reading. * Not beating Paul again at chess, I hope?” ‘“Why I would, if he did not make moves that | there is no warrant for in the books. Of course there is no credit in winning if a person wins against all the rules of the game.” **Qho! so that’s the trouble? That will never | do, Paul, when you have young lady antagon- ists.— W here are you going?” ‘* Why you know I have an appointment with | the Carsons, at nine.” ‘** Yes, yes, lLhad forgotten. But come here a moment. I wish a word with you.” He led him to a window that looked out into the well-lighted street. graceful, young man with some interest. Paul had a clear, open, handsome face, with intelli- gence beaming in bis blue eves, and mingled kindness and energy 09 his v. haped lips. They were a couple who m:, well have felt | a mutual interest, even if it w no deeper. * What was it that you wuispered me this evening, about youug Rockett’s returns?’ asked the older gentleman, in a cautious tone. ‘‘ Was he really short in his cash?” “Yes. will go over it carefully in the morning.” ‘‘Doso. lhave my suspicions. Not but that he does his duty in bis position. But I do not like the glare of that huge watch chain; and of his diamond rings and breast-pins.” ‘Oh mercy on us!” cried Grace. ‘ Excuse me, papa, but you speak so loudly that one can- not heip hearing you. But don’t you know that glare and glitter, nowadays, are all outside? Diamonds are paste, and gold is gilding. That’s all. A few dollars will give you a handful of gold chains, and of diamonds of the first water. Now don’t say that I am meddling, for I do not know whom or what in the world you are talk- ing about.” She moved lightly away. ““Come back, Grace,” called her father. need be no secret from you.” ‘That is what one gets for the reputation of knowing bow to keep a secret,” replied Grace, as she returned with a gliding, dance-like move- ment. ‘‘Now I am to be repaid for my forti- tude. What is the dreadful deed? Robbery, forgery, or murder?” “What do you think of your young protege, Bob Rockett, as they call him at the bank?” Her face instantly became grave. “Why, [hope there is nothing wrong in re- gard to him. I should be very sorry to hear it. “ It en “Not exactly wrong. It must be admitted, though; that there is a vein of bad blood in him, and that it has broken out more than once, both in his school and his bank life. Yet, generally, I have no reason to complain.” ‘*T hope there may be no further escapades,” she earnestly replied. ‘ I can never forget that he saved my life. Is it his diamonds and chains of which you spoke?” ‘Yes. I fear he is living beyond his means.” “* But may they not be as I hinted, all coun- terfeit?’ “T hope he is not all counterfeit,” was the gravereply. ‘“‘ However, Grace, it will not do to suspect the boy too readily. For yoursake I will give him every chance.” ‘** And a little good advice, if you suspect he is going into too great expense.” “Certainly. Well, I shall detain you no longer, Paul. It is time you were off.” __ ‘Then, sir, I must haste. Gcod-evening.” He bowed deferentially to Grace, who return- ed his bow with a not overcordial nod. Mr. Darling accompanied him to the door. ‘Grace is wrapped up in her protege,” he whispered, ‘‘Do you examine that account all the same.” ‘*T certainly shall.” Darling turned back, as Paul left the room. He looked for Grace, but she had al- ready vanished by another door. It was nearly the same hour as that in which we left Bob Rockett and Roger Glindon absorb- ed in their game of poker, at Harry Blake’s gambling-hall. The hand of cards which had been thrown face upward on the table, still lay, revealing their important secret. “Four tens,” remarked Roger, in his usual easy tone. ‘‘A prime hand, Bob. A chap who wouldn't bet heavily on a book like that isn’t born for a poker player.” ‘* Show up,” cried Bob hoarsely his face grow- | ing haggard with anxiety. ‘‘Tf your hand beats it, rake down the pool, and make an end of it.” ‘The pool is yours,” replied Roger, quietly | replacing his cardsin the pack. ‘ Your hand takes all the wind from mine. Pocket the cash, Isay. You have won,” Grace’s eyes followed the form of the tall, | Bob Rockett, the Bank Runner, About five hundred deliers, I think. | p I had not time for a second examination, but | bank,” replied Roger, looking coolly into the « | ; } j ; : Two of the spectators who stood behind | Roger, looked at each other significantly. “Did you see?” whispered one to the other, with an expression of dismay. ; | as before. “Yes,” came in equally earnest tones from the other. ‘* Four queens!” “Blow me if the pool wasn’s his, and | handed it over as if a thousand-doillar bet wi. picayune! Ill swear, if it ain’t the rottenes: | of cool playing I ever saw. There's a dead gams somewhere behind it.” ‘* Maybe he was mistaken in his hand.” “Not he. He is not that kind.” 3 & “4 * This whispering was masked by Bob’s lora outburst of satisfaction, as he crammed ig money into his pockets, ‘*There never was a run of luck that woulda’ turn if you follow it far enough,” he ejaculate L “You had it all your own way aft our lest bout. To-night it’s my turn. That’s the way that 1 tune twists. Come, Roger, it’s your deal—sint fle the papers.” “No more to-night. You have broken 74 cited face of his opponent. “Well, then, I will stand treat. a night of it.” In a few minutes afterward they had leftiLe gambling-hall and were out on the puveme. ‘ They walked on throngh the cool air of (he streets, Bob’s face flushed and heated, while he talked with a feverish gayety in strong com trast with the quiet tone of his companion. Neither of them observed that the figure of a man had left the shelter of a dark alley near Let's r.,-4 | the door of the faro bank, and was tracking them cautiously as they moved through the shadowy streets. It was the man who had ac- eosted Bob in Joe Cracker’s saloon, and whe had tracked him first to the gambling-hall, and was now following him again toward his nexs- destination. A savage expression murked the dark face of the lurking scout. ‘*Where shall it be?’ asked Bob. take a run through Clinton’s Misery? do you say to the Blue Light Hali? ways fun alive down there.” ‘*There’s too much money in your pocket,” replied Roger. ‘‘ They ere not sate places fcra man with his pockets lined with bank-notes.” ‘Trust me for that,” replied Bob. ‘‘ I amtoo old a bird to be easily trapped.” Roger stopped short in his walk. ‘I think, my boy,” he said, “‘ that you have won back all your losings in cur last game.’ ~ wen” routed Bob, staring at him. “* And, if I am not wrong, if was importent for you to win it.” ‘What, in the devil’s name, does that mat to you?” queried Bob, with an oath. “Simply that it is my opinion that you hod better go straight home, and put that mor: away safely. Then, if any of it is borrow you can repay it, which I fear you could no’ < after going through Clinton’s or the Blue L’, with that ballast aboard.” ** Well, one would think you had bought me out and out, skin and bones,” growled Bob, ‘* And another bit of advice,” continued Roger in the same quiet tone. “Stop gambling. Ycu are too excitable, too easily heated, for a suc- cessful player. Take my advice kimlly, Bob, for I mean it in good part. And now night. I have an appointment which ‘*Skall we Or, whet There’s ak er T must nein ithout another word he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving his companion lost in surprise, with which was mingled a growizg anger. “Tf I had your cash, I could be as coo! as you, blast you!” heejaculated. ‘‘ And yet youradvice is good, if it is given in such an infernal tone of superiority. Butas for stopping gambling—f will think about it.” He walked slowly on, lost in decp musings, apd utterly oblivious of the fact that he wes followed step by step, the dark figure behind him gliding nearer on er Glindcn’s departure, A savage satisfaction showed on the face of i is desperate -looking scout. His hands were ficree!y clenched as he glided on. Leaving the comparatively wide and we!l- lighted street in which he was, Bob Rock: tt turned into a narrow, dark channel between tle huge buildings that marked that quarter of the city. This dismal alley formed a short cut in his journey, and was as familiar to his feet ag the pavement of Broadway itself. But it added to the opportunities of the scout. | With a hiss of satisfaction he moved mcrae quickly, though with the same noiseless tre.d He seemed thoroughly practiced in the art of walking without leaving a sound of his footsteps audible. Ina minute he was close behind the unconscious victim of his murderous intentions. é And now the light of a distant lamp gleamed, |
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Bob Rockett, the Bank Runner. udden flash, on something that was i his clenched hand. . It was the blade or dagger. His eyes glared with a city. The moments of the heedless trave seemed numbered. Sti at cat-like progress continued. Now but a feet separated the two men, the hand of the «urderer was uplifted, his blade gleamed yet m ie keealy in the light. It w.sa moment of supreme danger to Bob Rocke, ho walked on utterly unconscious of peril, ‘he villain crouched like a tiger ready to leap. A moment more and the career of that end, for as yet not asound had reached his ears, oc ‘tupied as he was in his own absorbing though A spring forward; a eaty flash of the gleam- ing blade; an arm drawn back to plunge the murderous weapon into the heart of his vic- tim! What now shall save Bob Rockett? What b ving genius? What fortunate . accident? ope seemed to have flown. The blade quiver- ed above his defenseless back. It quivered and flashed, and the flash was re- flected back from the glass window of an ad- joining building. It arrested Bob’s attention, Me and instantly his aroused senses caught a slight | sound behind him. With a sudden sense of peril he sprung quickly forward, just in time to es- enpe the murderous blade that at that instant descended, with savage vigor. In. a second Bob had turned, facing his an- | A single glance told him the nature ta conist. The bravo had recover- of the impending peril. ad from his ineffectual blow and again raised | his arm, with the glittering blade. But Bob Rockett was noted for the quickness of his maovements and for his physical strength. He sprung likea flash on his antagonist, caught the uplifted arm inhis strong grip, and with a waiden, powerful twist forced him to drop the kKhife, which fell with a clang to the pavement, Bob forcibly turned the villtin’s lowering face to the light, and bent his keen look upon it, “Oh!” be cried. ‘‘I have caught an old bird # seems. So, my good friend, Rusty Mike; it is you, then, is it?” ' CHAPTER ITI. THE BANK OPENS FOR BUSINESS. Iv was eight o'clock of a bright winter morn- Lower Broadway was alive with a cease- ide of human beings, coming and going, « all with an expression as if the destiny of \.~ svorld depended upon the business they had im jiand. Among them came our friend of the previous wight, Bob Rockett. There was a similar ex- pression of anxiety upon bis face, and he, too, wolked as if he had the world’s weight on his shoulders. Yet this was not usual with him. He was erdinarily cheerful and inclined to lounge. Something had oecurred to infect him with #aat fever of hurry with which the streets of Wew York are so deeply inoculated. He turned from the current in front of a mas- ive, brown-stone building, which lifted its heavy pediment far above the pavement, The @oor stood slightly ajar. He pushed it open and entered. A man stood just inside the door, who turned # him with a look of surprise. “ Why, Mr. Rockett.” he exclaimed, ‘‘ what im the world has stirred you up so early this morning? You are a good half-hour ahead of your usual time. I think I shall have to makea a | mark in your favor.” “Don’t, Jackson,” replied Bob, with a forced Bort. “I won't sin that way often if I am forgiven this time. The fact is I was up late Fst night. Broached some champagne too. Didnt sleep worth a fig. When a chap has hecs buzzing in his head of a morning he is best ait in the air,” s “That’s so,” returned Jackson, ar ati tim euriously. ‘‘ Though I thought that head ef yours was of cast-iron, and could stand any- ting.” ‘* Anything in reason, my boy. It won’t stand wedging. Are any of the lads in the bank?” “No. You are the early bird this morning. % is near Nelson’s hour, though.” “Well. 1 will goin and look over my Clear- fe-House pay ers.” ‘He walked back into the banking building, an e pression of relief coming upon his features. ‘Five minutes,” he said to himself. ‘ Five ear minutes, and the thing is done.” — Jt was more than five minutes ere any other «ef the bank clerks entered. ‘Then there camein ® © arp-faced, grizzly-haired man, with a quick, aesvions step. YY | ; bank-notes, which Nelson had | Bob was seated on a chair in front of the bank counters, with his heels on the railing, busily engaged on the morning paper. “Hillo!” cried the new-comer. “I needn’t ask you whatis the news, Itis news enough to see you here first in the morning.” ‘Don’t mention it, Nelson,” said Bob, with a wink. ‘Don’truin my reputation. Ifthe gov- ernor should hear it he would think I was going to the dogs, sure.” Halwa langhed and passed on Bob folded up his newspaper, and lounged out to the street do : {tbe bank. Here he stood with his shou! supported against the lintel, leisurely surv., og the passing throng. “T think I must take a settler for that cham- pagne, Jackson,” he remarked, as he stepped down into the street. He was hardly lost in the crowd when Paul Kssex ran up the steps in a brisk manner. “* Good-morning, Pankceca.e he cried to the old watchman, who stood at the door. ‘Any of the folks in?” ** Nobody but Nelson.” *¢ And he would like to sleep in the bank, and take his meals there, if it could be made con- venient,” laughed Paul, walking briskly back. The banking-room was a large apartment, with very high ceiling, and tall Gothic windows in the rear wall. A range of broad counters inclosed two sides of the room, fitted up with strong wire grating, through whose apertures could be seen great heaps of gold, silver, and ust taken from the central safe, and poured out upon the coun- ters asif he was dealing with so much wheat or corn. ‘Hard at it, as usual,” was Paul’s cheerful greeting, as he entered the inclosure. ‘““Why, yes,” replied Nelson, ‘‘I feel more at home here than in my boarding-house.” **You don’t have the chink of gold there, by way of morning music,” laughed Paul, as he commenced to turn over the pages of a huge book, which he bad just taken from the safe. Ten minutes afterward Bob Rockett re-en- tered. His small eyes fixed themselves sharply upon the two persons present, there being some- thing menacing in the look with which he re- garded Paul. Without a word he seated himself at an in- terior desk, and commenced torapidly run over a bundle of checks that lay before him. But thoughts far removed from the work before him were passing through his mind. “T have settled three of you,” he said grimly to himself. ‘‘Paul Essex, Roger Glindon, and Rusty Mike. It will be queer if I don’t pull through all right. Roger is out of the ring; but for the other two—” his eyes glanced with a dark threat toward Paul, who was quite lost in the pages of the book before him. In a few minutes more Bob gathered up his bundle of checks, put into his pocket a large sheet of paper covered with figures, and walked hastily from the bank. ““Which way?” asked a clerk he met enter- ing. ** To the Clearing-House,” he answered. Paul looked around at the noise of his depar- ture, but did not move from his book. The minutes passed on. One by one the clerks lounged in. The hand of the great clock slowly glided around until it pointed to the hour of ten. Everybody was now at his desk, and wide awake for business; tellers, book-keepers, and clerks. The huge front doors opened with a clang. The Provident National Bank was ready for business. Bob had long since returned from the Clearing- House. In a few minutes more he pushed into an inside pocket a large book well filled with drafts and other business documents, pressed his hat down firmly over his eyes, an ain left the building on his daily round as bank runner for the Provident. Ina few minutes after he had gone Paul left the book over which he had been so intently en- gaged. There was a dubious expression upon is face as he crossed over to Bob Rockett’s desk, which be opened and took out the books which Bob used in his occasional duty as assis- tant clerk. He was soon lost in an intent examination of these. His head went lower and lower over the books, the look of doubt upon his fuce grew deeper, as. he ran over page after page, footing up their entries on a paper at hisside. Sudden ly he stopped, with a puzzled look, running his fingers absently through his hair. “Could I bave made a mistake?’ he asked bimeelf. “T would not have thought it possi- ble.” His eyes were intently fixed upon the footing ———— ear — of his figures, something in which seemed to trouble him. He again counted themup. The result was the same as before. Paul sat for full five minutes, staring absently upon the paper before him. Then he turned again to the book, carefully checking off the various entries. He was interrupted in this by Mr. Darling, who had just entered the bank, and who laid a Levee on Paul’s shoulder, as he stepped up be- ind uum. ‘ue young man looked up into the earnest face at his shoulder. A nod of the head toward a door in the rear of the inclosure and Mr. Darling walked on. Paul continued his task for several minutes more. Then he laid down the pencil, more puzzled than ever, replaced the books in the desk, picked up the paper upon which he was calculating, and walked nabs, § to the door through which Mr. Darling had passed, Upon it was the sign ‘* Directors’ Room.” The apartment which Paul entered, on _ passing through this door, was small, but richly fur- nished, with soft, bright colored carpet, cushion- ed chairs, and a large table, with a top of Ten- nessee marble, in the center. The walls and ceilings were frescoed in warm colors, and the windows hung with soft curtains. Mr. Darling was seated in a richly-carved arm-chair at the head of the table. ** Lock the door, Paul,” he said. Paul turned the key, and walked up to the table, a look of gratification replacing the puz- — expression which had so lately marked his ace, ‘‘ Well, my boy, what is the result?’ asked Mr. Darling. ‘Tt is the oddest thing,” replied Paul. ‘“‘ How I could ever have made such a blunder. But I must have done so. I have gone over the work twice, and here are the footings.” He spread the paper before Mr. Darling’s eyes. ‘This squares to the penny, Paul,” remarked the latter, after examining it. “That is what puzzles me,” rejoined Paul. “T could have sworn that it failed to balance yesterday. And yet—you see.” * But the alk fe of us may make an error,” answered Mr. Darling, with a look of relief. ‘“‘T would rather than five hundred, or five thousand dollars, have it turn out so. I owe a debt of gratitude to the boy, and should be ver sorry to have him cancel it himself, in any such manner.” ‘“‘There are certain irregularities in his ac- counts,” continued Paul, ‘‘ which should not ap- pear in any properly kept books.” ‘*But he is far from having your methodical ways,” laughed Mr. Darling. ‘I should think it odd indeed if the work of such a hap-hazard fellow was found in ape vie order. The final footings are correct. That is the main thing.” ‘** Yes, sir,” replied Paul, dubiously. “The boy has certainly good elements in him,” continued the good-natured bank. presi- dent. ‘‘He was such an unconscionable little vagabond when I first took him in hand. Just after he saved Grace’s life, you remember. But he certainly made good progress at school, de- spite his many outbreaks a discipline. nd look at him now, a regular fashionable in dress, well spoken, with good manners, and a shrewd business man.” ‘That is all true,” responded Paul. ‘We both started from the same point, and came up together.” he banker stared. ‘‘Hardly, Paul,” he said. ‘As much as Rockett has improved himself, he had not your stuff in him to begin with, and I fancy he has not gained your level by a long reach. I am ever so much pleased, however, that your sus- picions have proved misplaced. I hope yet to make something out of my rough diamond. Do not let me detain you any longer, Paul.” I hope it may always turn out as it has to- day,” replied Paul, as he unlocked the door. = -morning, sir.” *‘ Good-morning.” Some of the other clerks looked curiously at Paul as he walked out among them. His late intent interest over Bob Rockett’s accounts, his interview with the president, all excited curios- ity. But without a sign of attention to it Paul walked quietly to his desk. Meanwhile the bank runner was ing ra- pidly from point to point through the streets, now plunging into some mercantile house, now darting into some bank, now springing into a car or a stage, for quicker transport to some distant locality. The bundle of drafts in his book was dimin-
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ishing, while they were being rapidly replaced with checks and money. ‘*Wouldn’t I give something to see Paul Es- sex’s face now?” he muttered to himself. “* Blast him, he does not fancy that I discovered his meddling with my book yesterday! He would sell his soul to get me out of the bank. But, it’s queer if I don’t match him, sharp as he is. I’ve stolen a countermarch on him thistime. But if I want to borrow funds again, I shall have to change my game.” He had just turned into a narrow street lead- ing west from Chatham. There was a slouch- ing, roughly-dressed chap before him. Bob brushed this fellow in passing, causing him to turn with a fierce oath. “Drop that, Rusty Mike,” and the young man faced him with a significant look. ‘‘I let you off cheap last night, my friend. But re- member-—” The villain shrunk slightly back on seeing who stood before him. “Blazes!” he ejaculated. “It’s you ag’in, then?’ i “There is no doubt of that, I fancy,” replied Bob, sternly. ‘‘ Now, see here, my man, what is it to be between us—war or peace? Take your choice, for I am open to either.” ““What’ll pay best?’ asked Mike, with his usual oath. ‘War won’t pay you well. I promise you that.” And Bob’s eyes gleamed with defiance. ‘Bf we jine hands, is ther’ money in it?” “There may be,” replied Bob. 4 as Then I’m yer hoss. True grit, to the shoul- er. ‘*T will see you again,” said Bob, hurriedly. ‘* We must not be observed together.” The two strange confederates parted. CHAPTER IV. A CLOSE GAME OF TEN-PINS. More than a month has passed since the date of our last chapter. Outwardly all has gone on well with our characters. Bob Rockett has taken good care that there shall be no more trouble in his accounts, but we could not safely say that he has reformed, or that he has lost his grudge against Paul Essex. Quietly as the latter had made his investigation there were not wanting persons ready to acquaint the sus pected runner with what had taken place. We find Bob Rockett now, in company with his friend, Roger Glindon, in a bowling saloon, under a Bowery hotel. “You have been so deuced scarce of yourself for the last month,” remarked Bob, as he took off his coat, ‘‘ that I was not sure whether you had gone to Albany, or to the State’s prison. Not much choice between the two, folks say. Well, which alley do you prefer?” ‘Take the center,” replied Roger. truer run.” He removed his coat, and taking up a small ball, sent it carelessly down the smooth boards, knocking the three corner pins from their “Tt hasa “Do you want to get the feel of the alley, Bob?” ‘Oh no! my hand is in good practice.” The pins were replaced, and Bob picked up one of the largest of the balls, balancing it in hand as if it was a feather. He was evidently very strong. The muscles of his arm swelled andl the Moose sleeve be- came tense with their pressure. Scarcely moving from where he stood he sent the huge ball whirling with such force down the alley that the pin-setters at the end sprung in alarm out of the way. It struck the center pin so truly and with such foree as to carry it through, felling but half the remaining pins. ‘‘A good center,” said Roger, quietly. ‘‘ But you are too strong, my boy. If you rip through at that rate your pins have no chance to fall. Do you take that as your first? Oris it only a feeler?” ‘“We had best begin the game afresh,” re- lied Bob. ‘‘ You take first ball. The chal- enged party has first choice of weapons, you know. But none of your raseally carelessness. f you want to beat me you will have to wake I uw hoger smiled, as he took his stand for the ame. . He played with remarkable ease, selecting medium. sized balls, and sending them down the alley with a slow curving roll that seemed to have hardly force enough to fell the pins. Yet nearly every shot mude a center, and his score began te count up rapidly. Bob, on the ecntrary, preferred the large balls, which he sent in straight lines, and with littie Ics3 force than in bis first-soctr’ Wctye, Bob Rockett, the Bank Runner, ag & made a score that was but little short of that of his competitor. The game went on with varying success—now one, now the other gaining the advantage. Roger kept bis usual coolness and ease of man- ner, but his antagonist soon showed traces of | excitement. “By Jupiter, I’ve got you there!” cried Bob, as he made a brace of good shots and ran twen- ty points ahead. oger only smiled, but his next shot sent every pin into the gutter. This double spare was followed in the next shot by a spare, and in the succeeding one by a six-pin fall, giving him the game by six points. ‘‘There’s nothing sure till it is finished,” he quietly remarked. ‘* Poh! that game was only a nerve-warmer,” exclaimed Bob, with some show of spleen. ‘* Vil go you a dead fifty, or a hundred, if you say the word, that I win the next game.” Roger locked at him curiously. ‘“- You have not forgotten a word of friendly advice I gave you one night, about a month ago?’ he asked. “Oh, that be sunk! I’m not in leading- strings, Roger Glindon!” and Bob’s tone had an angry ring. “I prefer to be the judge of the best way to spend my own money.” ** Then you have gambled since?” ‘Yes; if you are eager to know. ** But there is no use in shutting your eyes to facts, Bob. You cannot ‘ buck the tiger’ against me. In gambling, as in war, the longest purse is sure to win in the end.” ‘“‘ Not against a Napoleon,” returned Bob, with a nervous laugh. ‘‘l am notriskir gmy money, for Ican beat youatten-pins. There’s my fifty, if you dare cover it.” * Allright. If you will have it. But keep our money in your pocket. We must not oreak the rules of the establishment. Shall we toss for first ball?” Mii: i= Roger flirted a nickel into the air. ‘* Heads,” cried Bob. ‘* Heads itis. You have won first shot.” Despite their quiet tones, the fact that there was a bet on the game bad somehow made itself felt throughout the saloon, and several curious people gathered around to watch the game. Among these was a tall, thin fellow, dressed ina well-brushed suit of shabby black, and with an air of great gentility. His face was marked with a perpetual smirk of affected good-humor. Bob played more carefully than before, send- ing his balls with less vigor, and sighting the pins closely before every shot. But Roger made no change in his mode of playing. His light balls were flung with the same quickness and apparent heedlessness as be- fore. Yet evidently he was a very skillful player, since nearly every bal) took down the whole frame. But his antagonist was equally successful. S) s and double spaces were scored for each player, and the rapidly increasing game kept almost side by side. ‘*A good game!” cried Bob. and sixty tie. But I’ve got six balls yet on this frame, and I’m in for a six-point lead.” ‘The chickens are not hatched yet,” warned Roger. ‘‘ Don’t count them too soon.” ‘“Here goes to break their eggs, then.” He bared the ball as if from a catapult, but with more curve than he had intended. It twisted rapidly to the side of the alley, took the corner pin of the frame, and rolled useless] into the gutter, adding but one point to his score. ‘The poorest shot in the game,” remarked a bystander. ‘‘ Your wrist twisted on you, Mr. Rockett.” “Yes,” replied Bob. ‘No matter. I lead one point, and there are six balls le‘t. Take your shot, Roger.” The game was growing interesting. Twenty- four balls rolled out of the thirty, and the score one hundred and sixty to one hundred and sixty one. Roger balanced the bell in his hand, while his eyes res'ed with their usual cool ex- pression upon the pins. “Twenty to one that I make a ten-stroke,” he said, as he sent the ball with his slow, curv- ing fling down the alley. t took the center pin on the side, and the whole frame tumbled. ‘*‘ A double spare!” cried the scorer. ‘“Here’s its mate,” exclaimed Bob, eying the pins critically, while be stood firm as marble, and flung the heavy ball with scarce a quiver in his limbs. The bystanders looted ” Va lewy ge lth, wt ora = too, had a true eye and a skillful hand, and ‘A hundred }, — tion. He was the picture of a young He N with his broad shoulders, and the knotted mus- elcs of his arms. : ‘“‘Here’s my double,” he eried, as the pins tumbled in all directions, leaving a clean alley. The next shots were made with equal skill, but not with equal success. Roger’s tool: the whole of the pins, scoring him a space on the first frame, and a double space on the second, and running his score up to one hundreé and ninety. 3ut Bob had poorer luck. The ball struck fairly, but the pins fell in that perverse way im which they sometimes will, leaving a single pin standing on a ecrner of the alley, with twe fallen pins crossed in front of it, a most pro voking specimen of dead wood. A curse came in hissing tones through ‘his clenched teeth. “The game is lost,” said the proprietor of the alley. “It willtake a good ball tokick that dead wood away; for it lays so awkwardly that the chances are fifty to one against your making the pin.” Bob stood looking quietly at the ball, though his dilating nostrils showed his inner excite- ment. ‘“‘T will take the odds,” he remarked, ‘ Who wants to lay fifty to one?” “That would be rather steep,” replied the proprietor, ‘But I'll lay a ten-dollar bill against a one that youcan’t knock thatpin with one ball.” ‘Done!’ exclaimed Bob. He turned to the trough and made a careful selection of one of the smallest balls, balancing it in his hand as if to gauge its weight. ‘*Look out there, boys,” he called to the at- tendants at the end of the alley. The lads darted like grasshoppers into the ad- joining alleys, not liking tostand before a sma ball in that vigorous hand. ‘He will find that dead wood deuced awk- ward,” whispered the proprietor. “The only chance is for the ball to strike in between,” answered Roger. ‘‘ And that is not one in a hundred.” Bob stood erect, looking at the pin, and grasp- ing the ball in his hand, while a grim smilo came Epes his face as he heard the whispering behind. im, ‘“T will show them a new dodge in ten-pins,” he said to himself. He balanced himself lightly on his feet, the ball held easily at his side, Then, with a quick step forward, and a sharp send from his vigor- ous arm, the ball was sen’ whizzing toward the pin. But not on the alley, as they had expected to see. Onthe contrary, it rose in the air, Cory gracefully, and beginning to fall only as . neared the end of the alley. All eyes were wide open with surprise, fol- lowing the movement of the ball wit intense interest. It flew onward, straight as a musket shot, the downward curve increasing, until fin- ally it passed just above the fallen pins, and struck the erect pin with.a force that sent-i# leaping six feet into the air. "So much for your dead that ten,” remarked Bob, turning to the propr- etor. “By the saints! you have earned it,” replied. the latter. ‘‘Inever saw the like of that shet before.” Bob pushed the ten-dollar bill into his vest pocket with a look of quiet satisfaction. ‘“There’s some things can be done as well as others,” he remarked. ‘How now, Rezsr$ The game is not yours yet, if you have got twa balls to my one.” “T don’t imagine that you have much chanee against my spares,” replied Roger, as he sents bal with his usual careless manner down the alley. It proved his most egitan) A shot. It struck near the center, but the pins fell in such a w that a clear opening was made i. ae frame, only three pins falling, while the rema der stood in separate groups, four on one side and three on the other. ‘‘Now how for my chances?” cried Bob, glow fully. ‘“There’s twenty-three on your ‘first score, thirteen on your last. That’s a hundrcd and ninety-six to my hundred and ninety-ona, and I'll bet a cow you can’t make more tha four with your last ball.” He was evidently right. Only a lucky falling of the pins could reach from one group te another. Roger played his ball at the group @& four, and swept them easily from the board, ending his frame, with three pins standing. “Two hundred! and done!” exclaimec. the nro rietor, ‘A ten-stroke will win.” wood, I will tals” ;
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“ And here it is,” answeied Bob, grasping one wf the heaviest balls, and sending it rolling down the level alley, after a close observation of the pins. tt was the critical moment of the game. The | slightest divergence to right or left might lose it, aud as the ball rolled on it became evident that it, was not going to be a center shot. The eyes of the player dilated. Much to him rested upon that ball, seemingly going astray. Tt struck at one side of the center. “Lost!” cried the proprictor. “‘WNo, by hokey.” cried the scorer. ‘‘ See, how awkwardly the pins are tumbling!” One pin re-ted irresolutely for an instant as | Ie: spoke. as ff it was going to stand. Then it toppled over backward, and in an instant all the remaining | pims were carried with it; and the board was cleared. “ fwo hundred and one! and game,” cricd the scorer. “TU be hanged if it wasn’t a close nip, though!” ejaculated the proprictor, “You've won, Bob,” said Roger, coolly. | “That flying shot did the work, Who the | deuce can play agsinst a fellow that makes a | seore through the air?” He passed something quietly to Bob as they walked over to wash their hands. The latter yas it, with a sitisfied air, into his vest pocket. “We are too well matched for any safe odds om either side,” he reraarked. Meanwhile the tall, shabby-genteel fellow, / who had been looking on at the game, took | Bob's coat from the hook where it hung, and brought it to bim just as he finished drying his | bends “Excuse me, sir; but shall [ help you on |} mith your coat?” hoasked, obsequiously. *‘ That was meat play; neat play, sir.” “ fund if it was, I reckon I can put on my own ent,” replied Bob. “-No offense, sir. No cffensoin the world, I bepe Why, certainly, if you~ prefer.—Oh! excuse my awkwardness, It’s too blamed bad.” | He had stumbled in handing Bol) the coat, and fell heavily against him. The latter recoil- edt a step with tho shock. “Then the next time don’t be so rascally offiious,” he grumbled. “1m used to putting oo mxy own clothes.” The fellow, still volubly excusing himself, | bocked off toward the door of the saloon, out | of which hevanished. ““& confounded awkward rascal!” growled Bob, as he adjusted his coat. ‘‘ What was he after, anyhow? .Is he some sort of a genteel / war?’ Pooks like it,” answered Roger. Bok thrust his fingers into his vest pocket with the purpose of removing the money be had laced Shere. A blank look came over his face, be Faia was empty. “By the Lord, ’'ve been robbed!” he ejacu- Kated. “ That’s what the chap was after. He’s gone through me to the tune of a cool hundred and.odd” ‘“The dence you say,” ejaculated the propri- etar “The infernal light-fingered hound. Lef's after him. ~ Ho cannot have got far.” “*No, no,” replied Bob. .“‘We may as well gave our legs. He's too old a bird for that.” He stood silent for. a.moment, his face full of i | thought. “fh by all that’s good, I know him now! I the I bad scen that face. It’s Beau Bink, the vy pickpocket. I know just where to wet my hand on him” —— CHAPTER’ VY. . THREE TO A BARGAIN, “Tie just the infernallest mean season that ever ves kieked p.ag’in’ 4 poor devil. Six solid Wears in quod, ahd all *cause » Chap didn’t stop w@ \vomani's breathiu’ dp’ratus; and thea to find Thiomess as flat as a buckwheat cake. Why, Bhiame it all, [d soorer be tack in a cell, A feller gits his reg’lar meals tlicre ‘thout trouble; @:| that’s somethin’.” hespenker was Rusty Mike. He set on a @i .pidated chair, which looked as if it had tlie @ar't ia a faction fight. His heels were ele- vx, “@wpen a table, inno better condition than | the Gesir, for one leg was gone, and was replac- | ext %y aa upright wooden box, with a brick to | ef owt in length. ULweomt was off, and bis sleeves rolled up to t welyews, showing sun-browned, brawny arms. PeGirwen his teeth he held a short clay pipe whee original color had long since disappeared wevcer a grimy coating. Near liim.scata buxom - | her eyes lighting up. All drew a long breath. It seemed | Bob Rockett, the Bank Runner. woman, ber dress as slovenly as her habitation, though her face showed traces of former beauty. ‘You talk as if you was sorry you didn’t finish the woman,” she replied. 1] wouldn’t been jugged if I had,” he coolly answered, ‘Not as 1 uad any spite ag’in’ the creature; but ther’d been a different tune to whistle only fur that little hound of a Bob, as snatched her from the fishes. Do you know, Sal, that he’s got to be a fine gentleman now, highly eddicated, and runnin’ a bank, or some sich conniption.” ‘““You don’t tell me that?” replied the woman, ‘* But who has done that for hun? Her father?” “IT spose,” and Mike sent out a cloud of smoke. ‘‘T always prophesied he’d make a thief,” she | continued. ‘ A banker ain’t much better maybe, Mike, but it’s safer, I wish to Heaven you had some better business.” : ; “Oh, that be fizzled!” cried Mike, in a tone of | disgust. “If I’d go inter honest bizness I | wouldn’t be fit for nothin’ but ditchin’ or the like. And that wouldn’t suit my constertu- tion.” ‘* They don’t send folks to prison for ditching,” she quietly answered. “'That’s so, Sal,” with a wry face. ‘‘ And see here, old gal: it were derned good in you to wait fur me them six years. I ’spected you’d took up with some other chap, years ago.” ‘*T gin’t that kind, Mike,” she answered, in an offended tone, * You ain’t, Sal; you ain’t.” He passed his rough hand over her hair, with a caressing move- ment. ‘* You’re true grit, old gal. I won’t for- git it soon.—But, shoot it all, business is thun- derin’ dull.” Mike dropped his chin on his palms, in an atti- tude of satinotloms while slow wreaths of smoke came successively from his lips, and curled upward into the air, like the shadows of his flecting thoughts. The door opened and a face looked cautiously into the room. The foxy eyes, the lank cheeks, and smirking mouth, indicated Beau Bink, the pickpocket. ‘* Any company, Sal?’ he asked. ‘*Nobody but Mike. And he’s gettin’ to be sort of familiar again.” ‘**Come in, you long-shanked fence-rail! What the blazes are you hangin’ there about?” roared Mike. ‘‘Come in, you half-cocked dandy, and let’s see what tailor’s rig you’re swingin’ now.” Beau drew his lank form into the room, with bis habitual cautious movement, and closed the door carefully after bim. ‘Take a seat, Beau. There’s one, a-top that barrel. Have a pipe?” ‘Don’t keer i'l do, bein’s it’s you.” In a minute more he was adding his quota of smoke to Mike’s. ‘* Any luck?” asked Mike, carelessly. “Oh, hain’t I! You'd better think it.” Mike looked up with new interest. There was a tone of intense self-satisfaction in Beau’s words that arrested his attention. “ Hillo! Struck a bonanza, hey?’ ‘Hit a gold mine,” answered Beau. ‘And you never seen sich a neat bit of work got in. Look there, my covey!” He drew some bank-bills from his pocket and spread them out on the table. é ‘* By the blue blazes!” ejaculated Mike. *‘ Two fifties and a ten! Why, I’ve cracked a crib fer less than that. And this long-legged spider had only to slip his fingers in some fool’s pocket! Lend us a fifty, Beau. I’m clear cleaned out.” “Why, I wouldn’t mind, Mike, fer I know you're true grit. And it ain’t the game fer us chaps to salt one another, Honor among thieves, you know. If I didn’t trust you to the backbone I wouldn’t never shell out here on the table. ire “Only what?’ asked Mike. ‘“Only that it takes three to make that sort of a bargain,” came in clear tones, from behind. A large, white muscular hand suddenly in- truded between them, and laid itself upon the money. The three occupants of the room had been so intent upon Beau’s spoils as to hear no cautious movement behind them. Their first knowledge of an addition to their company came from this strange voice, and the apparition of that white band. ‘* Blazes!” cried Mike, attempting to rise. But his chair had been so pushed back on its two rear legs that it toppled over in the effort, sending him headlong to the floor, while the pipe was driven half down his throat, choking him with its volume of smoke. Beau was equally unfortunate. Qne glance at the new-comer, and he backed off his barrel so quickly that he, too, rolled on the floor, his face pale, and his eyes dilated with fright. And they were uot without reason for alarm. For there stood Rob Rockett, his sturdy form erect, his left hand covering the stolen money, his right grasping a pistol, while his face turned with a stern look from one to the other of the baffled villains. ‘* Hands off!” cried Sal, the most self-possess- ed of the party, ‘Who are you?” ‘*The owner of this little stake,” replied Bob, into his pocket, He withdrew a step from the table, warily watching his foes, who were just picking them- | selves up from the floor. But they were in no condition or humor to assault the intruder, Mike was in a paroxysm of coughing, while Beau backed off as if he had seen a ghost. ** Who are you?” cried Sal, in a furious tone. ‘*You’re a sharp chap, maybe; but you’ve put your nose in a wolf’s den and won’t get it out again so easily. Plunder comes in here, my cove. It don’t go out,” She had backed up against the door, and stood facing him, her large frame seeming no mean match in strength for any ordinary man. ‘““You don’t know me then, Sal Crapper? You've forgotten your old friend, little Bob Rockett, as you used to call me? There’s one thing you can bet high on; that an old hunter don’t put his nose in a wolf’s den without leav- ing a track open behind him. Back off, Mike! None of that game!” : Rusty Mike had got over his fit of coughing, | and was advancing fiercely on his foe, a long- barreled pistol in his hand. ‘“‘Down with your little popgun!” roared Mike, fiercely. ‘* A man’s house is his castle, Bob Rockett. You won't git out hereas blamed easy as you got in, blast your imperdence!” Beau, too, had recovered from his moment- ary terror, and was advancing with a threaten- ing expression. t was no agreeable situation, for one man to be matched against three such foes. Bob back- ed up against the wall, and cocked his pistol, as he eyed them warily. : They came closer, a dark look upon Mike’s ace. ‘Drop that plunder, now, or I'll bore you, sure!” ‘* And blow me if. I don’t carve you!” Bean held an ugly knife in his left hand. “Tf you want to get out of here alive, Bol) Rockett, you’! fork over and slide,” added Sal, in the same threatening tone. A light laugh broke from Bob’s lips, His ay took an uncomfortably sure aim at Mike’s head, ‘Don’t lift your pistol-hand, Mike Crapper. It might pre’ > ‘angerous. What’s more, my jovial frien you take me for some green countryman’ _. you do I'll be glad to inform you that I’ve had my eye teeth cut. There’s some friends waiting for me below. If you want to see the uniform of our Metropolitan police ‘oe crack a cap in this room, and you'll not be long withouta visit. Bob Rockett wasn’t ‘brought up in Thieves’ Paradise without getting some few points of useful education.” The villains balted, with baffled looks. What their opponent had said was very probable. And Mike had no anxious desire, just then, for a domiciliary visit from tke police. “Til tell you what it is,” said Bob, coolly lowering his pistol, walking across the floor, and seating himself on Mike’s lately vacated chair, “these funds are mine and I intend to hold Caos oe. pus if you two chaps have any notion of making a clean fifty I'll put on hee track for it.” . “ iE 98 The two thieves looked at each other. ‘‘ Put up your weapons now,” said Bob, de- ting his pistol in his pocket, but not remov- ing his hand fromit. ‘Shoeting and carving is not the business on the ¢ t. It’s finances. Say the word. Are you on the make?” ‘“ By the bounds, yes!” answered Mike. ‘ Let out! I’m your man, if it’s in reason.” A long conference ensued between the three men. It ended in a compact being formed be- tween them, by performing which the two thieves were to gain one of the et bills which Bob had so boldly recov from their clutches, It had been an hour since he entered the rocm. He walked to the door with a careless step, though any sharp observer would have seen that he was on the alert against the movements of bis new confederates. He was not verdant enough to trust them. — coolly, as he grasped the money and thrust |
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4 ’ 7 “TIT fancy my friends below wiil be tired wait- ‘ing, ” he said, in his easy tone. ‘Good-by; and remember,” he continued, walking from the room. other. ‘* What do you think, Mike?” ‘“‘ He thinks he’s darned smart,” replied Mike. ** But, maybe he’s playin’ with fire. iv’ tobe satisfied with a fifty fer this job if here’s more in the wind. And anyhow I’li have «ring in Bob Rockett’s nose as’ll make him | : queal yet.” ‘‘Pm yer hoss,” answered Beau, savagely. ‘It’s too outrageous thin, arter a chap’s made a stake in the way of trade, fora feller to step in and grab his honest ’arnings that way. in heavy for any game to get level.” Tain’t go- | ‘*Excuse me, Mr. Glindon. This is not the place, nor the time tfor— I shali answer by let- ter,” she hastily resumed, as she heard the door | opening to her left. The two thieves looked significantly at each | | mother, are you here? Roger’s quick eye caught the open door, and resi figure ot his mother and cousin standing there. ‘** To-morrow, then, if you are disengaged. I shall call at three, for a drive to the park. Ah, I have been trying to entertain Mrs. Delorme in your absence. I must beg you to excuse me now. I have business to attend to, and must be going.” There was a dark look upon his face, as he | left the room. Vm And Beau looked like the very picture of in- | jured innocence and uprightness. But the reader must accompany us for sever- .al days forward in time, and to a point very different from that of the scene just described. Ina rich mansion in one of the most aristo- cratic avenues in the city, alady of middle age was seated in a richly furnished apartment. She had been pretty in her youth, and was still in possession of much of her former good looks. She had just risen, her silken attire rustling as | she did so, to greet a young lady on the point of entering the room, She looked somewhat doubtfully at the visitor. | ‘** Excuse me,” said the latter, rather confused- ly. You are—” ‘**Mrs, Glindon, at your service. Is it not Mrs. Delorme whom I have the honor to see?” “That is my name,” replied the visitor, gracefully advancing. “Then pray be seated. I will go look for my niece. She is in her room, probably.” *¢ But do not let me disturb her. She may be engaged. I only intended a short call.” ‘*T6 will be no inconvenience whatever, I as- sure you.” The lady swept gracefully from the room, leaving the visitor, who was no other than the young lady whom we have already met as the daughter of Mr. Darling, quietly waiting. She had just been greeted as Mrs. Delorme, and the reader may remember that, in a former story, Grace Darling was married to George Delorme. Yet she now appears asa youthful widow. The fact is that rge Delorme, bav- ing occasion to make a business trip to the south-west shortly after their marriage, had been seized with the yellow fever then prevail- ing in that locality, and had died there. The case was so bad a one, in fact, that all his clothes and belongings had necessarily been de- ‘stroyed, and the poor wife had nothing but the testimony of the physician in assurance of his death, and her memory of him as souvenir of his life. Yet she had recovered from her grief, and was now more’ beautiful, and apparently as young as on the day of her wedding. The door opened almost immediately after the old lady had gone out. A young man looked into the apartment. He ‘was on the point of withdrawing again on seeing that it was occupied. But the next instant his face lit up with a flash of recognition, and he walked nt we Pee G d was er Glindon, the self-possessed frien of Bob Rockett. : ‘* Mrs. Delorme!” he cried, in a pleased tone. ‘* This is an unexpected pleasure. JI am ever so glad to meet you.” He walk forward with extended hand. She rose from her chair, a faint flush marking her face, and took his proffered hand, oe certainly did not bs ow the pleasure of meeting you,” she said. ‘ thought you were poe Ai engaged in business at this hour of the da ‘* Business troubles me little,” he laughing! responded. ‘* And I am certainly glad that le caped from it aa B since it has given me the opportunity of meeting you. You have not for- gotten our interview?” “ How could I forget it?” Her voice had a deep, serious tone. ** And you received my letter?’ He spoke hastily, and with an excitement ef tone unusual with bim. ‘“T did.” She had grown cold in manner, ‘‘T hardly hoped for an answer in person. But, Mrs. Delorme; or Grace, if I may use that dear same; Since we have thus met, may I not hope --may I not trust—” is face was flushed, his tone excited. He seized her hand in his. She withdrew it from isis grasp. ‘* But it was Miss Masson 1 asked to see. | CHAPTER VI. PLANS AND COUNTERPLANS. ApovuT one o’clock of the next day Roger Glindon was seated m the newspaper room of the Lotus Club, apparently reading the Times, yet really with his eyes fixed reflectively upon the window. “Her manner wasn’t dreadfully encourag- ing,” he mused, ‘ But then there’s {no trusting a woman’s moods. It might all have been a bait to hook me tighter. nd again it might— But, hang it, she’s not the sort of girl to go fish- ing for a lover.” ‘‘A note for you, sir,” said a waiter at his elbow. ‘*Eh? Oh, yes, I see. Any answer wanted, | Jackson?” “No, sir. It’s a mail letter.” Roger picked up the dainty envelope from the silver salver on which it was presented, bis brows contracting as he did so, ‘*‘Tt’s hers,” was his mental “*There’s destiny in it.” ‘““Ha!l my boy! So that’s the sort of rose- scented missives we're getting, eh?’ cried a jovial friend who was pom F ** Yes,” replied Roger, laughingly. ‘‘ ’m over- whelmed with them. They just rain on me. But, what can one dof That’s the penalty for being agreeable to the ladies.” ‘**T hope it don’t prove a tailor’s bill,” retort- ed his triend. ‘‘There’s no trick our smart scissors-snippers are not up to nowadays.” ‘But, pis andreas 6 { have been green enough to pay for my last coat. hope of escape in that direction.” is friend laughed and went on. The gay smile left Roger’s face. “T halt wish it was as Jack hints,” he said. ‘*] fear it is tenfold worse.” He deftly opened the scented envelope, and extracted the bed sheet it inclosed. His brows knitted as he cast his eyes over its contents. ‘* Fate in five lines,” he muttered. ‘‘ So it is all up then; she cuts loose.” He read the note again. ‘“My Dear FRIEND: “T would gladly have escaped the painful necessity of writing these words, if, possible. Yet I cannot return cd proffered love, and hope you will not take it ill that I plainly sayso. I trust you will learn to forget me as a lover, but not as a friend. “Truly Yours, comment. So there is no It ran as follows: ‘““Grace DELORME.”’ “That is yon, eee he muttered, crushing the letter in his hand. “ But it will not be so easily done. I know what lies in my way, Grace Delorme. I am not quite blind to the truth. And there are more ways than one of removin an obstacle. Ah! what asensation there would be if they all knew acertain fact of which I happen to be aware. But I am not dolt enough to habe my arrows until the game is within easy reach,” e crushed his hat upon his head, and left the room, his handsome face growing dark and stern. Ina few minutes more he was walking down Broadway, at a pace as if his nervous ex- citement could only be overcome by vigorcus exercise. Cool as Roger Glindon was usually, the matter seemed to arouse him to an unwonted mental unrest. f “They cannot conceal it from me,” he said to himself. ‘* Paul Essex is my favored rival. But there are ways and means of removing him from my path, and if Iam not much mistaken, Bob Rockett is the chap to help me.” A half hour afterward he met Bob, who was driving along, in his usual swift way, on his daily rounds. ‘A minute, Bob,” he called out, tapping his friend on the shoulder. “Make it ashort one then,” answered Bob. “Tt’s getting late, and I have had a heavy day.” * Step in here, out of the rush.” Bob Rockett, the Bank Runner. Was a ‘* No time for ten-pius now,” answered Bot, with alaugh. ‘I must get through with bowling: trade-dojlars, and double eagles, before I go te the balls. What is wrong, Roger?” They had stepped into a beer saloon, and stoo# by the window, busily talking. Both became grave and earnest in face as the conversation went on. ‘*T must go now,” remarked Bob, after severa? minutes had elapsed. ‘‘ But lam your man. I owe him a grudge of the worst kind. _ Trust me tu fall in with any plan you may devise.” ’ A look of malignity came upon his sinister ace. ‘‘Won’t you take a beer, Bob?’ ‘‘No. Not during business hours.” “Have a cigar then. Our German friend yonder looks as if he would arrest us for higi way robbery, if we go out without patroniz uz: his bar.” a Ten minutes after this brief interview Tx & Rockett had reached in his rounds a_peit £ several blocks. away. He was now in Beavex street, and was making his way rapidly toward the bank. But his quick eyes caught sight of a face peering out from a corner not far in advance. Na start marked his recognition of Beau ink. ‘‘By Jupiter! I half forgot that little game." he mttiered! ‘“There’s bigger fish afloat nioves aoe net must be taken up, and a surer one aid.” He gave a peculiar whistle. Beau stepped out from his corner, and walked toward ors waving his handkerchief with a marked affecta- tion of grace. His hat was set jauntily upom one side of his head, and he presented a comica} picture of the shabby-genteel exquisite. Bob turned and walked carelessly by his side with an appearance of. not knowing hi He» spoke in a low tone, looking steadily away from the man beside him. “Tt won’t work, The game’s off,” he remark: - ed. ‘‘Thave bigger fish to fry.” “Off?” exclaimed Beau, “Yes. I may have work for you, though... You shall earn your stake. But you had best. slide on now. It is not safe for us to be seen im: company.” ‘ But that’s too decided thin,” answered Beam angrily. ‘‘ Pass over the plunder now, and it’s square. We ain’t the sort to play no off andon game with.” ‘“ You will get it when you earn it,” “‘Didn’t learnit? You got it by your trade,,. with a ten-pin ball. And I got it by my trade, with my ten fingers. You robbed me, Bok». Rockett, and there’s no use a-denyin’ it.” “Travel,” said Bob, impatiently, “I wilh. see you at the old place. Slide now.” e turned on his heel, and walked away... leaving Beau, whose eyes followed him with am. angry glance. , he street was not thickly occupied, thougha number of ms were passing. One among: these griped Beau’s arm with a vigor that — made him leap suddenly around, ‘*Oh, shoot it!” he cried. ‘‘ What’s up now? Tain’t been and done— Why devil take it, Mike, is it you? Blame me, if I didn’t think it. . liceman! ‘You’ve got such an uncom-- fortable official grip.” ““What’s up?’ asked Mike. quizzin’ him.” ‘The e’s off.” “Off? And no money?” “‘ Not till we ’arn it in some other way.” “That he fizzled!” roared Mike. ‘1 wonden™~ what sort of weather-cocks he thinks he’sadeal- - in’ with? Come this way, Beau. It’s a bit toc. public here fer a interview between gents that’ on the shady.” They walked toward a more retired locality. busily conversing as they did so, ; “TL tell you, pal,” announced Mike, after a safer point had been reached. ‘‘ He’s set us om the track hisself. Teached us the whole biz, the blarsted fool! It’s a useful bit of eddication,. Beau, and blame me if I’s a-goin’ to be put off with no half-weaned chance of makin’ a fifty arter a while. I ain’t that sort.” “There’s my hand on it, Mike. If you kim kick up any safe game count me in,” ‘Safe! Why, blast him, he dasen’t kick: We've got him under our thumbs, my ceve. And I’ll be shot if I don’t put on the screws. I don’t keer how loud he squeals.” Three days after the date of the above conver. sation found Bob Rockett engaged in his daily and unvarying round of occupation. He had made one return to the bank, and wam starting out on a fresh round. ‘*‘Here’sa thousand dollar @raft on Bensem. “T seen you.
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b ‘Koons & Co.,” he remarked, walking into the «ashier’s office. ‘‘ What shall I do with that, Mr. Spicer? They gave us some trouble the dast time, you remember.” The cashier scratched the bald spot on his faead with the pen. “T guess they are sound, Robert.” “Shall I take their check, then, if they offer at? Or leave them a notice to call here and pay tthe draft?” “T hardly know. {t’s a responsibility. Don’t want to offend them. You might take their «heck, and draw the money onit at once at their hank. I judge that will be safe. They must “keep some running balance.” “+0 right, sir,” answered Bob, leaving the vroom. “ Hang me if he’ll take the responsibil- ‘ity of acat with a mouse,” he continued. ‘ But they are not going to bring me into blame, if anything is rotten in the Benson firm. There’s = i! ing like having authority from head-quar- He went on from bank to bank, and from one business house to another, rapidly paying and receiving, and emptying his book of drafts and wash on one hand as he replaced it on the other. But Bob Rockett was too cautious a bank wunner to carry any large sum of money in his ‘ook, An effort had been made once before to srob him, and since then he had always taken #he precaution to remove all large sums of mo- ‘mey to an inner pocket. A thief vould usuall ¥ ‘nave got but little by the theft of his runner’s ** A draft for one thousand, Mr, Benson.” He was now in a large coffee warehouse on a prominent business street. “Ves. Oh, yes! Carlin & Co.? Don’t know about this, my young friend. There’s some lit- le error in that bill.” “Very well, sir. Shall I return the draft with that answer?” “No. Oh, no! Certainly not. It’s a good ‘house. They’ll make it right. But still, I hard- ay know if I should—” “Excuse me, Mr. Benson. I have no time to spare, I will leave youa notice of this draft, nd you can call at the bank and pay it.” “No, no, no! You are too hasty, young man. W presumo it is all right. I will write you outa heck for the amount.” Bob waited impatiently while the slow-mo- ‘tioned old man wrote the check. With the mul- . ‘titude of places he had to visit daily, five min- mates to each was all the time he could afford, and he was often obliged to be curt in order to stir pb slow-moving customer. “*He’s enough to give a crocodile the brain fever,” grumb. ed Bob, on again reaching the street. * A person might think that old Ben- son was a Chinese mandarin, instead of a New Work merchant, by the way he moves. I must slip ’round to the bank and get the cash on this »e@heck. I wouldn’t like to give that firm more wtban two or three hours’ grace.” ' ~ This money Bob put in his book. He would %%e back at hisown bank in less than half an ‘hour, and there was not likely to be any danger m that short period. ‘Yet half an hour is long enough for a host of angers, a fact which he was destined to dis- ~ gover. He had just turned into a street a littlé out of ‘Whe rush of business—a quiet avenue with but few people visible in it. The only person he warticularly observed was a chap dressed as a ree or, XG" disfigured by pp pyle wen aver eye. He was singing in a hoarse voice an Q Somriubitiic a handful of ballads, Bob paused to look at him as he came near. ‘There was something familiar to him in the man’s countenance. He had certainly seen him ‘ém another character, and in no creditable lo- wality. The fellow was evidently intoxicated. He sweeled as he came up. In seeking to recover ‘bimself he lurched heavily against Bob, almost Mrnocking him from his footing. “The devil take you!” cried Bob, pomhing wim back. ‘‘Hold your level, you drunken ’ bond!” “Don’t you hit me!’ roared the fellow, in a “enaudlin tone, pawing at Bob with a ludicrous ashow of sparring. fe reeled and grasped the coat of the young man to support himself. Bob tried to tear him- self loose, but the drunken grip was a strong “*Blame me if I don’t give the fool a settler.” Bob drew back his powerful arm, his face red with anger. Ina moment more his fist would ‘have been driven into the face of the drunken wailor. But at that instant his arm was caught “rem behind in a strong grip. His other arm Bob Rockett, the was grasped at the same time. Simultaneously a face appeared before him which he recognized as that Ty Beau Bink, and the alert fingers of this adroit pickpocket slipped the book from the inside pocket of his coat, which was held con- veniently open by the sailor. The next moment he received a powerful surge from the two men who held him, so sud- den and violent as to precipitate him upon the rough stones of the street. His assailants in- stantly took to flight. The whole affair had passed so quickly that it was over by the time any one in the street had observed it, But Bob instantly scrambled to his feet, yell- ing for help at the top of his voice. He caught a glimpse of three men just disappearing into the adjoining street, and recognized the third as Rusty Mike. He started in instant pursuit, joined by the persons nearest him. ‘*Have you lost much?’ asked one of those nearest him. ‘Over fifteen hundred dollars,” cried Bob, breathlessly. ‘‘ Stop thief! stop thief!” They had reached the adjoining street, which was more throngecd. The three men were visible, about half « block in advance. Dozens of men put themselves in pursuit. The chase became sharp and fierce, the crowd constantly augmenting. But suddenly it was discovered that there were only two men in flight. One had disappeared. “Stop thief! Stop thief!” came in an aug- menting roll. The whole street seemed alive. “Hold up there, my lovelies,” cried a police- man, rushing out in front of the two fugitives. “* Hold up, or Pll bu’st your heads for you.” They attempted to run past him, and he was as good as his word, giving Beau Bink a tap with his club that sent that worthy prostrate to the pavement. At the same time Mike was surrounded and captured by a half-dozen men, who had taken the alarm, and barred his passage. ‘‘ What is the matter here? Who has been robbed?’ asked the officer. ‘‘T,” answered Bob, as he came up. ‘“‘ Search them. My bank-book must be on one of them,” The search was made, but no book found. It had evidently vanished with the drunken sailor, who had so shrewdly slipped into some open doorway out of the chase. CHAPTER VIL. ‘. a AFTER THE at, ” ind N evening paper, in giving a highly-color account of the robbery, did not fail to hint that the unlucky bank runner knew more of the rob- bers than was consistent with his honesty. But then that is nothing new. Some evening or morning paper is sure to have similar hints in all similar cases, and the less they know about the matter the more positive they always are. The first idea of many good souls is to imagine that every unfortunate poor devil is, of course, a rascal. Yet such an idea was not entertained at the i . Or, if so, it was kept in the back- und, : ‘It is a very unfortunate affair, Robert,” said Mr. Darling, very gravely. “You should have had a chain to your book.” ‘So I have told Mr. Spicer,” was the answer. ‘* But if the bank does not provide the chain, I cannot be expected to buy it myself.” “Very true. Very true. Spicer should have seen to it, A whole store-house of chains could hare peep bought for—fifteen hundred, was it not ‘Fifteen hundred and thirty-seven dollars, twenty-eight cents,” replied Bob. ‘‘ Besides some ten thousand or so in checks. Of course the checks will be of no use to the robbers,” “And was that all your day’s eash collec- tion?” asked Mr. Darling, looking at him close- Mest Howe not,” replied Bob, with a short laugh. ‘Tf had turned in over seven thousand to the bank. And I had three thousand more in my kets. Itake care to not carry much in my book. But, then, it is not convenient to empty i. every five minutes.” ** No, certainly not.” i Mr. Darling sat silent for a minute, intentl regarding Bob, who stood in an easy attitude before him. He then pushed over to him a newspaper which lay on the table, placing his finger on a marked passage. ‘Read that,” he said. at Bob cast his eyes over it, a flush coming into his cheek. ° “ Well?’ asked Mr. Darling, quietly. ‘The libel law should give a man the privilege \ Bank Runner. | | -lars. In the second place I would have hugged of kicking such an editor out of a third-story window,” rejoined Bob. ‘If I had been. leagued with these robbers the bank might easily have been three thousand more out of pocket. Or ten thousand, for that matter.” ‘“‘Very true; very true, Robert. I don’s sus- pect you of anything wrong. And I doubt if anybody else does who knows the circum- stances. You were not hurt, my poor fellow?’ ‘Bruised a little. That is all. found cob- ble-stones rather harder than feathers.” ** And, Robert; excuse me for what I am go- ing to say. But you knew many of the dan- gerous classes in your boyhood?” ‘**Yes, some of them.” “Very well. Did you recognize any of these. robbers?” ‘‘ They are strangers to me, sir,” replied Bob, with a look of deep innocence. ‘But are you sure? Did you observe them closely ?” ** Yes, the two that were caught. Never saw the rascals before,” he answered, lying with an easy grace. ‘‘The chap that got off with the money had something familiar about him; but I can’t think where to place him.’ Mr. Darling leaned back in his easy-chair,,. with his eyes fixed upon the young man’s face in a manner that madc him somewhat uneasy. What did this peculiar scrutiny mean? He remained thus for two or three minutes,. his fingers drumming in an absent manner on the table. The situation became intensely disagree- able to Bob. He broke out at length. **-You believe that rascally paper, then?’ ‘** Patience, my boy. [am only thinking—Then you are quite sure that you do no: know these- two men?” “Know them? Certainly not.” ‘They -Jaim to know you.” “The devil they do! Excuse me, sir, but you startled ne. They know me?’ ‘** Anc further, they declare that this robbery was a preconcerted plan. That you engaged them to do it, anc agreed to divide the spoils with them,” It would havo been difficult to read the ex- ression of Bob’s face at that moment. He ushed red and white. A cold sweat stood upon his forehead. He diew up a chair and seated himself. Mr, Darling’s eyes regarded him curiously. ‘‘And you believe them?’ asked Bob, with a recovery of his self-possession. “T have not said that. But they offer to fur- nish proofs and witnesses.” “Very well,” replied Bob, calmly. ‘‘And I her pod I may fornish proofs and witnesses. so “Certainly.” ‘*My proofs are, then, that if I had been a why to this robbery the ils would have n more than a paltry fifteen hundred dol- the street rather longer, instead of having these men chased and captured. My witnesses are the persons who took part in the pursuit.” ‘You are right, Robert,” said Mr. Darling. rising from his seat, and holding out his han to the young man. ‘I did not for a moment believe them, but wished to see how you would take this accusation. The bare word of a crew of villains is not proof against faithful servi- tude, and creditable evidence. You will con- tinue in your position in the bank.” Bob breathed hard on finding himself in ths street again, and free from this inquisition. That he was not safe ho well knew. Mr. Dar- ling’s confidence in him might not be shared by’ the public. The prisoners, so far, had only made a statement, They might bring some proof of it. There was Sal, Rusty Mike’s wife, who knew of the plan, and he might havo been seen by others in that locality. Something must be done, and at once. They must be fright~- ened off or bought off. Bought off? But where was the money to buy them? Bob had a little of his own. He was in the bad habit of living close to his income. he could recover the stolen funds now, Who was the drunken sailor with the men, whose face seemed so familiar to Lim? He set himself tothinking. But his reflections. upon this point were soon interrupted by a ligh’; touch upon tho shoulder. He turned sharply around. There stood the form of his sportine friend, Roger Glindon. “Just heard of that accident, Bob,” said the latter. “Step in here; a glass of ale will do you ood. I want to talk that affair over with you. euced shrewd in you, if we are to believe the papers.” “Td like to punch that editor’s head,” replied, Bob. ‘‘And don’t know but [ will yet.”
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Bob Rockett, the Bank Runner. | 9 “This table. It is private and confidential, | « None of that,” said Bobcoolly. ‘‘ I’m afraid and that is what I want now.—Two glasses of your best Philadelphia brew,” to the waiter. ‘ Was it, or was it not, a set thing, Bob? Come, ou may be square up with me. I have an inkling of a plan in view.” “Set? No! Blast their light fingers!” The waiter at this moment brought the foam- ing beverage. They were silent until he had gone again. Then Roger took a sip from bis glass, and, setting it down again, leaned back and fixed his eyes steadily upon Bob. ‘*My plan concerns Paul Essex.” “The deuce!” exclaimed Bob, his face sud- denly lighting up. ‘‘ I’m your man, then.” ‘That fellow is in my way.” ‘And mine. I owe him a grudge.” “T have nothing personal against him. But— we are in pursuit of the same woman, You un- derstand.” ‘I'd be thick-headed if I didn’t.” “Tt would do no good to break kis leg, or any such trifling accident. That would only add pity to love. But if I break his honor, make him disgraceful. How then?” He coolly took a long draught of the ale, while he waited Bob’s reply. “T see. But how? And what has that to do with my adventure?” + you know these two robbers?” “ oO. ‘*Don’t lie to me, Bob. You do. What’s more, they claim that the robbery was a set thing; a scheme of your own. I am posted, you “By Jove, youare. i givein, then. I know them. But the rest isa lie. Why hang it, man! T wouldn’t be flourishing an empty this minute, if I had played a game like that.” “it was a set thing, Bob.” here was a sin- ister gleam in Roger’s eyes as he spoke. “Tt was, eh?’ With Paul Essex.” He looked steadily and meaningly at his com- panion. ‘Hal By the Lord, I begin to see.” ‘Will money buy these men?” “You bet. Body and soul.” “Tt’s a clear game, then. You shall have your revenge, and I my clear field. Ishall not spare money, I promise you. But there are others to buy. We must leave no loophole “There is Rusty Mike’s wife,” remarked b. “Secure her then. Find her price. I will be paymaster. And who is the third man in this robbery? The one who escaped?’ ‘That is what I cannot tell you.” ‘*-You must find out. I will try and discover from the prisoners. But do you try too. Imay fail. You may succeed.” Bob sat silent for some moments. ‘‘T will try,” he then said. ‘‘ 1 have an idea.” Bob’s idea was not a bad one. An hour after- ward found him in a disreputable locality on the East River side of New York. The night was a cold one, and he shivered as a chill river wind swept up the narrow street, although he pheony O y enveloped ina thick beaver over- coat. “This must be the den,” he surmised. ‘I am glad of it, too, for I want to get out of this rosty air.” The place which he now entered was a low drinking saloon, fitted up with some slight ef: fort at smartness in its row of na eo various n iquors, but otherwise a dilapidated and ieardaas look. : A number of boozy individuals were present, the most of them gathered around a table where two of the party were intent upon a game of dominoes, over which enough oaths were spilt to furnish a small-sized Pandemonium. Behind the bar stood a raw-boned, hard-faced fellow, with the red sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbow. He looked the very picture of a —_ 1ere was a stare of surprise from ides on Bob’s entrance to the hem He was _- Sea eort of a customer they were used to seeing there. One of the lookers-on whistled in a low tone and winked to his companion. ‘‘Is that coon gone adrift?’ he whispered. ‘* Why he’s rigged as nobby as a juke. I con- ceit he mough be wuth goin’ through.” Money vy was the short reply of bis com- rade; but it was accompani i wink panied by a meaning ' walked up to the bar. The e with the instinet of his rofession, tnocknetec iy? set st fs —— = kept his eye fixed on customer witha dou - what threatening glance, fast $a ee ket at |. | I warmed you up on the stone my taste is spoiled for your brand of tipple. Not to say but it’s good enough for them that likes it. But don’t you know me, Phil Foots?’ ‘*No. Tl be shot if I do?” ‘Maybe I’ve changed something since the day ile. Or the night that we tore out the variety shop.” he fellow cast a quick glance at Bob. ““Thunderation, if it ain’t!” he ejaculated. ‘** Blast me if it isn’t Bob Rockett! How do vou do, anyhow?” and he seized Bob’s hand in a crush- ing grip. ‘* Why blast it all, it’s enough to cure sore eyes to look at you! You haven't dropped into a gold mine, have you? Or made a big stake on change?” . * Not much,” replied Bob. ‘Shoot me if you ain’t got toimbibe then! I kin give you a pony of pure Custom House stuff as will make yer eyes water. Don’t keep it fur everybody. But fur an old friend, like you— Taste that, Bob, and tell me if it’s good.” ‘*Prime,” answered Bob, swallowing the strong liquor. ‘* It’s first crop, Bob.—Blame me if I knowed what’d come of you. Ain’t seen you fur years. Like thunderin’ well to have a chat over old times.” The conversation continued between Bob and his old acquaintance. The group surrounding the domino-players regained their interest in the game, after the first novelty of this strange arrival had worn off. Bob and Phil fell to conversing in a lower tone. ‘‘A chap with a wen over his eye? Dresses like a sailor? Sings and sells ballads?” ‘* Just so,” answered Bob. “‘Do [know him? Well, I rather judge.” “ Ai!” cried Bob, his eyes lighting up. “Don’t I know him — Why that’s To ary A high old coon, too. He’s one of old Smu ge’s angels. You recollect old Smudge?’ Bob’s eyes flashed with sudden remembrance, The whole thing lit up before him ata glance. Old Smudge! Topheavy! How could he ever have a them? A broad picture of his past life lay open before him. *“You’re a coon, Phil,” he cried, squeezing the rough fellow’s hand. ‘‘ I’ve got some business with Topheavy.” CHAYTER VIII. BOB MAKES A PURCHASE, THE reader may have some recollection of old Smudge’s den, as described in a former story of the life of Bob Rockett. But for those who have failed to read that section of an authentic his- tony we may here repeat that it contained a collection of second-hand articles of every sible description, gathered within the one-time parlor of an old mansion, formerly known as the Rensselaer house, but now uced to un- dreamed-of vileness. The articles dealt in by old Smudge were gained in a variety of ways. He was now ready to loan, now to buy, now to act as a fence to any successful thief. And the rumor in the neighborhood was that he kept a number of private thieves of his own, who, under the guise of mendicants, paid well for their keep in the my of pilf articles, © keeper of this delectable establishment was a spider-shaped old os. with small head, swollen body, falcon-like fingers, hooked nose, and eyes full of a foxy cunning. He was dress- ed in an old pray coat, thatcame nearly to his heels, while his head was covered by a greasy silk handkerchief, knotted at the corners. Such as we have described him old Smudge sat in the midst of his miscellaneous collection, which overflowed shelves and tables, and found, here and there, lodging-room on the floor of his dusty apartment. A very small fire burned in a very small stove, in the center of the room, over which the old rogue crouched, absorbing as much coal gas as heat, But he started from this position on hearing a sound at the door, and raised himself into an attitude of attention. “* Aha!” he cried, rubbing his hands. ‘“ Dat ish de cushtomer step. we to puy dish mornin’. It ish very well. De old man ish always ready to puy or to sell.” It was, indeed, a heavy and confident tread, not the shuffling or the creeping step of the shiftless or the criminal classes, The door flew open under a strong hand, and a well-dressed, stout-built man entered the room, no other than Bob Rockett, in fact. He looked around him curiously at the mis- cellaneous ao at poo, which comprised articles of every grade of value, anything from a pair of second-hand shoes to a diamond bracelet being grist to old Smudge’s mill. Meanwhile the old fellow was regarding him with equal intentness. He had a retentive memory of faces, and felt sure that he had scen this important-looking personage before, Lut just where was not so easy to settle. He grew troubled in his mind. It was not often that he was thus baffled by a face, and he felt uneasy under this failure in his memory. Bob helped himself toa creaking chair, and faced the proprietor of the den. “How d’ye do, friend Smudge?’ he asked. at a prime stock of goods in this evening, “Not sho pad Net < we ,” muttered the old fellow, as he piaced the lamp so that it would shine cn his visitor’s face. ‘‘Dosh der gen’Iman want to puy? Got some nice gcots.” ‘* Well, I don’t know,” drawled Bob. “ Might be ppm to a bargain if it offered.” ‘* What can 1 show Mishter—Mishter— der name, eh? It’s sort o’ shlipped me.” looked at Bob with a foxy cunning. “We will wait till it comes back again,” Bob coolly repliec. ‘‘Iam not here to sell, even a name. Perhaps I might buy one, though. You keep some boarders; eh, smudge?” ‘** What hash dat to do mit it?” ‘*That is no answer to my question.” “*Sphose der ish some gen’lemen dat keep: de old mangompany? Whatifderish hey? ‘*Nothing. Oniy I wanted to see a friend of ours that flourishes the sweet name of Top- eavy. A little matter of business. you under stand.” “Topheavy?’ The old fellow looked at him cunningly. ‘‘Why dat one’s gone. Dvad, I sphose. Topheavy? Yes, I remembers him. hat you wart to puy, hey ”” “You infernai oid lar? said Bob tc himse!f. “Then I shafi have to hunt him elsewhere,” he said aloud. ‘You can’t direct me where to find him?’ ‘*He ish dead, I sphose. Dat’s what dey aR keeps doin’. Don’t of’n come pack to worry folks. What you want to puy, hey?’ At this constant return to the charge Bob rose from his chair and began to make a critical survey of his surroundings. There was certain~ ly an excellent opportunity to select. “What do you call this?’ “Dat? Dat’s a nutmeg grater.” Vat’s He @® ‘“Don’t want it. Have no nutmegs to grate. And this?” “* Dat’s a pair of sphurs.” ‘*And I haven’t a horse. S01 don’t want your spurs. And what is this?” ‘* Dat’s a seven shooter. What you calls a re- volver.” ‘Bless us, you don’t say that? As I’m goin West next month something of this kind might be useful.” Bob examined the weapon with a critical eye. “‘T never saw that style,” he remarked, ** How does the thundering affair load?” “Give him here,” answered the old man. “*It ish ferry easy. I keep some cartridge here, you shee.” He opened a drawer in his table and took from it some pistol cartridges. “It ish vot you calla breech loader. Put de cartridge in dese holes, Den pull dish handle, and de thing’s loaded.” “Why bless us, it’s easy!” cried Bob, inseem- ing admiration. ‘In the part of the country I come from they don’t have it down se fine, Have to ram powder and bullets in at the muz- zle. Is there powder and ball both in those cartridges?” The old fellow broke one open to show bim how they were made. He looked up into Bob’s face with a leer of seeming stupidity. ‘* And what’s the plunder for this affair?” “Ten tollars. And dog cheap.” “Ten? I'll give you five.” Old Smudge vigorously demurred. But Bob was an e enced buyer, and in ten minutes he owned the pistol, at an outlay of six dollars, “Got any more of those mer yins soi ‘* Maybe one or two more,” said the old fox, opening the drawer again and taking out a couple of ges. ; oo aetpeed over om sre But suddenly is hand slip them and into the partl open drawer. When it came out again it held a revolver, enough like the one he had bought to be its mate. _ “Excuse me, old Smudge, but I like this one better, I think I will exchange.” “No, no. no. I sell yon t’other. not dat. You gif me dat!” He leaned over the table with bands gut- IT sell you
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e 10 stretched like eagie’s claws. denly haggard with anxiety. ‘*Don’t get excited, old chap. I am a bit nervous, and this thing might go off. don’t mind suppose you take me up-stairs for a call on your boarders.” As he spoke he presented the pistol at the old rogue in an apparently careless manner. But old Smudge was not so easily frightened. ‘Tf you’s on de shoot, maybe you’d best took His face was sud- t’?other,” he ejaculated, we the pistol that *Now s’phose you drop | | There is such a thing as overplaying a game. | lay upon the table. dat, cause my pistol’s got a load in him, and yourn’s got nix nothing. Dat is what I t’inks.” “Let drive then, old chap. Here’s a good | target.” Bob dropped his pistol-hand and drew himself erect. ‘“*Vot? ‘You want me shoot you, hey?” © “Yes. If you can do it with a blank cart- ridge. Blaze away, old hoss.” Old Smudge looked troubled. ‘oPain’t nary blank cartridge,” he cried. “Dare’s de one I opened. Maybe dat ain’t no bullet, den?” ** Ail correct, my old fox. And here’s another opened. Let us see what’s in this,” Bob tore open one of the cartridges which lay upon the table. per a stream of powder grains. the empty paper. bullet. He dropped “So, who is right now, Smudgy?”’ he re- | marked, looking into the old fellow’s pallid face. | “And now, maybe you're as badly mistaken about this pistol. Maybe these ain’t ball-cart- ridges in the chambers. Aha! you old coon, that wasa smart trick of yours. Stand still there. I won’t spoil any more of these cart- ridges by breaking them open; but I will try | whether they are loaded with ball or not. Don’t stir now. It won’t hurt youif it is blank; and I only want to satisfy myself.” He raised the pistol and took point-blank aim at the old rascal, who crouched suddenly to the floor, holding up bis hands in terror, while his face grew milky while. **Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” he screamed. he tells you mitout shootin’, It ish got a bul. et.” ‘*Oh! it has a bullet, then? Very well, that saves me from the expense of wasting one on your old carcass. For Pll swear that you’re not | worth the price ofa pistol charge. Get up now, you thundering sly old hound. Don’t keep jab- ring there, hang you! I am not going through our silly old trash, so you needn’o be scared. ut I want to make a social call on your board- ers, and if you don’t get up and lead me to them very quick Iam afraid this confounded affair will go off yet.” “Yes, yes,” cried the old fellow, springi up with alacrity. ‘‘ Why, shertainly. Degen’- leman wants to shee my boarters. Why, juss you secure dis way. Itakes you mit ’em right 0 He led the es through the door so quickly that Bob had to hurry to keep up with him. He Phoeties had an idea of escaping. But, if so, is pursuer had no idea of letting him escape. Old Smudge led the way up a flight of steps. As he neared their top he was taken with a sud- den fit of coughing, which caused him to stop and almost strangle in the effort to clear his throat. ° ‘‘ Der dusht ish so pad,” he stammered. “The dust, eh? ell, I’ve got a sure cure for cougaing. Turn this way and I will give it to ou.” Old Smudge turned and started back in ter- | ror on finding that the muzzle of the pistol was almost touching his temple. _ “Its now, I tell you. You see, the ver — of the bottle has cured you. Lead on now. he old rogue, quite cu of his cough, led on, his face growing more pallid. At the topof the stairs a door led to a large room on the third floor of the house. This he entered. _ one time been a richly wainscotted and frescoed apartment, somo slight trace of its former rag. pices showing through the dilapidation. In the center of the room was a long, rough ta- ble. Near it was a stove, around which sat three men, busily enge in smoking. “* Are these some of them?” asked Bob, hiding “Yes. Dose are some of my poys.” Bob looked at them critical ‘ Two of them were not at.all like the man he was seeking; one being too tall and thin, the other short and with a bumped back. The third was about the proper size. But his dress had not the most remote resemblance to that of a sailor; while his face was free from the disfigur- If you | | | ‘Very well. There fell from the open pa- | There was no sound of a | | is Topheavy !” | up with an injured air. |} me into it, neck and heels.” wron, It had at | Bob Rockett, the Bank Runner. : ing wen which had so strongly marked Top- | heavy’s countenance.. And the heavy beard of the assumed sailor was replaced here by a short unshaved bristle of hair. Bob took a quick survey cf these men. | “My man is not here,” be said. ‘‘ Where are | the others?” | ‘*Didn’t the old man tell ye dat Topheavy | | washn’t here no more? Topheavy ish gone | away, I tells you. Is’phose he ish dead. But no matters, you can shee de oders. Come dis | way.” And overplay is often more dangerous than un- derplay. Old Smudge fancied that he was acting with particular shrewdness at the very moment that he was defeating himself by his smartness, Bob had made a discovery. But he only | looked from the old fellow to the men, and then | carelessly said: Lead on.” Smudge walked toward a door at the lower end of the room, Bob following him. But the earg of the latter were alert for the least sound. In Pact, just as the conductor hed reached tho door in question, Bob quickly turned, pistol in hand, and the muzzle directed toward the other door. “Stand there!” he commanded. “Or Tll | bore a hole through you, assure as your name | | The fellow with the bristly beard had his | hand on the door, and was on the point of | leaving the room. He dropped the door handle | as if it had been made of red-hot iron, and | stood in a stupefied attitude. ‘But you ish mistaken,” and the old man | gave a discordant laugh. ‘‘ Dat ish not Top- | heavy. Dat ish mine cousin from Germany, | Hans Junkmann. Ha! ha! Vata mistake dat | wash!” | “Dry up, old Smudge. The trick’s played, and I have won the game. Come, Topheavy, don’t try to play ‘possum on me, for I know you | like a breeze.” “What do you want?’ asked the man, hoarsely. ‘* Your pals have split on you, and sold out the whole game. I want that bank-book, with allits contents, or devil take me, if I won’t bore you with a bullet first, and jug you after- ward!” CHAPTER IX. AN INTERVIEW IN THE TOMBS. THE two prisoners were in tho same cell in the Tombs, which delectable establishment was much too well patronized to give each of its guests a separate apartment. Rusty Mike sat on the side of the bed, his elbows on his knees, and his chin resting on his hands. ‘May the devil fly away with me for an in- fernal donkey!” he angrily growled. ‘Not two months out of quod. and to get myself jpseed a iin! And it’s all your devilish fault, au Bink.” ‘I'd like to know how?’ asked Beau, lookin “Why, you dragg ‘“You were too rascally ready to go. If | you’d kicked, I’d ’a’ backed down.” “That's mighty comfortin’,” answered Beau, | with a grimace. ‘‘ Here I’ve been in business | for twenty years, and never had bugetn on the | side of iron bars: before. ou jerk me into this hole, and then give me rats for gettin’ | in. That’s most decid rich.” ‘“Dry up!” roared Mike. ‘‘ Yer enough to | | make a hoss sick when you git started. Yer | allers moralizin’, blast you! I hate moralizin’, and all that sort of truck. Are yegoin’ to dry = now fore I bu’st yer head, you thunderin’ | old skin and bones?” One would have thought, from Mike’s fury, | that Beau was trying h to force some nn- palatable doctrine on him, instead of sitting mute, and a little frightened. ‘It’s jist like yer blatherin’; ther’s no. bridlin’ that trotting ton of yourn.” e relapsed into silence for a moment. ‘“Maybe ther’s a pair of us, though,” he re- sumed. ‘‘ Bob Rockett told me plain enough | that if I kicked ag’in’ him he’d make me sweat. I might ’a’ known that he was jist the chap to | do it. But blast him, it’s queer if we don’t put | a feather in his cap!” |, At this moment some one stopped opposite | the cell. The prisoners became quiet and at- | tentive, as they heard the unlocking of the | ) door. The next instant it was epened. “ This is the cell,” remarked the keeper. ‘‘ Do | not be long, I will be close at } and.” | : | ain’t fun!” eried Mike. A tall, well-built, and handsomely-dressed gentleman, strange to both the prisoners, enter- ed, and the door was closed and fastened behind him. He stood looking at them, with a peculiarly impassive expression of countenance, until they grew restless under his gaze. ** Which of you is Rusty Mike?” “Not that half-and-half dandy you bet,” growled Mike.” I calculate that name fits me best.” ‘* And you are Beau Bink?” “ That's what my friends call me. was christened Beau. But—” ‘‘That will answer,” replied the visitor, shortly. ‘‘Ard you are in for_reLbing Bob Rockett, runner for the Provident Bank, during his business rounds.” ‘* And what’s the odds, if we is?’ asked Mike, with a savage look, The visitor stood in an easy attitude, one foot resting on the rail of the bed, his left hand in his pocket. ‘* Ana you accuse Bob Reckett of laying this game himself, and of sharing the spoils with you?” * “ 'That’s about the looks of it,” replied Beau. ‘*It was a set thing, right out.” ‘* Excuse me,” said the visitor, in his cool way, “‘ but you areslightly mistaken.” “The hell we ere!” roared Mike, in a tone divided between anger and surprise. ‘¢Yes,” and the speaker folded his arms, and looked steadily @own upon them. ‘It was a cet thing, no doubt. But Bob Reckett was not in the game.” ‘“Who was, then?” asked Beau. ‘ Being’s you know so much, maybe you'll tell us that.” ‘Precisely. That is what lam here for.” ‘“Well, you’re a ccol coon,” growled Mike, looking up with astonishment. ‘‘l’ve seen smart ducks afore, but you take the rag off the bush. Maybe you'll let us know what you're Not as I | arter, if we wait a year or two more.” ‘There is no doubt that it wasa set-up job,” repeated the visitor, in an unchanged tone. | “Paul Essex, one of the book-keepers of the bank, who has a desperate spite against Bob Rockett, laid this plan to ruin him. e engaged you to rob him, and to accuse him as an accom- plice, if you should be taken. For this service he was to divide the spoils with you, and to get | you out of the clutches of the law. rumdocdled if this hy, blast my eyes, if I ever heard the chap’s name afore!” ‘Drop that, now, Mike,” rejoined Beau, with a meaning look. ‘Let the gentleman get through. Maybe he can prove—” **T can only try to convince you,” interrupt- ed the visitor. “‘By arguing the point, you ‘“* Well, may I be onggpr d ae know. Suppose you let me hear your reasons why itis not so, Then I will»give you mine why it is.” Mike looked up into the iryperturbable face that surveyed him with such ‘easy coolness. Shrewd as he was he could not guess what was in the wind. ** Why, the thing don’t stand to no reason,” he os out. ‘“‘ never twigged sich a chap in my ife. ‘*T disremember, jist at present, anything. of the sort,” answered vith a meaning wink to Mike. “But, o¢ course, I can’t/be sure till I hear the gentleman’s reasons.” ‘‘T have them here,” replied the visitor, as he pulled out a well-filled pocket-book and deliber- ately selected ‘from it two bank ‘bills of large denomination. ‘‘ Acts speak louder than wo youknow. Just try, now, if you can’t recollect something about what I have said.” “ Why, now I think,” began Beau. But Mike more him by a sharp pinch. ‘What’s about the size of that argument of yourn?” he asked. \ “This, for a inning.” He held under their eyes\a pair of hundred-dollar bills. ** Paul Essex? Paul Essex?” cogitated Mike. “Why, blame it, I do begin to get hold of the chap now, Can’t fetch back the set thing, though. _It’ll take another argument for that.” ‘This is only a first dose for yc ur sick mem- ory,” replied the visitor, ‘‘When you remem- ber the whole story, and inform the authorities that you made a mistake, and that it was Paul Essex, not Bok Rockett, who hired you to the plot, I fancy I can find an ar, ent just twice as strong as this. And if the affair works well enough tolay this ex-confederate of yorrs by the heels, I promise to get you out of this ny a ‘* Kin you €o it?” cried Mike, excitedly. ‘“*T bave dono haréer tings.’ orm vnImyerman, What d’ye say, Beau?
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B Ain’t you ’sperienced a change of memory, as | the Methoders say?” | ‘Tt’s just surprisin’ how things does come | back to one,” replied Beau, his habitual smile | expanding into a broad grin of satisfaction. **Very well, then. Just tell me how the | whole affair happened,” continued the visitor. | ‘*J don’t know the whole game, and would like to hear how it all occurred. And then, there may be some points on which I can refresh your memory.” He waited patiently for the requested story, | Mike looking at him in a puzzied tashion. The | stranger had certainly not made any assertions. He had only ‘‘refreshed their memories.” Did he really think that this Paul Essex was con- nected with the robbery? Mike could not quite satisfy himself on that point. A half hour more passed before the interview ended. There was a peculiar smile on the visi- tor’s face as he left the prison. The plan had fully succeeded. ‘*Tf Bob does his share of the game properly we will have our friend Paul in serious trouble,” he muttered, ‘‘ And then to see how Grace De- lorme will feel toward her unfortunate youn lover. By the Lord, he shall not have her, if have to spring the other trap on him!” A few hours afterwards the speaker, Roger Glindon, met Bob Rockett at a previously-ar- ranged rendezvous. This was at Joe Cracker’s establishment, a place to which the reader was introduced in the first chapter. They kad obtained a table in a private room, back of the main eating saloon. Here, over a chop and a glass of ale, they prepared to dis- cuss matters more important than the food before them. ‘““My fishing went just as I expected,” re- marked Roger. ‘‘Of course you only need to | bait your hook well to catch that sort of trout. But what have you done?” Bob proceeded to relate his adventure at old Smudge’s den. After telling what the reader | already knows, he continued: ‘‘T knew my man was there. The old coon’s coughing spell on the stairs was only a signal. And when we were in the room he kept mouth- ing over Topheavy’s name, till I saw there was an egg somewhere in the wool. One of the chaps had turned a trifle pale on seeing me. | But, then, he hadn’t my man’s whiskers nor his | wen. However, as we were going out of the door I caught him sneaking out at the other. It was his side face I glimpsed then, and I knew my man on the ay ‘And what afterward?’ “T drew a bee-line on him with the old hound’s seven-shooter, and Topheavy came to time in the neatest. fashion you ever saw. The rest of them I ordered out of the room, with a very persuasive argument, They went. Then I had a private interview with my friend Top- heavy. I don’t want to brag of my reasoning pow but I did convince that man, first that e had a hand in the rebbery, second that he had the spoils act in him to hand ‘them | over. seven-shooter hel The very sight o the first two points. But I had to send a bullet through his bair, within half an inch of his ear, | before I could make him see the force of my last point. However, he came up nobly. And —don’t tell me I was weak-minded, Roger—but I did make him a present of a ten-dollar bill for ) Of course the amazingly in the business. | pearance. | inquiringly on the | ling, “and of the room. | ter which had made any tolerable sleigbing in and third that: it would be a noble | \ was incessant, as sleigh after sleigh dashed on- ' ward, laden with merrymakers, in whom ha it cleared up his memory on } 3° 1 haa | beaver coats. | pair of light-stepping _ with starting re ‘a | unable his honesty. Virtue always deserves to be re- | warded. Roger laughed at Bob’s idea of honesty. “ And He | cool, im took a cut of the chop before again speaking. | you have the spoils?” he asked. “ Yes, the door, in order to see that ti nor eyes inconveniently near. He then returned to the table, and teok from his inner pocket a long and wide leather book, re were no ears apparently well filled. This he laid on the table . be _ street sought to Rete Die with the swift grays ore : The latter took it up and opened it, making a rapid examination of its contents, Plenty of drafts, fee se the like; but | nomoney. Where is the ‘* Confiscated et. “I fancy I as much right as Topheavy to be rewarded for my virtue.” Roger laughed, while he continued his investi - gation of the book. ‘The old story was ‘to the victor belong the spoils,’” he remarked, ‘You have changed that. ‘To the vietim belong the spoils,’ is your version. Your friends did not make much by their enterprise. Two of them locked up, and the third with a ten-dollar bill for his trouble. | However, as I am to give them the reward of a | soplied Bob, slapping his pock- | replied Bob, rising, and walking to animals with the skill of a practiced horseman. , Vocal with the ringing music of a thousand tink- ling bells. ob Rockett, the Bank Runner. good memory they may come out all right in which the sun poured his bright beams, causing | the snow-crystals to sparkle as if the streets the end. I wish the loan of this book, Bob.” “Tt’s yours, my boy. our chop and get out of here. It might not be safe for us to be seen too much together, just at present.” And now let’s finish _ Two days more passed away. On the succeed- | ing day Mr. Darling came late into the bank, it | | being after one o’clock before he made his ap- An expression of strange preoccupa- | lanced | tion and trouble was upon his face. He with a look of disquiet at the busy clerks, and yassed on somewhat hastily to his private room. | tere he found one of the principal directors of the bank awaitiug him. The latter was a stout, florid man, with a re- markable expanse of waistcoat. He looked up i resident’s entrance. “Well?” he asked. “It is really so?” “Yes,” replied Mr. Darling, sinking some- what wearily into his chair. ‘But that is only a charge. There was as much | were strewn with diamonds. The air was chilly yet, but, nestled under robes and furs, the pleasure-seekers defied the winter’s frosty pieeih, and laughed in the teeth of the north-west wind as they flew lightly onward. ‘‘Come on!’ cried Roger, to a brace of gentle- men drivers, who were trying to keep pace with him. ‘Here isa clear field and no favors. If you have a fancy to try what is in your horses, now is your chance.” He was holding in his animals as he spoke. Accepting the defiance the two gentlemen touched their horses with the whip, and drove on at a rattling speed. Roger fell somewhat in the rear, they turning to him with mocking laughter as they found that they were drawing ahead of him. ‘‘Push on!” he cried, smiling. ‘‘I only want | to give you a fair start.” made against young Rockett. These fellows are | | music to your grays.” not to be believed without proof. ' Have you seen the wife of this Mike Crapper?’ ‘‘ She is in the same story,” replied Mr. Dar- | gives so many details, that if it is all false, she must have a powerful im- agination.” “What further?’ asked the director, looking | at the troubled face of the president. “A search warrant has been obtained. Paul’s | room is being examined. As yet all is in doubt. If nothing is found there, these fellows’ words | are no evidence. they say—” He paused, as a hand was heard on the door If, on the contrary, it be as yerson entered, and closed the door carefully ehind him. He walked up to the table, with his eyes fixed ina peculiar lock on the two bank magnates. ‘Well? asked the director. Mr. Darling remained silent, though his face was full of questioning anxiety. The new-comer said nothing. He simply in- serted his hand in the inside pocket of his coat, | drew something thence, and laid it before their eyes on the table. lt was Bob Rockett’s runner’s book! “Paul Essex is the man,” he said. CHAPTER X. THE PERILS OF RACING, THE snow was falling heavily in the streets of New York. It had been snowing since mid- night and the pavements were now covered to the depth of several inches with their chill white carpet. < Sleighs were already out, taking advantage of this fortunate snowfall, the first of the win- the New York avenues. On Fifth avenue the cheerful rattle of bells hearts beat warmly under furred rebes and One of these handsome vehicles, drawn by a ays, dashed onward ity, their'driver being either or unwilling to check’ his mettlesome steeds, which dragged the light vehicle as if it was but a feather. Yet a firm hand was on their reins, and a ve eye watched every movement of the swift horses, for it was Roger Glindon who occupied the sleigh, and controlled the He wasalone. The yehicle, indeed, was only intended for two, being a light, shell-like toy of a sleigh, yet in reality as stanch as though made in every part of tem 1. More than one of the other drivers on the but they were all ced, the loud, jingle of the bells seeming to send back a laughing defi- ance:to all competitors. On and on they went, withlaugh and merry glee, new sleighs wheel- ing into the avenue, until it was crowded’ with the swift-gliding teams, while the air seemed As the suburban portions of the city were | reached the number of vehicles somewhat thin- ned out, while the speed of those remaining in- | creased, and merry defiances passed from one | to another as a racing trot succeeds the slower , pace further down the snow-clad avenue. And now the snow ceased, it being quickly followed by a break in the clouds, through It opened, and a sharp-looking | i Pea we: tee ee, ee ee ee * Pass us, if you dare!” came the defiant_re- sponse. ‘You will need to give some more leg- ‘“We shall see,” replied Roger. He loosened the firm grip which he had kept upon his reins, shook them over the backs of his mettlesome steeds, and sat back with a slight smile showing his white teeth. With a quick leap the horses darted onward. Swiftly as the two racing sleighs in advance were going, ina minute they were overtaken. For an instant the three light vehicles ran side by side. Then that of Roger drew ahead, he looking back on his excited competitors with that mocking smile which he had worn since the first challenge. “You will need another touch of the whip, gentlemen,” he called back. ‘‘ Have you any advices for Harlem? If you have, you had bet- {er send them by my two-horse express.” “That is only a spurt,” replied one of the others, a little angrily. ‘‘We will soon lap that up again.” Roger laughed incredulously. In advance were several other sleighs, moving more slowly. One by one these were reached and by the racing trio. They were now approaching one, a pretty little basket-work affair, which did not seem in- clined to draw out to make way for the racers, as the others had done. As they neared it, Ro- ger, now a full length in advance of his com- petitors, shot so closely by it that the driver, in ae alarm, drew his horses suddenly to the eft. This was an unfortunate movement. The racing sleigh upon that side of the street came upon this awkward obstruction so quickly that it was impossible to avoid it. The horses dashed ast without touching, but the sleigh struck it eavily. There was a sound of crashing tim- bers, followed by the gasping cry of a woman, and a heavy fall. The sleigh had been overturned, and thrown out one of its occupants. The other was still clinging to the reins, his feet on a portion of the broken vehicle attached to the frightened horses. At the ery Roger Glindon reined in his grays, looking around to see what had happened. e other racers did the same. Roger, in fact, drew his animals around in such a way as to crowd the excited horses, with their imperiled driver, to the side of the road. He jammed ae 5 in here so closely that they soon came to a halt. The young man who had been bearing with all his weight upon the reins now ran to their eet and in a minute had them under con- trol. “Can you manage them?” asked Roger. “Yes. They are gentler. ey will be over their fright ina minute. Will you please look after the lady?” When Roger reached the broken sleigh he found that his two rivals in the race had just icked up the lady from her unpleasant position n the snow. She seemed dazed, but not insensible, and stood resting on the proffered arm of one of the gentlemen Ina weak but graceful manner. ‘Ts she hurt?” asked r, anxiously. ‘No, sir. Ithank you for your interest,” re- plied the lady herself, turning toward the speaker. < Good heavens!” he cried. ‘‘ Grace—Mrs. Delorme! is it you who have been put in such imminent peril?’ “Mr. Glindon!” she replied, in a tone of equal surprise. ‘It is fortunate to have met you. But my poor cousin, is he injured?” “Oh, no! he and the horses are all right.
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12 Bat he will need co look after them. My sleigh is at your service to retnrn home.” The young man came up at this instant, having fastened the horses. ‘‘[ hardly know what to do,” he remarked. | “Tf one ot these gentlemen could send me a person to look after the horses. But how are you to return?’ loo! upon his young face. ‘* How are you, Louis?” asked Roger, holding out his hand to the youth, over whose tace flashed a look of pleased recognition. take Mrs. Delorme home. I presume you can manage with the horses then.” ‘Oh, yes! Thank you, And the sleigh is | past management. I shall be much obliged to | you, Mr. Glindon,” . j ' Grace turned to the other gentlemen, and | thanked them in her sweet voice for the service | they bad rendered her. ‘*Not me, I beg you,” said one of them. ‘‘ My awkwordness caused all this trouble.” ‘*The awkwardness was on our side,” she re- plied. ‘And yet, you will excuse me, gentle- men, for saying that this street is too much frequented for racing.” She stepped into Roger’s sleigh, into which he crowded the blankets and furs which had fallen from hers, wrapping her up in the warmest | manner. ‘*But are you “i Louis?” she anxicnsly asked. you get home yourself?” ‘*T shall have no difficulty,” he replied, with a look of relief. °I am only too lad that you are so well cared for. I can ride the horses home, if nothing better offers.” The other two gentlemen were by this time in their sleighs, and cyviving onward, one of them rather glad to geiavay from the damage he had done. ‘* That’s all right, Louis,’ remarked Roger, as he gathered up the reins. but that you can manage horses. Good-day.” The next moment the swift steeds were travel- ing homeward at a rapid pace, the occupants of the sleigh so buried in robes that they scarcely felt the cutting wind. There was silence between these two, so un- expectedly thrown together, for several minutes. Roger appeared too much occupied with his horses for conversation, while the lady leaned back in her seat with an air of relief, as if she felt tat silence secured her from an embarrass- ing situation. But as they neared the vicinity of the park he drew the horses to a slower pace, and let the reins rest easily in his hand as he turned to his companion. ‘** You are silent,” he remarked, in an inquir- ing tone. ‘‘ I hope you were not really hurt.” ‘Not at all, Mr. Glindon. A little nervously shaken, it is true; but not injured in any de- gree.” ‘Then why so silent?’ ‘*But we were both silent,” she answered; a little eonfusedly. ‘‘ Probably because you were occupied and I was resting.” * That was not my reason,” he replied. ‘ It was, rather, because I could hardly b my- self to speak, after your letter; that cruel letter that cut off from me all hope.” “I beg you will not refer to it,” she replied. * But w ty should I not? No decision is utter- ly final. You may have written hastily. Your sentiment may have changed since then.” ** Tt has not changed,” she coldly responded. ‘* Yet it is hard to be dismissed without a rea- son; banished without a crime,” he isted, ‘* Forgive me for insisting, Grace, but why have you rejected my love?” She started at this direct question. Her eyes flashed with a sense of anger. A moment’s hes- itation, and then she answered: ‘** Bocause I do not love you in return.” ‘“No, no!” he quickly exclaimed; “it is be- cause—” ‘* Because what, sir?” ‘* }xcuse me for saying that I am well aware of ihe attentions paid you by Paul Essex; and of (uc cause of my suit being so unsuccessful.” ‘* Sir!” Her cheek was red with anger. “ Will you be kind enough to stop the sleigh. I did not at pa escort for the purpose of being in- suited, _ ~ Nor do I dream of any intention of insult,” he replied, hiseye keeping its cold fixed glare. * L speak of Paul Essex’s attentions for another ‘yeaSon, You are surely aware of the change in liis position?” ‘*T do not know what you mean, sir.” ‘* But Las your father not informed you?’ ‘*He has told me nothing.” She looked at the speaker with grow ing inquistude. ght sure you can manage, ** And how will \ He wore a somewhat helpless | “T will | “*There is no doubt | | ‘*And have you observed nothing? In his , manner, I mean.” | ‘Yes. He has seemed troubled and self-dis- tracted.” She was growing pale, and her eyes were full of pleading inquiry. ‘Oh, sir! do not keep me in suspense! If anything serious has happened to Paul—to Mr. Essex, tell me at onee. Has any accident—” “ Hardly an accident,” he interrupted, ‘Tien what can it be?’ She clasped his arm, and looked up pleadingly in his face. ‘Tt is difflicuit to tell you, Mrs. Delorme. That is, considering your intimate acquaintance with | this—this young man.” ** On, do not keep me in this cruel suspense! You are sporting with my anxiety.” “TJ would hardly do that,” he replied, with much dispiay of feeling. ‘‘I do not speak be- cause it is too painful to have to destroy your illusions. It is not an accident which has hap- pened to Paul Essex.” ‘: What then?” “A disgrace. * A crime!” | and painful suspense in the clasp of her hands. ‘*Paul Essex has been detected in a plot to rob the bank. The evidence against him was so | direct end positive that he is now in prison, comnuitted for trial.” oe Oh !” This exclamation seemed to tear her heart up with it. She fell back in the sleigh, while the | paleness of death overspread her features. Roger drove steadily onward, his eyes fixed upon his horses. “But there must be some dreadful, some hideous mistake!” she excitedly cried, throwi herself forward until her startled eyes looke into the depths of his. ‘“ This is some false ac- | cusation—some enemy of his—” She stopped suddenly, a quick suspicion leap- ing into her face, as she observed his impassive countenance. ‘It may be possible,” he quietly replied. ‘* You will have to question your father. All | I know of the matter is this: The two men who are in prison on the charge of robbery of the runner of the Provident Bank have declared that Paul Essex engaged them to perform this robbery. The wife of one of these men also testifies to the same effect. It is said that he has been for some time seeking to ruin Mr. Rockett A month or two ago he claimed to have discovered something wrong in the run- ner’s accounts, but on investigation they were found correct. Mr. Rockett now claims that his book has been tam d with, and false entries introduced. But that isnot all. A search was made in Mr. Essex’s room, and there was found the most overwhelming evidence; no less than the stolen bank-book, wy of its cash, yet still containing its checks and other papers.’ Grace Delorme’s cheek was the color of death. A strange wildness filled her eyes. She said not a word, but her fingers were convulsively enapes. e remained silent for several minutes, close- ly ta a a He then spoke, in a quiet and persuasive tone. ‘“‘An accident, of course, would not have changed Mr. Essex’s relations toward you. A crime necessarily does. You can have no fur- ther aagpannenen with a man who could com- mit suc jan act.. AmI presumptuous, then, to reopen— “Tt is not true!” she broke out suddenly. “There is some vile plot to ruin him! He is in- capable of crime, and I shall not rest until I have proved it.” She fell beck again, exhausted by her intense excitement, A crime, if 1 must call it so.” CHAPTER XI. BETTING ON BILLIARDS. Tue click of toon balls announced that a game of billiards was in operation. There had, in fact, been anumber of games, for there were many tables in the greatly frequented Occidental Billiard Hall. But game r game had been given up, as the in- terest concentrated around one table near the cen- ter of the room, where some very brilliant play was being performed. One of the Lars bs in this attractive Roger Glindon, the other was a player ©: pute, named George Farley. Roger’s cool, keen eye and steady hand made him very expert at any game requiring muscular skill, and the interest of the observers was enlisted by the fact that he had just made a brilliant run of fifty points. The game was close, however. sent had already scored fifty-seven. points, and he took the cue again with the balls in a good position for a run. The growing crowd looked on with interest as he be- + to nurse his balls, and add point after point to score. Bob Rockett was among the spectators, and it would not have needed a skillful eye to see that he me was some re- There was an agony of dread | OOOO OOOO Oo OO had been drinking, for his face was flushed, and _ his voice was loud and blustering as he praised the tri- umph of his friend. He remained in glum silence during Farley's play. But when the latter missed a fair shot, after scoring twenty-three points, Bob burst into a mocking laugh, “ Why, an old cow ought to have got that point,” he insultingly remarked. “Do you think you could have done it?” asked one of Farley’s supporters. ‘**Me? Lain’t no billiardist. Glindon there would have done it, and worse.”’ ‘Yes, if he didn’t miss,” ** He ain’t one of the missing kind, He is going to carry off this game, Youcan bet on that.” ‘‘No, thank you,” replied the other, laughing. “If << any betting, 1 should prefer to do it on the other side.”’ “Don’t you try it on, my friend. There, do you see that now? There was never a neater carom made. Why, he’s scored fifteen or twenty fresh points already.”’ * Suppose he has? I didn’t say he was not a good player.’ ‘Look atthat! Look at that! Why, it’s a mira- cle! Your chap’s nowhere alongside of him. If you're so anxious to lay a bet, I’m your man,” * T have not said a word about betting.” ‘**Oh, blast it, if you want to back out, I ain’t par- ticular. I thought you had some nerve.” “Thave nerve enough for you,” replied the man, angrily. oger had continued his play during this loud colloquy, which was attracting as much attention as the game. He had already made twenty points, and was still rolling up his score. He paused an instant and looked around, as if to say something to the disputing pair. In this glance his eyes caught sight of a small, plainly-dressed man, with sharp- featured face, who was regarding, in an unconcern- ed manner, the loud-talking partisans, Roger turned again to the table, a peculiar ex- pression passing over his face. “Name your bet,’ exclaimed Bob, with a some- what thickened utterance. “‘T’'ll go you five dollars on Farley.” “Rive devils! Do you calculate that I rake in such picayune bets as that? That isn’t my sort. Five dollars? Say five bundred, and I’m your man.”’ Everybody looked around with interest at this loud offer. ; “ Suppose I should say that I am not a hetting man?’ remarked Bob’s antagonist. . Then would prove yourself a man of good sense and hinder my friend there from making a fool of himself,” said Roger, as, with a seemingly careless motion of the cue, he made a difficult shot. ‘“You would prove yourself a coward,” persisted Bob, La was too headstrong with liquor to be easily checked. “Why, hang it. be friend, if you are so anxious to: risk your cash I will take ‘that bet,”’ said another man, stepping forward. “You're a gentleman,” cried Bob, with an oath of satisfaction. ‘“‘No odds. Five hundred, even up. Give me your hand on it.” The betters shook hands, * And here is my stake,” said the second speaker. “There ain't no use in putting up the cash,” re- lied Bob, with a thickened utterance. ‘‘We are Both gentlemen, I faney, and we understand one another, don’t we?” We don’t know each other, at any rate,” rejoined the other. “You came here, my friend, blustering and offering your big bets. Now I’m your man, square out But you've got to tup. Here’s my cash. Cover it, or back down. *s my style.” “Why, do you my oe I can’t?’ queried Bob, run his hand into eyes **T could smother ou with five-hundred-dollar bills if it came to that. ere’s your toe The eyes of the small man in the rear flashed with intelligence, as he watched Bob’s strenuous efforts to get at his pocket-book. : ‘ “There's thirty points and a tie, friend Farley, remarked Roger, laying dowi. his cue. “Yes. But the cue is yours yet.” “No. We will stop the game, if you please. Iam not a gambler myself, aud want nobody to gamble on my play. So I intend to stop this betting by wee ng the game.” ere was a quick movement, and a murmur of surprise and dissatisfaction at this announcement. “You ain’t no gambler, with a hook!” roared Bob, an 54 “And suppose two gentlemen do want to risk eir money, what is it anybody s, business but their own?” “Tt is only that you can’t bet on my playing.” “ All right then, if you're so thin-skinned,” retort- ed the second better, replacing his money in his ocket. ‘ Idon’t want to hurt any gentleman’s feel- n has C Nor I don't neither,” growled Bob. ‘‘ Only it's mighty queer where them fine feelings came from so sudden, “Go on, Mr. Glinden,” said Farley. The gentle- men will not bet, since you object to it.” “Let us make the game one hundred peiats then, and make an end of it.” . And the cue yourst replied Farley. “I would not have a ghost of a show.” “Yes, you will,” rejoined Reger, striking lis bali so carelessly as to e a misshot. ihe Teniodes of a wan with less ortune than Roger - ecole to have lost his fer he geveral fair shots. And — ~" to turn st Far- ue, Sor the walls the most cult post-
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Bob Rockett, the Bank Ru They were longer on the last twenty than they had been on the first eighty of the game. “By Jove, that shot gives you the game!” cried Farley. ‘‘Only two points to make, and see what a chance I have left you.” Roger took the cue in silence, and sent his ball | with a quick strong shot. He made his point easily, but, instead of nursing the combination, he drove the balls in a flying march over the table. They settled into an unpromising combination. “Too strong in the wrist,” remarked Farley, as he took the cue. Three easy shots, and the game was scored in his favor. Roger laid down his cue, and went to wash his hands. ; Farley followed him. “What ailed you?” he asked in a low tone. ‘“ Were you anxious to lose that game?” “Yes. I wanted to let that fool see that it is not safe to bet on me.”’ Oh! Well, I'll swear that I didn’t think you were so tender-hearted.”’ A few minutes afterward Roger walked, with his steady step, from the hall, and into the street. Bob Rockett, who had been fretting and cursing in a low tone to himself, hurried after him, and caught him, with no light clutch, by the arm. *“What in the blazes are you up to now?” he asked, with a hoarse utterance. Roger turned and faced him angrily. “Thad better ask what ails you,” he said, “ onl Pe it, needs only half an eye to see that it is iquor. Wand suppose itis? I calculate that I’ve got my wits about me. Shoot meif you didn’t throw that game away on purpose.” “T know it,” replied Roger, coolly. “ And why?” “To keep you from throwing away a bigger one.” “Me? Hang me if you ain’t got me by the boots now.”’ * Come with me, Bob. This spot is too public to talk business in.” Roger led the way up the street, until they had reached a less frequented locality. Here he , Fone the conversation again. ‘*Haven’t you sense enough to know that it is not safe for you to have a pocketful of money just now?” he asked, in a severe tone. ‘ What would our game against Paul Essex be worth if you were found making five hundred dollar bets?”’ “But who is to find me?” queried Bob, a little abashed. ‘* There was nobody in that billiard-room knew me.” “Oh, nobody! Of course, nobody—except one of the sharpest detectives on the force. But, of course, detectives don’t count in your wise fancy.” “A detective?’ cried Bob, in alarm. “Just so,” said Roger. “‘He hadn" his eye off you fora minute. He may be following us now, for all I know to the contrary. I have been on the look-out, to be sure. But these fellows are very shrewd.” ‘‘And who, in the flend’s name, has put a watch on me?” blustered the tipsy man. “That's to find out,” replied Roger, cautiously. “You are suspected. There is not surer than that. Some one has you under surveillance. You will need to be as cautious as a fox, or you will find yourself in trouble. It is some friend of Paul sex, I judge, who is trying to work a counter- game,” “Let them = in, then,” blustered Bob. “I bet they don’t sell us out.” Sell you out, you mean. Tam going to cut loose. If you are so anxious to’get yourself into a scrape, you shall not drag me in with you, Bob Rockett?’ “You trust me,’ replied Bob, with a wink. “I am not so deuced green as you think.” “Trust you!” replied Roger, reflectively—‘ Give me that five hundred dollars,” he continued, after a moment; “‘ormore if you haveit. Itis not safe in your pocket. Let me take care of it.” : “Five hundred!” Bob laughed, mockingly. “Why = haven't five dollars here,” slapping his pockets. **T was only playing a game of brag onthem coons. If you were to run me througha cider mill, you couldn't squeeze fifty doliars out of me.” “Then you have more wit than I gave you credit for. But see here, my friend, I have one more bit of advive for you. You must give up drinking until this affair blows over. Your tongue is too loose when you have liquor on board.” bs That’s taken in. Anything more?’ “Yes. Keep a sharp eye open for e little. slender chap, dressed in plain gray, and with a wide mouth, a sharp-pointed ne; a rors ferret eyes. When- ever you see a chap like that, watch yourself, for there will be thunder in the air” Part vor “ The detective?” asked Bob. ** Exactly.” “That's ail taken in, Roger. You can sleep sound, my boy. Forewarned is forearmed, you know.” “Then you move on. I will stop here and keep an cye open for the detective. have a fancy that he is following you.” Roger drew into the shade of a doorway, and waited patiently, while Bob walked on. But nobody answering to his own description of the detective passed, minutes, Bob was now several blocks distant. his pocket with an air of satisfaction. “Maybe I’m able to take care of my own money, Roger Glindon,” he muttered. “Thad to lie to you, though, for you'd have made me fork over if had told you that Lhad a pocketful. 1 suppose you're right though about the whisky. It does get the best of a fellow, I think Ishall go straight home.—I feel ' thundering mean inside, though. 1 calculate one | though he continued on guard for ten He clapped nner. 13 drink won’t hurt. ‘This one won’t couut,’ as old Rip “Your innocence shall be proved. I may do some- says.” e turned into a drinking-saloon. Of course, he thing, Paul. Tell me all that has occurred.” He did so, giving her in full detail the whole story. fully intended to take but the one dram, and then She listened quietly, but with) a quick, intelligent proceed homeward. But one dram opens the door very wide to another. He met some acquaintances and before he left the saloon the one dram had swelled to a half dozen. Bob and his friends left the saloon together. He was tipsy again, and had not the most remote inten- tion of going straight home. The party instead made their way to a neig nboring gambling hall, where high play was the rule, And Bob was not long content to act the part of a spectator. The money burned in his pocket as hotly as the liquor in his brain. He was soon in high play at one of the tables. It was only a half-hour since he had left Roger, and already all three of the latter's injunctions had been broken. Instead of concealing his money he was risking it freely on a gambling table. Instead of getting sober, he had got drunkerthan ever. And instead of being on the look-out for the detective he had forgotten all about him. And yet just back of him stood the small man with sharp nose and ferret eyes against whom he had been warned. The only difference was in his coat, which had changed from gray to black, under cover of which change he had passed Roger Glindon without detection. “Won again!” cried Bob. Fifteen hundred on the ace!” *“Ace it is,’ said the croupier, in his metallic voice, ‘* You win.” “And I win,” said to himself the small man with the sharp nose. ‘ You bet on the ace, but you will find that you've played the deuce, before Iam done with you.” “Here’s for you! CHAPTER XII. PAUL ESSEX HAS A VISITOR. Ir was no bungling head which had worked up the charge against Paul Essex. The story told by the two prisoners was explicit, and full of details. The evidence given by Mike Crapper’s wife agreed point for point, with his own. 1e conspiracy ha een made in her presence, and it was an easy mat- ter tosubstitute the name of Paul Ussex for that of Bob Rockett. And finally, the missing book, with all its contents except the cash, had been found in his room, not openly displayed, but con- cealed amid a mass of papers. To add to the strength of this evidence a considerable sum of money had been discovered in his desk, far more than any bank officer would be likely to keep in his room. It is not surprising that the President and directors of the bank had become convinced of his guilt. Mr. Darling would willingly have avoided prosecution of the charge, but the remainder of the directors in- sisted upon it, and he was obliged to yield. To Paul Essex himself this incarceration in a prison Vera Prem charge of crime was an over- whelming blow. Day and night he sat brooding and en poe The world was al! dark to him. After all his efforts to make himself a record as an honorable and upright man, to be thus suddenly plunged into disgrace and dishonor, it was more than he could bear. And she whom he loved—what would she think of this charge of crime, sustained with such telling evidence? He buried his face in his hands as this thought came — him with crushing force. Even if he should be cleared, the imputation of crime would remain, She would man. In his preoccupation he failed to hear the opening and closing of his cell door, and lifted his eyes only at the sound of a voice that sent a wild thrill of joy through his veins. Before him stood a woman dressed in plain black, and with a thick vail over her face. But her hands were clasped, and her figure a as if under a sudden feeling of sorrow or men- a ony. “Oh!” he exclaimed, rising impulsively to his feet. ‘That voice! thatform! Can it be that Grace Delorme, she whom I thought would forever despise me, has come to visit me even in this r cell?” “It is 1,” she replied, throwing back her vail with a quick movement. ‘‘Despise you, Paul? I should be base indeed to desert you in this extremity, when the world has turned against you, and your enemies have so basely belied you.” Her voice was full of feeling and indignation. Tears moistened her soft blue eyes. “Oh, then you at least trust me? You do not be- lieve me guilty of this base crime?” , “No, indeed!” she spoke with energy. “I know that you are incapable of it, and that a cruel con- spiracy has been devised to ruin you.” *“* Now I care not what the world thinks!” he cried, joyfully. ‘*Since she whom I—yes, whom I love. must speak what has been so ong buried in my thoughts. It has been so long, and in such silence. that I have looked up to her as my star. But now i may hope that I love not in vain, since she deigns to visit me in my prison cell.” He looked into her face with eyes that swam in love and hope. What he saw there we cannot tell, but in a moment he had her hands in his, and was devouring her blushing face with ardent looks. ‘Dear Paul!’ she murmured, His arm was around her slender waist; their lips met; for minutes they stood thus, lost in the intoxi- cation of happy love. ‘““You do not believe me guilty, dear Grace?” never ally herself to a disgraced | She was seated on the only chair which the cell | | that morning?” possessed. He half-kneeled beside her. ‘Guilty!’ Her soft tone was full of reproach. face. Silence rested for several minutes after the completion of the narrative. She sat looking down upon him with pitying but alert eyes. * There were three men who committed the rob- bery,”’ she suddenly exclaimed. “Two only of these testify against you. Where is the third?” **He escaped. We can scarcely find him.” ‘“* But they say that he was so well marked, with a huge wen over his eye. It cannot be easy for such a man to conceal himself. Have you never seen—” He stopped her by a sudden exclamation. “Can it be?” he cried. ‘‘ remember such a man, when I was a boy living down by the river. He was one of old Smudge’s beggars.”’ “Old Smudge?” Paul hereupon explained who and what old Smudge was, her eyes lighting up with animation as she listened to him. “ And one thing more. You have no conception how that book came into your room?” ** None whatever.” “ And the money found there?” “Tt was not mine.” “Your mother keeps a boarding-house Paul? Strangers occasionally apply for board?” “Yes, certainly.” ““We may fathom this dark plot yet. The third robber may be found. We may track the pane who placed these evidences in your room. shall do my best. I hope tosucceed.’ “ You?” “Ves, I. Who better than I?” “Oh, my dear love!” He pressed her hands with fervent energy. ‘‘But I can never consent to that. No, no; you shall not expose yourself to possible in- sults, to—” ““ What would the love be worth that would stop at such light obstacles?” Her fair, sweet face bent over him, her eyes warm with love and mee With a quick impulse he caught her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers. ‘*My love! my own dear love!” he murmured in tender accents. That prison cell was lit up by the warm glow of affection to those two Phe souls, until no palace hall could have seemed more rich and glorious. If we follow the movements of Grace Delorme during the few succeeding days we shall find that her offer of aid was no empty promise. Her first movement was to engage the police in her service, A long conference with a shrewd detective officer resulted in a watch being put on Bob Rockett, with the object of ascertaining if he was spending any undue amounts of money. The efforts to discover the third robber were less successful., A close ard was kept on the old Renssealer house, in which it was well known that such a person had long resided, Yet he seemed to have vanished. No trace of such a man was to be discovered. Some half-dozen persons, variously crippled, were seen to enter and leave the house, but no sign of the man with the wen. team days passed without any discovery being made. As for the third object to be ascertained, Grace undertook the task as her own, In a modest house on East Twentieth street Mrs. Essex had for several years kept boarders, eking out the slender salary which Paul had at first re- a in the bank by this means of gaining a liveli- ood, : And even now, although her son was doing so much better, the active littke woman was not con- tent to settle down to idleness and dependence. liked the bustle and business of her well-filled house, and continued to cram it to repletion with the gen- tlemen and ladies whom the fame of her well-spread table drew to her house. She was as active, as good-natured and as devoted to her friends as when we saw her, waif bes st be- fore, in her single room in the poorest q of the nic 6 ut Paul’s imprisonment had been a fal blow to the woman, and when Grace called up- on her, she found her seated gloomily in her neat little parlor, having apparently abandoned the af- fairs of her household to the hands of chance. ‘It is so kind in you, Miss Grace, to believe in him,” said the poor woman, sorrowfully. ‘But I shall never get over it. I know I never . ‘“* But you certainly believe in him?’ “Why, of course I do. My Paul never took a penny that he had not earned.” “Tn that case, then, he did not put that book and money in his room?” The poor woman looked the Mey he of uncertain- ty. This was the mystery which had so troubled 9d that she was unable to think reasonably about t. “ How did it ever get there?” she murmured. “You have many boarders, Mrs. Essex.” “It was _none of them,” she energetically an- swered, ‘I know them all well, They are responsi- ble aol “The book was found four days ago?” “Yes. Just after dinner. Two men came here with search-warrants, and examined poor Paul’s m. ** Could they have put the book there themselves?” “Why, eg d were regular ag ee 8 Miss Grace. And besides, I went with them myself to the room, —_ watched them, I don’t think they could have one it,”’ “Were there any other strangers in your house “No. That is, except a gentleman looking for
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14 board. But he didn’t like the room I showed him, and so he left. He was the only one.” Grace’s eyes lighted up. She looked with an amused glance info the innocent face of Mrs. Essex. The poor body seemed so utterly unsuspicious., “Where was this room you showed thestranger?” asked Grace. ‘““Tt was a back room on the third floor.” ““ Near Paul’s room?” ‘““Yes,. He has the front room just before it.” ‘**And I presume that there is a door between the two rooms?” “Oh yes. But it is kept locked. on Paul’s side.” Grace's face was growing brighter. The scent was getting warm. “Did you show this stranger the room?” “Why, no, I was too busy. I sent Mary, my waiter girl, to show him.”’ ““T wish you would call Mary.” Mrs. Essex, somewhat surprised at this question- ing, called the girl. She was a. rather pretty Irish girl, with an intelli- gent face, and an expression much less confiding than that of her mistress, Grace fixed her eyes upon the face of the girl, while Mrs. Essex questioned her. These questions, however, brought out the same fact, that she had shown the room to the stranger, who had closely examined it, and then declined to take it. “Did he ask you any questions about the other occupants of the house?” asked Grace. “No. He was not a bit talkative. He was a very quiet sort of person.” “But perhaps you volunteered some informa- tion.” **No, indeed, miss. And the key is T always take care not to say much to strangers. Ionly told him that he would | find the room a very nice one, and would only have pleasant people near him, for Mr. Paul had the room in front of him. I didn’t mention the name of another soul, and he didn’t ask me one question.” A smile passed over Grace’s countenance. Evi- dently the stranger had had no need to ask ques- tions. - ““And you were in the room all the time he was rere?” “Oh yes. He only stayed a few minutes.” She spoke with a basty accent. Grace looked at her closely. A faint tinge of red came into the girl’s cheek, “You are sure you did not leave him alone in the room? Not for a minute?” “Why no, miss. Why, of course I wouldn’t do that. e never do with strangers.” Grace’s close look seemed to disconcert her. Her eyes shifted uneasily under it. “That will do,’ said the questioner. The girl turned, and hastily left the room, “What other girls do you keep, Mrs. Essex?”’ **A cook, and a chambermaid.” “ Are either of them intimate with Mary?” “Yes. She and the chambermaid are very thick.” “Then call this girl, immediately. They must not have a chance to see each other.” Mrs, Essex, more surprised than ever, went in search of the girl in question, Grace remained, with a faint smile upon her lips. The girl who now entered was very : 2 : oung, and hac an innocent, confiding expression, race asked her a number of indifferent questions in regard to | her age, her situation, etc. She finally began to question about her relations with the other ser- vants. “ \/ nat kind of a girlis Mary?” “Oh, a very nice girl, miss. I like her ever so much,” “She is not mean, Ihope. Still she ought not to waste her money.” “She don’t. She is very careful. while she spends ray 5 ‘The last few days, for instance?”’ ““Why yes,” with a look of surprise. ‘a sane she has spent money freely these few ays?’ “Yes, ma’am.”’ “Since when?” “T don’t remember, ma’am.” The girl looked romewhat frightened. “ Answer me freely. Ido not mean any harm to Mary. I am only interested in her welfare. You and she were out on Thursday last?’ “That was our afternoon out, ma’am.” “‘And of course that was the day in which she spent money so freely?” “Yes, that was the day.” “* About how much did she spend?” tg don’t know exactly. Maybe six or seven dol- rs ” “That will do,” The girl hastily left the room. She was growing uneasy under these questions. Grace looked at Mrs. Essex with a meaning glance. The little woman seemed confused and at a loss to know what it all meant. “But I do not see—” she began. “Tt is just this, my dear friend,” interrupted Grace. “Mary did leave that man alone in the room; and was bribed to do so. We shall have to let a detective officer examine those rooms. I fancy that he will find that the communicating door has been opened. Only once in a CHAPTER XIII. A MEETING OF BANK DIRECTORS. “ How are you off for money?” “T have about three thousand dollars, or there- abouts,”’ answered Bob Rockett, to the above ques- tion f-om his friend Roger Glindon, } | | Bob Rockett, the Bank Runner. a **TIndeed! I did not know that you were so sav- ing.” ‘Oh! it is an inheritance from my uncle. A sud- | den lnueky turn of—” ‘* Of the cards, Bob?’’ ad You be.ter. An example must be made.” ‘ “There is no doubt but it was a srg ainst | poor Rockett,’ returned another. ‘That book is a “Exactly,” replied Bob, with a a know my little weaknesses. I cannot help dabbling s little in the stocks. But, then, fortune favors the rave.’ “Do you remember the three items of advice I gave you at out last meeting?” “Certainly. I never forget good advice.” “And never follow it. How many of those in- | junctions did you obey ?”’ “Let me see, First, I got drunk instead of getting sober. Second, drunkenness led to gambling. Third- ly—what was the third?” ‘To beware of the detective.’ “Oh! yes. Weill, that is all right. ’ He wasn’t | around.,”’ “There is where are mistaken. He was around.” “The deuce!’ exclaimed Bob, in surprise and alarm. ‘** Exactly. You have played the deuce with the whole business. They are on your track like sleuth- hounds. I did not know that you were such a con- founded fool, Bob. For the sake of anextra drink or two you have sold out the whole affair. But, hang you me, if you shall drag me into it. By the way, how much was if you won in our game of bluff at Harry Blake’s, about two months ago?” “Somewhere near five-hundred.” “ And how much did you risk the night you won the three thousand?” ‘Not over five hundred.” “ That’s good. The money you have was won on | the turn of the cards, not stolen from the bank. Keep that firm in your memory. And what's more, you must be sure and have everything straight at the bank.”’ “What for?” “Because you may have to flit at a moment's notice. Don’t give them ahold on you, You see, | Bob, they have begun to unwind the thread. The devil knows when they may come to the end of it.” | “Oh, that’s all my eye!’ exclaimed Bob, impa- tiently. ‘‘Iain’t afraid of them. Come, let’s take a drink. We want something to wash all this down. How did you find it out?” ‘‘T have spies in the-enemy’s camp,’’ answered | Roger. ‘‘ There’s danger in the air, Bob, let me tell | you that.” This conversation took place in the morning, before | banking hours. A few hours Jater, in the same day, | the directors of the Provident National were assem- bled in their room at the bank, where they occupied eer in considering the charge against Paul ssex. “Tt is a very unpleasant business,’ remarked one of them, a heavy weight in the financial world. “The young fellow has always seemed to me prompt and energetic. Ihad rather it was almost any one in the bank. But, then,’ with a shrug of the shoulders, “‘sentiment is very well, but security is | strong piece of evidence.” ““We must be firm, gentlemen; and just. to our- selves. But is it not time the President was here?” As he spoke the door opened, and Mr, Garland en- | tered. There was a peculiar expression on his face as he cast his eyes around the circle of directors. <A half- mrpppornes smile curled his lip. ‘ : ood-morning, gentlemen. I ama little late this morning, for which you must excuse me. have not kept you waiting.” “Not at all. We have only just gathered.” Mr, Garland walked to his chair. | evidence against him. LhopeI | “Tt is poor Essex’s affair this morning,” he re- marked. ‘You might rather say it is the poor bank’s af- fair,” broke in one of the directors. ‘* For m don’t feel like pitying a young thief for robbing us.” “We agree with you, Mr. Jones,” said several others. “An example must be made.” The conversation proceeded in an animated man- ner for several minutes. The whole case against Paul Essex was discussed, and the several points of that he was undoubtedly guilty, and that the bank owed it to itself to proc against him severely. “ Our dignity, our honor, and our safety is con- “* But the Presi- cerned,” said one of them vely. dent says nothing. We should ke to hear his opin- | : fon.”” | person that it was impossible to suspect him. “You know that I ama personal friend of the prisoner,”’ replied Mr. Garland, smiling. consistently join in your sentiments.” “So are we all his friends,”’ was the sharp answer. ‘* But business comes before friendship.” “But the evidence does not seem to me so strong as you make it.’ “Tt is a perfect chain, sir. It cannot be broken.” “And again, have another reason for favoring the prisoner.” “Very well, sir. We are ready to hear it.” “Tt is simply this: that I believe him innocent. ro Ps in support of my belief Ihave new evidence to | offer.”” The directors looked at each other in surprise. | Here was an unexpected turn to the affair. They waited in silence. Mr. Garland struck a sh that lay on the desk before peal upon a small bell im. In quick response | the door of the room opened, and several persons | entered. One of these was recognized by several of the di- | part I | | | / | evidence separately considered, with the conclusion | { | **T cannot / rectors as Grace Delorme, the President’s daughter” A chair was instantly offered her by a young mem- ber of the board, She was accompanied by a small, keen-faced man, dressed in sober gray; by a rather pretiy servant girl; and by a rough-looking man, with a huge wen over his eye. As may be imagined the directors looked with as- tonishment upon this cortege. They could not imagine what it meant. ; Mr. Garland sat with the same half smile upen his ips. <c We have been discussing the charge against Paul Essex,” hesaid. “‘ Ihave just told the gentlemen here that new evidence is forthcoming. ‘ihey wish ta know the character of this evidence. What has my daughter to say upon the matter?” ’ Every eye was fixed upon the flushed face of Grace Delorme, as she rose from her chair, and stood in her gracefuleattitude before them. ¥ cas only say,” she began, in low tones, “‘ that I was convinced, from my knowledge of Mr. Essex, that he could not be guilty of such a crime. I there- fore undertook, with the aid of a detective officer. to clear up certain defective points in the chain of In that I think I have suc- ceeded. You will please examine the persons wo accompany me!” She took her seat again, a deep blush upon her | face, from the persistent gaze of some of the direc- tors. Evidently they had their own ideas in regard to her interest in Paul Essex. As the reader must perceive the persistent watch for Topheavy bad at last been successful. He had | ventured out of the domicile of old Smudge, and hed at once been captured. But we must let him tell his own story. “T s’pose you genl’men ‘Il agree to what this young *ooman has said,”’ he began, with hoarse ut- terance. “If I lets the thing out clean ther’s to be nought done ag’in’ me?” The directors looked inquiringly at Mr. Garland. He nodded his head. ““Go on, my man,” he said. steps taken against you.” ‘*Coz I were forced into it, yer know. I’m a inner- cent sort of a chap, as makes my livin’ honest. But ae y, Mike deceived me, he did. I jist went it nd.”’ ‘** Who is this man?” asked one of the directors, “The third robber.” “Oh!” Topheavy was at once the center of atten- tion. Questions brought out from him that there was no plot with any of the bank officers, so far as he knew. » “But did'you not divide the spoils with one of them ?”’ “No, siree. Nary divide.” “What? Are you sure of that?” “ A queer old divide, anyhow,” growled Topheavy. “Ten dollars outer fifteen hundred. That’s the scorchingest divide out.”’ “Aha! now we are comin director. ‘‘And who was 1 “There shall be no at it,’’ exclaimed a s divide made with? | With Paul Essex?” **Who’s he?” asked Topheavy. ‘‘ Don’t know nary coon of that name.”* * Who was it, then?” aoe it were a divide with a pistol on one side. And behind the pistol—” ‘Well? Who was behind the pistol?” **Bob Rockett.” There was a quick stir, and an exclamation of sur- prise, at this unlooked-for answer. Topheavy seem- ed to enjoy the sensation he had made. Further questioning brought out the facts of Bob Rockett’s interview with the witness and the means he had taken to enforce a return of the spoils. “This all might be very well if Rockett had re- turned the money to the bank,” said a director. “And yet this story does not well hold together. | There is yet to be explained how the book came into Paul Essex’s room,”’ ‘There are other witnesses to be examined,” said Grace, from her seat. “Ah y I had forgotten, We had better not form an opinion until all the evidence is in.” The two remaining witnesses were the detective, and Mary, the servant with the short memory. Means, however, had been taken to quicken her memory, as she told a somewhat different story on the present occasion, She, in effect, relatéd how she had been sent by Mrs. Essex to show a stranger desiring board to a vacant room. She represented him as being a nice- spoken, agreeable man, and such an honest-looking The room suited him exactly, so he said. He would take a wash, and make some changes in his clothes. Would she be kind enough to get a ten dollar bill changed for him? He wished to give her some little remembrance. Mary went on to relate that on her return from her errand to change the bill she found him just | leaving the room. He had changed his mind, he | said, and did not think the room would suit him. She might keep the money, however. But, if she did not want to be blamed, she had better say noth- ing about oe him alone in the room. She thought so, too. She had been afraid to tell the truth, ** Did you not suspect posaething wrong when you arrested?” heard of Mr. Essex bein, 1 ““Why, no, sir. That 1 nothing to do with the | : gentleman coming there, had it?” Mary was dismissed. She had evidently told the truth this time. The interest of the directors was increasing. The detective was next examined. He had inves-
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been unlocked in this manner. There were certain scratches and marks in strong evidence that a forci- ble entry to the front room had been made. But in this room no evidence appeared. The papers among which the book had been found were so Scattered by the first officers who had examined them, that all signs of previous tampering with them were destroyed. In addition to this evidence was that obtained on the night of Bob Rockett’s last gambling experience. He had been seen by the officer to risk five or six hundred dollars at a faro table, from which he had won several thousands. The directors looked at each other. an entirely new light on the subject. Paul Essex was the undoubted victim of a conspiracy. Bod Rockett was as plainly one of the parties to this conspiracy. Who was the other?’ ‘That could not be yet ascertained. Mary only remembered that the stranger was tall and handsome, with black eyes and heavy whiskers. She had a very indefinite re- collection of his face. “It is too bad that Essex has been imprisoned,” said one of the directors, ‘‘We have treated him badly, and must offer him some redress. A message must be sent at once to the magistrate, to have him released without delay.” Mr. Garland again struck his bell. The door open- ed once more, and into the room walked the tall, well-formed figure of Paul Essex, a look of gravity and dignity upon his handsome face. ‘*T have taken the liberty to send your message in advance,” remarked Mr. Garland. Paul’s sense of injured innocence could not long withstand the warm greetings, condolences, and congratulations of the directors, who crowded around him, shaking hands, and promising to repay him for all that he had endured. Particularly when he caught a soft smile from the lips of Grace Delorme did his display of indignation vanish, and a far different expression came upon his ingenuous face. ne of the older directors had continued in his seat. He was one of those with whom business was all, sentiment nothing. “Is Robert Rockett in the bank?”’ he asked. “Yes,” replied Paul. ‘He entered just as I came into the room.,”’ * Will some one call him?’ The door was opened and the runner’s name called out ip a loud voice. One of the clerks came for- ward. “He is not here, gentlemen. He left his bank- book, but he went out again immediately after en- tering; and in a very hurried manner.” CHAPTER XIV. A WEDDING PARTY SURPRISE. All this put Bos Rocketr had evidently ‘smelt a rat.” Un- doubtedly he had seen Paul Essex passing into the directors’ room, and instantly concluded that the bank was growing too hot to hold him. He had slipped quickly out of the bank door, and had been swallowed upin the great whirlpool of New York, It was a case of complete vanishing. Seek as they might he was not to be found. Detectives were placed upon his track, his lodgings were searched, allhis known haunts were watched; but m vain. He was too cunning for them all. He had either left the city, or was hiding in some secure place of con- cealment, Meanwhile the reg oor of the charge against Paul Essex went on. It was proved that he was entirely innocent. Even Rusty Mike and Beau Bink, furious at not being released trom prison as prom- ised, declared that their testimony against him was false, and that they had been hired to give it by a stranger, Who was this stranger? Their description agreed with that given by Mrs. Essex’s servant. He was doubtless an accomplice of Bob Rockett in the con- spiracy. But it was just as difficult to discover who he was, as to find out where Bob Rockett was. The plotters had evidently taken the alarm in good e, and managed to disappear from the scene. It was discovered that Roger Glindon was an oc- casional associate of Bob Rockett. But who could imagine that the wealthy Mr. Glindon, who kept his account in the Provident Bank, would take part in such a petty scheme of bank robbery? Besides the mysterious stranger, though agreeing with him in some particulars, had been heavily whiskered, while Roger kept his face smoothly shaved. In short the detectives were at fault. The fox or foxes had taken cover, and the hounds were upon a cold scent. It must not be imagined that Roger Glindon had given up his hopes of winning Grace Delorme. He was of that persistent disposition that never yields while a hope remains. Me called upon her‘a few days after the discovery of Paul’s innocence, “Tam very glad to find,” he remarked, “ that we were all mistaken, and that young Essex is set free. pe at ned eee pers gen ha and es ‘Indeed it was,’ she warmly replied. “And Ido not despair yet of discovering his nenited,* “What a shrewd little detective youare gettin to be,” rejoined Roger, with a laugh. ‘ One would say that you enjoyed it.” re Tn = ar hi “But you have found nothing? I am told that Rockett defles the detectives.” “That is but for a time,” she replied. ‘“ He shall be found yet,’’ There was bitter energy in her tone, “I declare you make one shudder,’ answered ; 2 ee eee 15 : Bob Rockett, the Bank Runner. Their conversation continued for some time, verg- ing to other subjects. “T suppose young Essex is fully reinstated in your good opinion,”’ remarked Roger. “T never lost my good opinion of him,” she coldly replied. “* But of course you have given up all idea of social | intimacy with him. It is not only that he is below you in station; but, to have been the inmate of a prison, you see—”’ She looked steadily at him. ‘*Paul Essex visits me yet,’’ she said. **But, do you not perceive—”’ “Further than that,’’ she interrupted, looking him firmly in the eye, ‘he has asked my hand in mar- riage. Roger had been leaning easily forward, resting his hand upon his knee, as he sought to convinee her of her error. He flung himself suddenly back in his chair at this startling announcement, while a whistle of surprise escaped from his lips. **And I have accepted,’’ she concluded. “The devil!—Excuse me, Mrs. Delorme, but you startle me. I hope you have not forgotten that 1 am a suitor for your hand.” “And [hope you have not forgotten that you are a rejected suitor,” she coldly replied,frising from her chair. ‘ There is nothing further to be said on that subject, Mr. Glindon.”’ ‘* Excuse me, there is someth ng yet to be said,” he replied, rising in his turn, while a cold sternness | came into his face. ‘‘ You have rejected me, Grace Delorme, for this low-born boy. You kindly inform me that you have accepted his offer of marriage, I fear you will find me a little like the dog in the manger. If I cannot have you, he shall not.” She started and turned slightly pale at the cold ea rnity of his tone. But then a proud smile curled er lip. bi: | dhall not fail to send you an invitation to the wedding,’’she said. “Thanks. I will be present. But I warn once more that you shall not marry Paul Essex.’ There was a mocking smile on his lips as he turn- ed and sought the door. Grace followed him out with the same firm pride in her eyes. But her look changed as soon as he had disappeared. ‘““What can he mean?” she murmured. “He is false and malignant. Is it personal harm to Paul? I must put him on his guard.” Roger passed from the house and through the streets with a dark and threatening look on his face. “She shall not marry him,” he continued, to him- self. ‘‘Notif I have to play my last card to prevent her. If I cannot have her he shall not. I swear it.” He continued his walk, verging into the streets bordering upon the East river. As he gotintoa thickly-settled district, marked with the strongest signs of poverty and uncleanliness, he w wary and suspicious, looking ot gag A behind him, and turning sharp corners as to avoid any possible | pursuit. Suddenly he slipped into the open door of a tene- ment-house, that stood just around one of these corners. He walked back with a hasty step, and | up the stairs until he had reached the third story. Here he knocked in a peculiar manner on the door of a room that fronted to the street. “* Who is it?’ came a voice from within. “Roger. Open.” The door was thrown open. There stood the form of Bob Rockett, but he would scarcely have been recognized —. by his special friends, For his fashionable clothes had been changed for a rough ou and somewhat ragged suit, while his usually clean shaved face was covered with a rough beard of a week’s growth, that gave him a most unattractive appearance. With the ipe that graced his lips he might well have passed for a professional tramp af- ter a summer’s campaign. “Do you think they would recognize me, Roger?” he asked, after closing and locking the door. “Hard oR replied er, looking at him quizzi- cally. ‘ think you might defy the eyes of the sh. t detective.” “ And when can I go on the street?” “ As soon as you have grown your beard. You did wrong, Bob. You should have stayed in the bank that day.” ‘““What? And been arrested for theft?” “You could have turned in the fifteen hundred dollars, with any excuse you pleased. They would have had no case against you then.” ‘*But how about the book found in Paul’s room?” “That would have been a bad point, I confess,” acknowledged Roger. ‘Yet conspiracy to injure a man is a different matter from robbery." “‘Let them find me if they want me,” exclaimed Bob, doggedly. “Then you had better emigrate. Get out of New York until this affairs blows over. They will be off your track in a month or two, and then you can safely come back.” | “Good. / enough to country, an we, ed in New York.” ut we will not follow this interview any further. / That night, at twelve o'clock, a decidedly seedy- looking passenger, who looked as if he was just | starting an extensive beard, showed himself at the passenger station of the Erie railroad, and walked | unchallenged by an officer who had an accurate description of Bob Rocket in his mind’s eye. ** Farewell to New York,” he said to himself, as he wiped his feet with an expressive movement on the | I will do it,” declared Bob. ‘I have cash ec up some sport in other parts of the I'll swear that I’m tired enough of play- | was in his undoubt Two months after that time, on a beautiful evening in early May, a large company was assembled in the | parlor of Mr. Garland’s residence. It was the wedding of his daughter which had drawn together this Jarge and fashionable assem- blage. The destined bride, in all the bloom of youth and charm of beauty, dressed in a robe of pure | white, and with the folds of a snowy vail sweeping the floor at her feet, stood waiting the ceremony, a faint flush in her cheek alone announcing the emo- tion that burned at her heart. By her stood Paul Essex, with his tall form and handsome face, modest yet préud, and with his eyes fixed on the fair woman at his side with a look that burned with love and happiness. In the two months which had elapsed Paul had been advanced in position at the bank. A lucky va- cancy had given him the post of assistant cashier, and it was shrewdly surmised that Mr. Darlinz’s cash and influence would soon elevate him to a still more lucrative position. Every eye was fixed Me bier the handsome pair as they stood before the old minister, who was to unite them in the bonds of matrimony. Not a word had yet been spoken, but all were waiting in hushed expectancy, when the door of the room hastily opened, and the step of a late wedding guest sounded upon the floor. It was Roger Glindon. He wore his usually im- assive Jook; yet there was a peculiarly threaten- ing expression upon his face as he looked over the assembled company at the small group gathered before the minister. “T am not too late?’ he asked, in questioning accents. ‘‘The wedding has not taken place?” A sudden start took place at this extraordinary interruption. People crowded forward to see who was this audacious intruder. The wedding party looked around in astonishment. “What do you mean, Mr. Glindon?” asked the father of the bride, in severe accents. “Only that I am. glad I have arrived in time “To do what?” Grace’s eyes were bent with alarm on the in- truder. She remembered his threat. “To prevent your daughter from committing bigamy.” ad a thunderbolt fallen in their midst it could not have produced a more startling effect. Excla- mations, cries of alarm and astonishment, resounded from all sides. Paul w pale as death. He made a hasty step toward the speaker. But Grace, from whose face all trace of color had fled, reeled, and would have fallen but for his protecting arm. “Sir!” cried Mr, Garland, angrily advancing. ‘‘T am sorry to have created such a sensation. But as I have just learned that her former husband, George Delorme, is still living, it seems to me my duty to interrupt this ceremony.” His voice was cold and pitiless. His eyes fixed themselves on the half insensible bride with a look of cruel malignity. His threat had been bitterly fulfilled. Mr. Darling grasped him by the arm. “Sir!’’ he cried. ‘‘What base lie is this? You dare not affirm—you cannot prove—” “ Excuse me, sir, but will you be kind enough to. read this letter?” Mr. Darling grasped the sheet which was handed him, and ran his eyes over its contents, while the paper shook in his hands, and his face grew red and white by turns, “You will probably recognize the handwriting,” coldly remarked Roger. “* Villain!” exclaimed the father. ‘‘ Was there no time and place but this to bring such news?” “Tcame as a wedding guest; on your da express invitation. AsI do not appear to come I will take my departure.” In a moment more he had walked from the room, closing the door behind him, but closing it upon the most distressing consternation. Eager questions addressed to Mr. Darling drew — — the se of beak ang ag oe tion. a e letter was iy rege orme, an ed handwriting.” It declared that he had not died by the yellow fever, as had been supposed, but, for reasons of his own, had concluded to remain incognito. Learning, however, that his. wife was about to contract another marriage, he could keep silent no longer, but had written to pre- vent her from committing the crime of gig a He would be in New York within a month, and had no idea of finding another man the husband of his wife. The result of this peeing announcement may readily be conjectured. The bride was borne from the room ina fainting condition; the bridegroom was thrown into a stupor of grief and despair; and the guests were filled with anger and consternation. Many a deep threat was breathed against Roger Glindon for his dastardly action. ; Here, for the present, we must leave our charac- ters. A month has passed since then, but no chan hter’s wel- | ofimportance has takenplace. Bob Rockett isstilla missing member of society; Roger Glindon is wait- ing with cold patience for the coming of the hus- band whois to place a fatal bar to Paul Essex’s hopes; and the lovers themselves are waiting the same event with an agony of fear, yet not without a hope that. the letter may prove a forgery, and that the plight- ed love of their young hearts may not be so cruelly” crushed. THE END.
Page 16
ak The Two Detectives; or, THE FortTuNEs or A Bowgxy Girt. By Albert W. Aiken. . 32 Gulliver’s Travels, A vere to Lilliput, and a Voyage to mebaenes. y Dean Swift. 13 The Dumb Spy. By Oll Coomes. 44 Aladdin; or, THe WonDerFuL Lamp. 15 The Sea=-Cat; or, THe WrrcH or Darien. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 16 Robinson Crusoe. His Life and Surpris- ing Adventures, (27 Illustrations.) By Defoe. 17 Ralph Roy, THe Boy Buccaneer; or, THE Fueitive Yacut. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 18 Sindbad the Sailor. His Seven Voyages. From the Arabian Nights. 19 The Phantom Spy; or, THe PILOT OF THE Prairie. By Buffalo Bill. 209 The Double Daggers; or, DEapwoop Dick's Deviance. BysEdward L. Wheeler. | 21 Khe Frontier Angel, A Romance or KEn- Tucky RaNnGcEr’s Lire. By Edward 8. Ellis. @2 The Sea Serpent; or, THe Boy Rosrinson Crusor. By Juan Lewis. 23 Nick o? the Night; or, Tux Boy Spry or "76. By T. C. Harbaugh. 24 Diamond Dirk; YELLOWSTONE. By ¢ 25 The Boy Captain; DavuautTer. By Roger Starbuck. 26 Cloven Hoof, THe BurraLo Demon; or, THE Borper Voutures. By Edward L. Wheeler. 27 Antelope Abe, THE Boy Guipg. Oll Coomes. 28 Buffalo Ben, THe PRINCE OF THE PISTOL; or, Deapwoop Dick In Diseuise. E. L. Wheeler. | 29 The Dumb Page; or, THe Doae’s Davan- | rer. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. | BO Roaring Ralph Rockwood, tHE REck- LEss RANGER. By Harry St. George. 81 Keen-Knife, Prince oF THE Pratnigs. By Oll Coomes. | 82 Bob Wooly, THe Borper RvrFian; or, THE | Girt Deap-Suor. By Edward L. Wheeler. 83 Whe Ocean Bloodhound; or, THe Rep PreaTss OF THE CARIBBEES. By 8. W. Pierce. or, Nick WuuirrLes’ Boy Spy. or, Tak MysTerRy OF THE ol. Prentiss Ingraham. or, THE PIRATE’s | 84 Orezon nets Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 85 Wil Ivan, THE Boy CLAupE Dovat; or, THE | BrorHerHoop or Dreatu. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 3@ The Boy Clown; or, THE QUEEN OF THE Arena. By Frank S. Finn. ?7 The Hidden Lodge; or, Tae Lirritz Hun- TER OF THE ADIRONDACKS. By T. C. Harbaugh. 38 Ned Wylde, tHe Boy Scour. By Texas Jack. 39 Death-Face, THe Derecttve; or, Lire AND | Love in New York. By Edward L. Wheeler. 40 Roving Ben. A Storyor a Youna AmMerr- | cAN Wao WANTED TO SEE THE WoRLD. Marshall. 43 Lasso Jack, tHe Youna Mustanaer. By Oll Coomes. 42 The Phantom Miner; or, Deapwoop Dick’s Bonanza. By Edward L. Wheeler. 43 Dick Darling, THe Pony Express RIDER. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 44 Kattling Rube; or, Tae Niant Hawks or Kentucky. By Harry St. George. 45 Old Avalanche, THE GrReAT ANNIBILATOR; or, WILD EDNA, THE Gren Bricanp. E. L.Wheeler. 46 Glass Eye, THe Great Suor or THe WEsv. | By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 47 Nightingale Nat; or, Taz Forest Caprains. = . C. Harbaugh. 48 Black John, THE RoAp-AGENT; or, THE Ovt- LAWws’ Retreat. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 42 Omaha OU), THE MAskep Terror: or, Drap- woop DIcK IN DANGER. By Edward L. Wheeler. $0 Burt Bunker, TH2 Trapper. A Tale of the Northwest. By C. E. Lasalle. §1 The Boy ifles; or, THz UNDERGROUND Camp. By Archie C. Irons. $2 The White Buffalo. A Tale of perenne Adventure in the Northwest. yy C._ E. Lasalle. | 63 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., tum Boy PuHentx; or, THRovuGH To DeatH. By Edward L. Wheeler. 64 Ned Mazel, tHe Boy Trapper; or, THe PHAN- tom Princess. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 65 Deadly - Eye, THz Unknown Scour; or, Tae BranDED BRoTHERHOOD. By Buffalo Bill. 6A Nick Whiffles’ Pet; or, IN THe VALLEY or Deatu, By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 67 Deadwood Dick’s Eagles; or, Taz Parps or FLoop Bar. wieees . eeler. 68 The Border King; or, Tux Secrer For, rf Oll Coomes. $9 Old Hickory; or, Panpy Extis’s Scatp. By | Harry St. George. aC The White Indian; or, Tux Scouts or Tux YELLOWSTONE. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 81 Buckhorn Bill; or, Taz Rep Rirte Team. Edward L. Wheeler. #2 e Shadow Ship; or, Tae Rrvau Liev- | TENANTS. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. #3 The Red Brotherhood; or, Tae Twetve AVENGERS. W. J. Hamilton. 64 Dandy Jack; or, THe OvuTLAw or THE OREGON Tram. By T. C. Harbaugh. 65 Murricane Bill; or, Mustane Sam AnD His “ PARD.”’ By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 66 Single and; or, A Lire ror A Lire. By W. J. Hamilton. 67 Patent-leather Joe; or, OLD Rarriesnake, THE CHARMER, By Philip S. Warne. @8 The Border Robin Hood; or, Taz Prarriz Rover. By Buffalo Bill. 69 Gold Rifie, rae SxArpsHoorer; or, Tar Boy DETECTIVE oF THE BLACK Rancw. By Wheeler. 70 Old_ Zip’s Cabin; or, THe GREmNHORN IN tHe Woops. By J. F. C. Adams. 1 Delaware : or, BRoTHER AGAINST BrorHer. By Oll Coomes. {8 Mad Kom Western, THe Texan Rancer; ick, THE Youna RAnGer Spy; or, Tae QUEEN oF THE PRarRIE. By Hamilton. | 104 73 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, CaLamrry JANE, THE HEROINE OF WHoop-UP. By Wheeler. 74 HMawk-eye Marry, THE Youna TrapPEeR Raneer. By Oll Coomes. | 75 The Boy Duelist; or, Tae Cruise or THE Sra-Woxtr. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, ) 76 Abe Colt, THE Crow-KILLER; or, Tor Great FIGHTING MAN or THE WEsT. By A. W. Aiken. 77 Corduroy Charlie, THz Boy Bravo; or, | Deapwoop Dicx’s Last Act. By E. L. Wheeler. | 78 Blue Dick; or, THe YELLOW Curer’s VEN- } GEANCE. By Captain Mayne Reid. 79 Sol Ginger, THE Grant TRAPPER; or, THE FLOWER OF THE BLACKFEET. By A. W. Aiken. | 80 Rosebud Rob; or, Nucaer Nep, THE Knicur oF THE GuLcH. By Edward L. Wheeler. 81 Lightning Jo, THe TERROR OF THE PRAIRIE. | By Captain J. I’. C. Adams. 82 Kit Haretoot, THe Woop-Hawk; or, OLD PowpER-Face AND His Demons. By Harbaugh. . 83 Rollo, the Boy Ranger; or, THe HEIREss OF THE GoLDEN Horn. By Oll Coomes. 84 Idyl, the Girl Miner; or, Rosepup Ros on Hanp. By Edward L. Wheeler, 85 Buck Buckramy or, Bess, THE FEMALE | Trapper, By Captain J. F. C, Adams. 86 Dandy Bock, tux Man From Texas. By G. Waldo Browne. 87 The Land Pirates; or, THe League or | Devin’s ISLAND. 24 Capt. Mayne Reid. 88 Photograph Phil, tHE Boy Sieur; or, Rosxusuv Rop’s REAPPEARANCE. By E. L. Wheeler. 89 Island Jim: or, THe Per or THe Famizy. By the author of “ Jack Harkaway.” 90 The Dread Rider}; or, THe Texan Dove zist. By George Waldo Browne. 91 The Captain of the Club3 or, Tae Youne Rivau AraureTes. By Bracebridge Hemyng, 92 Canada Chet, THE CouNTERFEITER CHIEF; or, OLD ANACONDA IN SITTING BuLL’s Camp. By Edward L. Wheeler. 93 The Boy Miners; or, IsLAND. By Edward 8. Ellis. 94 Midnight Jack, tHE Roap-AGEnt; or, GopHER GiD, THE Boy TRAPPER OF THE CHEYENNE, By T. C. Harbaugh, 95 The Rival Rovers; OF THE MISSISSIPPI. ot Lieut, Col. Hazeltine. 96 Watch-Eye, THE SHADOW; or, ARAPS AND ANGELS OF A GREAT City. By E. L. Wheeler. 97 The Outlaw Brothers; or, Taz Captive oF THE Harpgs. By J. J. Marshall. 98 Robin Hood, tTH® OvTLAwed Ear; or, THE Merry MEN of Greenwoop. Prof. Gildersleeve. 99 The Tiger of Taos}; or, Wimp Kars, Danny Rock’s ANGEL. By George Waldo Browne. 100 Deadwood Dick in Leadville; or, A STRANGE STROKE FOR Liserty. By Wheeler. 101 Jack Markaway in New York; or, Tur ADVENTURES OF THE TRAVELERS’ CLUB. By Bracebridge Hemyng. Dick Dead-Eye, THe Boy Smvaacter; or, THE CRUISE OF THE VIXEN. By Col. Ingraham. The Lion of the Seas; or, THE VAILED Laby oF SAN TROPEZ. By Col. Delle Sara. Deadwood Dick’s Device; or, Tue Sien of THE DousiE Cross. By E. i. Wheeler Old Rube, THe Hunter; or, THE Crow Cap- TIVE. By Capt. H. Holmes. Old Frosty, THE Guide; or, NIOKANA, THE WHITE QUEEN oF THE BLACKFEET. Harbaugh. One-Eyed Sims; or, THe ABANDONED For- EST Home. By J. L: Bowen. | Daring Davy, THE YounG Bear-Ki1eER; or, Tue TRAIL OF THE BorDER WoLF. H. St. George. THe ENCHANTED or, Toe FREEBOOTERS 102 103 105 106 107 108 109 Deadwood Dick as Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler. | 110 The Black Steed of the Prairies. A Thrilling Story of Texan Adventure. By Bowen. 111 The Sea-Devil; or, THe Mrpsnrpman’s Leaacy. By Col. P. Ingraham. 112 The Ma Hunter; or, Tae Cave or Dears. By Burton Saxe. | 113 Jack Hoyle, tHe Youne SpecunaTor; or, Tas Roap to Fortune By Ed. L. Wheeler. | 114 The Black Schooner; or, Jis Junk, THE | Oud Tar. By Roger Starbuck. 115 'The Mad Miner; or, Danny Rocg’s Doom. By George Waldo Browne. 116 The Hussar Captain; or, Toe Hermrr or Hewit-Gare. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 117 Gilt-Edged Dick, vHE Sport DETECTIVE; or, THE AD-AGENT’s DAvGHTER. Wheeler. 118 Will Somers, THe Boy Detective. Morris. 119 Mustang Sam; or, THE KING OF THE Puiains. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 120 The Branded Hand; or, THe Man or Mystery. By Frank Dumont. 121 Cinnamon Chip, THe Grr. Sport; or, | THe GoLpEN Inout or Mr. Rosa. Kd. L. Wheeler. 122 Phil Hardy, Tur Boss Boy; or, THe Mys- TERY OF THE Stronapow. By Charles Morris. 123 Kiowa Charley, THe Waite MustanGer. Ee T. C. Harbaugh. . . 124 Wippy, THE Texan; or, THE YounG CHAMPION, By George Gleason. 125 Bonanza Bill, Miner; or, Mapame Mys- TERY, THE FEMALE Forarr. By ied. L. Wheeler. 126 Picayune Pete; or, Nicopemus, THe Doc Derecrive. By Charles Morris. | 127 Wild-Wire, THE Boss or THE Roap; or, THE WoLvEs oF SATAN’s Gap. By Frank ‘Dumont. 128 The Young Privateer; or, THe Prrartss’ SrRoxGHoLD. By H. Cavendish. 129 Deadwood Dick’s Double; or, Tus | Guost or GorGon’s Gutcn. Ed. L. Wheeler. 130 Detective Dick; or, THe Hero mm, Rags. By Charles Morris. 131 The Golden Mandy or, Danny Rock To THE Rescue. By George W. Browne. | | 162 132 The Hunted Hunter; or, Tue STRANGE HORSEMAN OF THE Prarriz. By Ed. §. Ellis. 133 Boss Bob, tHe Kine or THE BooTBLACKS; or, THE PAWNBROKER’s Ptor. Ed. L. Wheeler. 134 Sure Shot Seth, THe Boy Rirteman; or THs YounG PaTriots OF THE NortH. By Oll Coomes, 135 ee Paul, THE Kentucky MoonsHInER;} or, THE Boy Spy OF THE Mountams. By Clark. 136 Night-Hawk Kit ; or, Toe DAUGHTER OF THE RancH. By Joseph BE. Badger, Jr. 137 The Helpless Hand3 or, Backwoops RETRIBUTION. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 138 Blonde Bill; or, Deapwoop Dicx’s Hom» Base. By Edward L. Wheeler. 139 Judge Lynch Jr.; or, THe Boy Vier LANTE. By T. C. Harbaugh. 140 Blue Blazes; or, THe Breax 0’ Day Boys or Rocky Bar. “By Frank Dumont. 141 Solid Sam, tHe Boy Roap-AaeEnt; or, Taw BRANDED Brows. By Edward L. Wheeler. 142 Handsome Harry, THE Boorsuack Dr TECTIVE. By Charles Morris, 143 Sear-Face Saul, THE Srtent Hunter; or, THe Mystery or Fort Rane. By Oli Coomes. 144 Dainty Lance, THe Boy Sport; or, THE BANK-BREAKERS’ Decoy Duck. J. E. Badger. 145 Captain Werret, tar New York Derec- TIVE; or, Boss Bos’s Boss Jon. By Wheeler, 146 Silver Star, THe Boy Kyicur. A Prairie Romance. By Oll Coomes. 147 Will Wildfire, THE THoxovGcapREd; ur, THE WINNING Hand. By Charles Morris 148 Sharp Samy; or, THE ADVENTURES OF A FRriIenDtess Boy. By J. Alexander Patten, 149 A Game of Gold; or, DeEapwoop Dick's Bie Strike. By Edward L. Wheeler. 150 Lance and Lasso; or, Tor CHILDREN oF THE Cuaco. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 151 Panther Paul, THe Pram Prrarte; or, Dainty LANcE To THE Rescur. J. E. Badger. 152 Black Bess, Wit Wivprme’s Racer; or, WINNING AGarInst Opps. By Charles Morris. 153 Eagle Kit, tae Boy Demon; or, THe Ovt- LAWS OF THE Gotp Hii1s. By Oll Coomes. 154 The Sword Hunters; or, Tae Lanp oF THE ELEPHANT Ripers, By Fred. Whittaker. Gold Trigger, tHe Sport; or, THe Girt AVENGER. By T. é. Harbaugh. Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, Tue Pickep Party. By Edward L. Wheeler. Miike Merry, tue Harznor Potice Boy;or, THE NicHt-HAWKS OF PHILADELPHIA. Morris, Fancy Frank of Colorado; or, THe TRAPPER’S Trust. By Buffalo Bill. Khe Lost Captain; or, Sxiprrr JABEz Corrin’s CRUISE TO THE OPEN PoLAR SEA. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. The Black Giant; or, Damnry Lance In JEOPARDY. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. New York Nell, tHe Boy-Gint Derecrrys; or, OLD BLAKESLY’s Money. By E. L. Wheeler, Will Wildfire in the Woods; or, Camp LirE IN THE ALLEGHANIES. By Charles Morris. Little Texas, tHe Youna Musrancer. A Tale of Texan Prairies. By Oll Coomes. Dandy Rock’s Pledge; or, HunTED To Deatu. By G. Waldo Browne. Billy Baggage, tHe Ramroap Boy; or, Run To EartH. By Charles Morris, Eiickory Marry; or, THe Tram or Fire. By Harry St. George. Asa Scott, Tur Steampoat Boy; or, Tar Lanp PIRATES OF THE Mississiprr. By Ed. Willett. Deadly Dash; or, Fienrinc Fire wire Frre. By Jos. E. Badger. Fornado Tom; or, Insun Jack From Rep Core. T. C. Harbaugh. A Trump Cardy; or, Wm. Witprme Wins AnD Losgs. By Charles Morris. Ebony Dany or, Tur Rrvat Leacves or Srtver Crrcie. By F. Dumont. 172 Thunderbolt Tom; or, Taz Woir-HerpeR or THE Rockizs. By Harry St. George. Dandy Rock’s Rival; or, Tae Hurtep Mar or Taos. By George Waldo Browne, Bob Rockett, THz Boy Dopaer; or, Mys- TeRIES OF New York. By Charles Morris. Captain Arizona, THE Kina Pin or Roar AGENTS; cr, Patent ther Joe’s Big Game. By Philip 8.Warne. The Boy ewes’ or, THe Bucc, NEED OF THE Bay. Lieut. H. D, Perry, U.S.N. 177 Nobby Nick of Nevada, By Edward L Vheeler. 178 Old Solitary, THE Hermit TrapreR; oF THE DRAGON oF tiver Lake. By Ol Coomes. 179 Bob Rockett, tHe Bank Runner; or, TH Roap To Rurs. By Charles Morris. Dee, 28th. 180 The Sea Trailer; or, A Vow Wet. Kept, By Lieut. H. D.Perry, U.§.N. January 4th, 181 Wild Frank of Montama: or, Tuy Kine or Buckskins. By Edward Z Wheeler, Ready January 11th. 182 Little Murricane, THE Boy Caprayy; or, Tae OATH OF THE YOUNG AVENGERS. By oll Coomes. Ready January 18th. A new issue every week. The Half-Dime Library is for sale by all Newsdealers, five cents per copy, or sent by trail on receipt of six cents each, BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York. 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 173 174 175 176