Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 226) (1881 11 22)
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CN ate = ie : mi ae : Ne i 3 \ MeN Me estiNL alll allele WA ~ WWE: FAN A \ Se leeetedeataen ate 4 | vu liquetlaat! Ac (eal teal NS $2.50 a year. Entered at the Post ‘Office at New York, N. ¥., at Second Class Mall Rates. Copyrighted in 1881 by BEADLE AND ADAMS November 22, 1881, Single PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Price, Vol. IX. Number. No, 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents. No. 226. SNOOZER, THE BOY SHARP; or, THE ARAB DETECTIVE, BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, AUTHOR OF “DEADWOOD DICK” NOVELS, “‘ ROSEBUD ROB” NOVELS, “! GILT-EDGED DICK,” ‘‘ BONANZA BILL,” ETC., ETO, MiNi ys ie U- \} Vi Me \! “HOWDY DO, DR. DABOL? HOW DO I LUK FER A CADAVER? THINK YE COULD DISSECT ME?”
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SNOQOZER, THE BOY SHARP; ? THE ARAB DETECTIVE. BY E. L. WHEELER, AUTHOR OF ‘“‘ DEADWOOD DIOK ” NOVELS, “ ROSE- BUD ROB” NOVELS,” ETC,, ETC. CHAPTER IL. BILLY THE SNOOZER. “SwooznR! Yes, sir, thet’s what they call me,” replied a ragged and dirty youth, who w.th blacking-brush in hand stood idly leaning igainst a lamp-post in front of the new Public Building, Philadelphia, one bright warm Au- st day—“ Billy the Snoozer an’ the Gamin leuth, ther perlice call me, while ther bard nuts crack me as Snoozer the Snide, the Skin- ner, the Sniffler, and sech like psalm-book names. Want yer pedestrianators polished, senator?” “No, thank you,” the well-dressed, rather repossessing business-looking man answered. ¢ had paused to address the urchin. “ I fancy my boots will do quite well for the present. Ex: cuse my seeming inquisitiveness, but I was re~ ferred to you as being a pretty.shrewd sort of a lad, likely to be of assistance to a person on a blind search. How is it?” “Dunno. Reckon I know a few p’ints about things in general, tho’ I allow I don’t tackle kindly ter ev’ry sort o’ bizness w’ot comes along. Got a case?” The ge ae smiled, while he took a critical survey of the street Arab, who was not an Ado Sixteen or seventeen years —— pos- sibly have over his head, though his size was about that of a boy of twelve, but stoutly built, ‘‘chubby,” and indications were that he possessed much of a man’s strength. In face he was not handsome, nor was he de- cidedly homely ; there wasa something about his pt os ed countenance that was pleasing and intelligent. Then, too, the half-comic ex- pression of the mouth, and the knowing twinkle of a brilliant pair of eyes of dark blue color, added to the favorable impression he made upon the careful observer. “Yes, I've yot a case,” the gentleman an- swered, surveying the gamin sharply, ‘‘ which I am not inclined to trust to the professional de- tectives, preferring the agency of some‘shrewd, sharp-seeing person, who would work with a will, both in hopes of winning a reputation and eS ry ‘* Well, now, that hits me like a bannanner, providin’ et’s honest Injun bizness, I ken’t be pulled inter no undertow pate, Bh see, no | fiftteen- more 'n a Philadelfy muskeeter ball poo." “ What is your real name?” ; “Well, thet ain’t exactly known, yer see— *pears like my name war kinder obscured under afog. ’Spect Bill Snoozer is ther furst name I er know’d, tho’ afore that et ht ’a’ bin klin or Blaine or some other big Injun. Allus did take quite a notion I_ was ther ff kid of some statesman, ’ca’sel take so natter- ally ter polertix, an’ then ther polerticians look so kindly on me, an’ I get their shines, ’ca’se they argue I look like Ben Butler. What’s your name? } “My name is Algernon Davis. I am a re- hess man.” “ Waal, now, that’s a hossy old handle, sure’s you live, tho’ ye orter had Fitz Au har- nessed onto it. Wouldn’t be af to tackle Queen Victory wi seca a handle. S’pect ye ain’ on the mash?’ . : ‘SHardly, my boy. It is a practice I least of all admire.” “ Reckon you're a Quake’, eh?” *T am of Quaker descent, to be sure,” was the reply, ‘‘ and proud of it.” ‘Oh! well, I spec’ you aire, The ke’s ar’ hty queer set, but I’ll admit they won't cheat ner A dishonest games, onless they git inter ther milk peddlin’ Now, fer stance, I twig an old delegate, who domiciles = West Philadelfy, off Lanc’ster avenue. C) gays ‘ah’ and ‘um’ and ‘thee’ and ‘thou,’ till can’t rest, ter ehurch three times on Boaday, an’ shute me fer a Catfish ef he don’t peddle ther skinniest misk o’ any man in town, an’ ther Board o’ Health bzs arrested him fer sellin’ impure water, adulterated wi’ hen fruit an’ chalk.” : ‘‘ Which does not concern the business I have Snoozer, the Boy Sharp. to be done. Come alon and I will explain what I want of you.” “‘ Keyrect, as ther lock sed to ther burglar; I’m with you, If you kerry enough capertal above yer assets an’ liabilities ter satisfy my modest demands, I presume you an’ I kin make acontract. Yea, verily!” Then there was a merry laugh, followed Ls a stiff-necked, facial impersonation of a pious Quaker, as the Snoozer marched meekly behind Mr. Davis. The retired merchant led the way to a cosey Py ge se of modest size on the second floor of a block on Highth street, and the two became seated. . ‘Now, then,” announced Mr. Davis, ‘‘ I have a case for you, which, if you are smart enough to manage, will bring you a handsome reward. Will you undertake it, and pledge yourself not to give it up, until you work out every point involved?” **If worthy of the honest efforts of an honest man, yes.” ‘“ Well, then, here is a key fitting a door toa compartment in yonder desk, the opening of which, by you, at any time after my death, should I be taken off suddenly, will place in your hand a sufficient sum of money to ampl reward you for. all your efforts in my behalf. If I live, I will furnish you money, as you may need it, from time to time to carry on your in- with me to my office, tion, and when yqu have satisfactorily vestiga performed such duties as the case requ and shall have won it beyond aogier t will ies you two thousand do . Is that satis- actory to you?” ‘Phew! I should smile! Inthe langage of Conky at ther Albany deadlock, I should cough up a cat,” the gamin replied, with a grin, ‘“ purceed wi’ ther p’ints and Pll r ‘em in my nateral phonograph, fer reperducktion at future convenience.” _ ‘‘T have not much to tell you, that will help you begin your work. Here is all I can give you. want you to find out the meaning or significance of the contents of this card; and next, the names of those who have anything to. do with the meaning.” Billy took the cart Outwardly it was a plain white common card, on which was printed the following in gold: ‘T. L V 2—T:S-5—S. D—dig! —M-N O of G.— r J. 8. M 10, The studied this strange inscription cu- riously for some time, evidently deeply in- terested in it. Mr. Davis watched him, and finally said: ‘Well, what do you make of it?” “Nary a bit. t’s a conundrum, thet is. Reckon some one’s jest l’arnin’ his A, B, C’s, an’ he’s got ther bizness mixed up wi’ te ‘I do not feel inclined to look at the matter in that light. I feel that that card is an ill omen tome. I feel—in fact I am fully satisfled —that some wickedl d mysterious band of villains have marked me out as a victim, and are the authors of these I find them nearly everywhere. If I piek up a book, or paper, Iam certain to find those same letters before me, arranged in the same order you see them. If I attend a theater, a ne inevitably falls into my lap, bear- ng the mystic monogram, if such it can be ed. My linen has all been indelibly marked with it—I find the inscription upon nearly everything I pick up, until [am nearly driven wild, and am almost inclined to the belief that I am a haunted man,” The iin was silent, while his eyes were fastened upon the floor, in deep thoughts his face was. very sober. ‘‘ Haunted be han ” he ejaculated, finally. ‘‘Bet my ‘kit’ ag’in’ a three-cent ‘schooner’ that et’s alla put up job. Why didn’t ye in- vite a detective inter this gen boss?” ‘“*T have no t amount of faith in the any, or re ity of the major part of them, I laid my case before several, but they seemed to rd the matter as little more than an eccentric notion of mine.” : “@uess not. They don’t kmow so much as they might. Reekon thar’s heaps 0’ under-biz- ness to rooted ‘an’ et : a calf-skin lisher like yer nephew, heer, to tumble ter Thor Galcaa 3 peo’ ef 1 lay ther thing all in shape fer ye, ye’ll be willin’ ter ‘stump’ fer me. when I run ag’in’ Blaine fer next ‘chair’ up at ‘ Hatchettown? ” ‘You mean the presidency?” ‘*T should chuckle.” “Oh! yes—you can count on me.” “All right. Now, then, PH purceed to give a et wi’ bankers, pol ye a little cross-questioning, pppoe enue style. er name is Algernon Davis?” “My name is Algernon Davis.” The bootblack took a dirty memorandum- book from his pocket, together with a pencil, and made some hieroglyphics in the book that hardly resembled intelligible pm eG Then he proceeded, pausing now and then, to repeat the penciling operation; in a rapid hand: ‘Are you married?” ‘*My wife has been dead these six years.” “Got any progeny?” ~ ‘*Pve one son,” ‘“‘ What fer kind of a rooster is he?” ‘“Alas! I cannot speak favorably of him, for 1 fear he has no claim to the title of an honorable man. For the last three months he has been very dissipated, and extravagant, so that last month I was foreed to turn him from my home, upon his own resources, in hopes that it would make an improvement in bim. But I fear it will never have the desired effect.” “What's his handle?” ‘** His name is Lyle Davis.” ‘* Another hossy handle. Reckonmebbe you're some relation to Jeff Davis, who created a c durin’ ther war in the pene market, a-writin’ sockdologies agin’ ther Union.” ““Hardly, I fancy.” _ Well, ; ray not. Jeff ap a hard old ogner, tho’, they say—a reg’lar lady-smasher. Got any more children or'relashe?” “No other children of my own blood. I have, however, an adopted daughter, by the name of Bertie, and a nephew by the name of Jack Sedley—one of the nicest young men in the city, is Jack. I only wish my boy was like “‘Reg"lar parasol paragon, is he?” “A moral and straightforward young man, sir, with very few faults, if I do say it.” “ Any more relashions?” ‘** None in the wide world, to my knowledge.”: “Glad o’ that. Won't have so many ter overhaul. Got any enemies?” ‘* None that I know of.” “ Well, all ee Fe ter do, ef ye want to collect a supply, to run fer o They'll make ye out a son-of-a-cook quicker’n a Rhode Island rooster kin swalleraclam: Rosky Conk- lin tells me ot’s a receipt, ter i pony an’ bald-headed. owsumever, notwiths - ing, — ain’t to ther p’int. What’s ther size o’ surplus rer What do you mean?” | ‘Yer colat —yer See Te capertal! How much inflation d’ye carry?” = Ove mean how much au I worth?’ * ‘in. Ye see we o’ ther os om pea in tecknerkal te: frum habit, by : an’ big guns, gener- ally.” “Ha! ha! pretty good ef you. Well, my boy, I su gt be rated at a couple of hundred Teasdnd. t h I flatter myself no has any idea where if is.” “Ner I don’t want to,” Billy replied. ‘*‘ All I want ’s ther p’ints. Recken I’ve got enough ter figger on fera while. Nover looked thru this keerd, did ye, toward the light?” ‘*No; I never thought so far,” and the mer- chant received the card, and examined it. Acry of astonishment escaped his lips, and his faee assumed an ashen, hue. the light, and Stin-petdeng, nich C) , and revealed two pi w 0 were ae a be represen a upon the which were the mystic letdance and before mentioned. other was alike to Dante's Inf with skeletons, imps, and his Satanic esty in the act of placing a body in a boiling ca ¢ in Law| way of deadly side Noi more ifican warning, could well be concei CHAPTER II. A HELPIN PING HAND, A sort time afterward, when Mr. Davis had semewhat recovered from his astonishmen the Gamin Sleuth took his departure, with the strange -whose picture was sig- nificant of death and judgment, but whose yet remained to be solved. ‘Tl r it out, arter bizness hours,” he muttered, “‘ that is, ef I can. 'Spect it’ll take the editer oa puzzle papor ter tell ther meanin’ @’ them letters.” Business was never dull with Billy, and hoe had all he could de until nightfall, when he gathered up his ‘lit’ and homeward trudged, A poor sort of heme it was, but it was a cov- ering at least. and knewn as McCarthy’s tene-
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— a >. ment, on a narrow damp street, not far from South street. Here did Mrs. McCarthy ‘kape,’ and among er flock were newsboys and bootblacks, crip- eS and gars, with a liberal sprinkling of mmers, thieves and the roughest of the rough. Aside from Mrs. McCart y there was but one other of her sex who was bold enough to brave the terrors of the ‘ Dice-Box,’ as the establishment was known, among the frequent- ers of it, and residents of the street. This other was a young girl of sixteen, who made it her business to “ speculate.” Sometimes she bought things and peddled them, among poor families; to-day she would purchase a lot of goods, at auction—to-morrow she would bargain them off to those of the poor who seldom step out- side their own doors. To-night she would report items for some morning newspaper—to- morrow night she could likely enough be found in front of one of the theaters, crying off re- served tickets. Unless you were closely observant, you were not liable to detveot the fact that she was a girl, as she always dressed in male attire of the ’ neatest fit and quality, and her face was just masculine enough to retty. and with the aid of a toilet brush a faint tinge, like unto beard, usually ornamented her face, Her name was Fanchon Flint, though she = mostly addressed as Fan, and sometimes as Wh she lin about so rough a den as that kept by Mother McCarthy no one knew; yet she did, and, rough as were thé gang, none of them were ever known to speak or whisper a word against her character. Even the roughest of the habitues refrained from offering her insult, because they knew she was chaste, and above all, not to stand up for her own rights. She had her little room on the second t, and came and went when- ever she pleased, rarely taking her meals in the There was no denying that Mother McCar- thy’s was the place for ye poor boarders, as she only levied a of a dollar per week for board and lodging,and consequently caught her " Dice- Cup” full of the offscourings of Philadelphia two-thirds of whom were men of drink an questionable repute, who could lose themselves in the old tenement without much danger of the police — them, while the other th were comport of bootblacks, newsboys and street waits of nearly every type, to whom the low price of board was the magnet that attracted them to the “ hotel.” Board was rather slim, to be sure, but that did not matter to the overruling majority, as Mother McCarthy di sed liquid fury, more commonly called wh , for five cents glass, three glasses of which were warranted to make a man “blind.” Rows were of frequent occurrence in the den, but they were never meddled with by the po- lice, as it was nota place for less than a score of the blue-coats to visit at once. If a ‘‘ worthy ” was harbored in the den, whom the authorities really wanted, many 7 invariably left it for the detectives to secure him, rather than for the police force to ‘‘ make a descent.” But to proceed with our narrative. — Billy the Snoozer having pursued bis regular line of business until nightfall then set out for the Dice-Cup. On arrival there, he entered the bar-room, and, as was his custom, handed his blacking outfit over to the red-n blear-eyed looking landlady, Mrs. McCarthy, after which he as- cended a of rickety stairs into the upper rtion of the old tenement, followed by eM a bow scowling glances from the loungers in the eropeery- : en they were whose souls were stained with crime—who were ever at variance with the mandates of the law, and who feared and hated a person who served it. Billy had a reputation, even among the Aabi- tues of the Dice Cup, for being a shrewd fellow, who had on more t one occasion served the law, and it made him no friends among the ras- cals who were harbored under Mother McCar- thy’s protecting wing. ‘ae exciting experience had the boot- black had among them but he had always been lucky enough to get off without getting Tart. Ascending to the second floor, - traversed a dark, dirty hall for some distance, and knocked at a door. “‘ Come in!” called outa pleasant voice, and he accordingly 0 ed the door, entered the room and shoddl in the presence of Fanchon Flint. Contrary to her usual custom, the girl was now dressed in the attire of her own sex, and Snoozer, the Boy Sharp. engaged in some writing, which she laid aside and welcomed the gamin with a bright smile. She was a very pretty girl, both in face and figure, and knew how to use her eer eyes with charming effect when she so felt disposed. ‘*Got hum, eh?’ the boy said, taking a seat — her. ‘* Didn’t know’s I'd find you. How’s iz ’ ‘* Rather slow, this week, but then, I’ve cap- tured a few dollars. How have you been do- ing? ‘Bully! Plenty o’ dust fixes up plenty 0’ work fer me. Reckon ef biz keeps hvely my savings bank account ’ll be big enough so I kin buy A ther Conternental Hotel.” “Well, I hope so, Billy. Dll go in partner- ship with you, then.” ‘* Ye don’t mean it, Fan?” “Bet Ido! Hav’n’t I always told youl was zoing to have you, when you got enough laid y to buy a home?’ ‘* Yas, I know you have, but I reckoned you was only gassin’.” ‘‘Not a bit of it! ve known you too long not to know what you’re good for, and I guess you ain’t slow in reckonin’ that it’s a cold day when a human squeezes in a deal over me.” “You bet. You're flip enuff fer ony of ’em, an’ ye kin consider et a bargin thet [ll take ye fer better or worse, soon as I git a foreign - istry, or elected to Congress, Fer ther present, however, I reckon I’ve got a job as’ll tax both our wits, an’ eff ye help me out wi’ et, I'll divy —tho’ I reckon I could figger et out alone, but would ruther hev you take a hand in et.” Then he rela in substance, the points of his interview with Mr. Algernon Davis, to all of which Fanchon listened attentively. ‘* Let me see the strange card,” she said, ‘‘ and perhaps I may be able to make something out of it.’ The Snoozer accordingly submitted it for her inspection, and she was engrossed in silent study of it for some time, ‘“T fail to solute,” she said, finally, with a smotle. ‘‘I see the secret pictures, and compre- hend this much. A band of are evi- dently working on Mr. Davis—a band, too, which is matically organized, and know their biz. I should judge they were either figur- ing with a view of extorting money from him, or else they have a deeper scheme and purpose to carry it out after his death.” ‘*Don't savy what the figgers mean an’ the letters, eh?” ‘‘No. There isa wide chance for guess in re- gard to their true meaning. I should t that they are initials which stand for the C) of some infamous order.” “Just my way of thinking. Know any thin aims J ak oy ne Lyle sort I othi u of Sedley, ough have ramon se head the name mentioned. Lyle Davis I have frequently seen—a fellow who'd be a good-looker, if he’d let whisky alone. He is frequently to be found in the gambling rooms along Vine or Walnut streets. Judgin by his appearance when [ last saw him, it won’ take long to fetch him to ‘ snakes.’” ‘‘Humph! what a fool! Ther old man has got lots o’ tin, an’ I reckon et’s some one’s duty ter reform ther kid so he will be fit to gather in the Petental shekels, when my client off.” “‘ Don’t think it would be worth while trying. They say the girl who is his adopted sister, re- fused to have him, and that’s what drove him to the bad.” ‘*Guess I'll have to go round an’ interview her one o’ these days. Ain’t much o’ a charmer, myself, but ’spect mebbe I might give her a few ose ter cogitate on. In the mean time, you'll eep yer eyes Open won't ye, an’ luk out fer news “You bet I will—allus count on me, when there's anything I can do to help you, Billy.” ‘‘Know'd it, Cap, an’ you jest ealculate the Snoozer appreci sech leetle favors,” the bootblack said, shaking hands, and then de- parting. For several days thereafter the gamin saw nothing of Mr. Davis, nor did he learn anyhting relative to the case he had undertaken to ferret out, Fully cognizant of the fact that he must earn a few dimes even while working up the case, he did not forsake his box and brush, and was daily seen along his accustomed beat, working indus- triously when an opportunity offered He was taking a noon recess one day, about a week after the events last related, in the little park immediately back of the antiquated struc- ture, Independence Hall, when something oc- curred which he took in quite surprisedly. 3 A couple of dandified, flashily-attired young fellows entered the park from the Chestaut- street side at about the same moment that a shabby, used-up-looking chap came inte view from the direction of Walnut street, and the trio advanced toward each other over the walk which led from one corner of the little park to the other. The eyes of the Snoozer involuntarily watched both parties. ° To his surprise the two dandies halted as they neared the bummer, and appeared to address some remark to him, to which he replied; thea the best-appearing dandy of the two quickl raised his band in a sort of twirl about his head: and the tramp dropped to the ground. The same moment that he fell the two rts made their way out of Independence Park, i ly across quickly, into the larger square, the street, where a large party of picnickers were assembled, with a view, no doubt, of losing their identity in the crowd. For the instant Billy was so taken by ee as to be unable to give an alarm, bat in a tna more he regained his voice, and shouted ustily : ‘** Perlice! perlice!” A blue coated “solid” man immediately ap- upon the scene. ‘‘Hello! what’s wrong?’ he demanded, ap- proaching the young sleuth. * Look thar the boy replied, indica’ the a ree la @ nm the ee sca Two dy k him, spoke an drapped him wi’ a slung-shot. ‘ = ere are they now?” ‘Oh! they slid over into the square. Two gave sports in light coats, blue Mpg an’ plug ats, ter say nothin’ about lavender kids, ivory- headed canes an’ eyeglasses, an’ both had cream- kolored darling little sissy mustaches, w'ot ain’t bin hatched long:” The laughed at the in’s odd descrip- tion, an Renan another officer who had arrived on the spot to look after the wounded man, he slid off in search of the manipulators of the slung-shot. Billy accompanied the other cop, and assisted him to trot the ‘lay ” man to the nearest sta- tion-house, where remedies were applied that soon brought him to his senses. Drunk though he may have been at the time of being struck, he was now thoroughly so and withstood the the wou ethan u his forehead without a murmur. It was only a flesh cut, but might have resulted more seriously, for it.was close in the vicini of the temple where the treacherous weapon struck. a no employment at present. When rea | i him down, he said that he did, but preferred not to make any complaint him. The judge recommended that the prisoner pay five dollars into the tre for a vagrant, whereupon Davis stated that he no money, nor did he know of*any place he could get any, and the judge was about to hu- manely(/) send him up for thirt or when the Snoozer, stepped forward and paid his fine out of his own earnings, and the wealthy ex- merchant’s son was discharged. Turning to the gamin, he extended his band, — tears of gratitude stood in his eyes, as he said: “Thank you, Johnnie. Though I don’t know you, I know that you are at least ‘ white!’” CHAPTER IT. wipe dg ace wt HASD. From that simple speec ily the gamin knew that Lyle Davis had not sunk so far into the slough of despond but what he could yet be raised and reformed. Except for a red face, bloodshot eyes and slovenly, attire, he was by no means a bad-loo fellow—indeed, he was possessed of a rather bandsome form and features, with a hair, and a By far too smart appearing a fellow was he to be left to a life of dissipation, and the Snovuzer formed an immediate resolve to ‘‘ put bim dead to rights,” as he termed it. ‘“You’re welcum ter the help,” he said, “ an’ I want ye to come wi’ me a bit.” Davis obeyed. He felt grateful toward the bootblack who had so unexpectedly turned his friend, and he followed. Billy led the way to a quiet beer-garden near
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| / { 4 Snoozer, the Boy Sharp. _ the center of the city, and the two became seat- ed facing each other with a table between them. “Now, see yer!” the bootblack began, fetch- ing his dirt down upon the table with an emphatic thump; “‘ fust of all, ther order o’ this convention is, no beer!” Davis’s face fell at this. He had evidently been expecting that his new acquaintance was going to ‘‘set ’em up.” Billy saw the somewhat sorrowful expression, and went on: ‘*No, sir-ee, huckster bob-tail hoss, no beer. Mebbe you like it, boss, but I say you can’t hev any. ’ye know what yer’ cummin’ tew, a-suckin’ beer an’ sech like?’ Davis uttered a reckless laugh. “Delirium tremens, eventually, in all proba- bility, so I’ve been told,” he replied, without any Sheng concern. ‘ Thet’s it, percise; next, a pauper’s grave. Now, ye couldn’t hit it straighter, an’ ye’ve got to stop afore it’s too late.” “Stop? The idea seemed to surprise him. “Yes, stop short, never ter drink ag’in,” ‘Bill announced. ‘‘ Now, look yer—ye ain’t no fool. Ther’s heaps o’ brains in yer pate, an’ yer got to brace up an’ be a man. Ye’r’ brin yer dad in gray ha’rs to ther sepulcher, an’ diggin’ yer own four-by-seven ter boot,” “You seem to know me, then?’ “Know ye? Guess I do—from Z ter anna dom- iny. Know rer dad, too—know ther hull.circum- ’ stances. Why dere a flat, you are—a reg’lar piece 0 POE, imber only fit ter kindle S with. ent an’ d ter yer best gal, an’ because she sed nay, off you goes inter a woe-be- gone drunk, Why, ye orter be shot. A eee a ‘emale ked turn my head in thet shape? aal, Is’u’d chuckle nix cum-a-rous! Et shows in- ence on yer part. Thar’s ther time, fer instance, I boun Belinda McGraw to come over, and she club me with a clothes-prop, fer my imperdunce. Jest s’posin’ ’'d went an sed ‘hyar goes,’ an’ committed suicide? Phew! wouldn’t been a breeze! Waal, I should shudder! How old Blaine, Rosky Conk., an’ all ther big , inkludin’ Jay Gould, would a’ raved an’ tore their hair, ’cause I wa’n’t around ter dust up their boots; an’ I do b’lieve Belinda McGraw would o’ inaugurated a forty-candle wake, in tune ter the ’casion. Jes’ ther same in yer case—the boss is nigh distracted, an’ con- fe naa rushin’ pell-mell inter polertix, while er Sunday best gal has amputated so much 0’ er own wing persessions thet she’s had ter Ban ee © ull hair an’ wig-maker’s shop ter patch over her baldness; fact, by blackin’!” Then the Snoozer paused and drew a long breath, preparatory to a resumption act, while ign pews gave vent to a real natural, hearty augh. ‘I guess you lie about the hair business,” he said. ‘‘She led me on to suppose I was the favorite, and then jilted me, and it drove me to recklessness, I’ll admit.” _ “Pooh! you thought she jilted you, and waltzed right off, leavin’ yer cousin, Jack Sedley, an opportunity to waltz right in. As a result, ef you keep on jugglin’ coffin-filler over yer palate, furst you know you'll be takin’ a ride around ter the coroner’s, an’ Jack Sedley will be’ ee yer rights; that’s the sizin’ of ‘IT know so. By-the-by, et was this same cone igs who perlitely tapped ye over, in the par “How do you know?” ie’ ise. ‘ Ain’t etso?” ps. “Thortso. I’ve got his er-head registered onmy mental | Boon once heerd an old salt say. Row, hiyle Davis, take my advice— ope be? budge! AN ee me oer ye, Pace an elp ter put ye solid on yer taps ag’in— will, by ther eternal boots.” “T fear it would be useless for me to promise you, my young friend,” Davis replied, a clouded expression returning to his face. “I know I am going to the devil as fast as a mortal well can go, and if those who were once my friends do not care to interest themselves in my case, why should you, a stranger?” “Because I know thar’s suthin’ in store fer you, wuth livin’ for. I tell ye life is precious, - ef a feller does occasionally git in ther way 0’ sin’ lamp-posts, an’ git his brains butted out. ompare ther ragged edge 0’ life wi’ the smooth deceptive muzzle of a razzor, an’ I'll take life for mine. Wow, mind yer, I kin git two dollars a (lay ter doin’ no more than shinin’ up politer- el boots, an’ ye don’t s’pose I’d be monkeyin’ around a-tryin’ ter persuade you, ef I didn’t think et war a reg’lar Sunday-skule Fourth 0’ Julia acto’ charity, an’ humanerty? No, sir-ee, huckster! I tell ye, thar’s use fer you, yet, whar ye kin brace up; be a man, an’ above all, in the long run git revenge. Now, you listen, while I labor.” , And, then, fishing a stub of a cigar from his pocket. and lighting it, he spoke rapidly, in an undertone. Occasionally he would intersperse his words with grotesque gesticulations, which would sometimes su in arousing a smile upon young Davis’s cheeks, ashe listened attentively. “There. What d’ye say on that?’ the boot- black sleuth asked, as he drew to a close. ‘* Ain’t that better’n settin’ fire ter yerself wi’ old Deopmccn! Can’t ye go a whack on thet lay- out? Davis was silent several minutes, his gaze fixed steadfastly on the floor. It seemed as if he were giving the bootblack’s argument a careful consideration, before coming to a defi- nite decision, “‘T don’t know but you are right,” he said, finally, ‘‘and I think [Pll try, though [ll not vouch for how long I'll stay sober. Ten to one, if the excitement isn’t enough to drown my troublés, you’ll find me dead drunk some time when you most need me. I’m as uncertain as @ town clock.” “Then, you'll have to be regulated, accord- ingly,” averred Billy. ‘‘Come along, now, an remember ye are ter feel si’k at yer stummik, when ye want to drink, an’ ye’ll be O. K.” And they left the place together. It would not have been strange to have’ seen the Davis mansion ablaze with light, at any time when Lyle had been his father’s tavorite for in those days merry parties were of frequent occurrence, and they were most always going on at the house, or on the extensive grounds, which partook of festivity. But of late all had been strangely quiet, in this respect. Mr. Davis, Sr., came and went regularly, to be sure, and Miss Bertie and Jack Sedley sometimes rode out in the barouche or on horseback, but the stately home and its sur- roundings, wore not the pleasant mantle of a few months before. People in that fashionable circle gossiped, of course, but it finally wore down to a settled conclusion that Lyle had gone to the = as it were, and Jack, who had vt grace: ully in to fill his place, would eventua y marry Bertie, and inherit the whole thing, and that would be the end of it. But about a week after Lyle’s promised at- tempt at reformation, there was a grand affair at the Davis mansion. A fete and ball were given, in celebration of Miss Bertie’s nineteenth birthday, and of course no pains were spared to make it the sensation of that aristocratic neighborhood. ‘ Of all the proud old mansions in the northern extremity of the:city, commanding a view of the silvery Moe elaware, none boasted of finer grounds than that of mi va Davis. To-night the grounds were brilliantly illumin- ated, and the mansion lighted in every and filled with the gayest of the fashionables, while not a few strolled about the grounds. listened to the music of McClurg’s band, an enjoyed the occasion. ere, there, and everywhere, darted the fair young hostess, a lady of thorough refinement and t personal beauty, her sole motive seeming to be to add to the enjoyment of those who had flocked around her to make her natal eve an eve of pure joyousness. And it was not until late in the evening that the heir-prospective found a chance to speak to the flushed, excited birthday fairy, in the con- servatory, where she stood inhaling the deli- cious fragrance with which the air was preg- nant. “Ha! ha! at last [have you, my pretty bird,” Sedley said—a tall, graceful young man, not homely, by any means, with brown hair and mustache, regular features, and exquisite at- tire. “I was almost in despair of getting a chance to speak to you, you are so very busy.” She looked up at him, with her pretty trust- ful eyes, in surprise. ““Was there anything important you wished to say, Mr. Sedley?” she innocently asked, as she plucked a silver geranium leaf, and pinned itupon her bosom. d ' ‘*“You know there is, Bertie, or else you are very forgetful,” he said, stepping closer. ‘‘ You were to give me my answer to-night, you know.” She ‘flushed a little, and a strange, frightened look entered her eyes. ‘Did I promise that?—then, it was very, very wrong in me. How could I stop just now, amid all the excitement, to consult even ithe will of my own heart? Impossible, Mr. Sedley ; ‘ou will have to wait until after the guests go ome; then you will find me in the private drawing-room, and I will answer you.” Then she fluttered away to mingle with the revels of those who had come to do her honor, while Jack Sedley went out to a lonely rustic arbor overlooking the moonlit Delaware, and lit a cigar. ‘‘Curse the guests!” he mutitered, his brow darkening; ‘‘I would they were away that I could end this suspense by learning her final an- swer. I shall give her no peace until I get it, whether it be good or bad, and if she refuses me, then—” He did not finish the sentence in words, but-the threatening expression that came over his face was more effective than words could possibly have been; it meant evil, in the fullest sense. And while he sat there his face was clouded and gloomy, and his eyes gleamed with fever- ish éagerness. “It is now or never,” he muttered. ‘‘Gradu- ally things are nearing a — where something must be done, and I'll be blamed if matters are over ae for me, despite the favorable outlook. Ma fears constantly assail me that w someth: leak out, ere matters can be brought a climax, If such should. be. the case, I fan I’d have to work for my position for it would seem as if some unlucky turn had set/my cousin once more to rights.” He had failed to notice a man’s approach to a ition within a few feet of Sedley, where he sued. and folded his arms across a massive chest, He was a person of extreme corpulency. His arms were nearly as — as an ordinary man’s leg, and his face was full, red, and pe gb wrinkled, with a pair of blood-shot eyes, ash of reddish hair, and large ears. A grunt of recognition from him was the first ap Sedley had of his presence. You?” he articulated. ‘‘Sammy, the Soaker, in person,” was the re- joinder. ‘* What brin ou here?” ‘** Business. ant ‘tin!’” *¢ You know better than to seek me here. Go back to the old place, and I’ll see you later.” “Nix!” Samuel retorted, calmly. “I want ‘rocks,’ an’ want ’em now!’ CHAPTER IV. DAVIS PLACE. DunrinG the hight of the gayety, Mr. Davis, growing weary of the babble of voices, wan- dered forth intv the fresh air of his grounds. His footsteps took him down to the edge of his property, just outside of which, on the com- mon, a band of Gipsies were camped for the night. As he stood looking over the fence at their picturesque tents, gleaming camp-fires, and their own flitting, rudely-attired forms, one of their number, a maiden, attired unlike the others, in bright-colored skirt, waist, stockings, and slippers, seeing him, approached him. Her sharp eyes had discovered him even amid his own grounds and shrubbery. ‘“‘Have your fortune told, sir?” she asked, bowing low. ‘Only a dollar, sir—can tell you all about the past, present, and future.” ‘Of the past i have no particular wish to know. Of the present and future—well, I don’t mind listening to your prattle. It will amuse me, I su : ‘*-You do not believe in fortune-telling, I see, but you will change your mind. Give me your left hand, please.” : Mr. Davis extended his hand, and she studied it attentively. var ts You have a son, who, by dissipation, has caused -you t sorrow; but never fear—this is the least of all your troubles,for he will event- ually come around all right. it is from another source you must anticipate trouble; a dark cloud is overhanging you that threatens you, but in what. way I cannot explain to-night, more than that you are on the eve of a severe sickness, and I would advise you to choose well our attending physician. If you havea trusted amily doctor, employ him by all means.” “Ts this all you can tell me?” “No. I could prophesy much, but I don’t want to, sir, as it would not benefit your peace of mind. When I find such a case as yours, I’d much rather bury what. secrets I learn in my own heart. You are arich man, and unprinci our ruin. Look out led rascals are plotting y of the means being or them. Take no hee j a
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Snoozer, the Boy Sharp. 5 taken to annoy you—by this I mean the com- bination of letters and fj 2 “Ha! how know you anything about this business?” g y the same gift that I know a little of everybody’s business. Some people call it hum- bug! I callit gift, prescience, supernaturalism, if you will.” **Can you tell me where my son is to-night?” ‘* He is in the city—sober !” ‘Thank God for that, if it is true. Can you tell me who it is I am to guard against?” “No, I never warn one person against an- other; but when I foresee treachery, | always personally make an effort to thwart it. For he resent, watch everybody, study everybody— ook out for everybody!” “Thank you, young lady, I will not forget your advice, I am deeply mn ressed with your revelation and yourself. Will you give me your name?” ‘*Oh! yes. My band call me Zella.” ‘“‘Zella, eh? But that is not your own true name?” **How do you know?” *‘T don’t know; I infer so.” “ Inferences are sometimes as baseless as quick- sand. I must now bid you good-evening,’ ‘* Good-evening, fair fortune-teller,” Mr. Davis said, more lightly than was his wont, and then turned away. Zella ia smartly on the fenceand checked his retreat, a yon have forgotten something, haven’t ou ‘Ah! have I—what?” and he looked puzzled. ** Oh! the dollar; that’s all.” * Well, well! Blame my PRES ainets to be sure. Here is a gold piece. Take it as your pay.” ‘ Noid tossing her a ten-dollar coin, he hurried away, lest she should refuse to accept it. Zella did not og eee | return to her camp; she stood at the fence, there in the flooding moonlight, and gazed after Mr. Algernon Davis with wistful eyes—stood there half-dreamily, until a heavy footstep sounded upon the grass behind her, and a heavy hand was laid upon her shoulder, She whirled around with a low startled cry. A burly Gypsy stood beside her—a fellow with a dark repulsive countenance, sweeping black mustache and gleaming eyes. ‘Well?’ he interrogated, “‘did ye make a raise?” ‘Yes, I made a raise. Why?” “‘'hen I want the.cash.” The girl took a dollar silver pee from her pocket, and he grabbed it, eagerly. ° ee that you’ve got?’ he demanded, greedily. “It’s all yowll get,” she retorted, breaking from him, and runhing away to the camp. The man gazed after her, half savagely. The guests did not leave until late that night,» consequently Jack aed did not get his an- swer as soon as he wished. He wandered often into the conservatory, hoping that Bertie would follow him, but she did not. . Finally every guest was gone, and he found her in a little private a partly reclining ps oe a sofa, while Mr. Davis occupied an easy- chair near her. . If Sedley was surprised at this he did not be- tray it, but nodded pleasantly and became seated. . Mr. Davis broke the silence in a business-like way. Sack,” he said, ‘“‘my adopted child tells me that you have been paying her loverly atten- tions, and you are now awaiting her answer to your proposal of marriage?” ‘‘That is the fact, uncle,” Sedley replied, “I have asked Bertie to join fortunes with me, and anxiously hope that she will decide favor- ably to my wishes.” , ; ‘““Ah! yes. Well, sir, marriage is a grave affair, and before a young couple take the bri vows, which ip the eyes of Almighty God never can be revoked, it is well that they should consider all things. Are you quite sure no other woman has any claim upon you, sir?” “Why, of course.” ‘What business are you following, now?” ‘‘T am reporter forthe Chicago ——, and sev- eral other papers, sir.” ‘¢ How much means have you?” ‘¢ A thousand dollars, sir.’ ‘The price of one of Bertie’s best dresses, boy. How do you intend to keep a wife?” ‘Oh! I anticipate—I expect—” “*You expect to step into my shoes, when I have the condescension to step out, eh? Well, sir, let that be the least of all your anticipa- tions.” ‘“*T anticipate—in fact, expect a job as teller in the —— National Bank, next week, at a salar quite sufficient for our wants. Far from wan ing your money, sir, I should be pleased to have cousin Lyle have itall, if capable of hand- ling it, as I do not wish to ever be twitted of selfish or avaricious motives.” ‘*Well said, my boy! Never depend on dead men’s shoes, Let me tell you that all my for- tune except this estate, is contained in bonds. Whoever gets Bertie, if deserving, will have a part of this mie This estate belongs to m reprobate son, as long as he may live, and wi be handed down then to his heirs. “ Bertie, my child, do you love roe adopted cousin, as a wife should love a husband—do you love him better than Lyle?’ ‘*No, sir; I never did nor shall I ever love another man in the same way that I love Lyle. I however think a great deal of Mr. Sedley, and am willing to marry him,” ‘‘ And are you willing to take her, Jack, un- der these circumstances?’ ‘‘T am—more than willing, dear uncle. I care not what affection she may have had for Lyle, Iam sure she will ever be a dear wife to ‘Then, I tender my consent and approval of the match, and wish you life-long happiness, and prosperity.” Shaking hands with both, Mr. Davis retired, and the lovers were left to plight their troth. No! no! no! ° Bertie Davis did not love Jack Sedley, as she did Lyle—poor dissipated Lyle, and yet she ave him her hand, and when he had told her at he loved her, and her-only, she consented to give him her hand in marriage. The followin day Sedley had business out of of town, and didn’t get back until just dark, and was leaving the railway station, when he was accosted by no less a personage than Billy, the Sleuth. “Say! Hello! Hold up!” he cried. ‘‘ Ain’t ye ther chap w’ot ore Lyle Davis over ther azoo wi’ a slung-shot?—ain’t yer name Jack Sedley?” ‘‘Get out, you little scoundrel!” Sedley promise fiercely, and thumping Billy over the ead with his walking-stick, he sprung into the just starting car, and proceeded to a tenement lock in St. Catherine street, wherein he quick- ly vanished. When he reappeared, his appearance had un- dergone a great change, for he -wore a slouch hat, and a heavy false d of a color to match his own. Proceeding on foot to the next corner, he hailed a cab, and was driven to a Eenppese e- looki brick-house, on the corner of two very quiet streets in the northern of the city. His summons at the door-bell was answered by a dull-looking Irish girl, of whom he in- quired for ‘Mrs. Hagerty,” and was shown into a richly furnished parlor. The girl then went out, anda few minutes later a buxom dame, with a red face, made her appearance. ‘*Och! sorry’s the news, Mister Jack,” she burst out, as she saw him. ‘Shure tha cage ha’ broke open, an’ tha bird is gone, tha divil know yharek™) , ey turned death] 8. What secret was here? me CHAPTER V. THE SLEUTH AT WORK. “ ‘SH ed It was a single word of admonition, in the familiar yoice of gamin Billy, and in answer to it, he and his companion, a man with long black beard, rested on their oars, and allowe the momentum of their little skiff to slacken. The scene was upon the bosom of the Dela- ware, with the moonlight falling over the rip- pling waters, as the two midnight voyageurs rowed northward. ““Well, what is the matter?’ the black- whiskered man asked. ’ “ Nothin’ purtick’ler,” was the reply, as Billy looked ahead, through a telescope formed of his hands; ‘‘ I only spy a craft ahead, an’ I'll bet my hull chances er ther next presidency that et’s our game. I’m a sort o’ a two-legged sea- dore, ye see.” ; ‘“*T see you are a little of everything, my young friend. What shall we do now?” ‘ nt told ye in ther first place—foller an’ wa ’em out.’ If we spot our game, we kin play on ther ace, later in ther day.” So they once more laid to their oars. Ahead, > el “ey t on the panty cea the water, owed ti the party whom Billy pursued, werosras pulling obeadilen on. ‘‘Mebbe they reckernize the fac’ thet we’re after ’em, an’ ain’t goin’ ter stop ontil we let up,” the young Sleuth suggested. ‘‘But as I Coun AaEne their game et don’t puzzle this lad, at all. Let’s pull fer shore.” ‘““What! will you give up pursuit?” Lyle Davis demanded, for he it was in the black- beard dis é **No. e are not fur from where I calky- late them clams are goin’ ter anchor, an’ et won’t do fer us tew hug ’em too close, or we'll skeer ’em. So we’ll jest put ashore, hyar, and make a jog-trot skirm fer ther objective Pia, einen I may as well allude is a skime- “A what?” ‘A rural skimetery, whar they deposit de- functs arter the doctors has got through wi’ them.” “‘Oh! a cemetery, eh? Of all places in the world, what can those fellows want in a ceme- tery so far from the city?” “ Bones, on course! I reckon ye don’t know thet cusses like Sammy the Soaker an’ Banty the Bum invite ‘rocks’ ter their treasury b diggin’ up cadavers, an’ sellin’ ’em tew I-ped- dlers, eh? Well, that’s a fac’, an’ et’s what I’ve ’spected Sammy o’ doin’ fer a long time, but couldn't prove it. Ef we don’t cotch ’em at et ter-night, my name ain’t Billy the Snoozer.” They pulled to the right-hand shore and beach- ed their boat, after which the bootblack led off through a series of pasture and cornflelds at a rapid gait. Half an hour of this sort of tramp, circuitously inland from the river, brought them to a solid stone wall, breast high, and ud by the spectral marble slabs 4 d the ttle mounds, dotted about under the: long weird shadows of bordering evergreens within the inclosure, it was a family cemetery. ‘*‘ Darn my boots! Et looks like there might be Bears of spirits layin’ fer a feller around here,” illy observed, contemplatively. ‘ But they’ve got to fat up on oysters afore they can skeer me. Are you skeert on ghosts, Davy?” “I don’t know, as I never chanced to encoun- ter one,” Lyle said, with a smile. ‘‘ Where are your ghouls?. I don’t see them,” ' ‘*Oh! they haven’t got here yet. We come cron ont Bre got in half an hour ahead of ’em, a He pointed to a grave which had been but re- cently filled in and heaped up with fresh dirt. ‘‘Some one has been buried there lately,” Davis remarked, ‘Yas, an’ to-day, I ’spect. There was a shower yesterday, an ye kin see there hasn’t bin no rain on that dirt. So that’s the game the roughs ’ll tackle, Now, then, you position yer- self most anywhere ye please, an’ don’t say boo ter what ye 8ee. After they go back tew town, we'll lay for an’ foller ’em, overloaded wi’ teck- nerkle p’ints an’ the like.” Accordingly they separated, Davis secreting himself at some distance from the new grave, joi an ef kept in the shadow of a large mon- umen ‘Bet my blackin’-box I know more when I go away from here than I do now,” he mut- tered, drawing a sheet from under his jacket. “Pll paralyze them body-snatchers, later, when I get their identity down fine. An’ what a sen- sation there’ll be! Phew! Thar’ll be a reverla- tion w’at’ll make things hum, an’ ef I ain’t the hero of the hour, I don’t want acent. Dll bea reg’lar blood, an’ on equal footin’ wi’ Blaine, Dr. Bliss, or old Rosky Conk.” , And with bated breath and gleaming eyes the youth waited. Soon five men, armed with picks and shovels, entered the cemetery and gathered around the new-made grave. . They were roughly dressed, wore false beards, to a man, and masks over their faces. : The four men seemed to be under the captainey of the fifth, who was a person of commanding stature. A Jong-necked black bottle was passed around, and each man took a heavy drink, the captain being the last to imbibe, after which he said: * Well, boys, here we are, ani reckon you all know what’s to be done. Nobgdy to vent, it becomes our ery to resurrect the man whe lies here and test the truthfulness of th report that he had all his spare cash buried in his coffin with him, If he has done as he is said to have done, we must beg leave to take his gold Time enough to act, later, Fer the | from him, and also haad over his remains to the present, we want ter play ’sic ’em, pup—smell | doctor’s man, who will be here before long. So
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6 go to work, and I'll divide with you whatever wealth we may find in the old man’s sepulcher.” The men accordingly did set to work with a will, and the filling of the grave was rapidly thrown out. san Bp we ein the proceedings as best he could from behind the monument, without attracting attention. “T reckon they’d skin me alive ef I was ter give ’em a chance,” he muttered. ‘“Is’pect this ain’t all o’ the party.” And he was right. | In the course of ten minutes a stout horse, at- tached to a covered endertaker’s wagon, halted at the open gate of the cemetery, and the driver yelled out: “Shure, have yez any passengersfor me? It’s divil a minute I loikes to wait at this station.” “*No; we’ve not got the body up yet,” the captain answered back, gruffly. ‘Ye needn’t get skeert; it won’t hurt you. _“* Faith, an’ it’s mesilf as knows that, or a divil a wan o’ me would ye see heré. It’s a — few of tha subjects I’ve kerried, in me imé, The digging continued, and shortly after the acm was uncovered and rehoisted to the sur- ace. ‘This is a bold piece of business, boys, so be careful, and be prepared to fight or run for your lives in case of discovery,” the captain admon- ished, as they ig unscrewing the lid. ““Humph! an’ [ll bet the ould country mud on O’Callahan’s boots, thet thar’d be a disclo- ras ef you was tew be unmasked,” Billy mut- red. it took but a short space of time to tear off the lid, and there within the coffin, was a shriveled up old man’s body, lying in th. glar- ingaye of moonlight. ad not been dead long, as was evidenced by the fact that decomposition had not yet set in. That he had, when in life, been an avari- cious man, seemed expressed by the lines of his hard features. “he old chap looks as if he hated to give up his p on life!” the captain said, with a laugh. ‘Just examine the shell, and if you don’t find aS hey we'll turn him over to our friend from Cork.” A close inspection failed to substantiate the report that the miser’s gold had been buried with bim. No gold, notes, or valuables, what- ever, were to be found, and the ghouls gavea groan of disappointment. By this Billy knew the result, and hastily ar- ranging the sheet around the nearest head- stone, and capping it with an old hat which he had brought along, for the purpose, he crept stealthily away from the spot, over to where Lyle was ors a “Sh!” he said, in an undertone, * I’m off on bizness. You can find the boat, after the ghouls are gone, an’ paddle back to Phila. Ill see ye, at head-quarters, early in the mornin’.” Then, without further explanation, he hurried owen and was soon beyond the walls of the lo ey: Ma a rapid detour via a neighboring swamp, he struck the highway over which he knew the Irishman must pass, and here secreted himself in a fence corner. Pretty soon he heard a horse’s tread, together with a voice singing; then the Irishman and his rig came into view, and Billy crouched back still her, out of sight. “Shure, swate Biddy Magee It’s mesilf as loves thee, Beca’se yer so swate an’ so frisky, Ould machree, Is tha place for the tea, That the bould Yankee lads they call Ww ‘ ” sung Dennis, as he drew rein, near Billy’s hiding-place, and produced a bottle. * Arrah! thare’s nary a wan like whisky, to a up the loikes,” he added, as he took a long x And while he was “pulling” at the bottle, Billy was not snoozing. @ glided from his concealinent, and reached therear end of the hearse, whose hight screened him from view. - As soon as the Irishman got his conveyance agaim under way, Billy unbuttoned and opened the deors, in the rear, and carefully crawled inte the peice, beside the coffin, and let his out behind. legs — * Ef ain’t an adventure, I don’t want a- sandwich,” he mused reflectively. reg’lars w’u’d call desprit, an’ mebbe that’s about the size of it, but 1 hope I may never masticate another ey ef I don’t venture it. if I get layed out, thar ain’t no one but Fanny ‘““Et’s w’at Snoozer, the Boy Sharp. an’ a few sech fellers as Rosky Conk an’ Blaine as’ll miss me. Ef the game works ter suit my peculiar ideas, durn me ef thar won’t be an ex- plosion.” Waiting until Dennis bad stirred the horse into a brisk trot, and the jolting wagon was making a great noise, the daring bootblack set to work, to further his proposed plan. Slipping off the lid of the coffin, whioh had not been fastened on, he slowly drew the miser’s little body out of its intended last resting-place, and dropped it out upon the road. It was a ghastly and perhaps inhuman act, but necessary to further well-laid plans. Placing himself in the coffin, he succeeded in drawing the lid partly over him, and in sucha position that he could entirely replace it, when it became necessary. And, thus ensconced, he waited for the re- sult, which he reasonably knew must come, as soon as he reached the destination—a place where the city’s dead are dissected, boiled up, and their bones strung on wires for the curiosity of experimenting physicians and their irreve- rent scholars, Sel CHAPTER VI. A SURPRISE FOR DABOL, Soon the rattle of the wheels over pavement warned Billy that they were entering the me- tropolis. Click! click! click went the horse’s feet over the pavement, while the wheels made Tess noise after they struck into the street car-track. It seemed fully an hour, after they ‘entered the suburbs, ere the wagon turned out of the track, aud directly after came to a halt. . Immediately, there was a creaking sound as of the shutting of a heavy sliding door, and Billy concluded that they were in a stable. Next came the sound of a voice. ‘* Well, what success, Dennis?” “* Shure it’s excellent success, docther, an’ I’ve the old gent’s cadaver as snug as a bug in a rug, if not snugger.” “Good, For safety’s sake, let’s remove the coffin up to the cleset, before you unbitch; then 2 can go and drink your fill at the expense ef octor Dabol.” The two men approached the hind end of the conveyance, opened the doors, and, lifting out the eoffin, bore it up a flight of steps, then along a hall, then up more steps, after which: Billy concluded he was taken into a room, and de- posited upon a table. “You can qoearee the doctor said to the Irishman, and Dennis was not loth to obey. After he was gone Dr. Dabol, who was a tall dark-complexioned man, with dark hair an eyes, and a heavy mustache, and long pointed oatee, laid his hand upon the loose coffin-lid, obtain a view of his ‘‘ subject,” when, sud- denly the lid flew off, and half-way across the room, and there sat Billy, a pair of pistols in his Grasp, read y for use! ‘The devil!” broke from Dabol’s lips, as he recoiled a few paces, his face of an as hue. ‘““ What does— “It means that I’ve jumped yer racket!” Billy replied, with a grinoftriumph. ‘I smelt a mice, and, what’s better, smelt out its nest. Howdy do, Dr. Dabol? How do I luk fer a ca- daver? Think ye could dissect me?” ‘*Ten thousand furies,” the medical ghoul “Who are you?” “Ther right Honorable William the Snvozer, 8. O. B. 8.—snatcher of body-snatchers—at yer service—so known frum Heluwebe ter Skookil, an’ frum ner’ to south Phila. Ye see, I’m os- tensibly an urchin who polishes up stogas at a nickel a rip, while in voaltt 5 Pm ginerally snoozin’ an’ dreamin’ out sech Nitie picnics like this, fer instance. Then, I do take a hand at lyticks, once in a while, when sech men as laine, or Rosky Conklin engage my services. ye see I’m what is known in ther dictionar asaJack of All Trades, Anyhow, [’m Jac 0’ yourn, at present. What’s yer opine?” The doctor surveyed the bootblack with an expression of combined admiration and appre- hension. “‘ Well, sir, youseem to have pried into some- thing that is emphatically nene of pond business, What next do you think of doing?” ““Nixy! ye can’t tap me an’ draw out my pose feracent. Iain’t afeared to tell ye that ain’t a-goin’ ter do anything till I mature my materialization—thet is ter say, cabbage my coves, Ef ye lay quiet, an’ don’t go ter workin’ yerself up inter a passion, like as not no one will be the wiser fer this. I poe want ter uti- ye myself, bum-by. Ef ye’ll show me ter 7. a now, I’ll adjourn.” man of medicine paced to and fre a mo- ‘good talking to. ment, the light of a tiger in his eyes; then motioning Billy to follow him, he led the wa down-stairs to the street, where the Bootblac Sleuth bade him a mocking adieu. Fairmount Park hab’ often been aptly called ‘* Lover’s Eden,” and bears the title well, for certain it is that there many hearts beat as one. It was by merest chance that on the sn fol- lowing the cemetery adventure, Lyle Davis wandered out into the great park, when hecame unexpectedly upon Bertie, his adopted sister. She was seated upon a bench under a great maple, overlooking the river, engaged in read- ing, while several of her young lady friends were playing at croquet, not far away. In confusion at the unexpected encounter, Lyle was about to pass on without speaking Soe she sprung up and caught his arm. ‘““Why Lyle, you sad—sad truant!” she ex- claimed, as she drew him to the seat. ‘‘Pve just been aching to catch you, and give you a Oh! you awful fellow!” ‘Well?’ Lyle interrogated, seeing that” he must face it out; ‘‘why am | so awful?” ‘‘ Because you have been drinking and carous- ing—because you haven’t been home, in ever so long.” . By ou should not hold me responsible; ‘you re- fused me, to accept a rascal, and my father also dispensed with family ties, in order to welcome the rascal into my shoes, Is it any wonder I prefer—death?” “You should not malign your cousin, Lyle. Mr. Sedley is at least a gentleman.” ‘Tl am aware that he is your accepted lover, but I repeat that he is a rascal—a consummate villain, and I do not care to know any one who takes pleasure in his company.” Then, with a haughty bow, the outcast son arose and strode away, leaving behind him, lying faint and helpless upon the seat, the one who had turned the whole course of his life. She had fainted. The afternoon succeeding the encounter with the Gipsy girl, saw Mr. Davis take to his bed, unable longer to keep up under the depressing jeclinge that were settling over him. _ And when Bertie returned from her day-of-it in the park—a cloudy day, too, it had been, after her interview with Lyle—she found her ted father with a high fever. “*T don’t know what is the matter with me, more than that I am sick,” he replied, in an- swer to her anxious inquiries. ‘‘I was told that I would be sick, but didn’t credit it, until I found myself unable to keep up.. Where is Jack?” ‘He has not come in, yt from down town. Shall I send for a doctor?” , ** Maybe you had better. . I don’t know hard- ly what to make of this sudden attack, for I have been in prime health lately. Send John, the coachman, for Doctor Dabol. é' ‘*OH! papa, not him! I fear Doctor Dabol, because he is so dark and wicked looking.” “ Pshaw! what a whim! I know the doctor to be an ae medical man, who has long been my family physician.” ‘I cannot a him, but of course ou are to be the chooser,” answered esitantly. me Doctor Dabol was ee ee, sent for, and came, and of course saw Mr. Davis, and mani- fested a t deal of regret to find him con- fined to his bed. : , And after administering some remedies, he took leave, promising to call again within a few hours. Bertie made bold to stop him in the hall as be was leaving. . ““You will excuse me, sir, but I want to know what is the matter of papa?” Dabol eyed her a moment, critically—then took off his hat, and rubbed the bald spot on top of his head. ‘Well, I don’t fancy you’d know what was the matter, if I were to explain,” he said. ‘“Your adopted parent is quite sick, but will likely recover.” ome Then he bowed himself out, leaving Bertie none the wiser than she was before. “‘Oh! you ruffian!” Bertie breathed, after he . “There is no crime too bad for yeu to be ty ef, I fear. I wish Jack was here.” And when Jack came she told him the news, and added: “Jack I den’t half like that Doctor Dabol. I believe ke is a bold, unscrupulous man, and if I am not wrong, he will do your uncle more harm ‘‘ Hal what an idea! Why, Dabol is one of our most expert physicians. He isa personal
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Snoozer, the Boy Sharp. friend of mine, and I am ashamed to hear you speak so of him!” And so Bertie said no more, but none the less her own opinion was unchanged. Several days , but, instead of improv- ing, Mr. Davis w perceptibly worse. He was fast wasting in strength. Dabol attended him closely, and ap to be doing all in his power, but it was plainly un- availing. ‘*You are satisfied that my recovery is im- possible, are you not?” the patient asked, one evening when he was very weak and feeble. ** Although I have done all in my power for you,” was the reply, ‘“‘the case looks very doubt- ul.’ ‘“*T do not think you understand what is the matter of poor papa!” Bertie spoke up, inde- pendently. “I want a council of doctors.” “That is not to be thought of, my dear,” Sedley spoke up, quickly. ‘Uncle is too feeble to withstand the excitement of a meeting and examination; it could. not benefit him, and would probably-shorten his days. Do you not think so, Dr. Dabol?” ‘Ido. Still, if Mr. Davis prefers, I have no personal objections, further than that I detest the plan of experimenting with life when life itself is hanging in the balance.” This shot had the desired effect. Mr. Davis nodded his head negatively. “Tf there would be danger, [ would not wish such a thing,” he said, in a faint tone. ‘lf God wills it that I shall die now, let it so be.” As pe crept on, his mind seemed to wan- der, and once or twice he called for ‘‘ Zella.” But no one understood whom he had reference‘ to; consequently his calling was unanswered. | abol took leave about ten o’¢lock, and in ey through the hall, encountered | ey. + ell?” the heir-prospective said, interroga- tively. , “The end is drawing near. I do not think morning will find him alive. By all means see that no other physicians are called in.” “I shall see that no one is admitted!” Sedley answered, with a significant look. , Dabol had s y gone, when Bertie came down-stairs. ; ‘‘Oh! Jack,” she said, tearfully, “he is call- ing so piteously for Lyle. Can you not, to please me, send for him d “To please you, yes, darling Bertie,” he said, folding her in his arms and kissing her, “Run rs now, and care for uncle, and I willsend at once for Lyle to come, providing he is in a condition fit to see his father.” “‘@b! thank you, Jack—your goodness shall have its reward,” she said, and returned to the sick-room, : When she had gone, Jack Sedley’s face be- came illuminated witha diabolical smile. — '“ Ha! ha! I fancy I see myself se for the death-warrant to my fair prospects,” he said, with a chuckle. ‘‘ If Lyle Davis knew the state of affairs, he would not need to be sent for, and, what’s more, he is too inf ly sober of late to suit my plans. If Ly! were to see the old gent just now, he—well, the devil only knows what might be to ; And an: the fates would have it, the door-bell just then, giving the schemer @ violent “The deuce!” he muttered, and went and partly opened the door, Then Es suppressed an oath. nas Lyle Davis, looking neither shabby or dissi- , stood upon the steps, a light of resolution his eyes. And Redley saw it! CHAPTER VIL, SHUT OUT, Yus, Jack Sedley saw it, and he knew that though in the presence of his own cousin, he was equally in the presenee of his most hated enemy. Youn Davis was perfectly composed, and bowed, in the most indifferent manner. “T heard my father was sick, to-day, and have ealled to see him,” he said. ‘‘Have the kindness to show me up to his room.” “*T am afraid I shall have to refuse you that,” Sedley replied, with a smile. “ Your father eee <a asa he orders that you shall not be admitted te his heuse, while he lives. Therefore, I am, you see, placed under the pain- ful necessity of refusing you admission. I will ou, hewever, that your father cannot live , and if you ehoose to leave your address, I see that you are notified, ‘before the fu- “Your extreme kindness nearly overwhelms me,” Lyle replied, with biting sarcasm, ‘ Did I believe my father half as bad off as you inti- mate, I’d break every bone in your vile bod but what I would see him. As itis, I think comprehend the prime motive of your ‘pretty little story. You are afraid of your own interests prospective, should I meet father = Bertie. But you needn’t fear—you needn’t ear. Then he turned and went away. * Mr. Davis did noddie that night as Dr. Dabol had as good as promised, and the doctor looked his surprise, when he came in the morning, and found the ex-merchant bolstered up on some pillows. But, if disagreeably surprised, he was care- ful not to betray the fact, for Bertie’s shrewd, searching eyes were ever upon him, and then, a new attendant had been introduced to the sick room—a petite lady, with green goggles before her eyes, and her hair combed plainly back, and attire that was plain and neat. Early in the night the family nurse, and housekeeper, Mrs, Toole,‘had been called down to the kitchen, and on returning had brought the lady of the goggles as a temporary substi- tute, saying that she had been called to her mother’s bedside, and must_ go. And so Mis Laura McFee had taken her place, and during the remainder of the night proved herse]f a very apt nurse. : She had taken much off from Bertie’s shoul- ders, and had specially requested that she be allowed to administer the remedies to Mr. Davis, and she was so permitted to do. As a result, Mr. Davis was materially im- proved, in the morning, and yet, neither Bertie nor the patiént assigned the reason thereof to Miss McFee’s skill. ‘Temporarily, you are better,” Dabol said after feeling of the patient’s pulse. ‘‘ But i would not advise you to place any hope in the fact, because as soon as the fever arises, I an- ticipate a loss of the little strength you have gained. Still, I will tryin the utmost to pre- serve that strength.” : So he left another batch of medicine, and said he would call again, after hismorning ride. Sedley, who was devoted in his attention to the front-door, met him, as usual, in the hall. “Well, I see you failed,” he said, with a frown. ‘‘ You are not a good prophet.” “I cannot answer you here,” the physician replied, in an undertone, “for even the walls have ears, ofttimes. Let me warn you, how- ever—see that the new nurse is discharged!” Mr. Davis held his own during the forenoon, but ere to sink again, rapidly, as the latter half of the day crept on. An ashen pallor crept os Sea ine ee yond the nineties. ’ Shortly after dinner, Bertie came down-stairs, or the street, and this seemed to cause Sedley mucli uneasiness. “If itis not too much impertinence, on . rt, where are you going?” he asked, as bland- y as the state of his temper would allow. ‘*T am going for some liquor, for the sick,” Bertie replied, with evident surprise, at the question. “You had better not leave. You'd better stay and watch that woman, up-stairs. If liquor is needed I'll get it,” he said. “Why, what do you mean, Jack?” “T mean what my words would imply—I mean that I believe the woman up-stairs is a viper, an instrument of the | e who of late has been ig eA uncle with silent threats or warnings; I believe, moreover, that she has been sent here to put an end to his life.” “Oh! Jack! it is wicked to think of such a thing. You are surely wrong!” ‘““T may be, but there are ten chances that I am not. At any rate, it will do no harm to watch her very closely, for you know an ourice of prevention is worth a pound of cure.” ‘ “ Well, then, if you will get the liquor, I will do as you say,” Bertie said, turning, reluctantly and retracing her steps up-stairs. “Saved!” Sedley breathed, when she had gone. “If she had got out on the street, she would have hunted the city over, but what she would have found Lyle. ) me, but things are getting devilishly interesting. That wa: a happy idea on the new nurse, and may i- bly worked further. By the way, who in thunder is the woman? She’s disguised, that is evident—she has also probably been tamper- ing with the medicines, judging by what Dabol If so, she smells a rat, and is an enem to us. Egad! the first opportunity I get, Til — = goggles from her nose, and see if I ow her. What was the secret? Was Miss McFee an angel of mercy, or was she an emissary of fore- planned vengeance? After being refused the privilege of seeing his father, Lyle Davis walked back toward the center of the city, buried in deep, thought. At the corner of Sixth and Arch streets, he encountered Billy, who had just finished a shine and was casting around for aziother job. ‘* Well?” he interrogated, “‘ what luck, pard?” “T was refused admittance,” Lyle replied. ‘*Pshaw! ye don’t say! Who refused ye?” “* Jack Se oh “‘Thatso? I tell ye thar’s bad bizness:a-goin’ on in that house, an’ don’t ye ferget it. Theyre layin’ the guv’nor out, or my name aiu’t Wil- liam the Snoozist, that’s all. Did they say the old gent was bad?” ‘*Sedley was kind enough to say to me that as soon as father was dead, he’d inform me, in time for the funeral.” ‘Cheeky, by blackin’! But, jest hold yer mules; an’ I'll go scoutin’, I will. I presume I orter see the guv’nor, inderwidually, an’ so ye jest hie yorself ter ther roost, an’ Pll report as soon as there aire any dewelopments, Vil investergate the biz frum Alphabet ter Omega, or ye can call me Billy the Flunk.” ecordingly he tucked bis box under his arm, and trudged away up Sixth street. He had not gone far, when he saw a fancy barouche, drawn by a span of high stepping horses, coming down the street, and in it saw no less a person than Dr. Dabol. At sight of him, a peculiar {gleam shot into the bootblack’s eyes, and he involuntarily ~ re to the curb. : “Phew! the old pilgarlic is tuckin’ on lots of Saratoga,” he muttered. ‘I wonder ef he'll reckernise his friends, in ther street.” ple gry hy he caught the doctor’s eye, he raised his hand and motioned for him to step. It would seem the hight of all that is ridicy- lous, but Billy was well aware that he hada “hold ” upon the man of medicine that would be reco P Dabol at first seemed inclined to let his coach- man drive on, and Py no attention to the urchin, but.on second thought, he ordered the carriage to, halt beside the curb. “I thor’t ye know’d better’n to shin by yer poor relations, ’thout stoppin’,” he said, with a grin. ‘‘Fear o’ consequences aire a powerful motive, eh? Ef ye hadn’t stopped then, I should hev ‘ pi ? on ye, sure’s John Rogers!” Dabol flushed, and shifted uneasily in his seat. ‘* Well, what do you want?” he demanded. A. deal,” the young, Sleuth promptly. ‘‘ First of all, I want ye to let up; ef ye don’t, by blackin’, Pll make it tions fer ye, an’ don’t ye fergit it!” ‘What do you mean?” ‘Oh! you know. You're ’tendin’ Mr. Davis. . will be to your interest that you see that he ives, “ec ; Certainly. He has every prospect of reco : “Bah! I don’t reckon yer word’s wuth much. Jest bet yer life, tho’, thet it won’t pene fer ye ter let ther guv’ner ante off—that’s ‘all. By- yy!” on again, while Dabol ordered his coachman to drive home. “That young devil must be suppressed |” he muttered, with a dark frown. ‘He already knows too much, and if left at large, he’ll make bad work—bad work!” CHAPTER VIM. BILLY MAKES A DISCOVERY. _ Bent on seeing Bertie, or in some way gain- ing such information as he required Bill made ma way to the Davis residence, and ‘pol rung e bell. : A servant answered the summons—Jaek had been obliged to relinquish his guard long enough to go after some liquor, he woman who answered the summons was the eccentric woman-nurse, Miss McFee, who wore n foegles. : The 6 euth gazed at her a minute, as if dumfoun with astonishment. ‘«Fan—” he pind ejaculated, but the nurse’s fair white hand raised depreeatingly; he knew the move and recognized it—knew that she was not desirous of being questioned, “What do you want?” she asked. “ Can I see ther guv’nor?” “No, sir. He is v and cannet be 7 “Phow! that se? Spek Petia i Bertie, then?” :
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) ) . ) | | | | ever he may be, 8 Snoozer, the Boy Sharp. ‘¢T don’t know; I will see,” the nurse replied, shutting the door and leaving Billy on the steps. “'That’s sure indercation o’ beef—Fan Flint’s presence here is indercation thet she’s either workin’ up my game, or something else, Fer that is Fan Flint, tho’ she wants the fact kept mum. She’s allus been keen an’ white fer me, an’ so I’ll give her rope, and say nix. I'd like to see the gal, Bertie, tho’, which reminds me thet ther nurse didn’t take in my wisitin’ card; but I s’pect it ’ll be all the same.” A few minutes later Bertie opened the door in person, and Billy made a most gallant bow. ‘Scuse me,” he said, ‘‘ but you’ve probably heard of me through . Davis. I am Billy, the Snoozer.” ‘Oh! are you? Ihave heard of you. What will you have?” “Well, ye see, I wanter perfeshionally inter- view you—thet is to say, I hev got sumthin’ to ay what I reckon will tickle you. So ef ye’ll e@ me inter ther sofa-furnished, peanner-per- vided parlor, I’m yer huckleberry.’ bia yu have anything important to say, very well—I will listen to you; if you have not, Leora be brief, as my attention is demanded at ather’s bedside,” Bertie said, leading the way so the grand parlor, simply to gratify the boy’s whim. Here Billy became seated, and first, before speaking, took a critical survey of his surround- “'§pect 'twould take considerable number of bootblack’s stray ducats to tog up such a place as this, eh?’ he soliloquized, with an apprecia- tive wink. “ By the way, miss, the guv’nor’s e aris is very ill.” “ That’s an’ mind you, he won’t get well, ef Sedley an’ Dabol hold their grip on him. Reckon, however, the little nurse wi’ the gog- gles is aed in her work fine, and ‘ll puzzle em f ye ain’t achin’ fer a hearse to stop be- fore the door, jest freeze to the nuss—she knows her biz every time.” “What do you mean? You surely do not in- timate that my affianced husband and this dark Doctor Dabol are working against Py re Bertie oe in surprise, not unmi with. in- ation. Well I size it up about that way. Anyhow, I know thet Sedley’s workin’ his best ry joe to get an established foothold in Lyle Davis’s open an’ from a few things I know, I presume e wouldn’t deluge the earth with tears ef the guv’nor were to pass in his deck, spades up.” “You talk strangely—insultingly.” “ Nix—I don't neither. I know my diagram, and I know what I wish to warn you of—that Jack Sedley is a consummate villain, and if you know when your hard-tack is well buttered, ouw’'ll ‘scoot’ him, instanter, and take yer first me, Lyle Davis.” “* Between myself and Mr. Davis all is virtu- ally at an end, and if you come here as a go- between, you've quite mistaken your vocation. I do not propose to ally myself to a drunkard, no matter how much I might respect him other- ‘Oh! well, I reckon that’s all right, an’ if I do say et, ye can give William the Snoozer credit, because I did one gud turn. Whar ye give young Davis a twister w’ot set him a-goin’ own hill, { lassoed onter him, an’ as a result thar ain’t a — disciple o’ Teetote, who- than Lyle Davis. All et wants is fer ye to go ter him, put yer arms around his chin, in reg’lar old Romeo an’ Juliet style, an’ give him a Mary Anderson kiss, like as ef ye war goin’ to blow off his ear. Then tell him ou’re his’n and his’n’s yours; go buy a set ter urniture, an’ I'll bet things ’ll go off like caster oil.on troublesome waters.” ‘¢- You are incorrigible, sir!” E “Yas, so I’ve been told before, but gift o’ gab b’longs to my biz, an’ he who can’t quote frum Genesis, or exercute a double song-an’-dance, hain’t no bizness along my route. An’ now, then, afore I go, I want ye ter promise me three things,:an’ when ye get spliced, ll give ye a fu’st-class shine, free 0’ charge.” **T will promise—perhaps—after I know what are your demands.” “Well, in ther first place, I want ye ter call a uerum wi’ yer own heart, an’ decide to scoot ‘‘ [ will take that into consideration.” “Good! Next, I want ye ter promise not to dischargé the new nurse,for she’s workin’ ag’in’ big odds to baffle villainy,” ‘I will also consider that request.” ‘‘Better as good! Thirdly, watch the new nurse, If she does not destroy the medicine Dabol leaves, you do so yourself, forit is deadly poison |” ‘Mercy! you do not mean this?” ‘‘ Privately, yes. I am as good as assured that that’s what’s the matter. Dll go now. You retain the pints I’ve given ye, till I see you again. Ifthe guv’nor gets alarmingly worse, send for me to the Dice-Cup—I reckon ther per- lice knows whar it is.” After this interview with Bertie, Billy left a -Davis mansion and wandered back into wn, Something unusual with him, he solicited no ‘‘ shines” on the way, but appeared to be deeply absorbed in reverie, which was probably not pleasant, as it brought some serious frowns to his forehead. ’ “Tt ain’t workin’ right—et ain’t, by blackin’!” he muttered, taking off his cap to scratch his head. ‘I ain’t got hold of enuff matter to make a kersplurge yet, an’ yet, if I don’t do some- thing or get some conclusive proof ’fore long, it will be too late. Théy’re trottin’ the gov’nor out o’ the way as fast as possible, that’s certain, and it won’t take hag to do it, unless Fan is workin’ ag’in’ ’em, which I shouldn’t wonder. Guess I wouldn’t a-got into the house, ef Sedley had been there.” He did not do much more street-work that day, but as soon as it was toward night, set out for the Dice-Cup, his mind plainly in a state of t activity. hat were his bn or plans, of course nobody could well tell, but the strange expres- sion of eye told that he had a deep scheme work- ing upon his mind, and working hard, too. hen he arrived at the Dice-Cup, he found the bar-room filled, as usual, with the rough habitues of the place, and Mrs. McCarthy pre- siding behind the bar. All eyes were turned upon the Bootblack Sleuth, as he entered, and he felt that trouble was ahead, when he heard a peculiar murmur go the rounds of the crowd. “Tm in fer a racket, sure,” was his conclu- sion, when he saw that the stairway leading to the floor above, was blockaded by two men, and they two of the most notorious “‘ bad” men of the city, Sam the Soaker, and Ben the Bum —who were men noted for not hesitating at committing any crime, no matter of what nature or degree of hideousness, so long as it brought them pay: ‘‘Hello! thar he is!” Sam the Soaker cried, ‘‘ Yes, that’s me, sure o£ old. evapora- hat you, to-day, an’ come ter the conclusion that you. are too flip!—too fine fer us. Et’s known to the b’yees that you stand in solid wi’ the per- lice an’ detectives, an’ consequently, ye ain’t squar’ on us,” ‘‘T'm under no obligations to you, nor any of you. I pay my board here, and if you mind your business, [ will mine.” ‘*Oho! but ye see that won’t godown. You're too smart, you aire! You know too much, an’ all thar is of it, you’ve got to git out o’ Phila, or ot goin’ ter git yer head bu’sted, afore ye eave hyar.” ““Oh! Pm» not afraid!” the young Sleuth re- torted, taking another tack. ‘‘ Don’t you sup- pose that if I was to come up missing or hurt, this ranch would get pulled for dead sure? Oh! yes! “You’re a bold lion, Sam—bold enough to attack a barrel of whisky, any day—but you kin be mighty certain that it wouldn’t be a healthy job for you to tackle me.” The ruffian winced. He recognized the un- mistakable logic in the statement; he knew that Billy the Snoozer did ‘‘ stand in” with the police and detectives, and the Soaker had good reason for belief that any harm done to the lad, would make Philadelphia too hot for him, : ** Mebbe you're right,” he admitted, boldly; “but, never mind; I’m goin’ ter git paid fer puttin’? you in a state of quietus, an’ I'll trap you, when you don’t know it.” ‘Good idea, Sammy. When ye dursent tackle a wassup nest at i aetgen ye can some- times poke ’em with a pole, at night. Come atoustieon Arch, ter-morrer,,an’ I'll polish ’em up fer ye, in gud shape.” Andturning, he made his exit into the street. ‘No place fer a snooze thar, ter-night—- not fer me, anyhow,” he muttered. ‘The doctor or Sedley bas bin tew_work, an’ set Sammy the Soaker onter me. Hum! hum! lit- tle by little things begin to get clearer. Byme- by the sun will shine.” Mr. Davis did not improve as night drew on again; in fact, be grew alarmingly worse. Bertie, who, since Billy’s visit, had watched Miss McFee closely, and noted that to all ap- peaneeeen she was administering the remedies eft by Dabol, finally grew desperate, and called her to one side. “for God’s sake, do not give father any more of the medicine!” she mo ‘*T have been warned that it is deadly poison.” Miss McFee smiled. ** Billy told you?” she said, more positively than interrogatively. ‘‘Heis right. The medicineis poison, That administered when 1 first came, was a slow ison, calculated evidently to take the life b egrees, so that suspicion would not be aroused. The last medicine left, had I administered it, would have killed Mr. Davis before morning. As it is, he is very bad, from the effects of what he swallowed before I came, and may dro away at any minute. He asked me his condi- tion and eres a bit ago, and my answer —0 that did not believe his recovery prob- able.’ ‘‘What is to be done? Is this terrible crime to be permitted witbout resistance?” ‘It is better not to interfere, at present. I am watching agwost further attack, and if there is a final change for the worse, then leave it to me to expose. I seek vengeance—I hold the proof to buy it with. Ah! Pll look out for the retributive part, right well!” she said, bit- terly. : yaa midnight that night, Mr. Davis awoke from a’restless sleep, with a violent start, and gasped for water. After he bad slaked his irst he seemed slightly better and called for Miss McFee. “‘T am going fast,” he murmured, as she bent over him, ‘‘ and I would like a minister, to per- form a marriage ceremony, before it is too late. Can you send for one, dear?” ‘¢T will go for one,” was the reply, and bid- ding Bertie take her place, she hurried out of the house, She was gone a long time—an hour or more, but finally returned, bringing with her a man wrap in a long cloak, a clerical lookin party, with heavy hair, eyebrows and a ) while his eyes were shaded by a pair of gog- gles, like those of Miss McFee, As soon as they arrived, Mr. Davis sent for edley, and called him and Bertie to his bed- e. “Children,” he said, in a faint voice, ‘I bave about made up pay sate that I shall not see another day here below, and before I go, I desire to see you two joined as husband and wife, and to that end, have provided a minister. Therefore, if you are both of a mind on the matter, join hands, and the reverend gentlemen will soon make you one.” Samay took Bertie by the hand, and led her forward. The clergyman then brought forth a book, and began to read the marriage service. Not more than half-way through it had he got, when a door was 3 open, and there stepped into the room Miss McFee, who had, a moment before, absented herself—not Miss Mc- Fee now, but the girl sharp!” : “Stop!” she said peremptorily. ‘This non- sense has gone far enough. This marriage cannot le; be ec falas aot for to my positive knowledge, Jack Sedley has another wife liv- ing, from whom he has no divorce,” CHAPTER IX, SHOWING UP SEDLEY. HAD a thunderbolt.fallen in the room at the bedside of the sick man, it could not have cre- ated much more excitement than did the decla- ration of Fanchon Flint. Sedley uttered an oath, and leaped back a few paces, while Bertie separated from him, and shrunk toward the side of Mr. Davis, who sat Spon up in bed, white and almost speech- “This is an outrage—a damnable plot to ruin me, instigated ae my jealous cousin,” Sedley cried, as soon as he had so far recovered as to be able to speak. ‘No, it is not—it’s true as preachin’!” Fanny retorted, independently. ‘‘ You are a married man, though it is not your fault that your wife is not dead long ago.” ; “Tf married, as you say, who is this man’s wife?” Mr. Davis asked, feebly. ‘* Her realname was Diana Flint before this
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a rae mR a 2 ee rascal entrapped her; finding married life an incumbrance, about a year ago he came to this city, and placed her in one of the many private asylums here for safe-keeping, claiming, I sup- pose, that she was unsound in mind. arnin that they were not living together, I apniied myself assiduously to the task of finding her, and it was only recently that I learned of her escape from the asylum, and joining of a branch of our own Gipsy family as their queen.” **Zella! you do not mean Zella?’ Mr. Davis ejaculated, eagerly. Yes, , believe that is the name she has adopted. She is the wife of this rascal, Jack Sedley.” ‘Rascal, woman? How dare you?” “All for the simple reason that I dare, sir would-be bigamist! Further than that, Iaccuse you of complicity with the wretch, Dr. Dabol, in administering to Mr. Davis pore poisons with a view of killing. I have nearly all the medicine, which, when analyzed, will be conclu- sive enough testimony of your awful guilt. As the matter is not mine, I will leave it to Mr. Davis to say whether you shall be jailed or not, as sometimes in these family affairs matters can often be more amicably arranged than to give the courts a voice. “Tf a perlice detective is needed, however, one’s y fur biz,” the minister said, crossing himself, and then, as quick as a flash, he threw off the cloak and false beard, and stood un- masked before them—Billy the Snoozer! Pema uttered another oath at this revela- ion. “‘Thort Samuel the Soaker had me, didn’t you?” Bill chuckled, utting his thumb up to the end of his nose. ‘‘’'Thort I was a lost comet, 3 ia 1 ain’t! You're in a powerful bad x **T do not propose to put this matter before the courts,” Mr. Davis said, with sadness, “I have for some time past suspected foul play, and I am not surprised to hear that Jack is mixed up init, I am not revengeful—yonder is the door, Jack; take advantage of the oppor- tunity I offer you—go, and never let me see your face again, or that of your associate in crime, Dabol.” “* But, dear uncle, pause! Consider. I can- not take such a cast-off even from you, without an explanation. Let me tell you all; if lam not exonerated I will i but Ihave no fear but what I can clear myself in your eyes and Ber- tie’s. Shall I explain?” “We will hear you, but your case is hope- less,” said Mr. Davis with remarkable decision. ‘*No so, unless you are very unjust. To be- gin with, I am, I suppose, legally married, but tis all. I was misled into a marriage with this woman’s sister, and once the fatal step was taken, I found that my wife and her sister be- longed to a band of low thieving Gipsies. I fancy you can realize something what. my hor- ror was, when I made this 8 Pd but I could have cheerfully borne up under the blow, had I not learned that my wife was a gambler, and none too choice of the company she kept. ‘*T tolerated this sort of business until it be- came unbearable, when I attempted to repri- mand her, and she turned on me, and I narrow- ly escaped being cut to pieces. She was of course arre and at the examination pro- nounced insane, and I was given the privilege of providing for her; rather than have her sent to the gooey lunatic asylum which the law provided. Knowin whistling that my life would not be worth r, if I did not take care of her, I put ‘her in a private institution, and there she re- mained, until a short time since, when I learned of her escape, ‘*This woman, here, Fanchon Flint, has made several vain attempts to blackmail me for the urpose of extorting money, and this last at- tack is but another attempt at her sworn re- venge. As to the poison, if she has any, [ll stake my honor Dabol did not leave it; it is an- other job she has put up to ruin me!” Fanchon Flint did not give vent to words, immediately, but stood regarding Sedley with a sarcastic smile upon her face. *“Brayo!” she said, finally. ‘You have made a defense by far better than I deemed you capable of doing. till it lacks the re- quisite essential of truthfulness. That is all I pug say. If Mr. Davis has any doubt about my side of the story, I.can soon produce my sister, prove the marriage, her sanity and numerous other little and big acts of villainy that will not improve your record. Andit ma not be long before we can see you up before his * Honor,’ charged with—” “Stop!” he cried, fiercely—then seizing his Snoozer, the Boy Sharp. bat, he rushed from the room, and from the ouse. When he was gone, Fanchon Flint turned to Mr. Davis and Bertie: “Tam sorry justice required me to make this disturbance, and I trust you will both pardon me,” she said. ‘‘ Come, Billy, let us go.’ And they did go, leaving the ex-merchant and his adopted daughter to their reflections. A week passed on. August was drawing to a Close, and matters at the Davis home remained literally un- changed, except that Mr. Davis was better, and able to be out about the grounds. Fanchon Flint and her sister had wholly dis- appeared—even Billy. the Snoozer had lost track of them. Sometimes it occurred to the busy bootblack that they had been victims of foul play, but as he kept well posted on the movements of Dabol and Sedley, he could not believe that they had been up to any such work, for they were keeping very Y, as were the roughs around the Dice-Cup. ape wef ee 4 idle. a " - e applied himself energetically to hing his trade during the daytime and sr very sparingly during the night, pease in the most of his time in dodging about here and there and seeing and hearing what he could. One dark rainy night he saw Dabol leave his house and hurry down the street. There was nothing strange in this, as he might be going somewhere on a professional visit, only that he paused just outside his mansion and peered about, evidently to ascertain if he was watched; and then, too, it was past eleven o’clock. Billy had been ‘ shadowing ” the house when Dabol emerged from his mansion and betook himself down the street. “Something wrong,” the young dodger mut- tered, soretening. hee head, ‘‘Thet warn’t no honest look he tuk just then; ed like he was tin’ somebody would nabhim. He’sa bad one, that pill-peddler, an’ if I mistake not, he’ll | by some 0’ his own medicine one o’ these ays. ter a bit of reflection and a glance at the threatening sky, Billy made up his mind to pur- sue at a respectful distance and see whither the doctor went. CHAPTER X. “DRAPPED.” AFTER more than an hour’s walk, Dr. Dabol arrived at a grim-looking brick house on Bain- bridge street, and rung the door-bell. Though the windows were closely guarded by white wooden shutters, that did not signify that the house was tenantless, for the door (wae pert ly opened directly, and the doctor scurried in- side, after which the door was shut. ‘Phat means fer me to stay out,” Billy re- marked, as he paused in the shadow of a tree on the opposite side of the street. ‘I’m left out in the cold, sure’s preachin’, ef I ain’t sharp enough to get an ear glued onterther racket inside over yonder. Humph! I s’pect old Pills thinks he’s all hunk, and as snug asa buginarug. But he ain’t. This did not seem to be a matter of particular moment to the Joung Sleuth, for, crossing the street, he glided upa narrow brick alley and reached the yard in the rear of! the house that Dabol had entered. It was rather a court than a yard, being lined on all sides by dwellings, whiek were occupied by the poorest of the city’s poor. It was a gloomy place, and dark and ill- smelling, but Billy cared not. for this. His sole object at present was to learn what Dabol was up to... Stealing stealthily into the court, he paused and gazed around, All was as silent as the tomb. His attention was of course fastened upon the house in which the doctor had taken refuge. It was a three-story dwelling, and to provide against fires an iron ladder ran up the side of the building, alongside the several win- dows—or rather, beginning at the roof ran downward until within ten feet of the ground, where it suddenly ended just out of reach of - one below. in the third story back window of the block, a light shone dimly, and Billy’s eyes took in this fact at the same moment that he was contem- plating the fire escape. “*Reckon like enuff that’s where I’ll find the doctor, or else that’s put thar fur a signal o’ sum kind,” he thought. ‘‘ Ef I was to climb up thar, an’ git a bucket 0’ scaldin’ water dumped on my head, I:guess ’'d know better, next time. Well, anyhow, I’d have to ’knowl- edge that I tuk water.” 9 He did not take ony to decide on a point, and was equally _—e in forming a determination. Procuring a box he placed it against the side of the house, mounted it, and was thereby en- ier to reach the lower round of the fire-lad er. Todraw himself up to footing, was but the work of a moment, and then it was on easy matter for him to climb upward. By this time the misty rain had increased to a driving storm, and the thunder crashed an- rily in accompaniment to the lightning’s spite- ul flashes. ‘Oh! but won’t I get soaked, tho’!” Billy reflected, as the water to penetrate his garments, and run down his back. ‘‘ Must be sum séch night as this that Vennor gits up on the roofs an’ mannyfacters probs. Probabl Pll get probs, or probed, afore I get throug with this experiment.” Hand over band, he pulled himself upward, pausing long a at each window to peor in. The rooms on both the lower floors, how- ever, were empty, and dark, and nothing of in- terest to him was visible. At last, drenched to. the skin, he reached the side of the window from which the light shone out into the wild night, and craned his head forward to make observations. The light came from a small lantern, which sat on the window sill. As it had first occurred to the young Sleuth, it was evidently placed there as a signal for some one,as the room in which it was positioned was vacant and unfurnished. . For a moment after this discovery the young Sleuth was somewhat in doubt just how to act, for he had no assurance but what it might be a trap arranged for the accommodation of bur- glars, he having heard of such things in the course of his experience, + Therefore he clung to the ladder and watched the interior of the room in silent reflection vee a chilly feeling began to steal over him, and hi vopltead that it was high time to be doing some- ng. He had about concluded to make an attempt to enter the room, when he felt the ladder jar, and glancing downward, he made the h - ing discovery that some one was pet as t ladder, a man, evidently, but almost indistin- guishable, owing to the darkness. Here was‘ a fix, indeed. Discovery was inevitable, bub something must be done, and that quickly. If the man below had yet discovered Billy, he had given no warning of the fact, and this gave the young dodger hopes that after all he might escape into the building undiscovered. So he reached forward and tried the window, when, bie satisfaction, it rolled rapidly upward on pulleys. The same instant a strong gust of wind dashed out the light, leaving all in total darkness, Taking advantage of the respite, Billy swung himself around from the ladder into the window and in an instant later wasinto the room. ““So far, so. good,’ was his reflection. ‘If the perlice was to nab me now, his Honor would say ‘ William, you're entitled to a few in Moya,’ Ugh! jails an’ me never did agree. Reckon I’d better shet out the other'chap, or he’ll get up a row about nothin’,”’ ad accordingly, he softly pulled down the sash, It took but a moment for him to spring the catch and fasten it—then he stood to one side in the darkness and waited. The other chap soon reached the window and tried to raise it, but ms em The window remained firmly down, and his attempts to raise it were fruitless. Finally he uttered an oath, and dashed in one of the panes, after which he easily reached in and undid the fastenings, and the window glided upward. “Thar! cuss my boets ef I didn’t git in, after all!” he grunted, as he shook himself like some great animal, to dislodge the water. ‘‘ Wonder which o’ the boys put up the job on me? Not a very smart trick, whoever it was.” ; Billy breathed freer, as he beard this, for it was possible that there was a chance for him et. - And so it proved, - L The man who was heavily bewhiskered, and attired in an oilcloth coat; soon passed on into an adjoining apartmentor hall and closed the door after him, am “ Dunno if I twig his nibs or no,” the boot- black soliloquized. ‘‘ Luks like a reg’lar pirate frum the high seas—or else he’s a schooner un- loader at the occasional saloon around the cor- ” Waiting fully ten minutes where he was, and
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| | : | | | | i - the captain said, “ 10 hearing nothing, Billy then stole forward to the door, and 6 ogee first his eye, and then his ear to the keyhole. Beyond the door, was a long uncarpeted hall on either side of which rooms opened off, an the hall was illuminated by but a single gas jet. On listening, he could not hear a suspicious sound, and accordingly believing that all was safe, he opened the door and stepped forward into the hall. The same instant, almost, he was seized in the —— grasp of several pairs of hands; a bag-like gown was thrown over his head, and he was marched forward, into some other room, where, after he was securely bound, hand and foot, he was placed upon a chair. ‘ There was then a scattering of feet, after which all became momentarily silent, and Billy felt that something was surely about to happen. The silence continued for several minutes— then the bag-like cap was suddenly jerked from his head end he got'a fair view of his surround- in fic was sitting af one side of a room which was furnished only with a number of common arm-chairs, and the chandelier which hung from the ceiling. In ahorse-shoe circle facing Billy, sat two dozen, at least, of human beings wrapt in gowns of fg white, and wearing over their heads and faces duplicates of the black bag Billy had been provided with, only that theirs were fur- nished with eye and mouth apertures. A grim looking lot they were, and just over their heads, suspended from the chandelier, was a board containing the mystic letters that Billy had seen upon Mr. Davis’s card! A t of eee went up among the weird band, as Billy’s face was exposed plainly to their view. The middle man of the circle seemed to be the leader of the organization, for when, a moment later, he raised his hand, the other fnasqueraders did likewise. Then they went through a series of pantomi- mic gesticulations that might have looked very ludicrous, upon the stage, but which were any but funny to the young Sleuth. an on they’re gittin’ ready fer bizness, 0’ some kind,” he concluded; ‘‘an’ judgin’ by their tions, I’m booked for an all-fired pummelin’.” The maskers however did not seem to con- template such a thing, for immediately after their pantomimic exercise, they ce and leveled the index or of each hand accusingly at their prisoner and there followed avery dis- mal sort of a i hissing r Billy was not seatedgeit the least. ‘Out of voice, ter-night, ain’t yer?” he said. with in. “ Hain’t got yer keyboard tuned wp righ fer choir singin’. Now, thar’s Jim s, down St. John’s Court, who tunes up one an’ accorjuns most blamed cheap, I’ve Another grunt from the pantomimists pro- claimed their poor appreciation of Billy’s volun- teered news. ey made some gesticulations at one and another again, after which the cap- tain advanced a few paces and said, pitching his voice in its deepest tone: ** Young man, are — aware of the nature of the beings you are sitting in the oa memes of?” “WW, reckon!” the young dodger replied, “*Tain’t often I get tak in on suckers or gillies, like you’re tryin’ ter smother in them peecool- yer night-caps.” ‘ " : You are not — to exercise wisdom,” herefore you are dead |” om Not by along boot! Ima stayer, I am “You are dead in a literal sense. You are ef too great danger to us, to be permitted to exist, so only two things remain for you—you must become 4 member of our secret organiza- tion, or you must die. Take your choice!” “That so? Got it all cooked and dried, have oe ” ** But, suppesin’ I give Pn the slip, like Joner did the genus whalus of the antediluvian deep?” “No danger of that. You would indeed be a shrewd youngster if you could get the start of an organization like ours. No, you young hound, there are seat only two chances for you, death or ene to me bound by - — to which be worse than ea “‘ Reckon ye better book me fer a hearse then, as I belong to a Sunday-skule, an’ I don’t swear Ww a cent. Besides, I don’t reckon —— me, werry bad; I ain’t the kind of a irpin as makes ck fer a heavy villain wuth a cent. An’ I wouldn’t be responserble. Ther Snoozer, the Boy Sharp. first time 1 got a chance, I'd give ye away. Therefore, fer the severialeth time, as Rosky Conk would say at the State Convention, et behooves ye to drap me, like ye would a red- hot coal.” , ‘* Yes, we will drop you, and it will be where you won’t get out mai the captain assured, rimly, exit even as he spoke, the floor beneath illy’s chair was quickly jerked from under it, and both he and the chair went down through the opening thus made—down, down, down, into blank space! CHAPTER XI. AN UNWELCOME LETTER. TuE day following the events last narrated, Jack Sedley and Dr. Dabol drove up to the Davis mansion, accompanied by a dapper young man, who sported a few pale hairs on his upper lip, and looked as if a superabundance of food in his family was not a common luxury. Mr. Davis had so far recovered from his re- cent illness as to be quite smart again, supported by Bertie, was taking a walk about the ground, as the three men entered. As soon as he and Bertie saw them, ey paused, and waited for them to approach whic they did, the snob in advance. When a few paces off, they, too, came toa halt, and exchanged glances, after which the man of the pale mustache began: ‘Mr. Davis—the honorable Mr. Davis, I be- lieve, mae poe ye by his charming adopted daughter. Ah! yes, pardon my intrusion, sir, but, in behalf of my client, [ must beg leave to present you with a little notice—hem! yes. A trifling affair, and can doubtless be amicably arranged.” ' With a cold searching glance at Sedley, whose face wore the quiet, malicious expression of 4 triumphing demon, Mr. Davis received a docu- ment which the dapper young man presented, and opened it. His eyes were not long in running over enough of it, then his face grew ashen pale, and stag red back a pace, “‘T presume you understand,” the dapper young man remarked, with a smirk, ‘‘and on the = lady’s account I have been’ permitted to extend you a reprieve until to-morrow to think over matters in. Trusting by that time ki will be prepared to make everything satis- actory, I remain yours bea Jeffries Jenks, attorneytat law. dood-day, r, good-day !” Then, doffing his hat to Bertie, he turned and o. his arms to Dabol and Sedley, who in turn offed their hats, and the trio walked away. Leaving Mr. Davis staring after them with wild eyes, his facé still retaining the deathly color, his limbs trembling as in an ague spasm. + “g God! I never dreamed that this blow would be struck me,” he groaned. ‘“‘ Help me to the house, dear!” ; “Yes, fa Tell me, oh, please do—what is the matter?” ‘** You will know all too soon, dear,” was the sad reply. ‘‘ It will be a bitter blow to you, but you must bear it, as well as I, for you are young and strong.” “Yes, to be sure 1 am, and I am willing to stand anything for ao sake. So please tell me what the trouble is?’ ‘* Not now, child, not now; wait until I feel better, dear; then you will likely know all—per- bape sooner.” nd so Bertie assisted him to the house and into the cosey library, where he seated himself in a groat easy-chair and bade her see him an hour later. When she had left the room, he covered his face with his hands and remained thus for sev- eral minutes in silence; then his form shook as with a shudder, and he once more opened the strange missive. It was written on common white paper, in a cramped, irregular hand, while the spelling and mmatical arrangement indicated the writer’s illiteracy. . The following were the contents: “ PoapeLpuy, Aug. —, 18—. “ Mr. Algernon Davis, Retired Bighug : “ Dear Sm: By these fu tenderlines you'll hev ar- riv’ at the conklusion that I ain’t sbark food, but ar’ | uncle. back in Ameriky, live an’ blowin’, like a beupus. I expect ye’ve bin calculatin’ me dead, but I ain’t; consekently thar’ll hev tew be a sum at smart change in our bizness relations, you bet. So let’s cum ter the p’int ter oncet. Years ago—sixteen, more or less—this hyar hulk tuk a noshun to visit ther sea as a sailor, an’ have a jolly life on the wave, Bein’ en- cumbered wi’ two nan’ a ” half o’ a half of a milyun dollars in U. 8, money, an’ not, knowin’ w'at ter do wi’ sech encumbrances, I ied you, my schoolmate, ter take charge o’ the gal an’ the money till my return, an’ tuk, in security therefor, a mortgage on yer property for a like sum, On course i (ea EET OR! RR TE I RS EE FSR EE A SE OS ESS SA ETI I reck’ed ye war honest, or I would not ba’ trusted ye The boy I put in ther almshouse, ‘an’ then I lit out onto the seas. 1s one o’ years later my vessel was reported wrecked off Cape Horn, but it was a e, an’ while ye war probably mournin’ over my sad demise I was takin’ my reg’lar rations of grog aboard the Mary Jane. Fram ther high seas I drifted over inter Australia, an’ + Fe Iam back again, after the afore- said epochs of time, in ruther a used up condition, owin’ tew a failure in the whisky supply in Mel- bourne, an’ Bde bet I’m ready fer my two-fifty. As for my gal, I hev giv’ her tew a nice young chap who has befriended me, an’ has bin courtin His name is Jack Sedley. ‘* Ef he makes a gud son-in-law, p’r’aps I'll whack up wi’ him. Anyhow, the gajJ might as well git on her Sunday duds, as Jack “il be around, one o’ these days to claim her. “As fer the cash, ye can waltz around wi’ it, to- day or to-morrer—as soon as ye please. Ef yedon’t, why inter the market goes the mortgage, for ter be foroclosed, because I’ve had the ‘jims’ bad, lately, an’ my sea-legs ain’t hardly straight geered enuff fer these heer city walks. opin’ these fu streaks 0’ ink won’t hurt ye much, lam ‘*Yures tew de’th “Brit BLossom, her. * Dice-Cup Boardin’-house.”’ > Over and over did the ex-merchant read this, until it seemed as though be must have it by heart, his thoughts evidently not of a pleasant nature, judging by the pained expression of his kindly face. ‘““I did think he was dead, in truth,” he mut- tered, ‘‘or I should have never set my heart so deeply on the interests of poor Bertie... But they shall not snatch her away from me so easily, and as for the money, I shall think twice, before surrendering it to this man, whom I do not know to be the one who is rightfully en- titled to it. Ido not believe that Bill Blossom is alive.” So drawing a writing-desk toward him, he produced some paper and a pencil, and wrote the following: 6% HILADELPHIA, Aug. —. “Mr, WritraM Biossom, Sir: Pah ee “Your epistle has been received- and perused, and in reply I will say, that I shall have to exact strong roof as to your identity, before I can make any move, whatever, in the matter mentioned in yours. Until you can produce such satisfactory ‘ey I must decline to recognize your claim, an advise tht you make no rash movements, , 'AteEeRNon Davis.” Later, that day, Jack and Dabol, were closet- ed in an upper room, at the Dice-Cup, with a table, a bottle of wine, and glasses between them. Also, in front of him, Dabol had ia out the same letter which Mr. Davis had some hours before sent to Blossom, and was reading it er gh on aeetey oe re ell, I hope so,” he was saying, answer to some previous remark on the part of Sedley. ‘For my part in this somewhat complicated business, I want to see some pay, before long.” eo ee AM hy needn’t get in too great a hurry,” ey sneered. ‘You'll get your ‘whack’ in due time: indeed, I fancy it would be poor policy for you to play off ftunk, at this late day.” “Oh! BA ers Well, we won't quar- rel, for ll wait awhile longer, at least. Now then, you big ape: the guv’nor will show fight in this matter, do you?” ‘Very naturally, yes. He don’t believe that the bine is Blossom, as you can see by the letter, and he’ll require better assurance, before he acts. It was by merest chance that I got onto it. Uncle, not long ago, gave me Bertie’s antecedents, and when I heard the drunken. devil, down-stairs, declare that he was Bill Blos- som, I foresaw outcroppings for a possibly protons scheme. So I jumped him, and got m to write the letter he sent to Davis, through us. First of all, I bluffed him, and charged him with being an impostor, and this put him out a little, so that finally, without admitting the possibility of such an imposition, he wished my assistance in establishing him in his rights. He offered me his friendship, the permission to marry the girl, Bertie, and, finally, the promise of a snug little sum of such money as hisiproven identity will enable him to secure from my Not a bad thing, eh, after our first un- successful attempt?” “But, do you want the girl?” “Hardly. She evidently cares nothing fer me, any longer, and I would hardly crave a wo- man who did not. Mayhap 7 shall‘have to marry her, but if I can wiggle my fee out of Blessom, without, she can ge te Jericho.” _ “Humph! from what I saw ef the fellow, he is clese, avr.ricious, and hard to ‘draw on,’ un- less he is poing to sa his own appetite for strong drink, He is a baum, in the most em-
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phatic sense, and’ if you get rich off of him, it will sur my reckoning. Besides, it is not helping matters much, as to gur future welfare. Davis is not going to let the sick business drop —not with me, even if he does with you. He’s too shrewd for that. I fancy that, even now, he has men on the outlook for the girls, Fann and Zella, and as soon as he can get their evi- dence, or, at least, that of Fanchon, concerning the drugs, he’ll endeavor to make it warm for me. If I don’t get some hold upon him, as a sort of counter-irritant, you see, there’ll be no hope for me but to pack my gripsack and hang up my ~a = elsewhere.” “True. But we've summarily disposed of one formidable obstacle; why can we not boost another? I have the right scheme, I thmk.” ** What is it?” “This!” in an undertone, and with occasional suspicious glances around, the rascally nephew unfolded the points of a plot, which we will for the present withhold from the reader. Dabol listened, with dccasional nods of ap- proval, until Sedley had finished. ‘Undoubtedly your plan is a good one, and, if bh Eee must eae in our favor. By the way, do you beliéve the rough is the genu- ine Bill Blossom?” . ee **IT do not, candidly, but no one, aside from you, will ever be the wiser. I want to work the fellow,” was the response. ’ And what of the entrapped Sleuth? _ Down—down, he went, seemingly to his death, in what appeared to be a mere flue in the well. With the instinct of self-preservation he touched the sides of the well, or flue, and,.almost before he was aware, his momentum was stopped by the well-digger’s trick for safety, which he had often seen performed. He had arrested his fall by “ wedging” in the well, but, what then? He t ought, rapidly: “If I go up, I reckon I won’t get out—ef I go down, I won’t nuther, and so I don’t know ' what to do,” he soliloquized, as he stuck to tha vantage ground he had gained. ‘* But I can’t roost here ‘very long, that is certain. Ill have to take my chances on the ground floor, Ireckon, so here goes!” conclusion once formed, he be his descent, by arta. Peg to one brick and the another, and in this way continued, several feet it seemed to:him, before he touched the bottom. “ When he did finally reach it, he found himself not in water, as he had half anticipated would be the case, but on a hard uneven brick bottom and in the midst of a smell that was not delightful. “ Jeewhittaker! smells like I’d struck a grave- yard down side up, in China!” was the young detective’s first comment. ‘Oh! Lordy! what a perfume! Bet a box o’ Bixby’s I’ve struck a slop bason, or sewer, or sumthin’ of the kind, Ef she am a sewer, I’m free—by blackin’!” Bethinking himself of the fact that he had matches in his pocket, he produced one, and lit “it, and thereby was enabled to mementarily inspect his surroundings. The shaft above had evidently been built directly over what had originally been a well, but the absence of water in it was now accounted for by the fact that a sewer had been cut so near the bottom of the well that it was perfectly drained. r The sewer Billy discovered by the —— in- to it, from the well, was large enough to admit of a person’s wal through it in a bent ition, and Billy ed the discovery with light. “Btink though she may, I'll grin and bear it, till 1 git out inter fresh air—then ye sons of Black Bags, look out fer me! I'll work up yer case fing, an’ trap ye when ye ain’t calculatin’ on it!” he said, as he groped forward into the uninviting subterranean oe It might be a journey of miles, and a disgust- ing one at that, but he knew life and liberty loomed up before him in the distance. CHAPTER XII. A BOLD ATTEMPT. Twe days passed by. Mr. Davis made jo tnove to accede to the pro- ae gh the man Blossom, rd as that person not been heard from, s ice his first intro- duction, it became pretty ev.dent te Mr. Davis that he was waiting to hatch up some proof of his identity before proceeding with the case. The vight of the second day succeeding that which the sea of a consp’ between Dabol and Jack Sedley, was a dar one, in the extreme, accompanied by a fierce Snoozer, the Boy Sharp. wind and rain-—a storm more like the ‘‘ Equinox” later in the season. é Very few pedestrians were on the streets, and the rm seemed to rather increase than diminish, as the night progressed. It was some time after the midnight hour when two men enveloped in oil cloth coats and with slouched hats pulled down over their eyes vaulted over the fence into the Davis lawn, and made their way stealthily through the dark shadows toward the stately old Quaker man- sion. That their purpose was not legitimate, was ae by their suspicious glances on either side. Their faces were not entirely concealed, and a close observer might easily have made them out as Jack Sedley and Dr. Babol. Whenever thero was the least lull in the storm, they would pause and wait until it raged fiercer—then they would resume their approach to the mansion. “‘Tam not so powerfully impressed with this little venture as might be,” Dabol- declared. “Tf we should be caught this time, I don’t allow we would get off as easily as heretofore. And, then, if you are not sure where the old man keeps his money, we are running a big risk, with no assurance of findiag it.” “Tam not so hopeless,” Sedley replied. ‘I am pretty sure he keeps much of his wealth in a strong old chest in the attic in preference to trusting it in a safe or bank, but I am not ex- actly positive, as he never gives any one any clew. However, we can explore the place—the money must be ours before we leave the house.” They soon reached the rear of the mansion, and took the precautionary measure to stop and listen. : bove the roaring of the wind and storm, mpossible to hear anything within the house; all was dark and motionless; evidently the house was in deep ye “So far, so good,” ley whi eas T don’t apprehend any trouble after we effect an entrance. This back door is the only one in the establishment that is not bolted on the inside but I fancy that I havea key which will fit it.’ And after trying several keys, he at last found one that unlocked the door, and they softly entered the kitchen. ‘ From here they had no difficulty in passing through the spacious dining room into the hall, whence a staircase led to the upper floors. Being carpeted, they had little or no trouble in gaining the attic floor without noise. © he attic door was locked, but for this lock Jack had provided; one of his several keys threw the bolt, and opening the door, they en- tered and closed it behind them, after which ing peacoat a bull’s-eye lantern and turned on the light. This attic had no windows. It was simply a rough chamber, unlathed, unplastered un- cared-for. Cobwebs and wasp-nests abounded, = oe usual amount of trash was there to be ound. Among this ‘‘lumber” was a naga built chest, noticeable for its rivets, bolts, bands and locks, “‘There! that’s the box!” Sedley announced, ting it out. ‘‘It may be innocent of secret- ng what we want, but only when we find the chest empty shall I believe that. the money is not there. ** But how are we to get that infernal old safe open? Itwill need the assistance of a black- smith and sledge.” ‘Not by any means. Patience wiH accom- lish a great deal. AH that is required to. be one is to saw off the hasps of the locks, and with your assistance we can soon do this. And he was right. Produeing the bank bur- glar’s fine steel finger saw, which worked al- most noiseless when well oiled, they soon had the hasps off and the lid up, and behold! there in the eee: of the chest were several packages bright wn paper. wether! Sedles fiche Pcriumphantly ; “There!” Sedley exclaimed, ] “didn’t I tell you? That is money! and it’s ours—ours! do ‘you understand!—the money is ours!” “Yes, so it seems,” the doctor responded, rub- bing his hands gleefully. ‘‘ After all, it has not turned out so a night’s job, if we succeed in safely making our escape.” _ “Which yeu will not do. You have gone just far enough!” a coolly confident voice ex- claimed, and when en looked around, startled, they saw Zella, the Gipsy girl, standing in the igi ig with a pait of revolvers in her hands! Had it been Satan himself who stood there, the two rascals could not have been more sur- prised than they were—especially Sedley. He ' u —— stood as if transformed into a statue, and his features wore a grayish that did not har- monize well with the fiery glare of his eyes. ‘‘ Diana!” he gasped! “ Villain,” she returned. ‘‘ Dare you face me and call me that pet name? You wretch. I ap 2g longer Diana; I am Zella, queen of my ribe. The doctor, quick to act, began to move to- ward the door “Don’t dare to approach me or you are a dead man!” she cried, her eyes flashing. ‘‘ You are fy brute I would delight to shoot. Back, 1 say And cowering before those lurid eyes the scoundrel slunk away behind his confederate. “Diana! You surely do not mean—” began Jack cringingly, but she interrupted: ‘*Don’t dare to address me by that familiar name! Your foul lips pollute it!” A noise attracted her attention. Some one was coming up the stairs and she turned to be- hold Mr. Davis, himself, who, aroused by the voices, had come to investigate. , . ‘‘ Dabol—Jack!” he ejaculated, as he stepped witbin the room and saw the two men at bay. ‘* What does this mean?” as “It means that we followed this girl here, suspecting her motive to be robbery, and that she has turned the tables on us by getting us cornered to this room, and holding us here, at the point of the pistol—making us appear in the unenviable light of robbers.” ‘‘L. presume you recognize the truth of this statement, Mr. Davis,” Zella said, with sar- casm. ‘‘T plainly see that these villains have been aiming me another blow, even after I had mercy on them. This time, they shall by no means fare so well. Hold them where they are until I can telephone for the police,” ‘““ You bet I will! and death be to him who. offers to esvapo,” Zella cri8d, heroically. Mr. Davis hurried down-stairs, leaving the pane .Gipsy girl holding two human tigers at “It’s no use of submitting, when we can fight!” Sedley said to Dabol. ‘‘If we hesitate we are lost. Draw your “ pop” quickly, and make for the door. Shoot the girl through the heart, if she does not get out of the way. T’ll be close behind you.” Zella saw them -with their heads together— knew that they were plotting mischief—grasped her weapons er and with resolve. ‘* You'd best make no rash move, as I shall surely shoot you, if you do!” she warned. “Will you ’ Dabol hissed, his hands thrust in his outside coat-pockets, The next instant there was a pistol report— smoke issued from either of the hiner a and. Zella staggered and fell to the With a. scream. “Quick !—now or never!” Dabol cried, leaping over the prostrate girl and dashing down the stairway, while Sedley followed, bearing the package found in the bottom of the chest. Three stairs at a time they cleared until they were on the first floor, when they tore open the: front door and escaped into the grounds. Of their escape Mr. Davis knew nothing until he heard the pistol shots, when he rushed from the library, where he bad gone to telephoné fer the police, and found Zella senseless and bleed- mg weere she had fallen. rtie had also been aroused, and had already arrived on the spot, ina state of astonishment. and horror. ‘* Papa! what does it mean?” she asked trem- ulously. . ‘Tt means,” said Mr, Davis Beggering scree the room to the chest, and noting he fulfillment of his worst fears—‘‘it means that I have been robbed, and this girl been ‘murdered by your was-to- nm husband, and Dabol, the doc- tor. My God! Iam ruined!” Many men who had had more experience in the world would have made a greatcry over the robbery and attempted assassination, but not se. with Mr. Davis. He very well knew that the rascals whom he: had to cope with, would lie low in the future and that if he hoped ever to gain any clew o them or the stolen money, it must be by stealth. He therefore resolved to hush the matter up, and bide his time, and the results which were to. follow. Zell was picked up and taken to Bertie’s room, and an examination made of her wounds, She had sustained a harmless flesh cut in one of her arms, and a bullet had grazed the side of her head with sufficient closeness to cause her to faint—otherwise she was unhurt. *
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- Bertie skillfully fixed up the wounds, and in- sisted that she should remain in quiet for the present, until fully restored. In the mean time Mr. Davis had arranged with the only one of the servants who had heard of the disturbance to keep mum, and so the city missed an eee, to gossip over what had occurred at the Davis mansion. : On the followlng morning Mr. Davis went into town for the first time since his sickness in , search of Billy. : Of all persons he most desired to see the young Sleuth—but he was doomed to disap- pointment, Although he inquired for Billy in the haunts that had always known him, he failed to learn any tidings of him. None of his bootblack associates, even, knew where he was, and were positive they had not seen him for several days. ‘‘T fear that some harm has come to the poor lad,” the ex-merchant muttered, as he rode homeward, “and if such be the case, I have no need to guess who harmed him. This is a sad hour for me, and I would now that Lyle were back with me. Faulty we he was, he ‘was my son, and instead of dealing stern! and rebukingly with him, [ should have tri to approach and reform him, in a kinder man- ner. And Bertie too, I fancy, would welcome him back, eagerly. Oh! Lyle, my son, come back, and all will be forgiven and forgotten!” Mr. Davis was sitting in his library the next day, when a servant brought ina card—a dirty- looking affair, on one side of which was en- graved the the three-spot of clubs, while on the other was written, in a rude, scrawling hand: ‘* Brit Biossom, Esq.” li Mr. Davis’s face assumed a frown as he noted - the signature, and the frown was followed by a worried, weary expression. ‘You may show the fellow up!” he said, and the servant departed. ‘‘T may as well see him now as any time, and settle this matter,” he said, his bead bowing. nae knows I can do no more than for the St, The servant soon returned, ushering in a man who came very nearly to the te Mr. Davis had made of him. ‘He was short and thick-set in figure, but in face spare, wrinkled and whisky-burnt. The combined expression of spree | ferocity and drunken shrewdness was added to the stub- ble-bearded face, the eyes of which were blood- shot and swollen. His attire was shabby and dirty, and a rough cap was pulled down partly over one eye to shade a terrible bruise he had received there, ‘probably in a drunken row. St William Blossom,” the servant an- noun and then retired. “* Mr, Blossom, be seated, and state your er- rand,” the ex-merchant said, briefly. “Yas, I reckon I will,” Blossom responded, tumbling into an easy seat. ‘‘ My legs ain’t ‘gactly tew rights ever since I left the main deck, w’at with poor te howe the like. Well, -old schoolmate, how has the world used ye since I shipped aboard the Mary Jane?” “T fail to recognize you as any old school- ‘mate of mine, sir. You are nomore or less than an impostor, sir!” ‘*T ain’t—I’m Bill Blossom, an’ I kin prove it. Yer game won’t work, ter keep the money which I gave ye—not much! Ye kin keep the girl—I never was much a hand fer ’em—but I want the cash, an’ I’m goin’ ter hev et, or this ea Naat Ye say ye don’t believe tm Bill lossom—but mebbe ye remember that,” and raising his left hand, he showed where the tips of each four fingers had been amputated near the first joint! Mr. Davis greW pale. All hope died out, for he knew that the original Bill Blossom had been a victim to the same misfortune. - “Eh! see?” the bummer chuckled. ‘‘ Well, I'm Bill Blossom, and either hand over my cash, or I will foreclose the mortgage to-day !” CHAPTER XIII. BILLY SCORES, BUT SOMEBODY LOSES. IN the course of our narrative we:see fit to cs over another lapse of time—a month in ength—and note a few’changes that have oc- curred in the lives of those we deal with in sub- sg se and preceding pages. om the old home of his forefathers Alger- non Davis had departed. Where? Welf, perhaps if you were to ask all of his old acquaintances, they could not tell Ne Few in all Philadel- phia’s cosey homes knew what had become of ex-merchant Davis, whom report credited with retiring from business a half-millionaire, until, said B Ton — a 9 came along a mort- gage of long s ing, and swept away every- hing, even to the smallest article not personal. And the Davises had gone forth, and died out of existence, as it were, so far as knowledge of them was concerned, The new proprietor, Mr. William Blossom, of Australia, had assumed possession. When the notice of the foreclosure of the snotaage had been given him, Mr. Davis had said: “Sir, if you are the real William Blossom, as you claim, here is all I have—take it. Your money is gone, beyond my reach, and I will make all the reparation possible.” It had been a bitter blow to Bertie, who dis- believed Blossom to be her father. She had never known the meaning of want, but she bore all the humiliation bravely, and when the trunks were packed, which contained their few ——— effects, she turned to Zella and said softly: 4: Come with us. You and I are both young and we can work for him!” and she glanced ab Mr. Davis. And so they had gone forth, hand in hand, as it were, into the unpitying world. In a small street in the southern part of the city they rented a four-roomed brick cot- tage, and with a brave will prepared to battle for a livelihood. Bertie parted with a portion of her jewelry at a pawnbroker’s oP, and with the money thus raised, purchased the few pieces of furniture, bedding, etc., necessary to comfort. : Zella being an expert in bead and needle- work, hung out a sign, and in a day after leav- ing the Davis mansion they were once more ee And when, nearly a month later, we look into the little cottage there is still another change. Upon a bed in the front room lies M¥. Davis, — and emaciated, with Bertie by his bedside, anning his heated brow, looking herself less fresh and rosy than a month before, while Zella seated by the window, plies her needle rapidly. ‘‘ Poor child, would that I had never lived to bring you to this poverty,” the old gentleman was saying. ‘Oh! papa, don’t. It pains me to hear you talk so. Something may yet turn up that will bring us good luck and restore what is: lost. Zella is full of hope!” the Gipsy smiled as she spo ke up: ‘‘ Yes, Mr. Davis. I am sure all will be ight sol ‘Bless you for your devotion to us! But for ou we should have fared much worse than we ave,” Mr. Davis said. ‘‘Do you know where your sister is, Zella?” . ‘‘No, sir. Ihave not seen her ina long time —not since over a month ago. She is good, Fanchon is, but she is strange, and I don’t be- lieve she will ever rest easy until she knows J — is dead—then she will know I am free and safe. ‘*‘ Have you a father living?” ‘* Possibly, although we do not know for cer- tain. He left usand our band, when we were but small, and we have never heard from him, since,’ At this instant there came a rap on the door, and Zella ran to open it. Then she started back, for a stranger stood there—not a stranger, either; for Mr. Davis sat up suddenly in bed: “Jack ey, you are not welcome, here,” Mr. Davis cried, recognizing him, in spite of his disguise of a long heavy beard. “Oh! Tam aware of that; I merely wanted to hunt you up, in order to remind you of by- gone days!” was the retort, and then, with a villainous laugh, he tipped his hat, and strode away. « In the mean time where was the Boy Sharp— the irrepressible Sleuth? Had he ever esca: from the sewer, and, if so, what had becom of him? The night of the same day on which occurred the events last mentioned, a boat left South street wharf, and was pulled across the river toward the New Jersey shore, at Camden. Both the occupants were clad in long oil-cloth coats, and wore slouched hats, and full black beards, that most effectually hid their faces from view. Prior to leaving the dock, the man who held the oars had been waiting for some time for the other man to put in an appearance, but he had a come, and they had started. ‘You were devilish long a-coming, Doc!” the man of the oars growled, as he sent the boat flying out into the stream. ‘‘ You no doubt thought I’d wait all night for you?” “Oh, no, Jack, I hadn’t the least idea of the kind,” the other replied. ‘I got aboard too much wine to-day, and came near not getting here at all.” , ‘‘Humph! I see your voice is thick enough yet. You'd better take an oar and brace your- self up, or the ‘ boys’ will get into your boots —the ‘old boy,’ especially.” The new-comer did not reply, and so the other -mMaintained a silence. In due time they reached South Camden, and, as soon as they left the boat, clambered into a hack, driven by a ‘negro, and were whirled away. ‘‘T suppose you know, Doc, why I sent for you?” the man who had rowed said. ‘‘ No,” the other grunted. ‘‘ Why?” ‘‘Because our safety is all in our eye, and the sleuths are on our track. We’ve got to do some- Shingaren the girl.” ‘‘Who is after us?” © ‘‘Who do you suppose? That accursed little vagabond we—well, you know what—heis alive, and about the city.” ‘* Billy, the Snoozer?” ‘“Yes—the same.” “ Not in his old vocation?’ “No, he is in disguise. I saw him to-day, in the street, dressed to kill, and wearing a false mustache. He would have passed unnoticed —— a thousand, but I spotted him. After- ward I saw a rough-looking loafer dogging my footsteps, whom I suspected to be him, as his face was bewhiskered beyond recognition, In short, if we are not sharp, he will hunt us down, and if ever we get into his power, we'll get a 7 breaking stones over at Moya, for a long rm. ‘‘Pshaw! you're nervous, Jack.” “Hardly. Iamon my guard. If you want to go UP, don’t.” “Nor I. Still, I haven’t much doubt but that I shall have to get out of Phila.,” the other re- plied, grimly. ‘D’ye think that the Snoozer wie hunting after the girl?” es. She is literally one of his pards, and he will seek to find her, even before dnding us.” ‘‘Then what do you propose doing with her?” ‘¢ There is but one thing to do—she must either swear by all her fondest hopes of Heaven never to offer the poisoning, or any other charge against us, or she must die. tter, perhaps, oe) latter way, as dead men or women tell no ales. For’some distance over the sandy Jersey pike they rode on, until finally the cab stopped, and the darky opened the door. ' ‘Hyer we is, boss!” he announced, pointing to a two-story frame dwelling by the roadside. “ Allright, Sam. You can drive on a couple of miles, and by the time you get back we will be ready to return,” Sedley said—for it was he —as he and the ‘*Doctor” left the carriage. ‘Be sure you go two miles, and drive slowly, and yell out for us when you return, as we may be busy.” The darky nodded understandingly, hastily mounted the driver’s box and drove away. Sedley then led the way into the house, whieh was evidently untenanted, and toa back room on the second floor. This he unlocked, and pushing Dabol in ahead of him, followed himself, and locked the door after him. . The room they entered was plainly furnished so as to constitute a bedroom, kitchen and sit- ting-room, and its only occupant, aside from the two intruders, was a young woman, who was sitting by a table in the dim light ofa flickering candle. This was Fanchon Flint, She arose as her two enemies entered, and stood regarding them with flashing eyes. “Yes, I see you are still nates eer te pay ee a **T was really concerned lest you should have taken your leave. Ha! rather a grim joke, eh, Dabol?”’ “Haw! haw!” laughed the ‘“‘ Doc” hoarsely —so strangely that the partner of his crimes took a second glance at him. “ Bad joke. But peoce, to business, as we have no time to arley. “Yes, that’s a fact,” Sedley assented. ‘* The fact.is, my beloved Miss Fanchon Flint, we have come here on _business—imperative business, which concerns us all. Af®er mature reflection, I and my pard here, have come to the conclusion that you are too dangerous a piece of womanity to be left lying around loose, and therefore a summa sposition of you is necessary. You have either to take a solemn oath never to tell what you know against us and never attempt to betray us, or you die here, and at once, and this room shall constitute your tomb, until some
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13 straggler ‘happens along to take pity and bury your bones.” ‘* Monster! as base as I have always known you to be, since your cruelty to my sister, I never supposed murder was your forte, as a last resort.” “‘ But you see it is. Desperation will nerve a man todo anything, and 1 am desperate now. You have a chance for life if you choose to ac- cept of it—if not, you die. So decide, at once.” ‘You know, very well, what my decision will be, you villain! You know that there is not one cowardly thread in the head of Fanchon Flint, and ai she would be a fool to ae yourterms. I'll promise you nothing— nothing, except vengeance, when I get free!” “Freedom you will never know, except in death. Dabol, you drop her, and if you don’t do it scientific, first pop, I'll finish the job,” “Is that so?” said the other, as he drew a re- volver, and cocked it. But, instead of turning it upon Fanchon, he suddenly leveled it at Se — himself. ‘* Stop! hold on—what'do you mean?’ the astonished rascal cried. ‘‘T mean that yer off yer kerbase—thet you're nor’west o’ yer horizon!” was the cool retort, and off came the false beard and slouch hat, to reveal the dirty, fearless, face of Billy, the Snoozer. “It means you're n. g., Mr. Jack Sedley. Yer head ain’t no good fer schemin’, — i was you I’d go rent it out to pound rocks wi “Billy! Billy! Is it indeed you?” Fan cried, while Sedley shrunk back, with an oath, before the steadily aimed revolver. “‘Pervidin’ et ain’t yme, et ain’t nobody else ’ea’se thar ain’t only one feller in Phila. wo't luks jest like me, an’ he’s got a wart on his nose; ’spect it growed thar a-purpose, so we could be distinguished a es, it’s me, you bet, an’ as I hadn’t bin somewhere in a dog’s age, I thort ’d take an excursion with his nibs, Sed- ley, and knock over a bird wi’ a chunk o’ lead, by way 0’ divertisement.” ‘* How the devil did you come to know of my coming, and get ahead of the doctor?’ Sedley wled, savagely. ‘*Oh! that’s one of the little tricks of my trade. As well might you ask how doth the busy little bee, know when to go. on a suckin’ exposition arter honey. Echo ans’ers ‘by ob- serwation.’ I got ina double beat on the doc- tor, or, thet is, he got off his track, an’ I switched on.+ Accidents will happen, on ther best o’ railroads.” And, I ee it is your idea that you’ve got me foul?” edley sneered. “Vas, I allow I’ve got you sized down purt fine. stly, p’izen; second, captain o’ the I. O. O. G.—Independent Order of Ghouls; third- ly, sneak thief, and robber of Mr. Davis, and last, would-be murderer. Yes, I think I’ve got you purty well coiled in.” ‘ Another oath, more bitter than thé first, burst from the rascal’s lips. ‘* You cursed vagabond, if I get my claws on you, I’ll make it a sorry day for you that you ever meddled with my business.” “Oh! I know yovurre spiteful as a wassup, but I sha’n’t give youa chance to sting me, You chucked me under, once, but I opine you found that it wouldn’t work. I ain’t goin’ to hang ou, however, at present, as I ain’t no court, ‘m jest a-goin’ to let Fan go through yer pockets, an’ see if you’ve got any of Mr. Davis's money; then, if we can’t entice you to reveal the location of the plunder, we'll give you the hospitality of this place, till well. till you’re wanted. bt with your hands!” He obeyed. He knew it was for his best. At Billy’s suggestion, Fanchon searched his pockets, but found no money, and only a couple of letters. ; Soon after, Sedley was tightly bound and then locked in the room, while the two friends, were speeding back toward Philadelphia. CHAPTER XIV. ‘ SEDLEY GETS LEFT. OF course Sedley did not long remain a aber in the isolated old country farm-house, or the ae ere long came to his rescue and going back to Camden there met his partner in crime, Doctor Dabol, who had crossed the river to find his confederate. Adjourning to one of their haunts the two men sat down in the room to com notes and discuss the criti- cal condition of their affairs. ‘With those young devils at liberty, it will be hazardous for us to go back to the city,” Dabol declared. ‘‘The boy, Billy, is keener than lightning, and I’ve about come to the con- clusion that the likeliest thing we can do, is to locate in some other country.’ “Perhaps you are right; but not just yet. There’s one more work do, before we leave this field of action—more, by a long sight. I’ve got something else on the string, which promises us large returns, pecuniarily. d this!” He reached in his pocket for a letter evident- ly, but it was not there. ‘Ha! it is gone!” he exclaimed. ‘I remem- ber, now—the girl, Fanchon, took a letter, when she searched my pockets, and probably that was the one I want.” ‘ “What was it—anything of importance?” “To me it was, but I don’t allow they ll make much out of it. It was a letter from the genuine Blossom,” ‘* What?” “A letter from the genuine Captain Blossom. I was up at the old mansion, yesterday, playing poker with the bogus Bill, when this letter came to the house, addressed to my uncle, Davis. Bloggom was about to open it, but I prevailed upon him.to let me have it, as I wished to deliver it to the one for whom it was intended. When I got away from him, I opened the letter, and what do you suppose I found? Nothing less than a letter to uncle from the original Blossom, which had_been handed to a fast mail steamer, which the Mary Ann had hailed.” Dabol put up his hands in surprise. ‘The devil will be to pay now,” hesaid, with oat eon. ‘‘What was the purport of this etter ‘It read in about these words, as I recall it: “Dear Davis:—Perhaps of all living men you wil. least expect to hear from me after sixteen years’ absence, but as we are about to be Passed by homeward mail, I write to inform you that the Jane, with all its former crew, with the exception of Dick Flint, one blarsted shark, will touch port about the last of the month, never to go on another voy: as sixteen years in the Indies trade has fat- seine hl our lockers to that extent that we can afford to rest. And how I long to see that little girl of mine whom I intrusted to your care, and my brave boy, whom I placed in a charitable institution, knowing he would reared the best there. The must be both grown up to man and womanh now, and I shall look forward to meeting them and yourself, with great eagerness. If you have met with reverses in life, Davis (which, by the way, we are all subject to), do not let that wor M Agen for I’ve enough for all. it you've anything left of what I left you, it’s yours, and the mortgage shall be can- celed. So look out for me—all hands on deck— hurra!”’ CapTaIn WILLIAM Biossom.”’ “That's the style of letter he wrote, and it would seem our revenge on the old man ain’t a-goin’ to be so sweet, after all.” - ‘No. What schemes have you conceived concerning the matter?’ ‘“‘T don’t know that the matter can affect us more than that we can make some money out of it. Wor instance, I'll go and see my dutiful uncle and bargain with him. I'll tell him that I have discovered the real Blossom, and if he will agree not to prefer any charges against us and allow us to keep the stolen wealth, we'll show him the original B——, who will, as a matter of course, reinstate him according to the promises of his letter.” ** You'll not succeed in working him in this way. He'll take advantage of your declaration, and hunt up Blossom the new.” ‘Perhaps. In that case, I have another string to pull on, pecuniarily. I will go to the bogus - Blossom, and tell him that the genuine has turned up, and is about to boost him out of his present position, unless attended to. If he offers me sufficient inducement, we will lay for the new Blossom, and tap him on the head, after which we’ll get for parts unknown. if the bogus refuses to come down, we'll enlist to show the other the location of Davis and his daughter, for a stated sum, get the sum in advance, run him into a ‘haze’ and relieve him of any extra weight he may be burdened with, and then slope. Oh! I have it figured down pretty fine, but we shall have to be as shy about exposing ourselves as a mink is.” ta .. The two scoundrels, donning disguises, crossed by the first morning boat, to Market street, and no one on the Philadelphia side of the river re- cognized them as they left the ferry-house, and hurried away toward Dabol’s own residence. That. afternoon Sedley paid a visit to the bogus Blossom, and made known his discover. ‘that the genuine one was on his way to port, if, indeed, he had not already cast anchor, Although pretty well corned, the usurper re- ceived the news with consternation. “ Et’s a bad job,” he said. ‘‘If P’'d’a’ thought the captain would come home so soon, I’d ’a’ kept out o’ it, for he would kill me if he caught. me here.” “Of course. And yet you can ill afford to lose the position you occupy!” , ‘“No. “ Pd sooner lose my hand.” ‘Then your plan is to a on aremedy. What. will you give to never have the genuine article land on American shores—or any other shores, in fact?” “Tl give—I’ll give you a hundred dollars!” “What! so much?” “Is it not enough?” “No. Tl do the job for oo for fifty times the amount you offer, in advance.” “What! five thousand dollars for—” ** Killing a man!—exactly!” “But I have not so much money in all the world.” “How much have you?” ‘Only a hundred dollars.” ‘“*Pshaw! you are lying to me,’ 7 No, I am not.” You have the place here; mortgage it, ‘* Bah! that would be next to giving it wu I'll give you just a hundred dollars to put the captain of the Mary Jane under water, so that he’ll never come to the surface, Take it, or let it alone, just as you please.” ‘“‘ Well, give it to me.” “Swear that you will do the job, first.” ‘‘On bended knee I swear, on my honor as a rogue, ty fa that aan object of he yee never ers you. ou pa me one hun- dréd dollars!” Bedley declared. “Then, here is the money, and see to it that you do the job well,” the s claimant said, as he handed Sedley a roll of bills, ‘Never fear that you will ever be disturbed by 4 original,” the rascal said, as he rose to e ext in order, Sedley went to visit Mr. Davis = regard to the arrival of the real Captain ossom. ‘It's dangerous, perhaps, but I have few more risks to run in this city, and I’ll venture a negotiation with the guy’nor,” he muttered. e found Mr. Davis alone as he boldly opened the door, and walked into the little front room of the house they occupied—alone, and lying in bed, looking even more pale and wan he had the last time Sedley had seen him. **Good-afternoon, uncle!” the un led rascal saluted, as he closed the door behind him, and immediately palped himself to a seat. “Alone, eh? Well, it is all the better for our case. “Sir!” Mr. Davis cried, raising up on his el- bow. ‘‘ How dare you come here?” “ Because force of circumstances often causes a man to do ’most anything, uncle—because I have something important for you te know. Now you deem me a thoroughbred villain, don’t. you, and incapable of doing you a good turn?” “You are certainly a scoundrel, sir, and an ingrate.” ‘Yes, that may all be, but I am sorry to see you in such circumstances, and have come to aid you. I have intercepted a letter which quite conclusively proves to me that the Blos- som now blooming in your former home is not the original—in fact, [ know that bt nore Blossom will soon be in the city, and gz core nizant of your distressed circumstances, seek you out, to assist and reinstate you—that is, if I, knowing where to find him, do not in- tercept and mislead him, so that he will never find you. But, this I do not pro to do, if you will be reasonable. All that I shall ask is that you promise never to move against Daboi or I—that you restore me to position as your son, and endeavor to bring around a match be- tween Bertie and myself; then I will bring for- ward Blossom; he will bounce the bogus, and everything will be all fixed up like a picture, and trouble will be a thing melted beneath the sunshine of the future.” For a moment Mr. Davis was too surprised to answer—not only at the news, but at Sedley’s astounding amet. ‘‘No, sir. I will hear to nothing of the kind,” he answered. ‘You are an_ unprincipled knave, and, I absolutely will have nothin more to do with you; so leave this house a’ once and my sight forever!” “You old fool. I could throttle you for your obstinacy,” the villain cried now white with the rage of baffled purpose. ‘Yes, you are doubtless equal to murder; no crime is tco base for you to commit, I well know!” retorted the old man spiritedly. “Curse you, Pll leave my mark on you!” and he sprung from his chair toward the bed. But the fates were against him again. for is
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14 he leaped forward, the front door flew open, and Lyle Davis sprung into the room. “You black-hearted whelp of Satan!” he a and with one blow knocked Sedley to the oor. Infuriated at his defeat, the latter sprung up and at his adversary, only te get knocked down again, when Lyle, seizing him by the collar, threw him out ofldoors, as he cried: ** Now begone, you hyena—you grave-robber, ou thief, you would-be murderer! If everl lay eyes on you again to State’s prison. you go as sure as my name is Lyle Davis!” And the now thoroughly cowed wretch hur- ried away, as if the shadow of the gallows was behind him. . Then Lyle, still standing in the door, seemed ‘to await his father’s recognition. “‘On Lyle, my poor, wronged boy, can you en me for my unkindness? Can you come back to this poor home and share it with us?” pleaded the invalid, Lyle, closing the door, advanced to the bed- side, and taking bis father’s hand in both his own answered: “T have wronged you, father; but that is all past now; you shall be no more. disgraced b your son. I will stay with you—and Bertie, she will welcome me as a brother.” ‘‘ Welcome you? That she will, my boy. She bas never ceased to phan brow even when, at my oe aren she consented to give her hand to Jack! Oh, what an escape she has made!” and the old man visibly shuddered at the thought, “* But, Lyle, she is going to leave me soon.” “* Going to leave you 7 - my boy, unless you so arrange it that she is always one of the family. Her father is home to claim her.” “Well, this is news, indeed. I will keep her if I can, father; for your sake. I will again offer her my hand—undoubtedly to have it re- “Ah! you're a scamp, sir! For my sake, in- deed! Better say, for all of our sakes,—more especially your own! But, I say, Lyle, how came you here so opportune: q It must be you were listening and overheard Sedley’s proposal.” “Yes. Billy the Sleuth sent me around; .he seemed to know you were going to be disturbed, ard gediey 's going ' the dogs fast, and but f going to the dogs t for the family name, he should answer for his acts toward me.” : “Dont you bother with him. Our friend og Kegy got his case in hand, and he assured me that it would not be long ere he and Dabol would have no choice but jail or flight. Smart boy that Snoozer, and he’ll soon make it too warm in this city for our evil-disposed relative, and his associate. Indeed, if it had not been for my desire to peeren a family disgrace he would have given Jack up to justice weeks ago.” CHAPTER XV. CONCLUSION. THAT evening, while the Bill Blossom sat in ne oy of ume ne vis Ar pr en in the smo of a grimy old pipe, while he washed the botacdo down With a bot- tle of wine, there came a knock at the door, and a servant entered. — ‘* If you please, sir, there’s a man at the door, «sir, .as would like to see you, sir,” he said. ““ What fer lookin’ sort o’ man, Jim—anybody syou know?” ““Reckon not, sir. One o’ your own sort, sir.” «Well, show the fellow in, and Pll see what he wants,” The servant bowed, and left the room, and soon. after another man opened the door, and entered, in his place. He was indeed one of the usurper’s sort, in post of appearance, being rough and unkempt, n, too, peing probably He was an older ma not less than sixty, while bogus Blossom was not over forty. “Well, sir, whatis your business!” the present ietor of Davis p demanded, almost be- ore the visitor had seated himself. ‘‘ My business is with you,” the stranger re- plied, ina tone and way not calculated to be assuring. ‘‘ Can it ‘be you do not know me?” “No, I do not. I am a stranger in these parts, these sixteen years.” “So I am aware, sir, but that fact should not cause you to forget your old associates and ob- ligations of years gone by !”’ ‘What! you are not—’ “T am Ringa, the Gipsy—the chief of the band, to which you once swore fealty, Richard Flint, but which you deserted and tried to be- tray.” Snoozer, the Boy Sharp. The bogus Blossom winced, at the recogni- tion, and shot a nervous glance about the room, as if looking for an avenue of escape. gt eee G) dodges now!” he hid, with quiet firmness, ‘I came here expectin I should have to kill you, in settlement, and I stand ready to do it, if you do not come to terms. You know me of old, Flint.” ‘** Well, what have I done to you, to merit yer hatred?” Flint demanded. «You deserted your fellows, whom you bound yourself by a deadly oath never desert; more, you deserted your two children, and left them upon my charity, which, I am proud to say, they have always had, when needed. There is a sentence of death on your head, pronounced by your brother Gipsies, and I am, as their chief, bound to see that sentence enferced.” “You would not murder me, man?” ‘Surrender all the money you have in the world, to be given to your two cliildren, Fan- chon and Zella!” commanded the hard-faced chief, sternly. “You wi get no money of me—I have none.” **You lie! Ihave had spies after you since discovering who you were, and we all know that you have a plenty of money.” “T insist that you are wrong. Had I plenty of money, I would willingly give it to you!” ‘*Bah! Hand me over the money, or you’re a dead man!” Flint was no fool; he seemed to read his fate; and, rising, he went to a desk in the room, pro- cured a aad of bills, and, returning, hand- ed them to ngs. As he did so, Ringa ape! raised his hand quickly above his head, and Flint lay stretched out upon the floor. There was no report—no cry of pain; it was a proceeding strange, silent and mysterious, The good ship Mary Jane rode at anchor in Philadel harbor, after sixteen years’ trade in the Indies, and after the usual medical in- 8 on by the health authorities, the most of the crew were allowed to ashore for good, for the Mary Jane had in probability made her last ocean voyage, owing to her being un- safe as a sen-going craft. All had gone ashore but the captain and an old sea-dog who was to remain on guard duty. The former was gazing from his position by the lee taffrail toward the imposing river frontage of oe Quaker City with eyes that glistened w oy. 6 as good it seems to be back in one’s own native country!” he murmured, stroking his sweeping brown beard; a fine-looking man in the prime of life, and much at contrast with the bogus Blossom. ‘I long to have a moment to run ashore, and inquire if my old-time friend, Davis, is yet numbered with the living.” Just then the guard sung out: : a 4 Me mine G from shore to the fore, sir.” ‘Ah! rom 2 see. A small skiff, con & twomen. Assist them aboard, Ben, and sen them to my cabin, if they come on business of importance, The same With any one else who “ board us. hen the captain sought his state-room. A short while afterward two men entered— the same who had approached in the boat, and who were, it is perhaps needless to tell the reader, none others than Jack Sedley and Dr. Dabol., Captain Blossom looked up from some writing he was doing at the table, and greeted them with a courteous bow, bidding them be seated. ‘‘No, thank you, we have not time for that,” Sedley said. ‘“I come on a matter of business, “Well, sir, state your errand, then, and I will listen.” 3. “Thank you. ‘Your name is Captain Blos- sol?” “ It is, sir.® ““And presumedly you _would like to meet your old friend, Algernon Davis?” “T should, sir, very much.” “ And likely you’ would also be willing to pay something to learn where he and your daughter is?” “Well, sir, I don’t know about that. If I ae it imperatively necessary, it is possible might.” “Well, sir, I presume you will find it im- peratively necessary. Mr. Davis, I am sorry to inform you, has run through with every- thing he ever owned, and is now living in al ject poverty where you might search for a lite- ie dre po y J stern reso cals, secured all. time without finding him. Your daughter, too, is obliged to steal to get money for them to sub- sist on!” ‘ ‘¢ Sir!” Captain Blossom cried, indignantly— **T will not believe this.” ‘*'You can do as you please about that. Lam merely stating facts, being acquainted with the case, and thought you might be willing to pay for guidance, in order that you might cater to their needs.” “Yes, yes, see. You are figuring after the money, boldly. What would be your price; sir?” ‘Oh! Pl be light on you—say five thousand dollars!” ‘* Five thousand devils! Why, you infernal land-shark, I’ve a mind to throw you overboard. No, sir! I won’t give you five dollars. You're an impostor and a scoundrel, and the sooner you get off the Mary Jane, the better it will be for you.” ‘*But we don’t scare,” Sedley replied. ‘Do ou refuse to accept our offer?” “* Absolutely, sir!” “Then we'll trouble you to unlock your locker, yonder!” and at the same instant they each drew and cocked a pair of revolvers, and leveled them upon Blossom. He had made a move to draw one, but they were quicker, and knowing the folly of drawing a weapop on a man who held the drop, he wisely desisted. ‘Hal hal you’d better go cautious,” Sedley warned. ‘* We're two desperate cases,, who don’t stop to think the second time before we act. We wan bene surplus ‘swag,’ and then—adieu!” ‘““You had better put down your weapons, gents, for I don’t scare, neither. You're too near port todo any bad work, and I’d advise you to get quietly off the boat, if you value our bides.” ; ‘“ We don’t value ’em,” Sedley sneered. ‘‘ We value your me, most. We've got it all our own way. e old chap up-stairs is helpless, and so are you. Throw up your hands, so my friend can bind you, or over em B°, dead as a shark, No trifling about thi usiness |” “I defy you, sir. ‘You dare not shoot?” ‘“You shall see, I'll count three. When I count three, if your arms don’t go up, you're a *“Gaptain. Bl - stood at bay, his figure aptain Blossom 8) y drawn erect, his eyes flashing—his face set with ve. ** Two !” cried Sedley, grimly. And still, not an inch did the captain budge. “* Three, if you dare !” It was not Sedley who spoke now, but Billy the Snoozer, who stood in the cabin doorway, witha of weapons covering the two ras- while in his rear, stood several policemen. “Yack Sedley-and Doctor Dabol, you are my on sf y cried. ,‘‘ Officers, do your uty! ** You'll never jail me!” Sedley cried, and be- fore any one could prevent him, he placed a pistol to either side of his head, and fired. He never moved, after he fell, and before Dabol could do himself any harm, he was , and placed in irons. What remains to be told, can be told in a very few words. Dabol was tried and convicted of the crime of attempted murder of Mr. Davis and sentenced to a long’ term of imprisonment. Of course Mr, Davis and Captain Blossom met, in due time, and it was a joyful meeting to Blossom immediately restored ‘the Davises to their old home, and in due time there was a — wedding, and Bertie and Zella were the es. Mr. Davis, having become deeply attached to Zella, he persuaded the dark-eyed, sad-faced woman to accept his hand, heart and home—a step that neither are likely ever to regret, for she is a devoted wife, loving tle and refined, daily enlarging the circle o quaintances, and never visited wf a member of her tribe—who all bid her -speed! in her new found happiness. : trongly impressed with the belief that _— was his own son, Captain Blossom made dili- gent search, and proved that it was indeed so. And so Billy has retired from the blacking business, and it is possible—nay probable—when he gets a little older that he and Fanchon will become ‘‘one,” for already she has taken his sister’s place at Blossomdale, on the Hudson, where the hearty captain dispenses a genial hos- pitality, and where Lyle and his very contented wife spend many a joyful week. - THE END. er admiring ac- | LO > —_——-—— - eee. ee — —-— v
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Wat JEALousy Dr. y Alice eee THe Wire's Secret. rs ” Cet. Juan Lew ount, SSSRSRESSASSESS ity E 2 &° 3 1 My Youne Wire. By My Young W be Husband 7% Tue Buack Lavy or Duna. By J. 8. Le Fapu. 76 CaarntorTe Tempie. By Mrs. Rowson. 77 Cristian Oakuey's Mistake. By the author of “ Jehn Halifax, Gentleman.” 78 My Youna Hussanp. By Myself. 79 A QueEN Amonast Women. 80 Hur Lorp anv Master, By Florence Marryat, 81 Luoy Tempne. 82 A Lone Time Aco, By Meta Orred. 83 PLayine For Hien Srames. By Annie Thomas. & Tue Lavret Buss. By the auther of “John Halifax, Gentleman.” | 86 Ja aie By Geo: 4 8 CE. 87 ROMANCE OF A Pots Youre Man’ By ih 88 A By Emma Garrison.Jones. 91 Tue Jit, 92 Erneen ALANNA. Dennis O'Sullivan, 93 Lovr’s art, a2 B. L i Mrs Ofpha 94 THE hant, | 98 ao Ayxotn., “by hrs rs lar AUNTED Hearts, Rachel Bernhardt. 97 Huan Meuron. By Sy panes King. 102 Pea Worrti 103 A Desrsnare Dene Ry ieoktee Bord. 104 SHADOWS ON THE Snow. By B. L. Farjeon, 105 Tos Great Hoaaarry Dramonp. Thackeray, 106 From Dreams ro Waxkrva. By E. L. Linton, 107 Poor Zerg. By F, W. Robinson. 108 Tax Sap Ponroaes alhtask re! Amos Bar- TON. By George Ellio Ready Deo, 6th, 110 Her. Tue Wawomniile By By Chaves Bead. 111 ‘s Ber. Emilie F. Carlen. Tax Broreer iy i .». or 112 A Heno.’ By Miss Mulock. Ready Jan. 3. 113 P. Virrami. From the French of Bernardin de St. Pierre. Dade Jom 10th 114 "Tw. Poa ALGAR's Bay. By Walter Besant and James Rice. Heady Jan. Wee A new issue every week. Tne WavERLEY Lrsrary is for sale by all Newsdealers, five cents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt ef six cents each. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William street, New York.
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1 Deadwood Dick, tae Princzk oF THE Road. By Edward L. Wheeler. Yellowstone Jack. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. Kansas King}; or, Tor Rep Rieut Hann. By Buffalo Bill (Hon. Wm. F’.. Cody). The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Captain Mayne Reid and Captain Frederick Whittaker. Vagabond Joe, THE Youna WANDERING JEW; or, G FoR A Lecacy. By Oll Coomes. Bill Biddon, Trapper. By E. 5S. Ellis. The Flying Yankee; or, THE OcEAN OvT- cast. By Col. Prentiss He tgs Seth Jones. By Edward §, Hllis. Adventures of Baron Munchausen. Nat Todd. By E. 8. Ellis. The Two. Detectives. By A.W. Aiken. Gulliver’s Travels, By Dean Swift. The Dumb Spy. By Olli Coomes. Aladdin; or, THe WonprerroL Lamp. The Sea-Cat. By Captain Fred. Whittaker. Robinson Crusoe, (27 Illustrations.) Ralph Roy, tae Boy Buccanrer; or, THE Fugitive Yacut. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Sindbad the Sailor. His Seven Voyages. The Phantom Spy. By Buffalo Bill. 20 The Double Daggers. By E. L. Wheeler, 21 The Frontier Angel. By Edward 8. Ellis. 22 The Sea Serpents or, THE Boy Rosinson Crusoe. By Juan Lewis. 23 Nick o° the Night; or, Tam Boy Spy or 76. he Whe C. Harbaugh. amond Dirk. By Colonel P. Ingraham. |} 5 The Bo 2 fone ness By Roger Starbuck. 26 Cloven Hooft, Tux B 2 ee fed bet ee ee et CO FOe Ot RMON; or, THE BorpgrR Vouuroures. By Edward L. Wheeler. 7 Antelope Abe, txt Boy Guive. Oll Coomes 28 Buffalo Ben, THE Prince oF _ THE_ PISTOL; or, DEADWwoop Dick ox Discuisr. EF. L. Wheeler. 29 The Dumb Page. Capt. F. Whittaker. 30 Roaring Ralph Rockwood, THE REcE- Less RANGER. By Harry St. George. 31 Keen-Knife, Price or THe Praises, By Oll Coomes. 32 Bob Woolf, THe Borper RovrFian; or, THE Girt Deap-SHor. By Edward L. Wheeler. 23 The Ocean Bloodhound. §. W. Pierce. 34 Oregon _ Sol 3 or, Nick Wuirrixs’ Boy Spy By Capt, J. ¥. , Adams. $5 ild. Evan, THe Boy CLaupe DovaL; or, THE BrorHeRHooD OF DeaTH. By Ed. L. eeler. 36 The Boy Clown. By Frank §. Finn. The Hidden Lodge. By T. C. Harbaugh. Ned Wylde, Tur Boy Scout. By Texas Jack. Death-Face, tae Derrectrve. By Wheeler. Roving Ben. A Srory or a Youna AmMeERI- CAN WHo WANTED TO SEE THE WORLD. Marshall. Lasso Jack. By Oll Coomes, The Phantom Miner; or, Drapwoop Dick’s BonanzsA. By Edward L. Wheeler. Dick Darling, THe Pony Express RIDER. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. Ratt ing Rube. By Harry St. George. Old Avalanche, THE GREAT ANNIHILATOR; or, Witp EpNA, THE Girt Brieann. E. L.Wheeler. Glass Eye, THE GREAT SHOT OF THE WEST. By Capt. J. F.C. Adams, ightingale Nat. By T. ©. Harbaugh. Black John, THE Roap-AGent. By Badger. Omaha Oll, THE Maskep TERROR: Or, DEAD- woop Dick IN DANGER. By Edward L. Wheeler. Burt Bunker, THe Trapper. C. E. Lasalle. The Boy. Riffes. By Archie C Irons. The White Buffalo. By ©. E. Lasalle. 53 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., THE Boy PHeENrS; or, TuRrovuen TO DeatH.. By Edward L. Wheeler. 54 Ned Hazel, tHe Boy Trapper; or, Tan PHan- trom Princess. By Capt. J. F. C, Adams. 55 Deadly - Eye, THe Unknown Scout; or, THE JRANDED BROTHERHOOD. By Buffalo Bill, 56 Nick Whifiles? Pet. Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 67 Deadwood Dick’s Eag es; or, THE Parps or Fioop Bar. . By Edward L. Wheeler. 58 The Border ing. By Oll Coomes. 59 Old ae By Harry St. George. 60 The White Indian, Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 61 Buckhorn Bill; or, Taz Reo Rirvuz Team, By Edward L. Wheeler. « 62 The Shadew Ship. By Col. P, Ingraham. 63 The Red. Brotherhood, W. J. Hamilton. 64 wwe Jack. By T. C. Harbaugh. 65 Hurricane Bill. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr 66 Single Hand. B . J. Hamilton, 67 Patent-leather Joe. By Philip 5. Warne. G8 Border Robin Hood. By Buffalo Bill. 69 Gold Rifle, 'rxe SaarpsHooTER; or, Tar Boy DETECTIVE oF THE BLack Rance. By Wheeler. 70 Old Zip’s Cabin; or, Tae GREENHORN IN THE Woops,. By J; F. C. Adams, 1 Delaware Dick. By Oll Coomes. 72 Wad Tom Western, tHe Texan RAncer; or, THE QUEEN OF THE PrRatriz. By Hamilton, 73 Deadwood Dick on Deck 3 or, CaALamry JANE, THE’ HEROINE OF WHOooP-Up, By Wheeler. 74 Wawk-eye Marry. By Olli Coomes, 75 The Boy Duelist, By Col, P. Ingraham. 73 Abe Colt, rox Crow-Kiiier, By A. W. Aiken. V7 vi pads 4 Charlie, Taz Boy Bravo; or, Deapwoop Dick’s Last Act. By E. L. Wheeler. 78 Blue Dick, By Captain Mayne Reid. 79 Sol Ginger, Grant TRAPPER, By A.W, Aiken. 80 Rosebud Rob; or, Nuccer Nep, THE KNIGHT OF THE GuicH. By Edward L. Wheeler. §1 Lightning Jo. By Captain J. F.C. Adams, 82 Kit Haretoot, THe Woon-Hawk; or, OLD PowbER-FACE AND His Demons. By Harbaugh. 83 RoHo, the Boy Ranger. By Oll Coomes. 84 Idy!, the Girl Miner. By E. L. Wheeler. 85 Buck Buckramy or, Bess, THE H'EMALE TRAPPER, By Captain J. F. C. Adams, iam mw we OOS 43 44 0 we 6 BEADLES Cie a a a eaten atl 86 Dand 87 The Rock. By G. Waldo Browne. and Pirates. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 88 - Fara oo Phil, Tsk Boy SievrH; or, RosEeBup Ros’s REAPPEARANCE. By E. L. Wheeler. 89 Island Jim. By Bracebridge Hemyng. 90 The Dread Rider. By G. Waldo Browne. 91 The Captain of the Club; or, THz Youne Rrvat ATHLETES. By Bracebridge Hemyng. 92 Canada Chet; or, OLD ANACONDA IN SITTING Buty’s Camp. By Edward L. Wheeler. 93 The Boy Miners. By Edward S. Ellis. 94 Midnight Jack, THE Roap-AGENT; Tur Boy Trapper. By T. C. Harbaugh. 95 The Rival Rovers. Lieut. Col. Hazeltine. 96 Watch-Eye, THE SHApow. By E. L. Wheeler. 97 The Outlaw Brothers. By J. J. Marshall. 98 Robin Hood, THE OvtTisAwepd Ear; or, THE Merry MEN of GREENWOOD, Prof, Gildersleeve. 99 The Tiger of Taos; or, WiLp Katz, Danny Rock’s ANGEL. By George Waldo Browne, 100 Deadwood Dick in Leailville; or, A SrRANGE STROKE FoR Liserty. By Wheeler. 101 Jack Harkaway in New York, By Bracebridge Hemyng. 102 Dick Dead-Eye, THe Boy Savacter; or, Tuer CRUISE OF THE VIxEN. By Col. Ingraham. 103 The Lion of the Sea. By Col. Delle Sara. 104 Deadwood Dick’s Device; or, THe Sign oF THE DovusLe Cross. BY E. L. Wheeler. 105 Old. Rube, THe Hunter. Capt, H. Holmes. 106 Old Frosty, THE Guivz., By T. C. Harbaugh. 107 One-Eyed Sim. By James L. Bowen. 8 Daring DavEe By Harry St. George. 9 Deadwood ick as Detective. By Edward L, Wheeler. 0 The Black Steed of the Prairies. A Tretia ea of Texan Adventure, By Bowen. 1 The Sea-Devil. By Col. P. Ingraham. The Mad Hunter. By Burton Saxe. Jack Hoyle, THE Youne Sprcu.aTor; or, Tue Roap To Fortunr, By Ed. L. Wheeler. The Black Schooner. Roger Starbuck, The Mad Miner ; or, Danny 3 Doom. By George Waldo Browne. 1 he Hussar Captain; or, THE HERMIT or Hetr-Gate. By Col. Préntiss Ingraham. 17 Gilt-Edged Dick, THe Sport DETECTIYE; or, THE AD-AGENT’s DAUGHTER. Wheeler. 18 Will Somers, tue Boy Detective. Morris, 19 Mustang Samy, THe Kine or THE PLAINS. By Jos. E. Badger A pw} The Branded Hand, By Frank Dumont. Cinnamon Chip, THE Girt Sport; or, Tue GOLDEN Ipon or Mr. Rosa, Ed. L. Wheeler. Phil Hardy, Tut Boss Boy. By C. Morris. Kiowa Charley, THE WHITE MusTANGER. By T. C. Harbaugh. ippy, THE Texan, By George Gleason. Bonanza Bill, Mier. By Ed. L. Wheeler. Picayune Pete; or, Nicoprmus, THE Doe DETECTIVE. » oss ove Morris. or, Wild-Fire, Boss or'rHe Roap. By Dumont The Young Privateer. By H. Cavendish. Deadwood Dick’s Double; or, THE Guost oF Gorcon’s Gutcw. Ed. L. Wheeler. Detective Dick. By Charles. Morris. The Golden Handy} or, Danpy Rock To THE RescuE. By George W. Browne. The Hunted Hunter. By Ed. S. Ellis. Boss Bob, THE KinG or THE BOOTBLACKS: or, THE PawNBROKER’S PLot, Ed, L, Wheeler. Sure Shot Seth, THe Boy Rirteman; or THe Youne Patriots of THE Nortu. By Oll Coomes, Captain Paul, THe Kentucky MoonsHINeR; or, THe Boy Spy oF THE Mountains. _ By Clark. Night-Hawk Kit, By Jos. BE. Badger, Jr. The Helpless Hand, Capt. Mayne Reid. Blonde Bills; or, Dsapwoop Dicx’s Home Basg, By Edward L, Wheeler. Judge Lynch, Jr. By T. C. Harbaugh. Blue Blazes; or, Tae Breax o’ Day Boys or Rocky Bar. By Frank Dumont. 41 Solid Sam, TH» Boy Roap-AGEnT; or, THE BRANDED Brows. By Edward:L, Wheeler. 42 Handsome Warry, tHe Boorsiack Dr- TECTIVE. By Charles Morris. 43 Sear-Face Saul, By Oll Coomes. 4 Dainty Lance, THE Boy Sport, By Badger. 5 Captain Ferret, Taz New York Derrec- TIvE; or, Boss.Boxn’s Boss Jos.. By. Wheeler. 6 Silver Star, THE Boy Knicur, By Coomes. 7 Will Wildfire, THe THoxovessrRep; or, Tax Winnine Hanp. By Charles Morris, Sharp Sam); or, THE ADVENTURES OF A Frrenviess Boy. By J. Alexander Patten. A Game of Gold; or, Drapwoonp Dicx’s Bie Stree. By Edward L. Wheeler. Lanée and Lasso, By Capt. F.Whittaker. Panther Paul, Ts IRIE PrRATE; or, Dapyty Lance To. THE Rescues. J. E, er. Black Bess, WiLL Wruprme’s Racer; or, Winnine AGcainst Opps. By'Charles Morris. Eagle Kit, THe Boy Demon. By Oll Coomes, The Swerd Hunters. 5d *, Whittaker. Gold Trigger, THE Sport. T. C, Harbaugh. Deadwoo Dick of Deadwoodj3 or, Tur Prckep Party. By Edward L.’ Wheeler. Mike Merry, THe Harpor Potice boy; or, THE. NiGHT-HAWKS OF PHILADELPHIA.. Morris. Fancy Frank of Colorado; or, THE TRAPPER’s TrusT. By Buffalo Bill. The Lost Captain; or, THE Oren PoLaR Sea, By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 160 The Black. Giant ;.or, Dainty Lance IN JEOPARDY. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 161 New Work Nell, THe Boy-Girt Derectrve; or, OLD BLaxesty’s Monty. By E. L. Wheele. 162 Will Wildfire in the Woods, Morris. CME Hoke WH KO ow > 4 4 oy 4 4 A 9 ee ee ee Cr. GR SS at ot OTe OD 8 QnkwW WwW MO 159 163 Little Texas, THe Youne Mustaneer. A, Tale of Texan Prairies. By Oll Coomes. 164 Dandy Rock’s Pledge. By G.W. Browne. 165 Billy Bageage, THE AD Boy; or,. 166 ity | ng. Cnearty St Geo ckory Harry. By } re. 67 Asa Scott, THE ScRAMEOAT Boy. By Willett, 68 Deadly Dash. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 69 Tornado Tom; or, Inson Jack From Ren Corz, T. C. Harbaugh. 70 A Trump Card} or, Wm. Witprire Wins AnD Losxs. By Charles Morris. 71 Ebony Dan. By Frank Dumont. 72 Thunderbolt Tom; or, Taz WoiF-HERDER OF THE ROCKIES. St. George. 78 Dandy Rocks Rival. By G.W. Browne. 74 Bob Rockett, raz Boy Doparr. By Morris. 75 Captain Arizona, By Philip 8.Warne. 76 The Boy Runaway ; or, THe BucoANEcER oF THE Bay, Lieut. H.D. Perry, U.S.N. "7 Nobby Nick of Nevadas; or, THe Scame OF THE SIERRAS. Edw: L. Wheeler. 78 Old Solitary. By Olli Coomes. 79 Bob Rockett, TH: B Runner. Morris.. 180 The Sea Trailer; or, X Vow Wet Kerr. By Lieut, H. D, Perry, U. BN. 181 ild Frank, THE BuckskIN Bravo; or, Lapy Lrmy’s Love. By Edward L. Wheeler. 182 Little Hurricane, THE Boy Captain. By Oll Coomes. 183 The Hidden Hand; or, Wm Witorirr’s REVENGE. .Chas, Morris, 184 The Bo railers; or, Damvry LANcE on! THE WaR-PaTH. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 185 ‘ if THIEVES Evil Eyé, Kina or Catrie ; or, THE: 186 Cool Desmond; or, THe Gameter's Bie 1 1 1 Tl 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 VuLtTuURES OF THE Rio GranpE. By F. Dumont. GAME. Col, Delle Sara. 187 Fred alyard, tHe Lire Boar Boy; or, THE LERS OF THE By C. Morris. 188 Ned Nae eee THE Borper Boy. Harbaugh. 189 Bob Rockett, Tox Cracksman. By Morris. 190 Dandy Darke PINE. y Wm. R. 191 Buffalo or, Tue Tickers or Hiae 6) THE Boy BULLWHACKER. — U. 8. A. ricnt, H, D. Perry,U.S,N. 193 Captain Mask, Tae Lapy Roap-AGEnrT; or, PAaTENT-LEATHER Jon’s Dergat. By Warne. 194 Buffalo Bill’s Bet. By Captain Taylor. 95 Deadwood Dick’s Dream. By Wheeler. 96 Shadowed; or, Bos Rockerr’s Fieut ror * Lore. By Charles Morris. 97 Little Grit, Taz Wimp River. By Ingraham. 98 Arkansaw, THE MAN WITH THE KNIFE. By T. C. Harbaugh, 199 Featherweight; or, Taz Boy CHampion oF THE MuskINGuM. By Edward Willett. 200 The Boy Bedouins. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 201 The Black Hills Jezebel; or, Drap- woop Digk’s Warp. By Edward % Wheeler. 202 Prospect Pete, or THE Boy BRIGADE; or, THe Youna Ourtaw Hunters. By Oll Coomes. 203 The Boy Pards. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 204 Gold Plume, THE Boy Banpir. Ingraham. 205 Deadwood *pick’s Doom. A Tale of Death Notch. By Edward L. Wheeler. 206 Dark Paul, THe TicER Kina. By C. Morris. Bil By Capt. A. B. 192 Captain Kit. 1 1 1 1 207 Navajo Nick, THe Boy Gotp Hunter, A Tale of Arizona, By T. C, Harbaugh. 208 The Boy Hercules. By Oll Coomes, 209 Fritz, rae Bounp-Boy Detective. Wheeler. 210 Faro Frank of High Pine; or, Danpy Darke’s Go-pown Parps. By W. R. Eyster. 211 Crooked Cale, THE CALIBAN OF CELESTIAL Crry. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 212 Dashing Dave, THE Danny Derective. * By Charles Morris. 213 Fritz to the Front. By E. L. Wheeler. 214 Wolfgang, THE RoBBER OF THE RAINE. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 215 Cae Bullet, THe Rarer Kine. By T, O, Harbaugh. 216 Bison Bill, Tae Price or THE Reins. By Col, Prentiss Ingraham, 217 Captain Crack-Shot, tne Grew Bricanp; or, Gipsy JAcK FROM JIMTOWN. By Edward L, Wheeler. 218 Tiger Tom, THe Texan Terror, By Oll Coomes. 219 Despard, the Duelist; or, Taz Movun- TAIN VAMPIRES. By Philip 8. Warne. 220 Tom Tanner, ScALawsG AND SCAPEGRACE By Charles Morris. 221 Sugar Coated Sam; or. Tr BLack Gow>s or Grim GuicH. ‘By E/L. Wheeler. Y 222 ae the Bravo Sport. By Col. Prentiss ngraham,. 223 Ozark Alf, Kine or THE Mountain. By Edward Willett. : 224 Dashing Dick; or, TrarPer Tom’s Cast ie. By Oll Coomes. ; 225 Sam_ Charcoal, the ky. By Charles Morris. 226 Snoozer, THE Boy SHarp. By Edward L. Wheeler. 227 Dusky Darrell, TrappEr; or, THE GREEN RANGER OF THE ELLOWSTONE. By Edwin Emerson, Ready November 29th, Premium Dar- 228 Little Wild@fire. By Oll Coomes., Ready December 6th. 229 Crimson Kate, THE Girt TRAILER. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Ready Dec. 18th. A new issue every week. Whe Half-Dime Library is for sale by all Newsdealers, five cents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each. BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.