Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 39) (1878 04 23)
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Ss le Vol. II. _ Single, Death-F ace, THE DETECTIVE; Life and Love in New York. BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, AUTHOR OF ‘‘WILDCAT BOB,” ‘‘DEADWOOD DICK,” “ DOUBLE DAGGERS,”’ ‘‘ CLOVEN HOOF,” ‘“‘ BUFFALO BEN,” ‘‘ BOB WOOLF,” ‘‘ WILD IVAN," ETO, CHAPTER L THE TRAGEDY IN CENTRAL PARK. Tue last lingering rays of the golden sunset of an August day—a warm, sultry, breathless day in the reat metropolis—were throwing a halo of shimmer- ng light over the crowded pert, with its throng of moving pedestrians and ndsome carriages—its trees, flowering shrubs, beds of fragrant blossoming flowers, and sloping lawns, and over the retty lake, dotted with row- ts filled with pleasure-seek ers, and tiny white sails that looked picturesque and pretty as they danced across the wa- ters, before a faint breeze that evening brought on—a breeze that had been lacking during the hot, parched, feverish day within the narrow streets, an filthy courts of the great, bust- ling city. ey were all here in one re- alistic picture, these D goes of the city—the rich and the poor, the high and the low, and the ‘ood and the bad; come out enjoy the sunset, the de- licious breeze, and the exhila- rating, romantic influences of the hour. The rustic seats were f the arbors and _ flower-cove bowers were all occupied, and the green t of grass strewn with idle loungers, some asleep, some reading, others gazing at and comment- ing on ae € And Celia Orwick, only a or melts rl, to be sure, Bad come hither into this par- adise of trees and flowers, and in a little vine-embowered ar- bor, unseen and safe from in- trusion, where she could watch the lake; the drive and its gay equi es, and the incessant moving panorama of figures, was watching the dying glow j im upon the horizon, and waiting. ! Waiting! Ah! the word was ; ' so inexpressibly lo and meaning, it seemed to her, as the moments wore by, and the Shadows gathered. A pretty little thing was | Celia, and men often paused to | | gaze back after her, as she — along the street—not i nh sh | Nt} H | il } cause she was gay, or flash- "l I a ing, or fascinating, nor be- I ei cause of her attire; but. there was something attractive and pretty about her that created admiration ahd drew attention. Only seventeen, pa old in education and intellectual growth be ond her years, and ‘finished ” in a modest way that was prepvessanny in itself, Petite but exceedingly iz ee MN h D as Copyrighted in 1878, by BEADLE AND ADAMS. ||| | BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. —- of form, with a fair, sweet face—whiter than alth would demand, perha brown, sparkli eyes, and hair fine and soft and flowing, unconfined, to the tapering waist, and a carriage naturally reas. Her dress was painfully plain and at contrast with her pretty self, simply a white muslin, relieved of its monotony by a bunch of red roses at the throat; and yet she looked sweetly beautiful in it and her little gipsy straw hat and dainty out-door slippers —looked divinely, thought one who was looking at her, unobserved, through one of the lattice windows. He had been there just ten minutes, gazing at her, as she in turn watched the happy strollers, and hap- ier scene, and admiration med from an eye at, though generally genial of expression, had power to flash with the fire of a strong and resolute will. Not a man yet was he, if you counted the years, for it wanted three months ere Dock Ray- mond attained his majority, but his athletic figure had all the graces of manhood, and in face he looked really older. A handsome face you would say, it was so round and good-natured, yet dissipation had left haunting traces there, and the eyes showed it } HHI yet i} "4 Meas het | ih ) WT A | ieee lt WH Navi tiff wh } Hi) Hy hit) il Pdi vie UBT DEATH-FACE TRAPPED, Lllalatafalallaly/ =e! / ZF Ks ANY ’ 5B Cents. more than the other features. But if dress could add to one’s personal appearance, it was not lackin in Dandy Dock, for his general make-up was decid- = bordering upon the *‘ exquisite.” 0 sham S were those he wore, nor were the rings upon his fingers or the diamond pin upon his immaculate shirt front anything but the pure stuff. If Celia Orwick was conscious of the glances Jevel- ed at her, she was a skilled actress, for by no act or move did she betray ree Ore re of such know!- edge; indeed, she started violently at Dock’s pecu- liar little laugh, and almost screamed when she looked around and beheld him standing upon the threshold. “You, Mr. Raymond? How you frightened me! Were you standing there long?’’ she asked, her face a trifle more reddened than usual. “Yes, Cele; have been standing out there, and gazing at you in raptures, for full ten minutes ove! — ook sweet enough to eat, to-night; and to think of you coming here to enjoy what ain't al- lotted to poor mortals in this confounded city—a streak of sunshine. I'd quicker looked for you at the source of the Nile, ih com- “No, I do not often get out pany with Stanley.” this far,’’ she ~ her gaze dropping to the floor, a pleased expression settling about her cherry lips, “It isa good ways, and we can’t always raise the car-fare, you know. Sister Nelly comes oftener than I.” “And that’s because sister Nelly has got just a trifle more ambition than sister Celia;’’ replied Dock, assuringly, com- ing forward to occupy the re- maining portion of the seat. ‘You are too much of a home- body for your own good, pet; don’t give a fellow even-a chance to see you.” ““Why should you want to see me, Mr. Raymond? You know where we live.” “Yes, I know where, and used to drop in occasionally. but you remember another oc- cupied my place, the last time I called.’ “Yes,"’ the girl assented, a _ expression | er features, “‘I remember. It was Mr. ——; but know him, I guess. ** Luckily for him, no—luck- ily, because my fists are in a prime condition for a pugilistic encounter. You treated me ht, so I coneluded I'd best t ascull, as the boys say.” “Oh! that is untrue, Mr. Raymond; 1 did not use you coolly!" Celia said, reproach- fully. ** You have always been too true a friend to me and Nelly; for that. Iam sure I— you do not rather cool. that Whi} ult il ' | And tears came into the pretty eyes that, in Dock Ray- mond s opinion, were incom- parable. “Of course you did, dear,” he replied, soothingly, ventur- ing to encircle her waist with his strong arm, and drawing her toward him—“‘of course you did. I was only teasing, that’s all. Isaw how matters were—that you had more smiles for the new beau than the old—and thought it my duty to resign. There, now, dry those tears or I shall be — to kiss them away.” “No, you mustn’t — that
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2 Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. would not be right, you know, Ray,”’ she said, put- ting her white hands over her face, as he made a feint at putting his threat into execution. * And, does that fellow still visit you, Cele? Don’t see what you admire in him, except it is his glib tongue, for he’s sourer-looking than a pickled old maid.’ Celia did not reply immediately. She was gazing away across the little sail-dotted expanse of water, and noting how fast the night-shades were gather- ing. Off yonder through the trees the first gleam of a gas-lamp shone like a twinkling star. ‘He don’t come any more,” she finally replied. “T sent—” ‘For him to meet you here, eh?’ completed Dock with a little laugh. ‘I thought some unusual brought you out. And perhaps he may eyen now be waiting for me to vacate?” ; She did not answer, and he regarded her silence as a hint to go, and arose, with a sigh. _ “Don’t go, Ray—not just yet,” she said, her voice low and trembling. “I will tell you when, and you needn’t be offended.” “Neither I will, dearest,” he said, reseat' him- self, and gathering her in his arms. “Cele! Cele! do you know how much I love you?’ Have you not seen all the while that my love is only for you?” She trembled from head to foot,-and he could feel the beating of her heart against his arm, but she did not try to release herself—only bowed her head upon his breast, and A pee She did not reply, but a felt that he an answer more assuring i words. He held-her there, while the night came striding on, softly caressing her soft hair, and waiting for— he hardy knew what, He only knew that it was bliss to near her; that he loved her as he had never imagined he could love a woman. She aroused at last, sat up, wiping away the tears that had reddened her eyes. “You may go, now, Ray,” she said, pressing the hand that held hers. * And, I want you to promise that you will not near, an eavesdropper.”’ He rose, after her on the lips. “You needn’t fear, Cele,’’ he replied, something of reproach in his tone. ‘‘I have got a matter to at- tend to in the Bowery, and it is time I was there. Don’t stay here long. The poole are beginning to leave already. I wish I could see you home.”’ “ Not to-night, Ray, on Ais account. But, you may come and see me, some time. No one will be there in your way.” ‘y ‘And will, bet high on that, Cele, ig darling ;”’ and then snatching a last kiss, he left the arbor, and hurried away toward the city, whose countless lights had all been lit. : °Ss Celia watched his handsome, stylish figure until it had disappeared among the throng; then she turned wearily around, as a footstep sounded, and a man ste pet within the arbor. 3 l, graceful young fellow, attired in the hight of fashion, and faultless in almost every particular as far as personal appearance was concerned. His face was darkly handsome in its well-chiseled on and his eyes and jetty curling hair matched well wit his complexion. But the expression about his mouth was more cruel and sensual than pleasing. Dia- monds were poeces: worn upon his shirt-front and rs, and the c across his pure white vest was of heavy gold. Celia saw him, and he came forward, an angry gleam in his dark eyes. “So you are alone, at last, eh?’ he said, half-sav- ely. ‘‘Dve been Waiting half an hour or more for that uppy to leave.” “You came too early,”’ Celia answered, calmly. *‘T said at dusk, in my note,”’ : “Yes, and that was a pretty note, too, wasn’t it? I gave you credit for more sense. If that note had 4 any mischance been lost, and its contents got z real I should have been ruined!” “Indeed!” eer org ¢ - pi ng ly s is man’s presence, e was cold, and collec She ier she was facing a tiger, and must be equally brave. ‘‘ You were warned, once before, in less em- phatic words of the impending trouble, and paid noheed. When last I wrote, I wanted to make my self understood, Ned St. Cloud!” “Curse it, you are wing impudent. I did not come, because I | important business on hand,” replied the man, g into the floor of the arbor se the heel of his patent-leather boot, ‘And now that I am here, what do you want?” Tt was several moments before he was answered; then the reply came in words of ee the cool, measured tones of the desperate gir “You should know, well enough, Ned, without asking me—you do know, and are tremb on the verge of ruin, where one word of mine will p! you, You must marry me to-night !” He started to his feet, a a Foci oath, then re- seated himself o te her again. “You are a tach, girl,”’ he said, haughtily. ‘You think I fear you, and that you can tyrannize over me, but you will find to your cost that Iam not to be row tenton, I told you I could not marry you at present, and you could not let that suffice, but must send me an insulting letter.” se “Insulting!” Celia laughed, scornfully. “No one can insult a man of your cloth, Ned St, Cloud. It is im ble. True, you told me you would marry and acknowledge me, some time, but I cannot wait— cannot, I say; more, wii not. Oh! how I hate, loathe and despise you, and yet you must me—at once—to-night, or, as God is my {udge, Tri—” “What? he asked, coolly, so there was @ frightened look in his eyes. What?” “Tl make you marry me—I'll go to your father— Tl advertise you through all the social circles of New York, as a black-hearted scoundrel!” * And get laughed at for your pains!” “No! Ill not get laughed at, either, you villain but I'll make you such an object of attention, that you'll be glad to hide your face in the lowest haunts of the city.” “There! there!” he gasped, ‘‘be quiet, for I take it all back. But I cannot marry you—not yet.” “You must—you shall; this very night, or go to the pagar ate in the morning, whichever you will.” “Tl do neither. You shall not divulge a word con- cerning our relations, and I swear it, you she-ti- He had stepped nearer, his eyes gleaming with fury, and they stood face to face, the wronged girl, and the man who had been her worst enemy. ‘“Marry me, to-night, or every one of your friends and acquaintances shall—” She did not finish—she could not, for, like a pan- ther, he was upon her, his two hands around her throat in a terrible grasp. With the ferocity of a madman he held her, his gripe never relaxing until he was satisfied the foul work was done. And when he _ her back upon the rustic bench the heart of Celia Orwick had ceased to beat. “Dead, by heaven!”’ he gasped, looking askance at the purple face and throat. Then, with a shudder, he turned and mp cmeet made his way out of the dark arbor, joining in wit the great crowd, Half an hour later he emerged from the park on Fifth avenue, and hailing a cab, sprung in, and was whirled rapidly away. CHAPTER H. AN INTERVIEW WITH DR. HEIDLE. Tue day following St. Cloud’s murderous assault, was but a counterpart of its predecessor. The sun poured down upon the metropolis its intense heat, and not a breath of air was stirring. . Everything seemed withered and burnt by the scorching rays; the sidewalks and pavements were blazing with heat; even the flies in the filthy gutters of Baxter street seemed drooping and listless from the arid influence of the sun. Of. course the wagons and cars ran the same, and the Broadway ’bus drivers cracked their lashes and swore with accustomed dignity, but the number of pedestrians abroad was noticeably less than at cooler periods of the season. All whom important business did not e out were pretty sure to make the best of their shelter, while those unlucky ones who were perforce driven out, took the shady side of the street, and their lei- sure to perform their duties. At noon, when the heat was about the greatest, a young gentleman might have been seen h ig along Baxter street, in defiance of the wilting power of the sun. At nearly every other saloon where cooling beverage was dispensed, he stepped in, and each time on hisreturn to the burning street, ap- somewhat refreshed. He was tall, strong-limbed, and otherwise well —— and attired in the dress-suit of a West oint cadet, which well Oeeeres his figure. . In face he was nese rg oF & -looking, though his cheeks were bloated a trifle, and dissipation had left marks about his eyes, which were of a lusterless y color. His hair, of a light brown hue, was sheared close to his skull, and a light mustache on his lip was oun ened to a needle’s point at the ends. Altogether make-up was elaborate, and called forth many Senos through half-closed shut- alon ters as he passe g. Without looking around him in either direction, he hurried along, and at last paused in front of a two- story brick structure, on the left-hand side of the street, going a The place had from the smell evi- dently received a f coat of nt; and as the blinds and door were tightly cl one might have supposed the building empty, but for a nted tin sign upon the window ledge, bearing the freeription: “Dr. J. C, Here,” in large, showy letters. he is pene whe ee aoeeres the cadet, an up the and pulling the_bell, vigor- ously. ‘I wonder if t © olf curmudgeon receives patients at this hour?” In answer to the at the door, and curiously at the “Lordy! you isn’t a p’lice officer am you?” was the question put, and the whites of the boy’s eyes showed wildly. “No, you fool,” replied the cadet, curtly. ‘Is your master in?” “No, sar; he has stepped out,’ responded the youth, in all truth. ‘Go tell him a gentleman has called who has a case of vital importance, wherein there is a good speck. Pike be padded: ahd clos an locking th nn e nD , and closing an the inner hall ous after him, went on his errand. He soon returned, however, and admitted the cadet into a large, elaborately-frescoed hall, whose tiled floor was laid with brilliant plush rugs, and walls hung with pictures, more noticeable for their striking sub- ects than for their modesty. And the same might applied fitly to a number of richly-attired young women who were lou about in a great saloon parlor, through which the cadet was conducted. sorte reading, and others puffing their perfumed the second story front the learned doctor was presented to the cadet, who, without ado, accepted a - ye lita mg babl e doctor was a short man, whose pro \y bordered upon fifty, with a round little face, evil in its exp’ on, peculiar! curt Fy black eyes, and long curling hair, which touched his shoulders, , & colored youth a) ‘orm of He was painfully large of girth, and made an odd neue when settled down in his huge arm-chair. e received the cadet with an inquiring nod, and then gave some order to the colored youth, in a low tone, after which the boy hurried out. “You have ay ep business with me, my Po ing I believe,” he said, with a slight German ac- cent. “Yes, I have,” was the reply, ‘if you are the Dr. Heidle whom I seek—the same who has a private asylum for insane ple in—”’ ‘No matter just where, please. Yes,I am the same man. What shall I call you, my friend?” a for the present—Clifford Ains- worth.”’ : “Very good, Mister Ainsworth, very good. And now what ean I do for you?” The cadet glanced cautiously around, as if appre- hending eavesdroppers. _ “Oh! you need not be afraid to speak out!” the doctor hastened to say, with a shrug of his shoulders. “These walls have all been recently padded. I could pet you, and your screams would never be eard.’ “In that case I shall feel easier,” Ainsworth re- oer with a smile. ‘My business is secret, in so far hat it would be my death-warrant to let my iittle plan get abroad. I understand, sir, that you receive patients in your private asylum, for a moderate re- muneration per annum. this so, or have I been misinformed ?”’ ‘ “Oh! yes, I agro A receive patients—quite often, in fact. The institution is under my personal supervision, and patients receive the best of care and attention.” **So Ihave heard. And I have also been informed that you do not require a person to be really insane, to insure an entry into your place, and that after lost within those prison walls, there is no hope for yg 8 ever escapin g without a permit from you, for e keeper.’ The doctor tipped back in his arm-chair, and gazed at his visitor keenly. > “Have you got any one lum, never to come out until you say so, or cease to pay the bill?” he demanded, stroking his smooth- shaven chin, calmly. ‘Or are you endeavoring to learn what you can so that you can put it to other uses—for instance, to makeup a police report?” ‘Not the latter, certainly, but the former, i- bly, if we can come to satisfactory terms. Now, then, I aga what I say is in strictest confidence with you. It must go no further.” , ‘No need to fear me,” returned the doctor, ‘‘ An of those with whom I have had dealings will vouc for my responsibility.” ee bas well. My case is this: Between two of us —mayself and a female cousin—there is a matter of a million dollars pending. The sum total was left to my cousin, while I, being a wild oat in the field, came in with only an allowance of a home with my cousin, if I chose to accept of it, and five hun a year for ket change. But, in case my cousin and I shou id marry, two-thirds of the money returns to me.” “ yes, I perceive. Why not use other means, then, than ioe aay tana? I can fix you up 4 powder, which could be easily slipped into her tea, and I will defy the sharpest chemist to discover a trace of —- after the work is done. It is sure, safe and q Cc 7"? Ainsworth shook his head, with a shudder, at the proposition, ‘““No! I want no murder on my hands,” he said decidedly. ‘ Besides, it is imperative that she shall live. ‘or, in case of her death, I only get half of the legacy. It was my uncle’s fond desire to see us two man and wife, but death snatched him off, sud- denly, and so he left us situated as I have illustrated. Now, my cousin hates me in the most approved fash- ion, and no inducement of a mild nature will get me so ingratiated that an early marriage will be the re- sult. Therefore, it behooves me to adopt harsher measures. If I can imprison her for atime, perhaps she will marry me; or, if she will not, I can then have her put out of existence, and live on the half a ‘ou wish put in the asy- million.” ‘Exactly. And, sa: you receive but, the half, where will the rem go to, sir?” ‘To various public bene volen’ institutions through- out the country—a share to the poor.” “Very well. Your Beg seem about your onl hope, | man. Bring the to me—or, still better, I will see to her removal—and she shall re- nn ts ethan and you ae never fear that e é@ upon you, so long as you t annual fee for her Ponfinement.” sit laid ** And that will be?” “Four thousand dollars, if you please, invariably inane re you crazy, man?” the astounded a demanded, starting up. “ Four thousand dol- “ Precisely, sir, and you needn’t accept the offer at that figure, unless you choose to do so, as I am not anxious to get patients of your kind.” But, heavens! that is beyond the bounds of cd even, I had not thought to pay over as many un ” The doctor laughed, coolly, and drummed the table with his fingers, evidently enjoying the other's “You can find cheaper institutions in the no doubt,” he remarked, gwd out a glass oe Rhine it ata There eve. un- dred; or Sedton’s ‘ Retreat,’ at a thousand; but both places were gutted by the authorities, last year, and are even now under police surveillance. My lace is so private that no one even suspects that it is more 41-—<
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than a residence, and its prominent location on the avenue, shields it from suspicion. It is absolutely | safe, and I can cheerfully recommend it, Or, if you wish to go out of town—” “No, I do not wish to leave New York, if there is help for it,” replied Ainsworth. ‘But you can afford to knock off a couple of thousand, doctor.” **No, indeed. My fee is small enough at five, con- sidering the risk Lam run . Blackwell's Island has no potent charms for me.’ “ Well, I sup if those are your figures, you will have to take the job, for two thousand down in _ cash, and a check on the Third National. Will that be satisfactory?” “Not at all. I must have all cash. Checks do not answer my pu y: With a muttered execration, Ainsworth took a huge wallet from an inside pocket, and counted out astack of bills upon the table, some of which were fresh, crisp ones, while others were older and more worn. The “ young ” ones Dr. Heidle counted out from the older, and handed back to the cadet, with a cool, smile, that spoke volumes. **If you have any more of those of a maturer age, I should prefer them,” he said, with keen sarcasm. ‘“Why? what's the matter with these new ones?” demanded the plotter, an angry flush dyeing his face. ‘Nothing much, only I don’t handle the ‘ queer ’?”’ -was the reply, in cant tones. ‘* You should have known better than to try any games on me, young man. Supposing I had taken those cleverly execu- ted counterfeits, and after I had caged your bird, some of them had come back on me? As a result I should have gone to prison, and you may rely up- on it I should not have gone alone /’ “You have a wm 8 eye to detect what thousands are daily failing to detect!” replied Ainsworth, with ashrug. “It is seldom one of those bills are pro- nounced bad.” “‘T recognized them immedia because I was once in the business!" was the old villain’s announce- ment. ‘‘One more , Please—there, that is all correct, I believe. And, now, about the patient: Where does she live?”’ o. — Fifth avenue.”’ “Ugh! that is bad. Most any other street would be better for my purpose. Does she go out much?” * Not this w er. Itistoo sultry. You must act before next Tuesday, as that is the day appointed for 7 apa oa cere gee & ye ‘Hu yes as she any particular female friends?” “A few, I believe. Any Chyle is a very intimate acquaintance. Resides at No. — 28th street. Also Miss Lulu Marolin, at No.— 27th street.” “Ah! eee doctor jotted down the addresses upon a piece J a Her'aaine ise ** Amy Elwood.” “* And your correct name—?” “*T cannot give. I am to remain incog.”’ “Oh! no. ‘You cannot do that, young man, and leave the girl with me.” “But I will not give my real name. It is danger- “And equally dangerous for me to undertake your case, without your full name and address. Sup- I should get warning that the cops were about t make a descent upon my asylum. I should im- mediately want to rid_ mys of incumbrances. And, then, what would I do, in case I was ignorant of your name?” “Well—" Ainsworth reflected a few moments, a dork soon! upon his face—‘‘ I suppose you'll have to ve it,” He took the doctor's pan and wrote a name and address upon a sheet o ed Heidle took it and put it in his wallet, with a nod. “T shall inquire at the address if such a sides there,”’ he said, Coe his tion of cunsing, “IER T'shall do no Me matter, and you will forfeit your money. is always the best to be on the safe side, you know.” “Oh! yes; certainly. And, now, if our bargain is ones, i ais ag “Very well. t, one more—has this sung lady any favored lovers—such ones as would be ap to create a disturbance if she turns up missi should look well to this.’ “None, I believe, except it is a young fellow, whom she occasionally receives, by the name of Harry Con- ae au ‘teh Wait, 7 ung na soy “ihe d to mi . yo * an e doctor touched a silver bell. ‘“‘ We will drink to our mutual success!” The n boy re-entered, and deposited a silver salver wi Geonater and glasses n the table. neues of stiff old brandy, ng? You cade Cisewt ser th feelin hi ri et Ainswo eft the house, fee rather glori- ous, and made his way out of Baxter street. Salt an hour later he was my Broadway, mingling with the crowd, that, despite the heat, were Biro, tated good ts pour kay mie ace, whic. no r Amy Elwood, the victhn of as diabolical a plot as man often con- ves. “If it works /” he muttered, under his breath, his eyes & —*if it only works, you can consider CHAPTER II. A residences, which line that noted thoroughfare. Tt was a large, pretentious structure, set in a pret- ty shrub-fringed lawn, w beds of rare flowers Death-Face, the Detective. aristocratic avenue, and one might well envy the fair heiress her possessions. Inside, the house was furnished richly and luxuri- ously throughout, and superior taste was displayed in the arrangement of everything. On the morning following the day of Cadet Ains- worth’s visit to Doctor Heidle in Baxter street, two persons were seated by the open window of the crim- son drawing-room, one smoking and gazing out upon the avenue, while the other, a young girl of not over eighteen years, was looking over the columns of the morning Herald. A fair, pretty picture she made, in her loose-fitting wrapper, with a tie of lace and ribbons at the throat. A fair, glorious girl was Amy Elwood, the young heiress of all old John Kent’s countless thousands. Rather slight, but yet exceedingly graceful of build, she was possessed of a pleasing figure, wo- manly and symmetrical in all its contours, and a face of purely chiseled features, set off with a soft cream- tin complexion, which matched harmoniously with her oe blue eyes, her rosebud lips, and fine blonde hair, which the faint breeze blowing in a the open glass door, tossed in confusion about her shoulders. A gloriously beautiful woman or girl she was, and so evident] bear her male companion, a hand- some, dandyish fellow, who alternated his glances between her and the end of his 'y-fired Havana, while she pored over the news, intently. Be radon | of importance, sis?’ he asked, watch- ing her with a vacant, dreamy expression. “ Any returns from the regattas or the races at the park?” **None, Clarence,” was the reply, without raising her eyes from the page. ‘ There has been another terrible drowning case at Long Branch, however.” “Has,eh? Well, for my part, I should not mar- vel to hear that all these reckless bathers were drowned.” ** But, I am not reckless, Clarence. Indeed, they Om pa me the most expert lady bather at Cape May, n.”’ ‘Because the report had got abroad that you were an heiress—a millionairess, rather; because you had a pretty face and the capital to back it, no doubt,”’ with a poe shrug. “You seem envy me may Soon looks, Mr. Sey- mour, and the fortune that uncle left me,” she said. looking straight at him with her big blue eyes. “I am sure—”’ “T envy you nothing, dear cousin.”’ the young man replied, nging away his cigar, and bending toward her, a touch of passion in his voice, ‘except it be — heart and hand. Oh! Amy, you know how tru- y my heart is yours—how I love—ay, worship you; why, then, will you not give me some little encour- agement? tell me that I may have a little hope?”’ ‘Because, Clarence, I do not love you, and never can be your wife,” Army pose sei, candidly, “I have told you the same y times before, but you still will persist in your unwelcome declarations of love. Once, and for all, I say I cannot—will not marry you, so please let that settle it, Asa cousin, I res you, but no more,”’ biting fiercely “You love another?” he grow at his mus e—‘‘I know you do, so you need make no denial. That blush upon your cheek tells more than allelse. And it is that Ee OJ ko again and again, which he hasdone. And it is going to end that you, an heiress to a million of dollars, gogtetook ne, healthy and intelligent, are going to ink your fortunes with a poor, ignorant, uneducated pauper bal A hot, in t flush was burning upon Amy's chess, when Seymour “ ou oa peak untruthfully, sir,” she $96, conto’ ling by a determined effort. Le nroy is a tleman, as intelligen’ as ’ and, nei f heey ay oilp tiene vane ia te inthe distressed circumstances you would like me to be- lieve. I have not a doubt but what, to-day, he could raise more money than you,” “Maybe!” Seymour assented, with a sneer. “ But, at least, 1 am considered a gentleman in our best social circles, and he is a—”’ ‘What? tell me what he is, less than a gentleman, sirl’’ Amy cried, springing from her seat, her fai face white, her eyes blazing with anger. ‘I will tell you, dear cousin, so that you may keep apa! pretty foot out of the fire. Harry Conroy is— well, he’s a porter, and occasionall in coal! ‘ood honest occupation, no doubt, but hard- iy tam liking. No; you would sooner play gentleman loafer, and live ba or your friends, than do an h stroke of labor!” flashed back the angry heiress. ‘ Besides, he acd is engaged in no such work, I am posi- vi “Oh! you are positive,eh? You have questioned ye his occupation, probably.” “He didn’t tell you? No,I shouldn't, if I were he. Ha! ha! you disbelieve me, I see. have to do, is to ride through Th nues every day for a week, and I'll wi , guarantee you one of yi Apoby end-men, and wor Amy did not reply, for the thoughts Bermour’s declaration were Harry Conroy had once upon a time stopped her runaway horses when they were ee | through Broadway at a furious rate of ig ey she had and given him her gore | or ata tual face. a hes. : a He called upon her, and she became more interest- ed in him during his short stay than she had ever be- S fore been in men, and as a result, extended him an invitation to call again. And he had made several calls, which were mutually pleasant, and though no word of love had between them, Amy was conscious that she loved the youns fellow with the whole of her young heart, and she guessed that he was as much in love as herself. he had not now called for two weeks, which seemed an endless time to the walling girl. And although she believed what Seymour had said to be a fabrication, she naturally could not help thinking of it. For she had once asked sare what was his occu- pation, and he had dext evaded a reply which, now that she recall the fact, loo ed strange, if not suspicious. Who or what was he? This was the question now! A ring at the door interrupted her thoughts, and Seymour went to answer the summons, ba aime the servant back. A glow of satisfaction gle in his eye, as he opened the door, and received a delicately-envelo: note from a messenger-boy, who A as soon as he preetie4 his ade va a at is it, Clarence?” y asked, looking up as he re-entered the drawing-room with the letter. “Something for you, cousin. A boy brought it,” and he the note upon her lap. “Dou it is from your hod-carrier Adonis.” sd ymour, I wish you to cease your insulting comments upon Mr. Conroy, or else leave the room. I will not be annoyed any longer!” Amy cried, in- dignantly. ‘Oh! I touched a tender eh? Well, I won't offend again, ‘pon honor,” an ting a fresh cigar, the cousin strolled out upon the lawn, while one ay tore open the letter and ran over the contents. : It read: **New York, August 12, 187-. “DeaR Miss Eiwoop: an “Your intimate friend, Amy Chyle, is lying dan- gerously ill at No. — 3d avenue, and is calling for you. Please come; we send a carriage = Teron Tears were in Amy’s eyes as she finished, and Sey- mour, sauntering back into the room from the lawn, saw them. “Hello! what’s the matter, sis? Badnews? And, Lh DM a is a carriage waiting outside. ose Amy explained in a few words, and then ran up- stairs for her wraps, returning shortly after, attired in a rich morning street costume, and loo! sO sweet and pretty, that the heart of Clarence mour—the bogus Cadet Ainsworth—smote him, when ne soaliund tee she was oe opering _~ a trap which was u er consign her to s living tomb, Oita the walls of a private mad- ouse, * You may call ground for me at tea time, Clar- ence, and if possible I come home,"’ Amy said, as she allowed him to put her into the awaiting coach. - ‘ “Very well, sis. Good by to you!” and he shut the door, and the cab rolled away over the jolting cobble-stones. “So goes one obstacle from m ag muttered the arch-villain, as he petunia the mansion, “ This is all mine, now—for a time, at least, and I mean to enjoy it in the best sense of the word, in what is worse than a grave or prison.” Amy was driven rapidly away, and in the course of pe sanhio trout exectare, with tasmaiee Aaa ing marble-front structure, wit ve ps sonendng from the pave, to the heavy, silver- trimmed doors. With no mation, of the diabolical schemes of ‘as t which she w e victim, she ran up the steps, and hi youna elt of aot her 6 oung of about her own age, a Grecia te sf lg Me gm a ig answered the summons. ““Tecame to see Miss (os eg om ae upon an inquiring glance from the servant. Gant see her?”’ “Yes, ma’am,"’ replied the girl, with a courtesy. px urbe - eS into a grand hall, and then y was a an into a parlor which was so rate! ge that involuntarily she gave a stare of amazement. _— The marble-tiled floor shone like a mirror, where nqmenin with plush and velvet mats; the rich- paintings of the old masters pended. trom. the tern. The windows were guarded by costly dam- om curtains statues ae ood meme e a grand piano occupied corner. together it was too grand for a residence, and Amy gazed around her in wonder and in , ‘* You will please be seated, ma’am,” the servant said, “ and I will call the doctor.” Galt Gueisteeee 4 tow momo ban aaa away. omen ' Heidle entered, his fat face wearing a smile of wel- oo Good-morning, Miss Elwood,” he said, suavely; hay to meet you, but most to say ~that mise Uhyle is ho better Would ‘ou to meatal : es,” re m - quickly her feet. POs sateen ae ends. Take me to her, The doctor bowed, and Jed the way into the hall and then up the to a small ot re an ele- vator was waiting for them. Into they gevpet. and were borne rai upward, finally coming to a stop in the third sony. “4
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4 . Here Doctor Heidle assisted Amy out, a low laugh gree J from his lips. “Pretty well done, miss,” he said; ‘‘ I apprehended more trouble.” “Sir?” Amy interrogated, not understanding. “Pretty well done, I say,” repeated the doctor with another laugh; ‘the ease with which I caged ye aged oe A t h ized ‘th ay me?” great horror se upon the Young heiress at those two words. ‘Caged me? at do you mean?” “T mean that I never had less trouble in entra ing a victim. Young woman, you may as we Enow the worst at once. You are safely imprisoned in Doctor Heidle’s private mad-house, where you are liable to remain for life.” Then, without waiting to note the effect of his words, the old wretch lea into the car, pulled a cord, and descended rapi downward. No words can describe the horror—the awful sen- sation that swept over Amy Elwood at this moment. She uttered a low, terrified cry, and sunk unconscious on the floor! Poor girl! Little she knew of the crime and wickedness in a great city like New York. After hours of insensibility, she awoke to find her- self inalarge but neatly-furnished room, lying u on a couch, with several females bending anxiously over her. “Where am I?” she , Starting up; and then flashed across her mind the doctor’s words, ‘Oh! Ce Sonen face sean cai OR Gale fain es, young ,” rep one 0 e es, “vou are indeot in a mad-house—a so-called mad- house, but no persons whose sanity is questioned, ever come here. Itisa tomb—a jail wherein poor defenseless women are kept, by a foul wretch who calls himself a doctor.” ** And, you—who are you all?” Amy demanded, sus- piciously, for she saw girls around her from her own age upward to old gray-haired women. = Alas, dear, we are the same as you—prisoners. I was the to come, and my name is Etta Allanton. There are women here who have spent years of their life in this third-story prison.” This much Amy learned, and with a groan she sat upon the cot, and gazed hopelessly around into the collection of faces about her—faces that this horrible life had furrowed and wrinkled deep- Wana as if to cap the climax of her misery, a door ned, and with a demoniacal smile of triumph upon face, Clarence Seymour entered the room! CHAPTER IV. : DEATH-FACE, THE DETECTIVE, Gorne along Mulberry street for several blocks, and ee the door and geen signs, you would, at the time of our story, and will now, doubt- less, come to a large unpre ng tenement of bri in which not less n twenty or more families were crowded, and a large banner sign over the main door, respectfully announced to the public that this was “ Molly’s Crib.” Why it was ed so, or who the individual Molly was, we shall not stop to learn, but, after up several hts of stairs, and along Sakwaya whuee filthy, -nude children were playing marbles, we at enter a room in the further corner of the fifth story. Inside we find quite a change from the unpleasant scene we have just through. The apartment is rudely but comfortably furnished, with common carpet, wooden chairs, and three couches which evidently served as beds for the three men their long Turkish lounging upon them, smoking ipes. rs They were three as unlike, as one will often meet in com th in personal appearance and dress, if not in pein, tastes and callings. First of all, and most noticeable of all was Death- Face, the cae a n= cay ano explanation enli n the ras ow he came into on of that title, and therefore we will let the name suffice in itself. Death-Face is too well known in the detective annals, for us to be strict- ly personal. Yet we propose to write of him, in this romance, as though he were a character of imagina- tion and fiction. He was a man of five-and-twenty years, then; tall and compactly built, with wiry, and swelling muscles, and people who w, declared him to be the stro , quickest man of his weight in the metropolis, which might seem rather a boast- ful assertion, when the men about our wharves and markets are considered—men whose feats of strength are often astonishing. In face the young detective was a study, if you were desirous of taking in all the minute points, for he was not a man easily read; long acquaintance was the only <a peti to give you a safe idea of the man. Perhaps it was from face that he derived his name; at .least his countenance was white as though death had laid its stamp there. It was not an unearthly paleness, but a natural deathly white, reminding one more of a dead face than of anything else. Some hinted at paint, and others at consumption, but Death-Face shook his head with a grim smile, meant to imply that they were in the wrong. His eyes were black and pierc- ing, and_his hair of a like shade, and, while he wore no beard, his garments were of a gray color harmon- izing with the deathly pallor of his face. By temperament he was habitually silent and im- passive. Unless he chose to reply, all questioning was useless, for he would not © any sort of an answer until the spirit moved him, when he was as lib of tongue as anybody. And, as a detective, eath-Face was an expert, and second to none upon the metropolitan force. _ Of his two companions, one we have seen before— Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. —— the same Dandy Dock whom we saw in the Central Park, the evening of the murder of poor Celia Orwick. But there is less of elegance in his make- up, now, and a more dissipated look about his eyes. e t was a hte man of one-and-twenty, slight of build, and tolerably fair looking in the face. e had spent three years as a comedian upon the Bowery stage, acting principally a foolish character, at fennel the way, he was = in his line, and this had earned him the sobriquet of Fooly Fred, by which he was widely known. Both he and Dandy Dock had enlisted in the service of Death-Face over a year previous, and had proven themselves apt scholars in the profession. : It was known among a few that Dock was in the detective service, but not generally, and in disgui he had been able to penetrate everywhere almost without fear of detection. Fooly Fred was unsuspected, and by some be- lieved to be really foolish, which admitted him into some of the lowest haunts of the city. All three had disguises unknown to the other, unless they wished to be known, when there were well arranged ignals to be given, by which one could be apprised of the other’s presence. Death-Face was here, there, and everywhere; there was no telling one moment where he would be the next, and his d ises were sO many and per- fect, that the villainous element of the great city had grown to dread the mention of his name. a thus we introduce him and his aids to the public. Death-Face was in a communicative mood, to- day, for him, and while be puffed thoughtfully at his pipe he would occasionally put in a word. ‘Did you hear about that missing girl?’ ques- tioned Fooly Fred, watching the clouds of smoke dis- solve into bluish atmosphere. “No! what girl?”’ demanded Dock, from his corner. ** Another Ross case?” “Well, something similar, I reckon. Saw an ad- vertisement in the morning Herald; some gal wanted to know where her sister was. Left her home to go to Central Park, last week, Friday, and hasn’t come back yet. Foul play suspected.”’ ~ reward?” asked Death-Face, stretching him- self, with a yawn. ‘oe No; seems there were only the two sisters—took in sewing for a living, as near as I can Jearn. Poor as church mice, and ‘if any one will kindly tell me of pe whereabouts of my sister, I shall be very “Ah!” Dock twisted his face into a wry expres- sion. “A ‘gratitude’ case, eh? Well, I am not tak- ing on any such to-day.” ‘It might be a good move, old boy. Maybe this sister that advertiseth is handsome and courtable.” a the women!” replied Dock, in evident dis- st;,‘‘ they're all alike. The only female I ever cared or gave me the ‘shake,” and I haven't much faith in them. BY something better in view.” “What?” ed Death-Face, calmly. “Oh! something up on Twenty-seventh street, in a brown-stone.” “Faro or counterfeiting?” “The former, I suspect.” ““Humph! you'll not get in there. This lost girl business weighs better to the pound, in my way of Owe ~ tackle it, if b but you'll : ou can e ou choose, but you find the aifrerence.” c ‘ 4 “Any news of this t counterfeiting scheme?” asked Fooly relighting his pipe. “No!” replied th-Face, with a scowl, “It is indeed a big case to handle, with no handles to it. I’ve done some of my most scientific scouting, and Pinkerton’s men are on the watch, constantly, but all to no avail. The game is safely quarried, and the country is —— flooded with the most cleverly-exe- cuted counterfeits of the age. Not less than five a a oe of the stuff was —— on _ market yesterday. wager money against reputa- tion, that one man out of every ten, in Wall street, — distinguish the new true fifties from these ‘blossoms ’ the ‘ring’ is shoving.” “Probably not; and this establishment must be one of the most complete in the world, for, instead of playing upon one bank, oe have sets of dies for at least throughout the United States, I hear,” said Dandy Dock. “Yes, there is where the mischief is. If they only ‘blossomed ’ on one or two banks, the public could -watch out for them, but bills of all banks pouring in- to market are decidedly puzzling. Besides, they have a process for m new counterfeits look old and dilapidated, which is ingenious, and helps to prevent — in many cases.” “Do you think the den is in this city?” se Undoubtedly, as there is a greater influx of coun- terfeits here than in Philadelphia or Boston. In my opinion, many of our first citizens are implicated in movement, and if the ring is ever broken up, there will be some startling discoveries.” “You'd be surprised to find a Mayor and a Con- gressman in it,’’ said Fred, with a laugh. “No fear of that; but there are some bling liticians in New York, who need wate g more han their bolder brother rogues.” At this june the conversation of the three de- tectives was interrupted by a knock at the door of their room. A dainty, hesitating sort of a knock it was—femi- nine, at a guess. And so it proved, when Dandy Dock went to answer the summons. A little wo- manish figure, neatly attired, and deeply vailed stood in the hallway, outside, looking so odd, tha’ Dock whistled under his breath. He not remem- ber of ever ha seen her before. “Is the detective, Death-Face, in?” was asked in a low sweet voice, and then the woman gave a start as she looked up into the face of Dock. She rec- ognized him, even though he could not her, on ac- count of the vail. “ Yes, ma’am, the boss is in; will you step inside?’’ and in his suave manner, Dock handed her a seat near the door. ‘‘ Death-Face, this lady wishes to see you—eh? madam?” “Yes, sir,’’ was the faint reply. : “To see me, did you say?’ yawned the detective, rising to his feet and ore I courteously, “ Ah}! yes; what can I do for you, lady?” The woman hesitated a moment, evidently con- fused at finding herself alone with so many men; but at last she. w back her vail to give her free- dom of speech. Dock uttered an exclamation of sur- prise, and sprung forward. “Miss Nelly Orwick! he cried, extending his hand; ‘is it you?” “Yes, it is I, Mr. een cog replied the sweet- faced little woman, g hands, cordially. “TI expect our surprise is mutual, for I did not expect to find you here.’ She was a little t , this Nelly Orwick, with a model, petite form, a sh sweet face, and blue eyes, and hair of a chestnut shade—a woman whom it is deucedly hard to see and converse with without admiring; a gay, fascinating little butterfly, seem- ingly made to ring sunshine and enchantment into the world. At least, her <opemenee created favor in oe mind of one of the detectives, and that one was Foo 6 “And I am as delighted to see you as I am sur- paaed Miss Nelly!" Dock replied. ‘‘How did you eave the piquant Celia?”’ . Dock Raymond wished he had not asked, when, the next moment, Nelly burst into sobs, and wept bit- terly. “Oh! Dock!” she cried, piteously, ‘‘ Celia is gone / T have not seen her for nearly a ey ‘Gone!’ Dock’s face whiten a little, as he heard—“ gone, did you say?” **Oh! yes, gone, and I do not know where she is. Oh! my poor darling sister! she is dead, and I can- not see her.”’ “Celia gone! By heaven, this is news to me, Nelly. be er did she go—where—how? Explain, for s e ” * Dock was tly agitated. . “Oh! Dock, she started for the park one day last week—Friday afternoon, and she has not come 4 Oh! my poor, sweet sister! Oh! what shall Ido?” be - yourslt, Miss one said see aan pe approac. e weepi , respectfully,“ and we will look pom Be wes gem, Ai this must be what you mentioned of in the Herald ?” “Oh! yes, Iadve in the Herald—I have done Aepas grein 5 * moaned Rey gomning the harder. ‘“‘T have spent every cent we saved up for our rent, and cannot find her.” “T can throw a little light upon the matter,” said Dock, slowly. ‘I met Celia in the park, on Friday evening at dusk. She was si in an arbor, wait- ing for some one. I questioned her, and found out that she had an appointment to meet the fellow who was at your house, the last evening I ThenI came away.” “Oh! the poor 1. She went to meet , Misguided St. Cloud, then? I would not let him visit her any more, and she promised me not to see him.” “Who is this St. Cloud?” demanded Death-Face, who, in short-hand cipher, had been jotting down the conversation upon a sheet of foolscap. “He is a young man of dark complexion, hair and mustache; somewhat dressy, and son of a Wall street broker.” “Ah! is that so? Do you think he would have married her, she being beneath him in station?” “No! he promised to marry her, and got her into trouble, and I told him that unless he kept his prom- ise, he must stay away. Then he got angry, and came no more.” . stn gna b gp are got mane ape case,”’ - eagerly. your love this St. Cloud?” “No! she was fascinated by his fine dress, and ele- ‘ant s—his flattery, an presents; was lind until she awoke to the fack that she loathed him, when it was too late. knows, I wish she had stuck to ou, Mr. Raymond!” Dock did not reply. There was a ed look up- on his manly face; evidently unpleasant memories were crowdin i him. “Then, if she hated him, why did she go to meet him?’’ continued Death-Face, jotting down word for word. “You shouldn't, at present, press too close, boss,” inte Fred Funk, “ bearing it in mind that this may be rather an unpleasant subject for the lady to handle. You ought to guess the rest.” “Thank you, boy, for reminding, and I hope you will excuse me, Miss Orwick. e detectives are great to question. I think I understand the case.” “And is there any hope, sir? Oh! do not tell me no! You are a great man, and I am sure you will not refuse to—to—” “No, miss, we will not refuse to aid you because you are poor,” Death-Face replied, kindly. “TI will give the case my immediate attention, and my aids ere shall work in your behalf. “ Oh, thank you, sir, thank you! God will reward you for your kindness, if I cannot!” “Never mind about that, lady, for I am always ready to strike in defense of the weak and innocent. As the case lies, there are great chances that this St. Cloud has made wa th her—either had her imprisoned or murdered, in case she threatened to make him m her, which, as I understand it, was evidently her intention. I shall dispatch Fred to the k to what he can, and Dock to the Morgue examine the latest arrivals of unclaimed dead.
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Death-Face, the Detective. shall not leave one stone unturned, believe me, that ‘will promise the slimmest chances of success to our undertaking.” Gratefully Nelly thanked them all, and then, after leaving her address, took her leave, Fooly Fred offering hisescort as far as Twenty-seventh street, which was accepted, much to his delight, for in se- cret he was greatly enamored of pretty little Nelly and her sweet, winning ways. CHAPTER V. SHERRY RAYNOR’S GODSEND. Tue Brooklyn ferry-boat was loaded down well that night, ss owing to the fact that the New York beards offered extra theatrical attraction, such as Booth, the Florences, and Kellogg-Cary at the Academy. The Brooklynites have an educated taste for fine acting, and when they cannot obtain satisfaction upon their own shores, New York re- ceives their patronage. Anyhow, the boat was crowded, when, after the clanking of chains, and the splash of the agitated water about the piled sidings, the boat swung out into the stream, and plowed her way through the waves like some mon- yay bok th f high mong the passengers were gentlemen 0 ‘business distinction and richly dressed aaa A ° moved in the best society; men-about-town; labor- ers, and an occasional newsboy and bootblack. Upon a seat sat a youth of between seventeen and eighteen years, evidently of the * lower ten,” if you were to judge by his habiliments. He was a handsome young fellow, with an erect yet graceful form, such as the ladies admire, and a lear, open, honest face, handsome because of its ty of features and fresh, healthful glow, His hair was light, and curled in a t mass close to his head; his mouth rather large, yet firm and resolute; his eyes brown, yet pdemeaned of a strange magnetic influence, not allotted to two men in every thousand. His dress was coarse and shabby, and the hat set jauntily upon one side of his head, and the patent-leather boots upon his feet were more dilapidated than was becoming for public display. Close beside the youth sat a man of some thirty- ‘two or five years, with a dark, unpre face, made the more so by a jet- heavy mustache, ‘and eyes and hair of the same fierce shade. He was well dressed, sported a diamond pin and a heavy seal ring, and a massive gold the glitter of which in the early gaslight more than once at the gaze of the youth by his side. The man ed a a bundle across his knees, done up with precision in heavy cream-wove wrap- ing- r, and upon this he kept a close watch, as £ he Ra apprehensions for its safety. His eyes when not riveted upon the bundle rested alternately upon the faces around him, as if expecting or in search of some one, who did not put ‘in an ap ce. His movements, nervous and un- > cated that the fellow was greatly ees. might be owing to the presence of a be- whiskered individual in a long duster, who occupied the opposite seat, in a facing position. He watched his opposite with a gaze piercing enough to be an- noying, and more than once the man with the brig- andish mustache uttered a fierce curse under breath, but loud enough for the ears of Raynor, the youth at his left. * What's jig, boss?’’ was Sherry’s cool query, as he saw the man fidget in his seat. Sherry was not a bashful boy; years of rough-and- tumble existence in the sinful metropolis, hard- ened him in manners if not in heart. “Got a corn thet peaes, or abile? Biles area ‘plague, sometimes, Make a feller uneasy as a lob- ster at low tide.” His words called forth another muttered curse cron dive man; thena ee in rae PT Ree se oO are you, young man?” was na low, intense to ee 4 the man eagerly into Sh ry’s — = om you live around here? Are ‘ou m "sherry puffed hard at his cigar, and in a reflective manner, before replying. ** Don’t hev any oe lodgin’ house, as Iknow of,” he replied, at last, with a grimace. “ Roost *round most ennywheres night overtakes me, Pretty well acquainted "bout town, Sag Kin point out romenent een rape ter ye, for a quarter a head; now considerable about the slums an’ sl ops, “ Ah! then maybe you can tell me who that man in the long duster is, over across the way.” “Him? Wal, now, I reckon you've sn your unkle over a bar, sure. Don’t identerfy mug, ef I’ve ever seen it. Might figger in fer an alderman, or a detective, tho’!”’ ‘““A detective!’’ the man started, and muttered ‘another curse. And the man on the opposite bench was staring straight at him. “ Thet is as a optics as ote ae mew] erry, eD ying es . while companion flercely at his rigandish mustache. They had a view of the scene from the little back window. and by Jingo Ke's tumbled im toi He's cabbec ngo he’s tum ~ e's hisself an’ now look out fer a race!”’ Faro Phil swore roundly, when he saw that his old enemy had indeed jum into a cab, which was starting off in t of them. “Say, how d’ye like it?” Sherry laughed. ‘“‘ Hain’t afeard, are you? Simon Peter! we're goin’ to scoot thet rooster, just like castor-oil off’in an icicle, you heer yer unkle! Hello there, driver?’ ‘“What’s wanted?”’ came back the nse, ‘*D’ye ye see that kerridge snuckin’ up ahind ye, back there?” ** Yes; I see it.” ey Well, ef you wanter finger-fondle an X, put us outside o’ thet chap’s vision in less time than a cat can slide off a house roof when brickbats are plenty. vty tumble to it?” th bry 4's ‘Yo ** came back the reply, an en the eae wilted ulcog at an increased rate of speed. And the poate vehicle also came on rapidly. Evidently it was to be a close race. “A few ds of steam more, boss!’ Sherry yelled. ‘ Softly on ther trottle and let her rip!” ** Ay, ay!’’ responded Cabby. t 44 rope us out, first opportunity.” ours, Say Then the cab plunged on at what seemed a terrible rate of speed, to the two men, but at no less velocity came the pursuing cab. BAL the 3 = hich paws through @ space over W. ey wen the nr 5 Saad streets, “I believe he'll Creitae us, r , “Bet another thousan’ on’t!"" demanded Sherry, withagrin. “You may count me euchered if that game rooster spots us e'll only give the case inter my grip. Seen such as before. on I twig cuty t eber aide In cinker Giameise, “Eile sign boars out; t’other side in under - The devil ¥ Detactiver® aces “The devil!” Faro e e wing strangely white for a dark Sommpronianed Oe ts is ne that eH sy id “Dunno; caih’t mo us as the man base oe 9 afore he — the a a Possible ee et same Death-Face. ? w’ “ 5 him? Thort you’sa Canadian?” og ll of him,” was all the retort Faro Phil vouchsafed Cc “ “Yas,”’ accepted Sherry, obliquely closing one eye. ‘* T suppose so.” reeks = But, the expression in his tone proved that he did- n’t suppose anything of the kind. And Faro was not so dumb as not to understand it, but he gave no proof of his knowledge. ‘ 5 On came the pursuing cab, at as great a speed as was permissible through important streets of the reg lis, and on went the cab in which the two en “Why don't the accursed idiot turn off Fulton at reine ~ Soy ete saw that the fol- G) cab was ity J His words were answered by the turning of the cab into Broadway, where the crowd was dense and black. The rumbling of the great ‘busses and cracking of whips, and shouts of contending drivers, made strange noises on the night. “Now, boss!” cried Sherry, keeping an eye out, ‘put about fifteen dollars down here on the seat fer our hack fare, and then pre yerself fer a grand fling. I’m fer debouchin’ inter sum o’ this ’ere crowd an’ eludin’ our old perennial.” Faro Phil took a large roll of bills from the et of his white vest and laid a twenty out of it upon the seat. By this time the jam usual at Broadway and Ful- ton was encountered, and the cab was forced to slacken speed to scarcely a walk. “Come, now’s our harvest!” cried Sherry, and the next moment he had the cab door open, and was out and making his way in among the immense crowd that thronged the pave. He hurried along swiftly, for a few moments, without pect he pe ut when he did, it was to discover that Faro Phil was not be- hind him. He was about to wonder at this, when the report of a pistol was heard, and the crowd involun- tarily paused and surged back to learn the cause, To Sherry it was at once apparent. Faro Phil had been nab and had attempted re- sistance. And he, er aa on ‘ on of the mysterious bundle. He grabbed it in his leap from the cab, What was in it? Had Faro Phil told the truth about its cy - 6 re ape f — Mee was rising erry’s heart as he tho of the enormity of the sum to him. ~ “An’ I'ma baked clam ef it ain't a-go to be mine!” he muttered. ‘Don’t reckon I come on- estly by it. Honesty’s the best policy, they say, but oy say nothin’ "bout two usand dollar pol- ies,’ Half an hour later, he sought a lodges house in a Sipwwalt, Tha, site sagedig-bosting heart, be iio A n, rapidly- e quick- ly undid the bundle. j be And the gambler, Faro Phil, had not lied to him! Inside were rolls of bank no none of whose de- nominations were less than fifty dollars—bills on all the important banks of the country—bills that were new and crisp, and bills that were old and well-worn —all in one great bulk. It was more than the de- Soap boy had dared to hope, and swi his hat yoo ng gave vent to his feelings in a cry of CHAPTER VI. COME EASY, GO EASY. SHerry Raynor was not dishonest, or unscrupu- lous. His parents had died when he was ten years of ars, uviee him and a twin sister, alone upon the ties of a cold, pitiless world. and starvation They were penniless and stewed them in the face, until a kind-hearted baker took Sherry into his employ, where he had remained until two years previous to our story, when the old man died, and boy was thrown out of work. Since then he had roamed about the city, catching a job here and there—generally lucky and a prime favorite among the boys of age, for Sherry’s uickness and alertness had rescued various ones rom many a scrape. Of his twin-sister, Leo, he had heard once in the time since they had parted, when he gone into the service of the baker. Then she was working in a picture gallery on Broad- way. But he had never found time to go and see Lag Saal he Se weet and after Ae ey has € SO er, she me away from the e and no pee pan of her whereabouts, . he foun a picture of her—a promising of seventeen, his wa pees prettiness of feature and form—a fair maiden approaching the threshold of a glorious womanhood. He purchased the picture, and put it in his pocket; then, when no other pe tt prevented, he al ed away his hours in wandering about the city, hop- ing by some chance to stumble upon Leo. Sherry had another object in these rambles. He was literally to two birds with one stone, for he had a little love romance of his own, locked up in his heart. It was now full a year since he had caught a glance of the eyes that had fascin- ated him one summer's night upon the Fulton Ferry and the roguish little face ae ne form that had so entirely captivated him. the owner of this little form and roguish face had sli @ paper in his hand with the one word written thereon—Fay! Fay! Ah! how many nights Sherry Raynor went to sleep with that name on his lips; and how many times he thought of Leo, and the temptations to which she was in this great wicked metro- tropolitan city. And now! Before him lay in a pile, where his fingers had ar- ranged it, a fortune such as he had never dreamed of possessing—a fortune that would lift him from the streets, and place him forever above want. He could see the sights of the city—of the world if he wished, and then have money left. He coul have fast horses, board at a dretolane hotel, and cut a general swell, But, ah! then came the tae an all this rightfully his? He was not dishonest, but the temp- tation to take this “find’’—this gambler’s bank—
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and appropriate it to his own use, was too strong to “Tl be scooped up fer oysters, if ‘tain’t mine, now!” he muttered, handling over the notes as care- fully as if they were tissue. “Thet chap come b them dishonest, so I orter keep ’em from him, whic would be honest, now, wouldn’t it? I'vea notion ter n bizness at once, and see the sights.” ““I would, too, Sherry, if I were you,” replied a — he : b pees Siete around, the startled ou eld a second individual of somewhere near is own age, standing looking composedly over his shoulder. “Hello!” Sherry was upon his feet in a moment, his fists clenched for combat. “How in Simon Peter did you git in?” “Was in, before oer came,” laughed the other, good-naturedly. |“ n’t you spy me lying on the bed, yonder? I got up and dressed while you were undoing your prize. ere ’d ye make the raise?”’ Sherry did not answer the question. He was star- ing eiralgnt at the youth, a light of recognition beaming in his eye—a wild, unaccountable throb- bay, 3 in the region of his heart. The youth was a little shorter of stature than him- self, and more plump and rounded of form, with a round face, that was strikingly handsome in its deli- cate outlines, and rosy-and-cream complexion, and woe that were hazel and rondncusy, attractive in t glances; while the hair, of a lightish shade, was closely cut, in the prevailing style. The face was moe axaced with beard, and if it ever had been, it had been recently shaven. The dress of the Yh pe was of faultless elegance, of the costliest material, while in his immaculate shirt-front sparkled a thou- sand-rayed diamond cluster pin, and a ring of the same precious material glittered upon the little fin- ger of his left hand, which was as small and white, nearly, as a woman's. Patent-leathers upon his feet, a silk hat upon his head, and a gold-headed cane in hand, completed the outfit of the young tleman of leisure, at whom Sherry Raynor in a sort of fascination. “You are—are Fay’s brother!’ he declared, at tag, Gociaively. ** Ain’t you?” te ? t do you know about Fay, I should like to Ow 39 “Durned little—not half as much as I should like to,” Sherry responded, earnestly. ‘“‘I saw her on the Fulton ferry, nigh a year ago.” “Oh! so you're the young fellow she give the paper to Ro Bas! like one Sam : Pry lt pranks, su our innocent young heart was won, there and then of “Dunno ef it’s any o’ your business!’ Sherry an- swered, with spirit. He didn’t nals ml mire the insinuating manner of the fellow. “Oh! you needn’t be so sassy. Maybe I can help along your case, a bit, if you don’t get your back up. cognomen is Charley Evans. Yours is Raynor!” *Reckon it is.” aw a studying Mr. Charley Evans very closely. “ ere do thet purty sister o’ yourn hang out?” But, for the present, other business. I see you're flush of money. Expect it isn't none of my business a mite of your business,”’ replied Sherry, Sere ate lighting a cigar, and puffing away, coolly, He had received a fair education while in the venture to say you don’t know the ropes, while I oe vote for “And must drop the gutter dialect, too, for recol- lect you're no longer a A Naik Arab, but a gentleman of leisure with all that money.” Sherry counted out a thousand dollars, and con- cealed it about his person, and then did the remain- i up in a bundle, and signified his readiness for hater ee you to = with barge yin Ll deman ans, sho s disgust at walking with a person who carried parcels. Reckon I’m goin’ to tote it along,” replied Sherry, bit dss sare . “Ef you don’t walk along wi’ yer e, why there’s two directions ter Baxte: Evans laughed ea baa A and they made their way toward adway, but it was noticeable that a good many passers-by glanced amusedly at the two youths, at once taking in the contrast of their dress, Straight into one of the first tailoring establish- ments of Broadway, Sherry went, followed by his compenion, It was an immense place, with great stacks of cloths, grand mirrors, gorgeous chande- liers, and hurrying clerks, and a place no one need venture in for low prices, ‘ Evans stood back near the door, and let Sherry break his own path. And he was not afraid to stem the tide, either. He sauntered leisurely along, stop- ping now and then to examine a piece of goods, or stare into the great mirrors, which were much be- haces any thing he had ever seen. At first the aus- re clerks regarded him with disdain, and exchang- ed winks and smiles at his expense. And he was not slow to realize that he was going to be neglected, Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. for none of the clerks paid him the least attention. Shabby customers are rarely well treated in Broad- way palaces. cheery well knew this, but determined was he not to be snubbed, Presently he saw a tall elderly personage, wearin: old-rimmed spectacles, issue from the cashier’s of- ce, and make his way toward the front of the store, and he waylaid him at once. “Be you the boss of this shebang?” Sherry de- manded, confronting him and blockading his pas- e. Iam the propsieter yes, sir,” replfed the gentle- man, gazing down at the boy, an expression of fun in his eyes, “Such being the case, what can I do for you, my young friend?” Sh stared e x “You're a fust-class hoss!” he declared, after a moment—* what they call a gentleman. I twig your {> superfine. An’ now, may I ask ye, w’at d’ye eep these supernumeries ‘round heer fer?” y clerks? Why, to wait upon customers, of course, os Si vhf pick out sich as they keer ter wait u on, an’ let the others slide off on their ear, I reck- on. ” “Certainly not. Have you not been waited upon? Do you wish to purchase?” “Shouldn't wonder ef I might invest a hundred in togs, ef I can get enybody to wait onter my royal n a] “Of course. I'll see to this. Hawley, this way;” and Mr. J—— motioned to his foreman. ‘Why has not this young gentleman been waited upon sir? “He?” and the foreman gave Sherry a withering glance; “‘ why, he’s from the streets, sir; he has no money.”’ “Dye want ter waltz out back an’ tell me that?” Sherry asked, bristling up. ‘ Bet a baked clam, wi’ free lunch added in, gratuitous, and a five-cent pony, thet I can muster more currency than you, or a dozen like you.” The foreman flushed hotly. ‘See here, no more of this!” exclaimed Mr. J—, sharply. ‘ Hawley, never let it be said that you, or any of those under you, neglected a customer, be- cause his attire did not favorably correspond with te own, or I shall dispense with your services, is my store, and the rich and r shall be Hert h the same due courtesy. ease remem- r Rid once myself, and I’m not above ‘em yet—tumble ter that! Now, you supernumery, can ready, show me the best block o’ stuff in yer hi you hear yer unkle!”’ Mr. J—— made his way out into the street, a broad smile pla about his mouth. * That vor has e, and is nobody's a sharp to fool,” he mused, “‘ That little “incident has been a lesson. I wonder who he is?” And a great pore wondered who Reckless Sherry was before he got through with his fortune. A young Coal Oil Johnnie some dubbed him. Hawley showed him several patterns of goods, but Sherry shook his head grimly. “You can’t throw chaff in my eyes, Mickey!’ he said, coolly. ‘* Take me fer a skim ‘milk idiot, don’t ye? ReckonI can’t locate shoddy frum ther jenny- wine fabric, I’ Guess Ido. Just} tumble out sumthin’ su) ne, or macht bound ter git the grand fling, fer I ain’t foolin’!” e foreman began to realize that he couldn’t trifle with “the boy from the streets,” and threw down one of the costliest pieces of goods in the house. “That’s ter ijee. You are n’, now,” announced Sherry. “Itwig that cloth ter a dot. How much fer a pair o’ brichelloons, a vest, and a coat, all in the latest style. Speak up!” “One hundred and twelve dollars and warranted e measure was taken, and paying half the price down, Sherry rejoined Evans ane was waiting near An hour later he-had taken a suit of rooms in the Fifth avenue, having first rigged himself out in a nice suit of ready-made clot , he had purchased, in which he looked even gayer than Fay’s brother. His clothing was fine, his white vest and shirt bei done-up to perfection; in the jewelry line, he purchased a’'diamond pin and two costly rings; his silk hat, Meine | gloves, and gold-headed cane com- leted his no appearance. Ps Now, wherey™ 14 demanded, when he was settled in his new quarters. ‘*Goin’ ter interdooce me ter that sister o’ your’n, ain’t ye?” “Not yet,” replied Evans, with a laugh. ‘We'll have a supper at Delmonico’s first, and then drop in at some theater, after which we will take a trip up on Twenty-seventh street. You know all about faro and roulette, I suppose?” : “NotI! Tain’t much on high-toned games.” “That is bad. But I will play for you. You must redeem yourself.” “How d’ye mean?” “You must sweep some faro table of senna 8 ake back what you have spent to-night,” explained vans. They left their rooms and took a cab to Delmoni- co’s. “Here they had a game and wine supper, after which Evans led the way to Daly’s Fit avenue theater, where the Two Orphans was having a tre- mendous run, By luck they secured a couple of reserved seats, from which position in the parquette circle, they could overlook the house, Sherry was instantly interested in the play, and did not pay much attention to the audience, which on the contrary, Evans watched narrowly, by aid o one of a pair of gold-mounted opera-glasses which his companion had procured ata fashionable store on Broadway. And at last he was evidently rewarded, for he smiled and bowed to a couple of ladies who occupied the opposite proscenium box, after which he clutch- ed Sherry by the arm. “Look! old boy; there they are in the box across yonder! They belong in Gaylord’s gambling palace on Twenty-seventh street. Come along!” CHAPTER VII. LIFE IN A GAMBLING PALACE. Evans rose as if about to leave the theater. “Where you goin’?” demanded Sherry. “I ain’t takin’ in any sich kind o’ pettycoatry.” “They are all right, <= they’re gamblers. Come along .Don't you see the audienceis staring? Come along, I say.” rather ere He was op- e be set forth. He noticed that the two females had also quitted their box, and was not therefore much surprised when they all met in the lobby, outside. ‘Ladies, Emperor, Prince William, of Austria!” Evans. “Prince William, the Baroness Lulu and Princess Alee.”’ ae acknowledged the introduction with a ce Evans had not deemed him capable of, while he ladies courtesied low. “How are things upon the royal thoroughfare, baroness?” Evans asked of the elder of the two. both of whom were young and beautiful, and dressed richly. ‘Is there a chance for two at the table of ts, this eve?”’ ‘Yes, my lord. There is always room in een Mab’s palace for those who are the circle,” was the reply; whereupon Evans offered her an arm, and led the way, while Sherry followed with the Princess Alee. This was new work for him. He had never been much in the presence of the opposite sex, and to have the charming princess hanging upon his a and chatting incessantly, was a new realization m. dropped apa Twamtpastenth sieges balome k(grsae enty-seven ‘ore a gran brown-stone, which stood in a that was a very paradise of flowers and arbors and mu- sically-dripping fountains. Sherry was amazed, and had he been alone he would have boiled over with outlandish ressions of admiration, which he now was forced to hold in cheek. The baroness led the way, entering by aid of ryt i ee hall ones ae — ay a ora the grea egree, and the glimpse Sherry caught of the parlors, rnd they were eeatee aD poe staircase, was enchanting, so grandly were they fur- nished and lighted. F They were occupied, too, by scores of _brilliantly- dressed women and men, who looked strangely weird under the bluish-tinted ht. But a greater surprise was in store. At the head of the stairs, they entered a gorgeous saloon parlor, very wide, and running the entire length of the build- ing. And such a scene Sherry had never witnessed, ~e dreamt - The room mand Sagniahned, cares — crimson, furniture co aioe. i chairs, ° rious sofas, card, wine and faro tables; the core, the swee laceand damask curtains, the unvaile statuary and immense mirrors and chandeliers, were all the costliest that a lavish expenditure of money could procure. And around the faro tables, of which there were three, were gathered gayly dressed men and women —men whom Sherry knew to hold prominence in business circles; young men and old, gay men and grave; while of the richly-clad females, none were evidently older than thirty-five, ranging from that down to twenty. And the cham e-scented at- mosphere, and weird music of king glasses, added a strange, irresistible charm to the fascinat- hour. ing How like it, Prince?” asked Evans, looking back at Sherry, who had paused with his companion, and was breath drinking in the panorama of beauty. ‘Isn’t it immense?” . : “You tumble to it!” assented Sherry, with a sigh, half regretful that the spell had_ been broken. “You're a hoss, you are, Charley. Nicer’n a church at Christmas time, ain't it?” Evans came back, and drew him one side, mysteri- ously. Fou must choose better language, if you want to gueceed : in ‘here," he said, kindly, but advisingly. ‘It won't take.” “All right; best; bet a baked clam I'll blurt Byam f = fe afore the night’s over, tho’. Hello! see that old gold-eyed spectacled roos- ter, over yonder at the table, wi’ @ feminine hangin’ over his shoulder. “I twig his jib, superfine, you bet! Got my new brichelloons 0” him,’ : “Sh! hush that slang talk!’’ cautioned Evans. ‘It won't do for us to recognizéany one we know in ere.’ ‘“omwon’t, hey? Well, what’s the lay out?” “ You are to keep in Alee’s company, this evening. The girl is struck after you, and you must keep her in your . Try faro, and let her play for you, and you'll come out ahead,’’ Then the Princess Alee led the way and seated her- self at a table where the heaviest es were play- ing, Sherry standing by, as most of the gamesters
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Death-Face, the Detective. 7 did, who allowed the nimble-fingered sirens to choose for their luck. ‘* How much will you risk?” asked Alee, after they had watched the game a few moments. ‘“ Quick, now!”’ in a low tone; “fifty dollars, and you sweep the board, I think.” Sherry threw down a fifty, and Alee exchanged it with the banker for one of those round ivories, that so often lose and win fortunes, in our great cities. She gave it to Sherry, with a smile. ‘Now, sir, your turn next. Cover your diamond queen, That's it,” as Sherry obeyed. ‘ Now, then, watch and wait,’ The game went round, and—the bank won on the sweep of the board, “Better luck, next time, gentlemen,” assured Queen Mab, the banker, with a smile, as she raked in the ivories. ‘‘I wouldn’t get discouraged,” as two of the gentlemen withdrew. “Don't you _ discouraged,” whispered Alee, giv- i erry a strange glance, tha 1 m, m ing Sh | t thrilled hi ‘a gon to regain your confidence in me, before long. , there are six against the bank, and there is going to be heavy playing. You notice that man across there, with the black mustache? _ He has the greatest luck of any of our patrons. His name is Ned St. Cloud. The gentleman’s next to him is Clarence Seymour. He is also exceptionally lucky, But, you are not going to lose, while I play for you.” “thank you,” replied Sherry; “‘ Your kindness I shall not forget. You’re a hos—” But he thought of Evans’s warning, in time to avoid a blunder. “How many. checks do we want?” “Tet me see,” said Alee, counting the board; “ Madam has five hundred on King Heart. You pur- chase five one hundreds, and cap the queen,” “Tsn’t this rather dangerous—this playing with hearts?’ asked Sherry, with a laugh, as he received his checks. “Well, sometimes—yes,"’ Alee replied, with a soft flush tinging her cheek; *‘ more especially with you gentlemen, as we girls are more versed in playing with hearts.” “No doubt of it. And you have pa pene to break as you can we are more discreet. Play, my prince, for the game awaits.” Accordingly, Shi deposited his checks upon the queen of Seieetncnmendl won the game, coming off with over a thousand dollars worth of checks. “Good!” Alee said, delight expressed in her tone, as she stacked up the ivories. ‘‘ You won; I am in duty bound to order the champagne for you,” ~ And slipping a fifty check into the hand of a uni- formed colored waiter, she led the champagne for the table. And when it came, it proved to be of the best. Both Alee and Sh htly, but this was not the case with the o 5 then een Mab, who was too a looking woman to be at the head of a g establishment, called another ame. a Alee’s request Sherry invested heavily, and played under her directions, though the beautiful rt wie Capo (eb ndgd os am Mab hear her ten- ered advice to the new visitor. ‘ ] in duty bound to the at ee See te eet ees tae vu , was a& at Alee was off the rules tonite, Anyhow, at the end of two hours, Sherry was the possessor of two thousand dollars’ worth of checks! Alee was the first to notice this fact, so interested had Sherry been in the game. “ You are one thousand and eight hundred dollars ahead of investment sir,” she said, So as she caught. the ominous glitter in Queen Mab’s eye. ** Will you stop?’ “Yes, I had best,”’ replied Sherry, who had also caught madam’s severe glance. “Will you po emt 0 dine ager your queenliness,” and he counted out pile of ivories. —— Mab raked them in, spitefully, and counted out the money, which Sherry pocketed with a bow. ‘*Come,”’ whispered Alee, drawing his arm through hers. ‘We best watch the other games, a while. Your winnings have been the means of an- gering the Queen.” “Yes, and what is the penalty!’ asked Sherry. 4 aN wt eit any write my discha: “No; she wi m my di e papers, t this enement and I neetl no longer “Why is this?,” ‘Beeause I did not play into the bank. I could ie bet so you would have lost double what you ave won.” ute eee so; you have the hang of cards; why idn’t you?” + Bocatlse—Well—Well, because I didn’t see fit. Won't that do as an answer?” with a faint little laugh. . res, I SUPPOse 80. What will you do if you are discharged?’ “Tl marry the first wealthy gentleman who offers me his heart and hand.” “Phew! that’s nice. But, in event that individual . cee f tion in the ballet.’ “TH a ora on e ballet. “No Sg he our jib wasn’t cut fer the bally1” declared Sh . “Til see to you, you tumble to that! I’ve got chips, and as long as they last, you ain't a-goin’ ter associate y wi’ no bally, you he me. ar Alee did not reply, but she clung closer to Sherry’s arm, as if feeling assurance in his protection. “she was a beautiful — : seventeen years, With a slender, sylph-like form, a . pure complexion, hazel eyes and chestnut hair, anda mouth of tempt- ing sweetness. Her was costly and elegant, As they strolled along through the great palace parlor, She wonde if the contrast between this place and his former haunts could all be real. Presently they paused at a table, where Evans and the baroness were engaged. The former’s watch, i and diamond pin were just going into the banker’s hands for more checks. “ Hello! what’s therow? Broke, boss?’ demanded Sherry, stepping > “Yes; if I lose this time, I’m whipped,”’ replied Evans, a negeand expression in his eyes. “Not while yer unkle’s about!” cried Sherry, mak- — dive into his ket and fetching out a roll of bills. ‘‘Hereis athousand. Bet it ag’in’ the bank on queen of hearts, an’ I'll stand ye, you tumble to “°Sh! you’re kind, but please avoid that gutter e,’’ remonstrated Evans, in a low tone. And then he accepted the loan, and put it upon the card as per directions; and, amid much excite- ment, he won. After that he was more successful, and finally left the table a couple of hundred ahead. He found Sherry and Alee in the magnificent par- lors down-stairs, partaking of wine and refresh- ments, asscores were doing. The little female bler was chatting ayly, and it was plain to see Sherry was pe A interest- ed in her, And before he had left the gambling- house, just the darkest hour before dawn, she had romised to ride with him in the park, in the follow- Ing afternoon, erry went from the scene of excitement to the elegantly-furnished suit of rooms he had engaged at the Fifth avenue, parting with Evans at the hotel entrance. Once in his rooms, he took a bath, and then sought the slumber he h so much needed. He awoke abet, noon, Seeing: Pate en a ge hei ew and 7 ts) ering e mp repast, proce dispa' it, after which he sauntered out of the hotel upon the crowded streets. The day was clear, but not nearly so warm as usu- al, and countless pleasure rigs were driving along the avenue toward the Central Park. “Now the first things a caboose ter ride my fair inamority in!” he muttered. ‘‘I must have some- thing gay, too, and where’ll Igo to get it? Bah! I'll stand where I am, and buy the first Ls that takes my eye.” And accordingly he stood upon the curb, and waeeed the Fon that sped aa -- by through the soft sun 4 Presently, he saw a handsome phaeton, drawn by two spanking handsome news, couse dashing down the avenue, with many eyes following them, Straight out into the street strode the youth, and at his beckon the driver drew rein, surprise his countenance, while his lady companion at Sherry, ha htily. ‘“D’ye own this turnout?’’ Sherry demanded, tak- ing a glance over the horses, harness, and phaeton, in a moment. “Oertainly I own it!” replied the man, surlily. “What if I do, or do not, sir? bi % give you twelve hundred dollars fer it, spot cash!" ‘“ What! are you crazy, sir?” “Not a bit, my clam. Here’s the rocks; so take *em, and pile out, or else drive on.” The man seized the money, and sprung out, with alacrity. “Come, yr gsie he said, offering to assist his companion to alight. “Oh! surely not here, in the middle of- the street, Penfield?’ exclaimed she, in righteous horror, as she beheld a crowd collecting. But the husband was obstinate, and one of New York’s fashion queens quitted her conveyance in the middle of Fifth avenue, while one of New York's f fast yo men took on of it, and drove tri- umphantiy off. —, ; CHAPTER VIII. DEATH-FACE ALERT. DEATH-Facer, the detective, had given Nelly Or- ck promise that he would take her case in id he was evera man of his word. He by dis’ Fooly Fred to the Lee ee find what clews he might of the Celia, and Dandy Dick to the morgue to over Jate arrivals of un- claimed * street, and demanded to see the proprietor, announc- greatest importance. And so it was, considering the case. The broker, a gray*haired, sh yed little - lator of fifty years, with more of a display of aoene than became so old a man, received him in his back repemeion office, with a cool salutation. “Mr, Cuthbert St. Cloud, I believe?’ Death-Face sai pectaing, Se poms chair, “Yes sir; my name. What can I do for ou to-day?” and the man rubbed his hands, patron- “You can give me a little information; I believe that is all y. You have a son, have you not—a young gentleman with dark eyes, hair, mustache and complexion?” : ‘Oh! certainly; that is Edward, Splendid young fellow when once you thoroughly know him. Your business, I take it, relates to him?” “Tt does—is particularly with him. Can you direct me to him?” “‘ Ah! Tam sorry to disappoint you, but I cannot. TI do not even know of his present whereabouts,”’ “Indeed, and I wanted to see him so badly. You even do not know if he is in the city, then?” “Not positively; might have run down to Cape May—or, maybe So city.” ‘Ts he married Loves his freedom and in- dependence tov well to think of tying a woman to ‘*Ha! ha! no—not he! his coat-tails."’ ‘“‘Ahem! yes. Well, if I can obtain no information of you, I must be going,’ Death-Face said, preparing to depart. ‘‘ You know of none of his haunts where a person would be likely to find him?” ‘Hardly; it is uncertain just where to look for “Very well; I can perhaps find him. Good-day, oe and he took his oatwe from the broker's office. Going back to the rooms of the tenement in Mul- berry street, he found both Dock and Fred awaiting ne. Nothin t th ” Dock ced, with othing at the morgue,” announ a gloomy shake of the head. ‘Ah! then there is some hopes that she has not pon yen. Might have jumped into the river, oug’ 7? “‘And more than probable that! is the solution of the problem,” “ But ba hie accept of it yet, What is your re- port, ; ‘Found the place, but nothing more, captain. Guess it’s a tough un.” “ But we've handled worse ones, by ten-fold. Dock, where is Queen Mab’s?”’ “The in I spoke of visiting on Twenty-seventh street. yr?” “You must get into it and use your eyes. You may have to gamble, but let it be in close prety to a young fellow with dark complexion, e hair, and mustache. Watch him narrowly, and out Weare goesto when he leaves,” curse him, then, I ~— have to go in disguise, for fear of recogni- on.”’ “And how shall I am myself, boss?’’ ask Fred, with a yawn, ‘I long for something to reliev the monotony.” “Well, you may keep an eye on both rivers for a oF eles. Menaaht mneh ee gations ot Moding tate ies. ough my ex ts) girl are not in Yat direction.” * t that she és alive,’’ said Dock Raymond, quitting the room. That afternoon, a bent, gay eens and whiskered little old man sauntered in to dispatch, while ) indices in ; meet him to be a veteran from c He watched the performance with evident huge delight, a broad grin distorting his county nance, and onally, at some ludicrous remark of the comedians, or extra caper of the brazen-faced females who paraded across the stage, he would burst into a yell of delight, his sides shaking with hearty laughter. The afternoon was exceedingly hot, and the cool d thirsty. both the performance an said to be bi case. rtain it was that he appeared igno: enough, Two stylishly dressed young gentlemen, evidently street-advertisers of the latest fashions, came in, and took possession of the bench just ahead of the rural- ite. Much to his disgust, too, for he reached over and re one of them on the shoulder, rather peer: ‘Hello!’ cried one, the darker of the twain, look- ing around with a fierce oath. ‘‘ What is the matter with you, old man? Keep your dirty paws where they belong!”’ ‘“Eh?’’ and he from the rural districts put one. hand to the place where an ear might have been aeumenek to have sa a but was now invisible, owing to the great locks o et ‘what d'ye says + og anal I'm leetle , inmy le ** Nice show? 1 yes, mighty nice, Sum o’ them ean kick like a yearling r,Itellyou. Yes, mighty nice show. like to hev my boy Peter see it.’ ““Who said° anything Sa woe, fe e ¥ der nat —like my family; umph a huge roll of bills—genuine greenbacks, every one of them,
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a Beadles’ Half-Dime Library. “Ha! by Jove, Seymour, look at the old sinner's ile, will you!” whispered Ned St. Cloud, cautiously, to his companion. ‘We must lay for him.” “Exactly. will be easy enough to bleed the old idiot,” replied Seymour, confidently. “He'll go back to the country with his wisdom teeth cut.” The champagne was areas and glasses filled; then the ruralite laid down a fifty-dollar note in pay- ment, receiving back four tens. “Well, old hoss, what’s your name?’ said St. Cloud, as he and Seymour changed their Positions so that they faced their intended victim. We gener- ally like to know whom we drink with.”’ “Eh? what’s my name?” queried the old_man restoring his money to his huge pocket. ‘* Well, I reckon it’s a good un, ef I do say it. I’m Tobias— Silas Tobias, frum Cornfield Center, Vermont. You'll find lot’s o’ Tobiases in Cornfield, There’s Jim To- bias, Sam Tobias, Jacob Tobias, Zackariaher Taylor Tobias, Godfrey Tobias, Zackariah Taylor Tobias’s son Josiah, Peter, Ha Zebulom, Aaron, John, Saul, Job, Obed, Henry lay, John Quincy Adams, and Andrew Johnson Tobias, besides—” ‘Hold on, for Heaven's sake!” interrupted St. Cloud; “that willdo. Our names are tively Fletcher and Brandon. Drink, old man—here’s to your success!”’ And the glasses were emptied, refilled and emp- tied repeatedly, until the last bottle’s contents were exhausted who were themselves not a little affected be A the drink, old Uncle Silas Tobias was as sober and lively as acricket. “See here!” Seymour said, in a cautious tone, ** we've got to let up on this drinking, or we’re euch- ered. e old cuss ’ll stand a barrel, for these coun- try bucks have cast-iron stomachs. We'll have to wy another tack.”’ ‘ Well, a-all right, Fletcher. You ’tend to it, and I'll watch. I’m deucedly co “ But that'll never do, Wake up. Say, old man, d’ye ever play cards?” ‘Waal, yes, I sometimes take a hand,” replied Tobias, indifferently. ‘* My boy Peter is great at old sledge I tell you /” “All right; come along to the club-rooms, and we'll have a social game. Come along, Fletcher.” And the two s and their supposed “‘ flat” left the garden, and sauntered leisurely toward Broadway. The club-voom was reached in the course of half an hour, during which time both Sey- mour and St. Cloud had leisure to dissipate the ef- fects of their champagne. The club-room was upon the fourth-floor front of a large building, the yg second, and third floors of which were unoccupied; the building itself being the individual ap ary of St. Cloud. The cause of its vacancy was because of the un- reasonable high rents demanded, — The club-room was fitted up in handsome style, tables, desks, chairs, sofas, and settees comprising the furniture. A few fashionably-attired fellows were 1 about, a few smoking, others reading, and others laying cards; but all left soon after the entrance of Bi Cloud, Seymour and Uncle Tobias. The three seated themselves at a table, and began to play. The first game was won by St. Cloud. ld Tobias winked one eye as the cards were dealt out. “T'll bet five hundred dollars be vd you two, thet I win,” he tively. ‘‘ Agreed! Seymour, you will find a roll of bills in yonder desk,’’ St. Cloud said, ae a cigar to the man from Vermont, while he was lighting one him- ‘in’ the same, put d, slowly and 1 self. ‘‘ What! don’t you smoke?” ‘* Not when playin’ keerds, yo' ,"’ replied the old man, with a sage shake of head. ‘“ Smoke allus gits up my nose an’ makes me sneeze." Seymour vp a large roll of fresh crisp green- backs, and laid them upon the table. “There you are, old stag—two thousand dollars!" the young villain said, with a grin, “Can you cover it?” Uncle Silas took up the bills, hefted them, and then smelt of them. * Bran n new, ain’t they?’ was his slow com- ment, “ kon ye got’em right from the mint, didn’t ye?” ** Yes, right from the mint /”’ replied St. Cloud, with a laugh. ‘ Worth double the amount of such greasy old r you tad. 7 os Ven ls P80, Take the old man fer a fool don’t ye? S’pose he’s an ignorant old buck thet ken’t tell a butterfly from a opper, I reckon!" St. Cloud and Seymour exchanged glances, What did it mean? Was their prey get offended, or was there mean- ing under] words? tt was a question not answerable just then, for the old man slapped down the opening card of the game; rather spitefully. And the e was p reg roa the exchange of a word, Uncle To- bias wit g. With a meaning smile to St. Cloud, Seymour counted out five hundred dollars, and paid the wa- er. aC: Now, will you try a thousand?” he asked, watch- ing the ruralite, recs Oh! no,” Tobias said, leaving the amount he had won upon the table, and eting his former stake- money. “Five hundred at a slice ain’t ter be sn at, Z’m tellin’ ye, tho’ I’ve seen the time I could ‘a’ bet five thousan’, easier. I’m very pane seypaneets, an’ it’s a shame to rob your uncle 0’ And the game was played, and again Seymour was forced to pay the wager into the Vermonter’s hands, St. Cloud swore roundly. ‘See here, you old cuss, do you knowl believe you’re nocountrymanat all? I believe you’re a card- sharp in disguise!” a pooh! what put that notion into your head?” was the evidently surprised reply. “I reck- on you're green yourself, ef you can't tell a good honest farmer.” - Yes, a good, honest one, like yourself, for in- stance!” with a sneer. ‘‘Old man, I'll bet you a thousand dollars I win this game. Do you take it?” “No, thankee; I’m content wi’ five hundred. By the way, Mr. Fletcher, don’t for a moment calkylate old Silas Tobias is afeard 0’ ye, ner sich a darned fool, nuther. Reckon I've plowed enuff un’ ter kno w’ich way sub-soil turns easiest. Yes, siree. The Tobiases, o’ Cornfield Center, can show jest as good blood in their gills as enny o’ the city aristocracy, I’m tellin’ ye! Thar was old Governer Tobias, 0 Maine, an’ Tobias, the watch inventer, and Tobiases in all our great wars. An’ my son, Pete, kin jest knock ther complexion offen a muskeeter at fifty yards, wi’ a rifle.” “Oh, hang your bragging! Five hundred’s the game. Plank, old blower.” ‘**See here, boyee, jest call less names, please.” St. Cloud growled back some inaudible response, and slammed down his first card. The game was aoe quickly, the Vermonter winning, as usual. And gamevafter game resulted in his favor, until he had won about three thousand dollars from the two ‘= vt ren? Spee en he arose with a quiet laugh, and placing the whole stack of bills upon a hearth on one side of the room, he touched a match to them, and watched them blaze up. A cry of astonishment escaped the two sharpers. “For God’s sake, man, are you crazy?” demanded Seymour, springing from his seat, with an oath. Oh, yes, quite crazy, without doubt,’’ was the sarcastic reply, and then, as the Vermonter ‘turned toward them, they made a very. The gray matted mass of hair was gone—lay upon the floor where it had fallen—and a white-faced, res- olute man stood before them, a cocked revolver in either hand, and a gleam in his piercing eyes that meant business. ** Death-Face, the detective, by all that is living!” cried St. Cloud, cowering under the aim of the re- be while i eee —- oo erimly ‘Yes, m rks,”’ rep) e de ive, “it is Death-Face. I have caught you, om $ But, even before he could complete the sentence, a portion of the floor was jerked from under his feet, and he was thrown forward and precipitated head- long downward! PE cb CHAPTER IX. A NEW CASE. Down—down went the detective, through what seemed an endless and ere he stopped, insen- sibility had robbed of some of the terrors of the fall. It was long hours ere he awoke, and then it was to find himself | , bruised and sore, upon a great net in mid-air, which had so checked his downward flight as to save him from death. With a start he roused himself, sat up with his heels dangling over the edges of the net, and gazed about him, An upward glance explained the mystery of his fall. ‘ar above in the floor of the third story through which he had fallen, was a large square hole, while still further above in the fourth floor was just visible the mechanical works of the trap. He was suspended on the net between the second and third floors; below him was a second square hole through which he could see to the first floor. There evidently had been an elevator there, some day, but it had been removed, and the treacherous dead-fall substituted in its place. The distance to the second flight was nearly twenty feet, and after mie 6 few moments, Death-Face swung off, and made the drop. He came ee through the elevator-way, but fortune favo him in to avoid this new disaster. He struck with great force, and a roar of noisy echoes ran riot through the great chambers. But on listening, he could no sound of his enemies’ approach, which naturally produced the conclusion t they had given him up as done for. Two doors opened out of the chamber, but both he found to be locked, so that escape was prevented in that direction. With a muttered ediction, he turned to the huge windows looking out upon the road-way, which were covered with a thick coat of cobwebs and dust. But these, also, he found to be fastened with screws, and having no sharp instrument to remove them with, he was obliged to abandon any a at escape in that direction, unless he broke one of the t glasses, which he resolved not to do while was any other chance. “JT wonder what’s yd upon = _ floor?” he muttered, n own throug e opening, through which he come so near falling. “Deserted and dusty, like all untenanted places, Isee. But I'm going down thére, somehow. It +4 yee to me there must be some show of escape here, if anywhere. But how shall I get down?” This was now the question. There was no stair- way up into the second story, the elevator having doubtlessly been used in the days of the ar gre te pe ape 3A An outside staircase of iron led to the fo story, he remembered; it was up this he had ne with the two rascals, Seymour and St. Cloud, h! the remembrance of these two rogues, made a dark scowl come to the detective’s face. *“Confound them, they’d just as lief kill me as not,” he muttered, glancing upward. ‘And they ter, are perhaps the ringleaders. Some of their bo- gus ‘blossoms’ made ashes, though. They didn’t ool old Tobias so much, after all! “fa! ha!’ The next thing was to get down onto the first floor. There were no ro’ nor anything to manufacture them out of, and the distance was more than twenty feet to the floor below. Which made dropping a dangerous attempt, in the least sense of the word. Yet Death-Face resolved to make the attempt, hit or miss. He had no doubts as to his fate, should his two enemies come to search for his body and find him alive and disarmed, for his revolvers had gone “_, through to the bottom in his fall. So he would try the drop, be the result what it ht. And swinging downward as soon as the reso- lution was formed, he let go. Down—down—and then he struck upon his feet with great violence. Fortunately no bones were hurt, but he was so jarred that it took several moments to recollect where he was. Then he proceeded to inspect the a ment, and the modes of escape therefrom, The back doors and windows were securely nailed and locked, but t was his surprise on approaching the front door find the key on the de of the door, and the door unlocked. “Ha! this is lucky, by Judas. The mt has doubtless been here, and gone away without his key, which lets me out, nap oc And the detective stepped forth into the street, a free man! Death-Face, or Harry Conroy, as he really was, al. though there were but few in the great metropolis acquainted with this fact, was the man who ha¢ once rescued Amy Elwood’s runaway horses, and he had, as we have related, paid several visits to the beauty-heiress, He now not seen her for some time, and no sooner had he gained the street, than he formed the resolution to upon her. But, first of all, he went to his room, in a prominent Broadway hotel, and donned another suit of clothing from the old patched farmer’s attire, and when, an hour later, he rung the bell at the Elwood mansion, he was truly a fine- looking fellow, the only detriment to his personal ae a being the peculiar whiteness of his ace A mulatto girl answered the summons, and made a humble courtesy as she beheld the noted detec- tive, for she, of the whole household, knew of Con- roy’s profession. ‘Good-day to you, Molly! Is Miss Elwoodin? If so, will you _ give her my card?’ and he ex- tended a delicately-perfumed card, upon which his name was wrilten in a master-hand. ** Oh! de Lor’, sir!” the servant, the whites of her sy he growing unnaturally wide, “de missus ain’t at home, sir. Done gone off widout sayin’ a word to anybody. Didn’t take a stitch of clothes, neither, an’ dis chile is awful worried, sir. Mas’r Seymour say she gone to Cape men but I don’t b’lebe it, sir, deed I don’t! Missus wouldn't ’a’ done gone off widout takin’ me, sir. I’se her maid, I is!” Conroy whistled his surprise. pS , this is . The way I remember it Miss Elwood was not to go to Cape May until ne week. “Deed she wasn’t, sir; "deed she wasn’t. An’, oh! de Lor’ only knows what has become of her.”’ *“Humph! I must look into this. It does not look just righ : that’s a fact. Didn’t take her wardrobe, ou say?’ “Not a dud, sir, but was on her back; ’deed she didn’t, sir.” “Then I don’t believe she went to Cape May, at all. Is this ner in?” ‘ O. 9 ‘*He’s Miss Elwood’s cousin, I believe?” ** Yes, sir.”’ ‘* Were they close friends?” “Oh! de Lor’, no. Missus Amy jist despised him, sir, *deed she did.” ‘** Ah! this has an appetizing look. In case Miss Elwood was dead, this cousin would come in for the Proper: eh?” hot! She so, sir; at TT” And Molly began to cry, ! “Hush, girl!’? Conroy commanded, authoritative- “Your mistress is all safe, Th taetine Tll go and hunt her up. Mind, you don’t say a word of this to . I'll call in the course of a few days, and see if she not returned.” Saying which, Harry Conroy quitted the ‘mansion. “T don’t like a bit,” he inthe as he saun- tered along Fifth avenue, refi upon what he had heard. ‘I am well satisfied that Amy is not at Cape May. Let mesee; she had engaged accommo- dations at the Stockton, she told me. I will tele- graph and find out if she is there. Seymour—Sey- mour. Let me think; ah! that was the name of villain who was in company with St. Cloud, under another name. Proba 4 the two Seymours are identical, in which ease Miss Elwood’s cousin is a rascal, and not above suspicion for ony crime.” Death-Face did not go immediately to the nearest telegraph office, but sauntered about town, spend- a considerable time in Wall street brokering es- tablishments, watching pied sed that was handled, now and then detecting a ous note, much to the elation of the con - About evening. however, he e his way over into Broadway, and entering a Western Union office, sent a dispatch. in- quiring of the clerk of the Stockton Hotel at Capt ay, if Miss Amy eect of New York, was regis- tree on their books. ere long the reply came “No such Mere here.” Which settled that part of it in Conroy’s mind. And thus matters stood at the end of three days, are in that great counterfeit ring, too; or, still bet- | Nothing satisfactory had been learned concerning
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Death-Face, the Detective. the fates of either Celia Orwick or Amy Elwood. The cases bore resemblance to each other, in some articulars, and would have furnished the metropo- fs with some hly sensational news, but for the efforts of Death-Face in keeping the matter out of the ears of newspaper reporters, who occasionally beset him for matter to their columns. Neither Fooly Fred nor Dandy Dock had learned anything of importance, for the latter had not succeeded in gain- ing admission to Queen Mab’s, while in his sphere among the Water street-ites, Fred had little oppor- tunity to gather news appertaining to either of the cases, “They’re two stickers!" said Death-Face, as, with his two aids, he sat in his room in the Mulberry street tenement, the evening of the third day in ques- tion. ‘There is no chance of success without arrest- ing this St. Cloud and Seymour, which I don’t care to do, — yet. Ere long I hope to nab them on an- other k, which will send them to Sing-Sing or Blackwell’s Island, one or the other.”’ ‘Passing ‘queer blossoms,’ eh?” queried Dock, with alaugh, ‘ They ain’t the only guilty ones, J’m my yt right, but this t long be ‘No, you are , but thi r cannot long handled with impunity. Wh PT oa a leading city so who aspires to a h office in the near uture, make a deposit at the Second National to- day, in which there were a couple of new fives, on the National Bank of Albany. I didn’t say any- thing, and the receiving-teller, one of the sharpest experts in the business, ran over it, and put it on stack, without noti the good from the bad— just because an influential citizen made the deposit. hat is the country coming to, when even our best men handle the stuff without knowing when they do it?” “T’ve got on the trail of a gay young lark who is * shoving the queer’ in the boldest style,’’ said Dock, chewing hard at the end of his cigar, “ but who is, I believe, doing so, ignorant of his crime. I’m going to investigate as soon as the case ripens.” “Yes, keep oo. eyes peeled on all cases of ‘ shov- ing,’ because if we win we've got to work sharp, for Pinkerton’s men are la: to with a will. It’s go- ing to be nip and tuck between us.” ‘or some time they conversed upon different topics relating to their profession; but finally they were interrupted by a knock upon the door. Anda h thump it was, too, made with the handle of a cane, evidently. Fooly Fred opened the door, and admitted an elderly gentleman of rather a epee s. garni ance—a man stout of figure, with a round, jovial, beardless face, pleasant black eyes, and long hair that fell in little waves down his back. He was well dressed, sported a gold-headed cane and elegant vest-chain, and altogether was somewhat das of make-up, fora man over whom fifty years passed, no matter if but lightly. * Ahem! excuse my ea gem er wo but is not this the headquarters of a detective whose pal- lid countenance earned for him the name of Death-Face?”’ ‘“‘ This is the place, sir. Be seated, sir. Boss, this gentleman wishes to see you, I believe.” “Well, sir, I am at your service,” said Conroy, brin his chair closer, and scanning his visitor criti % i: What is there I can do for you in my line of busi- hal ness? “‘T have a little job I wish some expert individual to undertake,”’ was the reply, “and was recom. mended to you as being a — hand. These young entlemen are all right, I dare say?” with a business- fike lance at Fred and Dock. “Certainly; make your case known without hesi- tation, sir.” ‘Well, then, firstly, my name is Samuel magane, f Virginia evada. I am what they a “bonas f hot ee I went West owe ey searc or 80 new. w en and in gold- , and have ears ago, engaged in go) followed it for a business ever since, and d@ time have never heard from the except by an occasional rte go x W When I left, I borrowed twenty thousand dollars capital from my brother, who had just inherited it, promising to return at the expiration of twenty years and pay it back to him or his heirs, with twenty years’ simple interest at ten per cent. AndIam East for that purpose, but to find that my brotheris dead—and the Lord only knows where his heirs are—I don’t.” “Ah! well, I must say ma a are an honest man, without question,’ Death-Face exclaimed, while both Dock and Fred expressed their astonishment by longer at their cigars. ‘‘ Not one man out of every hundred, nowadays, would honor an obliga- tion of twenty years’ stan “Well, perhaps not; but I wish to pepexs from this life with a clear conscience, which I couldn't do were I to retain the mite of the orphan,” “Your resolve is very praiseworth, ) at any rate. I suppose you wish to find these heirs i$ Bother IT want hee to find them. Here are your ures, James Raynor lived in Mul street ainttine by trade; widower by death of e; died himself about nine or ten years agO—or maybe eight years ago, uncertain about that; left two heirs—boy and girl, twins, aged ten years. Boy entered service of baker; gone know what became of girl; boy’s employer died a couple of years ago, and baker’s family don’t know what became of him. Boy’s name Sherry Raynor; gitl’s, Leo. There you have it, sir, in a nutshell. Can you make anything out of it?” “Doubtless, sir; the boy can probably be found, and will know of his sister.” ** And you will undertake the case?” : “Tf you like, yes. have every confidence that we ean oust him out of his hiding. He is here in the city, I think, for I think I have heard the name, though I cannot recall just the place, nor when.” «Very well, do your best, and when you find a clew, let me know. You will find me at the Fifth Avenue.” ; Then Mr. Samuel Raynor, of Virginia City, took his departure, leaving the detectives with another case in hand. CHAPTER X. ISM—SHERRY’S TROUBLE. of time, look in upon AMyY’s WE will, for a short space those unfortunate females of Dr. Heidle’s asylum for the e, though probably his doors were never darkened by those who were in the least deranged. His patients were all deranged in a mild way, he was wont to say to his intimate acquaintances, with one of his evil little laughs. But of the fifteen women, young and old, who oc- ~~ that prison in the third story of the asylum, not one was there in the least unsound in mind. Amy Elwood was, for the first two or three days, very sick, doubtless owing to the violence of her | éf and excitement on ding herself pat and he prisoner of Clarence Seymour. But, the kind care of her sisters in durance had nursed her back | to health and strength, and now it was a month since | her imprisonment. A t, with its dry, scorching heat, had gone, and September, with its milder breath and occasional breezes, was at hand, a little more cheering to the prisoners. And although their confinement was terrible and chafing to the spirit, | none of them could complain of harsh or cruel treat- ment, or lack of food. There was an excellent opportunity offered here for the study of character. Some of the inmates were sullen and uncommunicative, while others were as gay and light-hearted as though they had epee y of their om and liberty. And among latter class was a 1 whom Amy took an in- stant fancy to—a girl of seventeen or eighteen years, Yet retty in face and figure, and of great vivacity of spirit. ‘*My name is—well, say Annie Boyce, dear!’ she said, one day, approaching Amy, as she stood at the stained-glass ows, and tried to peer out onto the avenue, while tears coursed down her cheeks. “Don’t ery, sweet sister, for it only leaves you the worse off. I have been here two y and never shed a tear, because I trust in God, and know I shall some ry! be released from this terrible bondage.”’ “Oh! I could not live in this terrible prison that long, I know,” any sobbed, piteously, “I should die, i know I'should.” “Not if you keep u irits. Only one died here since I came here, and she was an old woman—old Aunty Hodge we called her. Her son-in-law shut =~ up here to get possession of her house, the vil- ‘Oh! how cruel.” “Yes, but that case is only a tithe as bad as some we have. Men are for the most part heartless wretches not fit to breathe the atmosphere of life.” “ But, there are some good men, and bad women, Yen Tot This life is mad f good ha su so. e e up 0: bad, and indifferent.” . 3 “What were you put in here for?” “Oh! I found out a secret, by accident, which threatened to ruin the prospects of a couple of men, and they took care that I shouldn’t betray them b incarcerating me here. But, Wf the faith of God, if I ever do get free, the world shall be shown one gigantic fraud, at least.”’ ‘Have you made any attempts to escape, Annie?” “No, for they would be useless, You see the win- dows are y , and a guard is constantly stationed outside, in the entrance, yonder. It would be a vain attempt, and we should only receive harsher treatment.’’ “*Maybe you areright. But Ido not intend to re~ main here without making a trial for our liberty!” said er: drying her tears, and there shone a reso- lute light in her eyes. ‘‘I am going to open com- munication with the outer world at least.” “But, you will not dare to break a window, dear. We have tried it several times, but the guard cursed so terribly that we had to desist.’ “He'll not hear me,’’. replied Amy, —. Get me a piece of paper and a cil, first, and T'll get a ess, SO can drop it out as soon Annie her own wrote 0 f th fly leaf fromone of te tonkn” 2 hes “Help! help! Fifteen upper story of this buil private mad-house, Notif. us to escape, for the love of girls are confined in the which is a so-called e authorities, or assist God, I pray you. " Amy Extwoop.”’ “There! that will procure our liberty, I am cer- tain, if it only chances $0 fall into the night hands,” on ery » 48 she finished her task. ‘ Now for the win , She approached one of the immense stained-glass windows, and examined it closely, eagerly watched ‘ Drawing : solitaire diamond rit from her little r, e gem finger, 3 pA af. é glass, and drew through the smooth surface, cut a deep trac * Good! Now give me a stick, or somet I can use noiselessly!’’ Amy cried, excitedly, and the other females began to share her entinnstasia. But at this juncture the door opened, and the guard came tramping into the room, with a muttered curse. (epee He was a t brawny, murderous-looking fellow with bl eyes and bloated face, and tangled black hair and beard. And to the alarm of the tremb: women, he carried a heavy black-snake ae in his hand, which he cracked with meaning cance. ‘Hulloa!” he cried, glaring at the frightened prisoners with apparent ary, “T heerd ry ee noise in heer. aybe some 0’ ye miser’ble squaws’d be pleased to tell me what it was?”’ ere Was no answer, for none of the women were inclined to betray their last hope of escape, even had they possessed the power of epecch. which they did not, in their terror, And their silence seem- ed to more enrage their jailer. “Come! curse you, speak up!” he ordered, draw- ing nearer, a wolfish gleam in his eyes, “I’m goin’ ter know what wide that noise, or by—” He did not finish the sentence, but his ugly ht it down with st instrument of torture, bro ers. With a pained force around a lady’s sho ery the -poor creature staggered back, and would have fallen, had not Annie Boyce caught her in her arms, “You ugly brute!” cried Am Oo ringing forward, her eyes flashing nef her w le orm ne Se you mean, cowardly wretch, to strike a efenseless woman!” a@ pace nearer, and with a bold dash eaught hold of the whip, to which she hung with all her might ** At him, girls! Hold him, quick, whileI flog him!”’ cried, bravely, resolution expressed upon her ace. The ruffian swore furiously, and made a fierce effort to tear loose, but eight of the prisoners laid hold of him, with sudden determination, and he was borne to the floor, and held there as in a vise. Then, Amy wrenched the cruel whip from his grasp, and raising it repeatedly, brought it down with all her ht across his back, which was only covered by a thin cotton shirt. Howls of rage and oaths ef the most horrible character escaped the as Amy continued to ply the gad tothe best of her ability. And when she had exhausted her strength, e Boyce took her place, and the inhuman jailer was flogged until he begged piteously for quarter. Then he was dragged out into the outer entry and left there, while the girls retreated into their prison and locked the door after them, t: care to retain possession of the whip as a weapon of defense. No further molestation was offered them that day, but Amy did not again attempt to break the glass. She was too fearful of being caught in the act, and having her plans frustrated. She hid her messages under the carpet and bided her time. The next morning, however, she began her second attack upon the window, and by careful labor soon succeeded in dislodging the circular piece of glass. Then she thrust out her messages, and the wind wafted them away, “Now, we can wait and hope,” the brave girl said; **so cheer up, sisters; liberty will soon be ours!” In the meantime, the metropolitan circles, while being agitated over the success of the great counter- feit , and the Boss Tweed sensation, was not blind to the extraordinary doings of a modern Coal Oil Johnnie, who was no other person_than Sherry or. e have passéd over some of the features of his gay, reckless career, that it would be more to future credit. As the original Coal Oil Johnnie sowed his money to the wind, and led a wild, reck- less existence, so did Sherry Raynor follow in his footsteps, until, eventually, at the end of one month, he was penniless, and turned for comfort to Charley Evans, who had followed his fortunes from the be- ginning to the end. flight, when the two soutiue eat tosether in thelr per , when o youths sa’ ether in lor at the Fifth Aveitue, which overlooked Madison finishing a le oO e, W. five-dollar note of Raynor had paid for, a few mo- “<a Poth OF his hegeee had month of this ro grea’ Gee Se Sherry. He was paler and less ences and a hunted, hungry expression ever haunted turally bright eyes. All that was to be seen for money in the great metropolis, he had seen, and Evans had been his con- stant com m, sharing his joys and sorrows like a brother. A strange youth, Sherry thought him, sometimes, but thal a good com- olly on. And as they sat facing each other, to-night, with the September rain dashing against the window- erry Raynor said: She sprun unna- gers?” back tags that ou afe, you wou tots the 'gieag uc. ou m - rsh Tevice two thousand, in all!” “My God, is it a 1 have been such a fool. Four thousand do in a month? By heaven, it seems incredible!’ “But is nevertheless true; and that is not the worst of it, Sherry.” % “ Not the worst of it? No, lam aware itis not. I have been afool. But to what do you refer?” we Seay dare tell you, for it will be a great eee? vans said, p away slowly at his ar, “Indeed, I knew nothing of it until to-day, when I remain? in the Herald, Sherry, you are a hunted / } { : } 1 ;
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—— 10 “ A what!” the astonished youth demanded, start- ing to his feet, his pale face growing whiter, and his ha involuntarily clinching. ‘Iacriminal, Evans “Yes, you, Sherry, and now that I see what trouble threatens you, I am sorry that you ever got that money. tts about the money, then?” he gasped, sinki back into the chair, and pouring out the last drop o wine from the decanter. “Yes, about the money. It seems a criminal has made a confession, upon his prison death-bed, which involves you. His name was Faro Phil. He was ar- when suspected of having in his possession a large amount of counterfeit money. The money was not found, but he had enough other crimes against him to send him up for ninety days. And he has died, swea that the night of his arrest he was in possession of two thousand dollars in counterfeit money, belo to the Ring, which he was to circu- late throuch the West. But, it seems he got chased by Death-Face, the detective, in disguise, and on the ferry-boat met you. “He told you his troubles, and you offered to pars chase the ‘ blossoms’ at ten cents on a dollar, which was accepted, and the transfer made. You slid off with the ‘queer,’ and he slid into the hands of the cops. And, Sherry, boy, you’ve been squandering that money boldly and recklessly here in the hear of New York city!”’ The yo! man covered his face with his hands, and groaned aloud. This was a terrible blow to him. Unconsciously he had been passing counterfeit mon- ey, and now death charge of Faro Phil had for- ever sealed his fate. He was an outlaw, in one sense of the word—would be sought for, high and low, and no peepee of innocence from could possi- bly better his case, after the damning confession of Faro Phil. It was either to be an unconditional sur- render, and submit to years of servitude on Black- well’s Island, or flight and a hunted life. Ah! which would be the better? It was some time before the youth spoke, and then it was in low and husky tones. on I — , ‘ie gone, Lenya oe said, starin thoug! ly at his companion, an n rising an going to the window, looking on the avenue. “Blame will come to me, but not for the world would I handle the stuff Besides, I have learned a lesson, by this experience. Iam no longer a boy, but see with the eyes of aman, Good-by, old boy ;, I am going to hunt up Alee. She can hide me “You are not polng near Alee,” Evans said, firmly. “The girl is well enough in her way, but you have better friends in your dark hour thanevenshe, Have you ad Fay?’ “Fay? Fay? No; heaven be praised! I still re- member her, though my brain has hardly been Paring | alee amonth. You promised to take me to her, ley, you know.” “Yes, I promised to take you, and we're going now. we must go in disguises, which I have thoughtf proc Ba an hour later two middle-aged men left the hotel, and hurried down Broadway through the wet night as fast as ble. As I thought!’’ said one to the other; ‘the hotel is watched. o of Pinkerton’s men stood in the entrance as we came out, and—” with a backward glance. ‘Great Heaven! Sherry, they are following close in our rear, as I’malive man. Come! faster, or we are lost—J as well as you!’ CHAPTER XI. FRED CATCHES A CLEW—DODGING On the same wet, rainy night into the darkness of which the flicke glare of the street lam scarcely penetrated, Tom McDonald’s ‘* Arms” Mulberry street, was more than crowded with the patrons from the immediate neighborhood, whose road brogue betrayed the accent of the Emerald sod. Then there were afew lishmen, and a scat- te of native Americans; infact, Tom’s place was — a well known resort for anybod who had ten cents to leave with him, in exchange for liquid fire. Also, it was a resort for that low order of sporting men, whose pugilistic barbarities occasionally shock the pute pres Achiers, rier ry and dog-fight- ers, of which New York and P elphia have an over ly. In McDonald’s establishment were little back-par- lors, into which privileged ones were admitted, and where business could be transacted in private. In one of these apartments, sitting opposite each other at a round deal table, On which were liberal glasses of ale, were two men, this evening of which we write. They were evidently there for the pur- se of enjo a social glass, — from the de- a with which they quaffed the cherry liquid—the agian favori ink. t after they had emptied the goblets, they sat gazing at each other a few moments, as if each were waiting for the other to speak. Both were large, brawny men, past middle- iu life, with whisky well written pon their coarse faces and in their h eyes, hly d , an evil of phpesrance, they were such men as might be selected for dark work upon just such dark, wet nights as this, when the metropolis between the two rivers was enveloped in a dense fog, and the rain fell in fitful showers. Outside of the little ‘‘ parlor,” in the. saloon were heard shouts of drunken men; maudlin songs and ribald jokes and oaths, and th changed glances. e two men ex- Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. “Tom's rr a big harvest,” said one, with a ee we is the b’y ter fetch in the honest coppers, “Oh! he'll get rich, never fear,’ was the reply. “ But, where’s our man? Why don’t he come?” “Oh! he'll be comin’, never fear, eh His se- rena worth too much to him, for ‘him run any risks,” “Yes, I think you’re right, Curley,” with a grim laugh. ‘‘He knows the ma “Sh!” cautioned Curley, with afi_apprehensive pwe toward a nelenbertas corner, Wh upon a eap of old blankets, a youthful figure was tyadled, an expression of repose upon the dirt-begrimed fea- tures. “Oh! you needn’t have no fear of him,” said Durg, with a laugh. ‘‘ That’s Fooly Fred, the idiot. Don't know enough ter keep him over night. Drunk _ rs presume, as he generally is. Fred! I say, But there was no response to the call. gooly Fred was evidently in dreamland, or else too d to answer. He was a devoted habitue of the saloons along Mulberry and other like streets, and not a few harbored him, because he was known to be good at lending a hand if wanted. “Well, ma: he’s all right,’’ accepted Curley, partly satisfied. ‘‘Ah! here comes Mr. St. Cloud, now. As he spoke, a man was admitted into their presence~by the barkeeper, after which the door was agi locked. The new-comer was indeed Ned St. Cloud, whom we have met before. There was an angry scowl upon his dark face as he saw the two men by the table, and Durg motioned him to a seat by the board. ‘Well?’ St. Cloud interrogated, eying his two men coolly, not a trace of fear ex in either tone or looks. ‘‘Iam here, you see; now, what the devil is to ai rh eal, Mr. St. Cloud,” D replied, with a bland smile. ‘ We writ you a letter saying we wanted ter see ye on important business, relating to Celia Orwick, I reckon. You were not slow to come, w’en ye found some knew sumthin’ about the gal, aside’s from you, eh?’’ “What do you know about her?’ demanded St. Cloud, fiercely, as he leaned forward across the table, a very devil gleaming inhiseyes, ‘‘ What do you know about her?” “ Sufficient ter send you ter Sing-Sing, or, maybe, ry. hang ye!’ was the re ’ BX scare me. What have I done *Pooh! you canno that I should fear your power, pray tell me?” “Oh! you're a gay rooster, ain’t ye? I reckon you imagine we brought you here for the fun o’ the thing, which ain’t the case at all. We mean business, Mr. St. Cloud, an’ the sooner ye order up the drinks, the better it'll be for all concerned— eh, Curley ?”’ “Fo’ suah!’’ replied rig f with plantation ac- cent. ‘De massa pays de bill.” “Well, order the drinks, then, and I'll for them,” growled St. Cloud, throwing some coin down ore table. ‘Then, say what you have to say na “igs Mi S'pose you have important business, elsewhere, e hey? ‘That matters not to you. What do you know of Celia Orwick?” “Considerable, more or less. S’posen you should wake up sum night, wi’ yer room in darkness, an’ her a-layin’ in a coffin by yer bedside, wi’ her white —_" and staring eyes turned accusingly toward ‘ou bal we Or find her head mounted upon the mantelpiece. a-grinnin’ at ye wi’ horrible grotesqueness!”’ added Curley, with a chuckle. St. Cloud shuddered violently, at the terrible pic- tures. He had nightly dreamed of such things, of late, and the subject of Celia Orwick’s death was too repulsive and horrible for his meditation. ‘What do you mean by all this nonsense, you oe he gasped, whitening. “I ao not under- s ’ “You don’t? Well, we'll try to make you. Un- derstand, then, that we were at hand when you tried but failed to choke the life out of the gal.” : “Fatled!” St. Cloud aw whiter still. ‘You don’t mean to say she is alive?” ham’ and ge sir; 7 a lone Frags in the wer of yours, , Durg an ey. Yes, m Hee St. Cloud, the gal is well, but the child is dead, and you will be held nsible!”* ‘Bah! you cannot frighten me with we Be your humbug. If the babe is dead, so much the better. She cannot make me marry her.”’ “But she can, though, for the brat isn’t dead at all, but lively as a cricket,” chuckled Curley. “So ye see 'ye’re in a box, yit, my gay rooster.” ‘The case is,’’ said Durg, lighting Niapipe: “We, Durg and Curley, turn in a Penny , occasionally, by prey Se io in the park. e see’d you choke the gal—heered what passed between you and as soon as you were gone, we ran in an’ tried to fetch her back, an’ succeeded, though it was a pretty hard case 0” strangulation. After it were dark enough, we smuggled her out o’ the park, and to our boardin’ house in Wooster street, where, a week later, she ve birth to a child, a little girl, the very picture of ts mamma. She told us her pron and asked us to keep her till she was able to work, w'ich we have se ae heer we air, askin’ you what ye think al u 3° “T think it’s a piece of high-handed villainy, all around,” St. Cloud : said, with 6 et laugh. eYou've got the girl and may keep her—I don’t want her!” “Oh! ain’t you kind?” was the sarcasticresponse; then both men laughed, evilly. “Reckon you don’t know us. Better you call around at number — Wooster street inside of ten days, or wer igh gal snone oma you.”’ en Messrs. Durg an ey arose to depart and St. Cloud did likewise, - “on 34 ‘T'll come around,” he s as they passed out into the saloon, And in case i should “‘In case you want the gal done entirely awa with, stick a hundred-dollar bill under the ome of our humble servant, an’ you'll never be troubled, "ll rantee.”’ en, they separated, St. Cloud going out into the street, and Messrs. Durg and Curley pausing at the bar to replenish with sparkling ale. Half an hour later, Fooly Fred made his way cau- tiously from the saloon, and out into the rainy night, a glitter of satisfaction in his eyes. ‘So much for playing the fool!’’ he muttered, as he hurried along. “I have at last got on the track of the girl, and now it only remains to put Dock Ray- mond in search of her to complete the job. And when Miss Nelly finds who was instrumental in find- ing her sister, maybe a young chap of about my figure won’t be left clear out in the cold. °Gad, but the fair Nelly meets my views, precisely.” It was as Evans said. Two muffled figures were harryig along, not far behind them, evidently in pursuit, since the youth recognized them as two of Pinkerton’s detectives. ‘* What in thunder shall we do?’ demanded Sherry, breathlessly, for the thought of arrest under the cha against him was horrible. “We've got to work our best cards, old boy,’’ Evans replied, _guickening his e. ‘Don’t look back or the devils will suspect that we scent them. psi > A watch me, and doasIdo, in every particular.’ They hurried on, with all repay practicable, Evans keeping a watch in the rear and in the front, showing himself to be an adept at dodging. He was swift of foot and quick to move, and it was about all Sherry could do to keep track of him. After going several blocks, they crossed over to the opposite, side of Broadway, and continued on. The pursuing detectives followed their example. ‘*Tt’s us they're after, without doubt,’ Evans said, grimly. ‘‘ But I don’t see why they don’t catch up with us, and make the arrest. That’s what puzzles me, you know. But Death-Face would make mighty short work of our little case.”’ ‘“ You know him, then?” y sight; he is the best man on the force, to-day. Here quick | come in,” and Sherry was pulled ino a nu saloon, which he had never before. Following in the steps of Evans, who nodded famili- arly to the barkeeper, oe, passed into the parlor at the rear, and Evans called for a bottle of champagne, which was brought with accompanying b ips “Now, make yourself at home and appear as much at ease as possible,’’ was the injunction to Sherry, ‘Ah! as thought, here the ducks come.”* For the two detectives were seen entering the par- — Toda} ee Both eee youths — ar oes, for the nothing ut yah Sy eee uu e ows’ ~ sion of another table, and called for wine. “They suspect us in this old man disguise, but yet are afraid to tackle us, for I closely resemble a certain notable politician’s son,’’ Evans said, in a low tone. Then he began a brisk conversation on the muesions of the day, puting forth in strong and effective language ideas that would have done credit to x Scucated politician ~ | ae Cees ears. hi erry put in a wo ) 5 ressing his views, .and the seen tone of rb age wene, Aw was such as might be heard in a club-room any day of the campaign term. And both Evans and Sherry were aware that their auditors were listening intently to every word, al- though they kept up a desultory run of talk, unin- teresting to themselves and others who heard it. ‘*Oh! hum; where shall we go—home?”’ finall exclaimed Evans, vere pS seme aay ayaa ff suppose you start back for cago e morning. eh? or will you stop over with me? I expect the Governor to tea, to-morrow eve, and I would like you to be present.” ‘Perhaps I will over another day,’ replied Sherry, loud enough to be heard byte detectives. “My business is not imperative. But come, you promised to show me some of the sights, to-night! Wetthate sos we must } f th 46 *s so; we must look into some of the places as Lprosaiand. % : 4 rose and left the saloon, Evans paying for the pagne at the bar. Once out into’ Broad- way, Evans led the way toward Fulton street at a rapid walk, occasionally looking back to see if they were followed, Sure enough, the detectives were coming on be- hind, as usual, quickening their speed with that of the fugitives, or in other words keeping about such a distance between them and their prey, as — nek allow of their escaping should they at- “They are coming, eh?” Sheny eried, with a bitterness in his eee nat meant ti os my opposites— defiance and repentance. “Yes, hang them. I think I know their game. They have a suspicion that we are connected with this great counterfeiting ring, and propose to shadow us and thereby discover where the money is manufactured. But, Pll wing them on that calcula- tion. This way, Sherry!’ They turned into a narrow by-street, where the lamp-lights were few and far between, and darkness ently thicker. Evans led the way with ng step, and Sh dogged close at his cm f by old brick tene. heels. The street was flan
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Death-Face, the Detective. ii ments, and the drizzling rain caused a sickening stench to rise from the gutters. On—on, they hastened, their breath coming and in ts. Behind them could be heard the footsteps of their rsevering pursuers. They were bound not to lose he game even though they faced fire. On—on; then Evans Rs Sh up a pair of marble steps, and jerk spitefully at the door-bell. “It’s a notorious bagnio,” he explained, “but I know the door-keeper, and we can escape to the next street.” The door was opened by a pretty young lady, not yet out of her teens. “It’s me, Kitty!’ Evans said, pene: “The men of Pinkerton’s agency are after us; for God's sake let us in, and guide us through to the next street!” The girl nodded, and Evans and She stepped inide, after which she bolted the door, pit | siguified for them to follow her. Which they did. She led the wey through several brilliantly lighted and gorgeously furnished parlors, where males and females were sitting either at card or wine-tables, then through a kitchen into a back court-yard, out of which a covered way led to the street beyond. de woke Sh rion lina or oad oe rk passage, Sherry following y, e Wi! trusting all in his companion’s guidance. Present- ly they emerged into another narrow thoroughfare, and as they so, came face to face with the ve ones they were trying to evade—the two “ shadow” detectives ! CHAPTER XII. HUNTING AROUND THE BUSH—FAY. In the meantime, Death-Face, leaving his other business in charge of his two aids, was prosecuting his search for the missing Amy Elwood. Nearly a month had now passed since his first dis- covery of her strange absence, during which time he had been on the watch and wait, incessantly. He had speertee to the Cape, Long Branch and all the prin -p' inland and upon the coast, without | of her the least tidings by which to base his He went every few Save and talked with the maid, Molly, butas yet the household knew nothing concerning their fair mistress. It was the third case that had “stuck” the bold detective—tirst, the t Counterfeit Ring; second, the mystery of the whereabouts of Celia Or- wick; third, the mystery of the whereabouts of Amy Elwood, the young heiress. Her absence, the detective found, gave little rise to remark among the circles in which she was wont to move, for the season out-of-town was prolonged this year on account of the extreme length of the heated term. But when autumn advanced, he knew there would be more inquiry, and ere that time he meant to find her if such were a ble thing. On the day of the even’ on which Fooly Fred overheard the conversation between St. Cloud and Messrs. and Curley, Death-Face, while saun- tering u roadway, a Clarence Seymour. Amy's villainous cousin, standing at the corner 0 Fifth avenue and Broadway, in conversation, with a portly, elderly ae with gold eye-glasses, and immense paunch, ane Ha!” the « detective muttered, instantaneously halting, and making pretense of gazing into a store window. ‘There is the Seymour party at last. He has kept pretty shady since that murderous attempt to break my neck from the club-room trap. Who is that old rosebud he is talking with? I have seen him somewhere—in the police court, I guess—but cannot recall his name. But, I'll wager he is an old Zone, so I'll remember him. That Seymour must me something con the present whereabouts of Miss Elwood when gets done with the portly ” “a acco ly the detective loitered along at the show windows, keeping an eye upon the two men at the corner, bound that they should not elude his vigi- lance. roy fifteen minutes elapsed ere the portly man turned on up the avenue, while Seymour came on down ogo ata rapid gait. en just about opposite, Death-Face stepped forward and inter- cepted him. “ P , Mr. Seymour,” he said, in his undeny- in ar of sean which so few cared to disobey, “Don’t be in a hurry, for I wish to apeak with you,’ “Seymour?” was the reply, as the young man came to a halt, ‘That is not my name.’ “Oh! isn’t it? Well, maybe I know somethi about that myself. Your genuine name is suppo to be Clarence Seymour, of No. — avenue. IL am, as you well know, called Death-Face, the detec- tive.” tyes, I believe I have read of you. Admit- PF ert name is Seymour, what do you want of me, sir—you, a detective? “T want to know where your cousin, Miss Elwood, ?”° “Oh, ou? Well, you are destined to have Same ok tified for the present, then?”’ “Am 1? You won't tell me?” : “Certainly not, because I don’t know. If I did, what business is it to you?” “A great deal of business, Amy Elwood is my betrothed wife.” : If there was no truth in this declaration, Death- Face thought it might affect his auditor, and so it did. He flushed angrily, and a steely glitter came is eves. r gc nothing of her. Isupposed her to be in Cape May at first, but a telegram proved that I was wrong, and therefore I know as little where she is as you do, and am atly distressed.” ** Without doubt,” th-F ace said, in his dry, sar- castic way. ‘If she were never to come back, how- ever, you would be rejoiced—would not be financially distressed, that is?’’. ““What do you mean, sir, by your insinuations?” cried Seymour, hotly. ‘‘ Your insolence is unpar- son yon. to tumble to eaning tt; ou, seem mble my mi re straight,’ the detective laughed, quietly. XK Or, tf you want your whisky straighter yet, why, I believe you do know just where Miss Elwood is; moréover, that you have got her imprisoned somewhere, while ou are squanderi her wealth. Ha! ha! The fesomer ve the nail a hard hit that time, didn’t it, you rosebud!’ for Seymour had colored as red as a rose, under the truthful accusation of the detective. But he mastered his agitation in an instant, and laughed, coolly and mockingly. “Your imagination is very strong but floats in the wrong current of atmosphere,” he observed, twirl- ing cane, jauntily. “‘I have no such schemes against my fair cousin’s property and welfare. It is a t mystery to me what has become of her?” ‘And a mystery to me, and soon will be retes' fame? f to the public, when suspicion will point tow: you. So you will do well to tell me where she is.” ‘Look for angel Gabriel to blow his trumpet when I do, that’s all,” replied Seymour. “But you must—shall/ Death-Face said, laying one hand upon the young swell’s shoulder, “ or shall put you under arrest, and take you to the near- est station-house, charged with trying to kill me, and with ss counterfeit money.’ * Go ah then. All you'll realize will be my con- finement on the Island, for afew months. For you can gain tr to your unwarranted sus- picions of my abduc Miss Elwood. If you will lance in the Herald of to-day, you will see that I ve offered five hundred dollars for information of Miss Amy Elwood, who mysteriously left her home in August. I should not be apt to advertise for her, if I did not desire her return—"’ “Tf you didn’t desire to blind the people,” correct- ed Death-Face. “Well, have it. as you will; I don’t care a fig whether you arrest me or not.” “Tn which case I shall not arrest you,”’ Death-Face replied, releasing his hold. ‘‘ You can go free for a few days, until 1 mature my plans, but you need not attempt to escape from the city, as that will precipi- tate your arrest, for henceforth you will con- tinually shadowed. The same advice will apply to the case of your worthy companion-in-arms, St. Cloud. The gover nett wants a couple of expert handlers of the ‘queer,’ like you and he, and your attempt to escape will instantly supply the want.” “Oh! don’t you fear that I make the least attempt to get out of your reach,” Seymour sneered, contemptuously. ‘I am not so ly scared.” “As you will be when the Ring's headquarters are raided, and a few millions’ worth of bogus paper } coer Mag Then the sky will look dark for you and oud. **So you say. But, when you find out anything in- terest ine gg oer fos call around and let me know, you? I shall be pleased to see you at any And then the young villain turned on his heel, and strode briskly away, Ay Broadway. Death-Face watched him a few moments, then sauntered off, reflecting on the foregoing conversa- tion. ‘*Tam more positive than ever that he has Miss Elwood shut up somewhere now,”’ he muttered ‘but it will be useless for me to attempt to find out where b: i him. He would die before he would tell. Is ‘have to let the matter drop, until some new light is thrown upon it.” That afternoon, however, he was destined to re- ceive a clew to the mystery. In along Third avenue, in front of Doctor Heidle’s private asylum, a small-sized shower, com- posed of bits of white et came down from above, alighting upon his coat and hat. “Hello! Bridget has found a new method of dis- posing of the dirt,” he muttered, in disgust, brushing off the ers, which clung to him. But, while thus engaged, e noticed that some of the slips had writ- ing upon one side, and curiosity prompted him to glance at the contents of one or more. What he read was a startling bit of news to him. Each pa- per on examination proved to contain the same mes- sage, namely: “This is Doctor Heidle’s private mad-house. Near- ly a score of unfortunate women are imprisoned here, who are not insane, but perf rational, Help us out of this living tomb, for the love of God! “ Amy Etwoop.” Sherry uttered a fierce cry, as he beheld the two detectives, whom they had been trying so hard to elude, and making a forward spring, he struck one of them a blow upon the forehead that drop him to the pavement, from which he rolled into the gut- ter, insensible. The other fellow drew a rattle, and would have sprung it, had not Evans adopted Sherry’s example, and rendered him silent and useless for a few mo- ments Curing whic ene boys took good care to leave the neighborhood, with all ‘speed possible. For fear that other of Pinkerton’s men ht be on the watch for them, they still retained their dis- guises, and hurried through the damp, drizzling a which the lamp-lig ts very dimly illumin- ated. “We've shook the ghost now, for a time at least,” Evans said, his tone more spirited. ‘* We will go and see a ae r, Fay, and find a place to coop down, until this blows over sufficiently to admit of our es- cape from the city.” ntly they took a cab, Evans giving the direc- tions and paying the fare, for he was not yet broke. He gene seemed to have plenty of cash. € was an expert gambler, and most always had luck in — of chance, the faro-table being is best frien Through the f streets whirled the cab at a | lively rate of , yet itseemed an interminable ce of time to Sherry ere the vehicle stop and eposited them in a little but wond clean street, running east and west. It was out near the suburbs, and more quiet and retired.” : Evans rung the bell of one of a row of neat little two-story buildings, with painted shutters and wal- nut door. Then, they waited upon the are “‘Shouldn’t wonder if Fay’s abed and asleep,” Evans said, giving the bell another rege “She generally retires early, unless she has extra work.” “What is her occupation?” Sherry ventured to ask, partly forgetting his own troubles as the mem- ory of the little roguish beauty he had met on the boat came back to him afresh, causing his heart to beat faster. In his month of reckless life he had as- sociated with various women, but of them all none had the power to thrill him as the thoughts of Fay did—not even Alee, whom at first he had imagined he loved. Alee was beautiful, virtuous, and a fe- male gambler; Fay pretty—and that was all he knew about her. But he felt in her was centered his destiny, should he meet her. “Fay isa aed little dressmaker !"’ replied Evans, with a little laugh; ‘‘and as good as she is pretty. Ah! here we have her now,” as the door was wn open, anda yo lady, sre Bas form and every pn as Caged in the light of the hall chan- er. For a moment all was silence, but the moment Evans removed his false beard, aes sp forward with a delighted cry, and was folded in the young moh! Charley hty, naughty boy! h ws arley, you na , naug ow you frighten me in “that odious I thought of a hundred horrible things in a moment —murder, thieves, fire, and—” “Didn’t hit the right appellation, dear. But come inside; I suppose you can keep us. is pe She Raynor, Fay—also in i with the whiskers, Sherry, and follow our lead.” And, when they were in an inexpensively but neatly-furnished little parlor, where the gaslight shed a soft, mellow radiance over all, Sherry got a better glimpse of Fay—his Fay, as he had ofttimes pi ae A oh ing and prettily-formed girl of was a pre ig and pre -form 0 seventeen, or thereabouts, uatiher slender nor stout, but of medium hight and development, graceful, lithe and su \ Stree one of a happy, health- ful echool-ah Her face was just that same pretty face that had so impressed two years before, when he had lost maiden-love on the Fulton ferry-boat—a face of roguish sweetness, with dancing hazel eyes, and long, varing hair, that fell below a faultless waist. She was attired in a loose, flowing wra’ giving his sister another hug, and then stre' mself upon a couch. “ with the false ; Sherry, and make yourself at home, for we're liable to have to make this our home, until the row blows over.” PE Pl Charley?” Fay asked, anxiously, turn- Oh! the police—or, rather the detectives—want us for unkno having counterfeit money. So we'll have to lie low age te the first chance that offers, slide out of town, mt get scared though, for no harm shall come to yo r to for that mat- ter. But, look, Sherry has off his whiskers; see if you recognize him.” Fay turned toward Sherry with an inquiring glance, and gazed at him intently, a moment. “No!” she said, at last, reflectively, “I do not re- cose you, Mr. Raynor, as any one I have ever me' “Then it isn’t a case of love on both sides, after all,” Jaughed Charley, from the sofa, “‘for they say love never forgets, 1 reckoned you were forever gone, sis, after that ferry-boat affair—” . Fay’s cheeks crimsoned prettily, and a strange light gleamed from her eyes. ae baron em, aati that she began; then suddenly sto , in confusion. we = Y Mies Evans, it can be possible,’ She es, laughing! Li advancing and extending his hand, “ Wat Tom the hero and i the heroine of that ferry-boat caprice. Hereist And as Fay wai ‘one of his hands in both of hers, he ced from his vest pocket a lit- tle strip of soiled, torn paper, on which was in a delicate hand, the name that Sherry had always remembered—Fay. : “Oh, that proves your identity,” she cried, seizing the token, and putting it to her lips. “But, I'd never have known you, you’ve changed s0.””_ But Sherry felt sure that he would have recognized her pretty self among a thousand, at the Antipodes. . FAy’s Bp wd ETECTIVES. DANGER—D) . THAT night was one of the happiest Sherry had ever experienced. Fay was a , Vivacious crea- ture, witty, intelligent and sensible; fairly educated and a good conversationalist;.she made the most agreeable of companions. e little note, now.” ' 4 ) }
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Evans also occasionally put in a few wo: but mainly the effort of entertaining peeag Ah left to Fay, while he puffed at his cigar, an intent listener; and, as for Sherry, he could have asked for no more charming an entertainer than the pretty Fay, with all her artlessness, and confiding disposition. Just such a little woman as she Sherry decided would make him a good wife—one whom he could love, honor and trust. He looked at things diff f, . His ea month of wild, fast life ha developed an older head upon » him, and had created a wise, far-seeing young man out of a gay, idle youth. But he forgot his troubles in the pone. of hice ie eee) that he was a hunted criminal— orgot , except that he was in her fascinatin, pres and she was weaving a blissful spell aroun im for which there was but one word of explana- tion—love. And if this was really love, he little marveled at the amount of crime committed for this exquisitely blissful boon. “T don’t know what ever made me give you that slip of paper, on board the boat,” Fay said, seati herself upon the sofa beside him, after Charley h gone off rummaging after something to eat the pantry. ‘“‘I saw your face and was favorably im- iene with it—and, then, you know, I was only teen, at that time, and wild and rattle-brained, like most girls of my age. Iam sure you will excuse me for that little caprice, and think no more of it.” “T ll excuse you, certainly, if there is anything to excuse, but I can never forget that little incident for it opened up to me a glimpse of paradise I had never aspired to before. I was a thoughtless, devil- may-care boy of the streets then, and never consid- ered the girls of much account—barely noticed, and rather shunned them, in fact. But after I caught the glimpse of your pretty face, Miss Fay, upon the Fulton Ferry, and the sly pressure of your hand, then was that vision of future paradise presented— then did my first boyish love begin.” “Oh! Mr. Raynor, you don’t really mean to tell me that you fell in love with r me?’ **T mean just that, Fay, and I have loved you ever since, just as I do now.” His voice betrayed how sincere he was in his decla- ration, yet fay shrunk away and rose Cres to her feet, as he would have drawn her closely to him. **No, Mr. Raynor, we are not lovers, yet,’’ she said, slightly haughty in tone. ‘We can be friends, though, just the same.”’ Then she resumed her former seat, just as Evans came in nee yn | a plate of rosy-chee: apples, and a pitcher and glasses. ‘Who says this isn’t a provident district?’ he laughed, first passing around the apples, and then pouring out three brimming glasses of cider. ‘Here’s to our mutual success through life, my friend, and peace and good will tow all pretty young ladies.” *Oh! rley! just as if the old ladies wern’t as good to be included, as us young ones?” “Well, we won’t dispute about that, sis; this was a pare Ys toast. Eh? Sherry, how do you like the cider?” “Give me it in preference of all other drinks, save water!” replied Sherry, enthusiasti , for the cider was but recently made, fresh, sweet and won- derf: delicious of flavor. “It a capital thing to drink when one is too sweet,” said Fay, gravely, yet Sherry caught a glitter in her glance, anda meaning under- lying her words, and a flush of mortification and men—and er darted across his countenance. “T've made myself ridiculous in her sight,” he muttered under his b: , biting his lip. ‘* Con- found it, she shall not have cause to twit me of sweetness, very soon again.” And Sherry meant it, too. Charley observed the cut, and very suddenly ne aie glass of cider, that he might not out 4 Love on Sherry’s part, as Le ” was his silent soliloquy, “and he’s tried to rush matters while I was out, and has got his c e. Good! Sherry’s a good fellow, and his recent lesson will make a man of him, and I'd like to see him and Fay come together. But it is useless for him to get in a h . Fay isn’t nobody’s fool, and she'll rap him one for every advance he makes until she gots ready for him; then, it would be just like her pop the question herself.” And, pretty Fay saw that she had cut and the cut had been received, and the next moment she was sorry for it. But she was too proud to show it in either word or action—too proud to own that she— we will say—admired him. And thus the evening passed away, and the clock upon the mantel chimed twelve ere Evans pro- posed that they retire, which th did. Sherry was given a neatly furnished bedroom adjoining Charley’s, and the bed had so much temp- tation for him, that it was ten the next morning before he awoke, to hear Charley pounding at his door, commanding him to tumble out for break- fast. Which he did, and after making a careful toilet descended to the little dining room, where Fay had the repast waiting. And a grand little repast it was, Sherry thought, when he set about appeasing his appetite. The morning was very close and sultry, and the young hostess was prettily attired in alight, airy costume, with slippers upon her small feet, and a bunch of fresh-blown roses at her throat, which @ her look sweet enough to Sherr thought as he took alternate glances at her and the ‘ood upon his plate. He was pleasant in his address to her, but she Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. instantly perceived that he was more reserved than before she had given him that merciless stab. And how was she to let him know how sorry she was, without compromising herself in his estimation? After breakfast he and Evans lounged around in the parlor for a couple of hours, smoking; then Evans went out around the neighborhood to see how the land lay. Shortly after, Fay came into the parlor, with a wide-rimmed straw hat set jauntily upon her head the very picture of a very pretty, moderh Maud Muller. “Do you play croquet, Mr. Raynor?” she asked. “Oh! it’s ever so nice; and we have such a nice little und,”’ “I don’t know B from broomstick about it, but I trust I won’t make a bad pupil,” Sherry replied. rising and donning his hat. “If you will accept of me, I will be happy to learn.” “Oh! of course; come this way,’’ and she led the way into a back yard, inclosed with a white picket fence, and bordered with beds of blooming, fragrant flowers. In the center a sizeable croquet ground was staked off, and the balls, mallets, and wickets all ready for use. And under Fay’s geeng Sherry soon learned so that he could play a very air game. After they had become tired of playing, Sherry of- fered her arm, and they went within doors, where it was a trifle cooler. “T don’t want you to be offended at what I said last night, Mr. Raynor,’’ Fay said, looking frankly up into his face. : pay: said it for fun, not thinking you would re- sent it.” “You meant it enough at the time,” he replied, carelessly turning over the leaves of a book. She came and laid a hand upon his arm, and then HS the first time he saw that tears were standing in er eyes. “*T didn’t mean what I said, Mr. a gt I didn’t. , only said it to tease you. on’t you for- ve me s9 “You are big forgiven, Miss Fay,” he said heartily, offering her his hand, which she accepted with an erness that he observed with a thrill; ‘‘and we will remain friends. Maybe it will not al- ways be asit is now.” “Maybe not always,”’ she replied, in a low tone. Just then Evans came.rushing in from the street, flushed, panting and excited. “‘Our goose is cooked!’” he cried, grimly, locking the hall door; ‘‘the detectives have tracked us to our lair, and now we cannot escape them!’* Death-Face could scarcely repress a yell of excite- ment as he read the notice, which, as he supposed, a servant had, with other rubbish, pitched from an upper window, to save the trouble of carrying it down-stairs. ** Amy is confined here, and this is a mad-house, or rather a prison for women who are in people's way,” he said, pausing, and surveying the struc with a peice iS nee. “In the t story, and probably zealously. Dr. Heidle—ah! Thave it. That was the big old reprobate I saw in conversation with Seymour, undoubtedly. I can find his place of business in the directory. I must look into this case.’ He went immediately to the room in Mulbe street, but neither D Raymond nor Fred Fun were there. Nor did they put in an ap ce until late in the eve by which time Conroy’s patience was well taxed. ymond was the first to come, Fred soon following. * Hello, you inso early, boss? What's ha: oot demanded Dock, hunting up his pipe and tobacco, in order that he might have a comfortable smoke. ** A good deal has happened,” replied Death-Face, poe et exultance in his tone than he usually mani- ested. ‘*T have found where Miss Elwood is confined!” “And I have found where Miss Celia Orwick is eee? announced Fooly Fred, entering at this momen “The sence 708. have! Where?’’ demanded Dock, to fe ringin et. Pi In ‘Wooster street. But, let’s hear the captain's portion first. Mine’ll keep.” Acco ly, Death-Face related all about his in- terview with Se our, and about the notes that had been showered down upee him, Then Fred related what he had learned in the sa- loon—about the interview between St. Cloud and Messrs. Durg and Curley, finishing up with a descrip- tion ad ag house on Wooster street where Celia was con : ‘Well, we have got two cases on hand from which we are not liable to realize much!’’ Dock remarked, at his meerschaum, meditatively. ‘‘ But I’ve got another one demanding immediate attention, which will fetch in a few thousand. This Raynor boy, who has been leading such a fast life for a month past, has, it turns out, been very coolly circulating wo thousand dollars’ worth of counterfeit money in this city, as revealed by Faro Phil’s death, the other day. . f ow from all I can pick up I believe he is in- nocent,”’ he has effectively done.” a “You're sound, there. The boy’s prospects are ruined in New York. All of Pinkerton’s men are on the watch for him, and they are making up a a, ward purse in Wall street.” ** And has he dodged them?” “Successfully, so far. He has Charley Evans, the fellow who was once a ‘shadow’ on Pinkerton’s force, for a comrade, and Evans knows the ropes, you bet! He was discharged, you will Semariber on suspicion of being concerned in a swindling ma- chine on lower Broadway, but his innocence was roven so far that he was offered a job back on the orce, which he refused.”’ - Well, the show is a little better for Raynor. then, but they cannot long escape the vigilance of fifty experts.”’ “Not unless we help them. I saw Samuel Raynor to-day, and believing in his nephew’s innocence, he offers to give us five thousand dollars out of his own pocket, if we can get the boy safe out of New York, westward bound.’ ““He does? George, that is a good offer, but it is eae the thing for us to accept,’ said Death-Face, slowly. Not with the belief that the boy was guilty in ‘shoving ’ those ‘blossoms,’ no. But I believe he did it unknowingly, for the reason that Evans was con- stantly with him, and I am well satisfied of his hon- es , “T hardly believe him guilty, myself, but we would be risking our necks in t to smuggle him off. But, anyhow, we will give the matter the of our consideration. And in the mean time, we have got work before us in the behalf of mercy, which wie on stronger than money. You shall manage Miss Or- wick’s rescue, while I will take Fred and myself to cope with Dr. Heidle and Seymour.” So, at length, the three detectives formed and dis- cussed schemes which they must put into working, in order to release from ust confinement the two imprisoned girls of different stagions in life. CHAPTER XIV. DEATH-FACE’S LITTLE GAME. For two hours or more the three detectives dis- cussed plans and ussed them, until each finally found one suiting their case. Fred Funk was to negotiate with Dr, Heidle for the imprisonment of an elderly maiden aunt, who was to be no other than Death-Face in d e, for, once inside the private mad-house, with the Per) tools concealed about his person, the gees etective had no doubt but that he some work passage out without much diffi- OF cbintiis it was within his power to make ano raid upon the institution, with aid from the me politan police, but then there were ten chances to one that there would not be a female prisoner in the place, so handy are these pseudo doctors at smug- gling and quieting. Therefore, it was thought best to release the girls first, and arrest the doctor afterward, as the testi- mony of the prisoners and himself, Death-Face cal- culated, would be all that was needed to procure con- viction and a se 5 sentence. So, ha decided upon their plans, Fred set out at once for Doctor Heidle’s place, where Death-Face had learned that he lived, by consulting the direct- ory of names and residences. But something else occurred before he reached his destination. Ere he had got out of Mulberry street, he met a hurrying, chook enveloped figure, which he ationce recognized, even though the dafkness was intense. ** Miss Ni Orwick!” he said, blockading her age. Wha are you doing so far from home on we The little woman burst into sobs as she saw and recognized the young detective, who of late had called upon her several times. “Oh! Mr. Funk, I have no home any longer. Iam homeless and shelterless, for my landlord has turned me out on the streets, and sold all my furniture and clothing, except what I have on my person.”’ “The low-lived brute!” Fred involuntarily ex- claimed, drawing her under his commodious um- brella, as if he had the right to protect her. ‘You owed him considerable, eh?”’ i d it. * Only six do and I could have soon taoated me half-way decent;” with a he would have trea’ tree Ot thst fs bad, but d t ery, Miss Nelly, f ell, , but don’t ¢ or you have a friend in me; and you will let me care or you, will you not, until we find and restore to you your sister?” “Oh, sir, but that will never be, what has become of my poor sister—my own Celia!” “We know just whal, Miss Nelly’ I was lucky enough to overhear a conversation, which complete- ly unraveled the mystery. Your r went to meet t. Cloud in the park, and he made a murderous as- sault phon her, and left her for dead, But two gar- deners witnessed the scene, and rushed into the arbor where she yw" were successful in bringing her back to life. they took her to theirhome on Wooster street, where she still remains confined. So we have set Dock Raymond after her, and as he thinks the world of her—as I do of her pretty sister a Pi eg to put in his best efforts to rescue her.”’ “Oh! Heaven be praised!’ exclaimed teful Nelly. ‘I feel I have still something to live for.” sig Nelly, I assume the right of guardian and protector, for the present, until I can make other ar- rangements. ake you to an old aunt’s of mine, and she will give you a good home and accom- ey a ou a kind,” Nelly said, te “Oh, sir, ¥ re very kind,” Nelly said, tears ringing into her eyes, and her little form
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Death-Face, the Detective. trembling with emotion. “I know not how I can ever rey. you.” Fred did not answer for a few moments, but when he did, he stopped in under an awning and drew her closely to him, kissing her passionately upon the forehead and lips. “Nelly, darling, there is one way you can repay me and make me the happiest man alive, and that is by returning my kiss, and saying = will be mine for- ever, until death do us part,” he whispered, all his love finding expression in his voice. And Nelly trembled in his firm embrace, and re- mained silent for a few moments—moments that seemed hours to Fred, waiting for his answer. At last she spoke. - ‘** Before answe your question, Mr. Funk,”’’ she said, ‘‘I feel induty bound to tell you something that but few know. of a maiden, you would be taking to your heart a widow.” * A widow!” he echoed in astonishment. ** Yes, a widow; I was married when I was sixteen to a Mr. Gorman. He died a month after we were wedded, and I again assumed my maiden name.” ** And how old are you now?” “Fair nineteen,’’ with a little laugh. ** And old enough to have a second husband. Yes, I will take ben darling, even though you cannot give ole heart's love.” me your w " ich I can,” came back the whispered nse as their me met in a long passionate kiss, “for I have lov ‘ou, Fred, since we first met. Oh! my ey this is the happiest moment of my young ; e,”” 4 And he held her closely to his breast and their hearts beat with all the exultant ecstasy of a new- born love. But duty aroused him, and urged him onward. In- stead of taking her to the home of his aunt, he took her to the Fifth Avenue, and they registered as Mr. and Mrs. Fred Funk, after which she was shown to'a suit of rooms, which he had taken, while, feeling twice the man he had earlier in the evening, he re- paired to Dr. Heidle’s establishment in Baxter street. j On ringing the bell, the = ed opened the ant = rson, mmense CO! making a fo - able barricade. ee fan ‘*Dr. Heidle, I believe?’’ Fred said, staring hard at the old villain. “The same,’ was the reply. ‘“ Will you walk in, ‘** Well, yes, as I have a little private business to transact with you,”’ Fred accepted, stepping inside. The doctor locked the door, and led the way in through a couple of parlors, magnificently furnished, where’ the ne detective was ———— to find a ° dozen well-dressed men, young and old, and as many scantily-clad females, some bli % and the rest variously en ; and men pronounced this a “rane Fred soon found himself closeted with the pseudo M. D., in his office upon an upper floor, and he pro- ceeded to make known his business. ‘*My name is Farbell—Christian Farbell,’’ he said, in his rapid, off-hand way. “I have an elderly aunt. who stands between me and a t fortune. ft want her removed, and hearing of your ability in that respect, I concluded to pay you a visit, and see what you could do for me.” ** Ah! yes.”’ The doctor rubbed his hands in anti- cipation of a good fee. ‘“‘Do you wish the old su removed, or merely quieted for a time?” private asylum on Third avenue. for sand and one a and I can represent you to be a great cure-all.”’ : Then Fred counted out the required fee, and signi- fied his readiness to be shown. out, ; After quitting the doctor’s, he hurried back to the _ Mulberry street tenement, and found Dock and an Bi ety, Macnie SRM ine coopaiie: Death-Face in e only occupants. TOO thin!’’ Fred ceaeine decisivel : Pe You'll not inspection captain.’ « Phink not? Well, I am afraid not, myself. I got the costume at Weisserts, but it didn’t quite suit me.” ‘*Go to Shannon, Miller & Crane’s, if you want to et ey up scrumptious. They’re the boss, as I k at it.’ “Pretty fair, yes, but I know of a little dress- maker, out near the suburbs, who once fixed Jack Cramer out in fine style for a masquerade, after he nas furnished the trappings. I think I shall patronize er.” Death-Face set out, the following morning, for the residence of the little dressmaker in question. He first, however, visited several Broadway stores, and purchased and underclothing, so far as was necessary, and false hair, a bonnet, and several little articles he was likely to need. So by the time he reached Geo street, it was noon, or past. He found the residence, an unpre- tentious little two-story brick, without trouble, and rung the bell. While waiting for an answer to the summons, he made a little discovery. Two men were lounging at the corner, a short dis- tance away, and were evidently watching some house in the vicinity. And these men he reco; ed to be two of Allan Pinkerton’s ‘shadow ’ detectives, named Day and Hall. What were they doing away out here, so far from the heart of the city where bs ey held out? This was the problem for solution. “What's wanted?” demanded a feminine voice, and glancing upward whence came the challenge Death-Face caught a glimpse of a pair of eyes and a dark face, through the shutters. “Does Miss Fay Evans reside here?’ the detec- tive asked; then came an in of what had brought Pinkerton’s men here. Perhaps Sherry ond Charley Evans had taken refuge in this house, and the Shadows suspected it? ““Yes, Miss Evans resides here. What do you want?’’ was the reply. “I was referred to you by Jack Cramer, who pro- nounced you an expert in rigging one up for a mas- querade.’ ~~ YOR, far. “Well, I wish to secure your services, immediate- ly, and will give you your price. I have all the fix- ings with me. ill you accept?” ‘I will come down,” was the answer, and a few moments later the door was opened, and the detec- tive ushered into the parlor by pretty Fay. Sherry and Charley, who were both lounging there, sprung to their feet, the latter drawing a revolver, as 5 “es the me se ult le ““Death-Face!” he gasped, wing Ww uu pulling back the hammer of is weapon. “What © you want here? “Nothing of you, young man, nor Soon compan- ion, so put up your revolver,” said Conroy, coolly. ~- My business is with you, Miss Evans. I wish you disguise me as a woman, as far as is ble. Iam about to play a bold game, and in order to do it, I must be made to resemble anelderly lady. Your art rie into play, I believe I can deceive the world.” “Then, you really do not mean harm to my broth- er and his friend, sir?” Fay asked, a ‘ht tremor in her voice, and her face pale and eyes dilated. ‘“‘ You Pro Tthore ti nothing t ise, my d lad “ There is no’ 0 promise, my dear yo A Evans and Raynor are oe on my list, nit shall offer them no molestation. In f I am interested in Raynor’s case in another direction, and shall use my efforts to screen him from justice, as I do not be- lieve him guilty.” Satisfied that all was right, Death-Face received a warm welcome from all t , and at his solicitatio: Sherry related how he had come into possession o the counterfeit money, and how he had recklessly uandered it. ath-Face, in turn, related what he had learned from Samuel Raynor, of Nevada, and of his desire to get Sherry out of the city. It was wonderful news to the young man, and something of his old spirit returned. Evans also related all about their escape, and how Pinkerton’s men had skillfully hunted them down. “Tl put them off scent,” Death-Face assured, with a smile, “and you must lie shady until I get ready to run = out of the city; for it will not safe for you here, again, very soon.” It was nearly dark ere Fay fixed the detective up to her cer gto but when the job was comple- ted, all declared that it would take more than a scru- tiny to distinguish him from an old lady of sixty years. Everything was perfect, from the of hair and costume, to the painted face, ead a Leyes. And, well satisfied with the job, Death-Face press- ed a liberal sum of money upon Fay, after which he took his departure, prom to send the detectives on a false scent, and also to call as soon as he completed the business to w he was now de- voting his whole personal attention. CHAPTER XV. DEATH-FACE PLAYS WOMAN—AN OBSTACLE. DestTu-Face left the house of the Evanses and crossed over to the opposite side of the street, aiming for — corner by ks pecdecnety — ee were lo 3 e expected, the stan blockaded his ath, decisively. la § «See here!” said the one named Day, sternly; what Fe all ie ae mean? Do you us su i or cnn Tee eas ae ee ot Death-Face, in his own natural voice. “You don’t know the sort of tree aera barking up!”’ “By Heaven! it is Death-Face! Just as I told ye, Tony!’’ exclaimed Hall. ‘What are you doing in this disguise, pard?” and the ‘Shadow’ put out his hand warmly. “Oh, I’m off on a lark,”’ Conroy replied, indiffer- ently. “Got track of a little game, and am going to attempt to bag it.” “So? Well, I wish you success.” 4 Thanks; but what are you doing way off up ) “ Well, according to all calculations, we’re watch- ing the ranch from which you just iesied.” ‘The deuce you are!”’ Death-Face exclaimed, in a ent astonishment. ‘ Wa’ what—that onotty little hazel-eyed dressmaker?” “No, not particularly her, but for a couple of coons she’s harboring—Raynor and Ev. the counterfeit-shovers. e got upon their t last night, but they succeeded in gi us the , and came down here. We knew Evans used to live in this locality, and so came down to investigate, and by luck saw him enter yonder house, only about an hour in advance of you.” Death-Face gave utterance to a sarcastic laugh. 13 “You came too late,’’ he said, havinga ‘ blinder ”’ ready for the occasion, “‘for your game has fled. After knocking you down last night, Raynor and Evans both came here and remained through the night, starting in the morning for Brooklyn, accom- panied by Charley Evans’s brother, who came back as soon as he seen them aboard the f -boat. I saw them on Fulton street, and it was Evans’s brother you saw re-enter the house before I came. I'll bet you'll not see your game in this direction ain for a month.” en the detective turned and tripped down the street, leaving the two ‘shadows’ to reflect upon what he had said. And presently he had the satisfaction of seeing them quit their post, and come away, looking rather grim and disappointed over their ill-luck. “Tt was a whoppin’ big lie!” muttered Death- Face, with a smile, ‘‘ but, ‘we won't count dot one,’ as old Van Winkle says. All's fair, in this kind of war, except murder; and I’m bound Pinkerton’s men shan’t eucher me out of my game. Now, then, back to headquarters, and then to Doctor Heidle’s asylum. Wonder how I shall like it—in with so many females?” There was time for debate on this question, as he got into the waiting cab at the next corner and rode k toward Mulberry street. But other thoughts occupied his attention. He thought of sweet Amy Elwood, and how much he loved her—and would she not think even more of him if he succeeded in rescuing her from her con- finement, within that oe to which her scheming cousin had consigned her? Would not he then dare to tell her what he had never dared to tell her here- tofore—that he loved her—and ask her for that small white hand that many a man would have periled his neck to possess—the hand back of which was a beau- tiful woman, and a great fortune? On arriving at the tenement, he found Fred Funk in wai’ for him, and they both drove at once to the avenue retreat, wherein Death-Face was ~e tee ——— disguise. os = aban tes e an ngs necessary for Pp concealed them under his clothing, Ay) oo little fear but what he could effect an easy escape, if he were given time, and allowed the use of his hands. Doctor Heidle received them in the d — which Amy Elwood had entered, ah of them, a month ore, and bade them be seated, while he turned on a full head of gaslight from the magnifi- cent chandelier. “This is the learned medical professor, Doctor Heidle, I suppose?” Fooly Fred said, with a bow. “The same, young man,” replied the old wretch, with a rub of soft white hands. ‘* What is there I can do for you?”’ “T have a case h , requiring tion, and thought you the proper authority to con- sult. My dear aunt is very much run down in health; needs a little strength medicine, you know, anda proper course of diet to fetch her around ship-shape once more.”’ “Ah! yes; an easy Zeb to straighten her 4 though it is plain to see that she is very much de’ ta Will you leave her in my care, sir? ———_ ing facilities are the most complete, and I have her under my immediate of ““Will you be content to. remain here for a few —_— aunty?” asked Fred, turning to the disguised e ve. At first aunty demurred conside , but on assured that it was to be for her comelibitinnal 3 fit, she acquiesced, and after giving instructions to the doctor, that she should be confined with the other patients, Fred took his departure; but it was an understanding between him, Death-Face and Dock Raymond, that they were all to meet at Evans’s house in George street, as soon as their sep- Pp After Fred’s Sepecte Aunt Priscilla was taken up ry by way of the elevator, 4 the prison room, and the door locked -behind At first she made eeeentons, and scream- ed ber gd for help, when <4 se ge that she was in a mad- ouse—truly a credi e€ piece of acting for Death-Face. _- } And none of the females that he was other than what he ceeened, they all clustered around him, which was am: in the test de- nh pe he ae os — a entity. - e expected, he foun Ww among inmates, and she was pena foremost to offer consolation, Her month of confinement had not poe bane 3 much, 7 the Pye in her e @ was as piquant an as ever. At least so thought Death-Face, as he gazed lovi ly upon her, She was his love-ideal, and it made heart beat faster to have her near him—she on whom he had secretly centered his affections, long E After the women had nearly talked out of his senses, and he had learned all about how the es- tablishment was conducted, he took advantage of a couch and laid down—not to sleep, but to think, and feeling decidedly uncomfortable in his feminine drapery. He was hardly decided what to do— whether to attempt to escape that night, or wait longer-—ene. perhaps fare worse, The ht was b and rainy, and the show for esca’ favorable. . At last he decided that the attempt should be a little atten- was made, and ri to a sitting position, he motioned ier lami , who came and seated herself by e. “What is it, aunty?’ she asked, sweetly; “cannot you get any rest?” “T don’t need at present, Miss Elwood,” the detective repli his own voice—‘‘’sh! don’t scream, or t: 2 e's up, as the boys say. Iam a
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" ’ { i} 4 [Pe min 14 Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. friend in disguise, who has come to get you out of this den. Iam Death-Face, the detective!’ Amy gave a little gasp of surprise. She could scarcely credit her sense of hearing, so sudden was this disclosure, “Then you are not a woman?” she articulated, faintly, hardly lepekln that he was speaking the truth. It seemed incredible, almost, that man could be so effectually disguised. *“Nary a bit of woman about me,” Miss Elwood. “T have been looking for you a month, and it was merely by chance that I came into possession of some of the notes that you or some one else set adrift over the pavement below.” ‘* Ah! then they were not without result, after all? T have thrown them out every day foramonth. At last, thank Heaven, they have been answered—but in so oranae a way!’ ~~ “T probably look strange enough in this rig—so renee that you fail to recognize’ me, Miss El- w 9 “Indeed, I do, though the outlines of your face seem familiar.” ‘And yet, Miss Amy, in this di and under these most inauspicious circumstances, I wish to tell you that I dearly love. you, and ask you to be my own little wife. As soon as you see me out of this disguise you must give me an answer, and a favor- able one, too.” A deep blush mounted to Amy’s cheeks, Who was this strange man, who was so bold in his proposal of love? She could think of no one that was in the detective business among her acquaintances—not one, ‘Tam surprised, sir!” she said, a trifle haughtily, and rising from her seat. Well, ll not press you now, believing you will reconsider. Please inform veer companions of my identity, that they may not be alarmed. Are we safe from intrusion for the night?”’ “Oh, yes. No one ever enters here after seven in the evening.” Amy then informed the other inmates of the great detective’s presence, and no little wonderment did the announcement cause. They all flocked around him and bored him with questions until he was nearly distracted, and he rward wondered how he ever withstood the siege. He managed, however, to make a critical examin- ation of the cp nab and its modes of egress and He found that the easiest and safest way to escape would be out of the front windows, to the yvement below. But the windows were heavily arred and fastened into the casing with long screws. “Does Dr. Heidle remain here aJl night, Miss El- wood?" he asked, peering out into the ens dark aes ng the aperture in the glass which Amy made. “No; he has another place somewhere; he never comes here only when there is a patient to imprison. There are two rsons who remain ove ht, a Creole woman and a man guard, who is stationed in the elevator room.”’ me ! then our escape promises to be easy. I'll lower ypu down. How many of you have homes to go to When you are free?” Eleven out of the crowd, een, Amy Elwood, were provided for; the others—also inclu Amy —Death-Face resolved to take to Fay Evans’s home, until other arrangements could be made. He preeneded. to remove the iron bars by aid of tools he had fetched along, and after a couple hours of noiseless labor, he had them off and the entire window out, which opened up an avenue of escape. But it was nearly thirty feet from the pavement, a distance which must be descended by aid of a rope- ladder, which he had brought along. After everything was in readiness and the women were pt he glanced at his watch and found that they had yet a couple of hours to wait before it nee ~ safe to aga Rees —— so he re- solv un self, which he pee off the Pmeae from his head, rubbi “he from his face, and ridding himself of f e attire, done by touching a concealed spring in the back of his dress; when he stood before the aston- ished girls, once more in his true garb. £ —Mr. Conroy!’ exclaimed Amy, spring- ing forward with a glad little cry, and the brave de- tective made bold to take her in his arms, as she did *“‘Amy, my darling,” he whispered, softly, im- printing a upon her rosy lips, “‘ you are now t of ~ ae Do you care anything for ‘Oh! Harry,” she replied, in a low tone, that the ht not hear, “how can you ask that? I you ever since you so fearlessly rescued me from danger, when my horses ran away.” ‘And yet, you gave me no for answer a while ago, when I told you Lloved you, and asked you to e. “Oh! yes, but I didn’t know it was you, under that ”’ she replied, with a shy glance up into his eyes. ‘If I had, I elon a0 a taken time to consider before I answered. And to think that you are Death-Face, and I knew nothing of it!” ** Well, now, what is to be my answer? Can an ey, me? Do you love me well enough for such a 7 , ey more than love you, and will be your wife whenever you wish, for I shall never feel safe — without a stro rave 22 oad like you, be my life-long enemy.” “ Only in thought, dear, for ere long there will be work for him to do on Blackwell's Island, or at Sing Sing. Besides i villain in countless other ways, I am satisfied that he is a ringleader among a gang of counterfeiters.” The two hours dragged slowly by it seemed, but at last the clock in a neighboring steeple tolled the hour of two. - It was raining very hard, and by peering out at the window, Death-Face saw the watchman rush swiftly by, bent on getting under cover. ‘* Now is our time,’ he said, fastening one end of his rope-ladder within the room, and dropping the other out of the window. “TI will go first, and fetch three or four hacks around onto the next street, and see that the coast is clear. Then I will return, and assist you all to the ground. Saying which, he let himself cautiously out of the third story window, and glided down the ladder. And when he reached the pavement, he found him- self confronted by a stalwart policeman, CHAPTER XVI. AND FAY LOVED HIM—DOCK TO THE FRONT. At Fay’s home, all remained quiet after the de- parture of Death-Face, and it was with feelings of gratitude that the two youths saw Pinkerton’s “shadows” turn away from their post, and hurry toward the heart of the city. Twenty thousand dollars for twenty years, at ten os cent, interest—phew! you're the master of sixty housand dollars, principal and interest, or, rather, of thirty, if this sister of yours ever comes in for a re ’ : “Yes, and you can wager your life I will freeze to this fortune!” Sherry said, resolutely. “I need but one lesson of the kind I have recently passed through to teach me at least common sense. I long to see this uncle of mine, for I feel that I shalllike him, He is ay ay known relative, except Leo,” s ? that’s your sister?” ““Yes,and one whom I have not seen in eight ears. I was past eleven when I went to work for i baker, and she was ten. But I have a picture of her taken before she left the Broadway photograph gallery, and I hope by its aid Death-Face can find er,” ‘What will you do with all your wealth—go West, I dare say?” ‘Probably, for New York is too hot forme. I'll let uncle invest my thirty thousand in government bonds, and that will make it safe, and yield me an income ae, Sane for my er Aan Yes, I shall £° West, for Poy oiraye ns wiede iets to see the great moun e, an ions.” . “Well, our best wishes go with you, then, and ac- cept our congratulations on your Bountiful good uck.’ Thus the conversation ran, until, finally, Evans de- cided to take a stroll around the neighborhood, eee the wet, murky night, to see if the shadow de ves had really vamosed. ing to their reverberations as ~~ pattered on to have him pene know she was never likely to see again ae test him, and was he the one to sue now for lavor Ah, perhaps not; perhaps he would go away with- out ever speaking of his love again. And the longer she thought upon the subject, the faster came the t -and with her head bowed down 7 : - A me window she wept quietly, but oh! so rly. Sherry did not know that she was , at first, but presently discovered the fact, and went over to her side, wonderingly. He had no suspicion of the cause of her grief, and was alarmed. “What is the matter, Miss Evans; are you ill?” he asked, laying one hand upon her shoulden. is touch ed her, and caused her to raise her tearful eyes to his, and and make an attempt to 8. ‘No, Iam not ill, sir; I was only thi of some- thing, and you know thoughts pre oer create sad- — - a indeed: Buti ill “Very truly en, - But, I pray you banish those tnoughts,and cheer up. never like to see a person cry—it makes me feel in a tearful way, myself, Weil,” with a faint laugh, “‘ then I will postpone it, oo pers other time; though I have cause to eel v Pod e ch I am sorry for,” he said, drawing a chair near, and sitting pw hy hope oh blunder of mine ‘has been the cause of your unhappiness, Miss Evans?”’ **No blunder, no, but—” *‘ Ah! then there is a but in the case, = Fay?” he said, bending closer, and drawing one of her hands within his; “is it because—because I am going away?” She made no audible answer, save it was by more tears that filled her eyes, as she again bowed her head upon the casement. Yet Sherry interpreted her silence to be an affirmative reply, in the absence of words. “Don’t cry, please,” he said, putting his arm around her, and drawing her against his shoulder. “You wouldn't care—”’ ‘Oh! don’t say so, Sherry—Mr. Raynor; you know well enough I would,” she replied, nestling closer to him. ‘I would be sorry if you were to go, without taking me.”’ “Taking you? But, you would not go.” “Wouldn't I? If you don’t care for my company, you hadn't better ask me, then.” “Fay!’ Sherry’s voice was now earnest, and thrilling, “ are you trifling with me? Somehow, these women are a sad puzzle to me.” “No, Mr Raynor, I am _ not trifling with you. I know I have committed myself, but— ‘But, what, darling?” “But I love you,” she softly whispered, ‘‘and it would kill me to have you go away and leave me!” “And, I love you, also, my treasure!” he replied, drawing her close to his breast. “But, will your brother—?”’ *No need to fear objection from him, for he ap- proves of my choice.” jatar then you will become my darling little e ” ‘*Yes, my prince, and I hope that day may not be long distant, when you shall call me yours int truth.” And then, lip met lip in a fond, clinging kiss—the hetemthal caress that bound two loving hearts to- gether. In the meantime, Dock Raymond was in search of Celia Orwick. He found the house on Wooster street, where Durg and Curley had stated her to be, without diffi- culty, but the next thing was to effect an entrance. It was a three-story brick, and it was a puzzle to Dock how he was ever to get into it; but not long, for his subtle brain soon conceived a plan, which he hastened to put into execution, Toward the close of the day that witnessed Death- Face’s entree into Heidle’s asylum, a well-dressed, bewhiskered individual, evidently middle aged, rung the bell on the door of the house in Wooster street, and then waited for an answer to the summons, He carried a small-sized leather-bound book under his arm, and looked liked a common business man. The was answered by an elderly servant, evi- dently of Irish descent, who nearly filled the door- way with her broad proportions. ‘An’, faith, an’ what would yez be havin’?”’ she gy hard at the man outside. “Be yez wantin’ to see ther master?” “Oh! no, Biddy,” was the pleasant reply. “Tam the man; don’t you remember me?’ “Shure, an’ are yez the gas-mon? I thought as he wes Paid the Bet time, Bidd but I changed ‘So I di e ime, Biddy; but I c the style of my beard.” i 7 “ An’ @ right sinsible lookin’ mon yez be. Comein, if it’s the meter yez wants ter see, but wipe your brogans on the mat, furstly.”” The — complied with this request, and was shown in through the hallway to the cellar, where he made an examination of the meter, writing the re- sult Bor — —— , y,”’ he said, upon coming up out of the cel- lar, ‘‘ there is a great teak of gas through the house somewhere, since last quarter. You have not burnt seventy million feet I know!” “Oh, the good saints save us, no, Faith an’ how much is it, yez sez?” ‘“‘ Over seventy million feet, actual measurement.” “Ouch! howly murther, and the master sed if I burnt more than a thousan’ he'd skin me alive.” “T would, too, Biddy, for wasting so much. Why, woman, your master is ruined. The gas bill will be over two hundred and ten thousand dollars.” ‘*Och! the saints preserve us!’’ exclaimed the hor- rified servant, holding up her hands in righteous hor- on ake ae aes aaa ay, provaing can rovi you'll assist me a little.” sonra . * Bedad, I'll wurruk the ends 0’ my fingers off, yer oner. - then, my plan is this. There is a youn viomen teboptnek hh this house whom I wish be od cue. Go bring her to me, ready for the street, and T'll make your gas bill only two dollars, and F you Se ee with, in the bargain. Will youdo “‘ Howly saints! but, sir, the young leddy isn’t here no longer. I tuk pity on the r crater, an’ let her wid her dead Babe in ot eect an’ sent her to woman.’ Here’s a V for you, and now give me a note to this Pat Maloney to surrender the it to me, for Tam a detective in search of her.” A detective!’ cried Biddy, in wonderment. “Then Sih aa gas-mon, at acl ty.” a gas-man, m uty. “Och! wat fer divil’s own imps the men are! An’ yez Mo the leddy dae “Well, I’m glad the poor crater hes got I am. Shure she’s swater than gin wid a ae twice as bef as@ shamrock blossom, Pat Maloney lives in Wather strate—No. —; jest tell him Bid O’Shay sent yez fer the leddy, an’ it'll be all t.”” “All right, Biddy. When you get married let me tigi upied the’ dogula Body Sapsrobl as bey bieelt ont 2 bel at gas bill nearl htened the r fool out of her wits,” he ey rene trudged Back
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ae Death-Face, the Detective. 15 toward his lodgings. ‘‘ Now, then, I must get on my other togs, and go and find Celia. Poor girl. She has seen trouble enough.” He repaired to the tenement in Mulberry street, first, and found Fooly Fred and Samuel Raynor there. ‘What luck?’ Fred demanded. “Oh! boss luck! Will have’r all safe and sound in- side of an hour. ‘*That’s good! Fetch her around to George street, No. —, and I'll take her sister there. Mr. Raynor, here, will also accompany me.” Then, after a short conversation, Dock went to his room, on a neighboring street, and spent a couple of hours in arranging his toilet to his satisfaction, after which he set out for Pat Maloney’s, on Water street. Reaching his destination, he found it to be a dirty, rimy sort of hovel, characteristic of the locality. The sounds of drunken revelry in the adjoining dwel- lings jarred discordantly on the night. ‘My name is Dock Raymond. I was directed here by Biddy O’Shay, in search of Celia Orwick,” Dock said, as a grim, stubble-bearded face was presented through a window. Then the door was opened, and he was admitted into an humble apartment, oceupied by the owner of the bearded face} and an old crone, evidently his barn ae room was scantily furnished, and ill- smelling. “So ye cum fer the gal, did yez?” queried Pat Ma- loney. “Well, ye ken have her, for I’ve no worruk, begorra, an’ it’s moighty hard to get a crust, now- days, Gelia, ye be yez awake?” In. answer the call, a pale, fragile-looking girl came out of an adjoining room, and as she caught sight of Dock Raymond, she sprung forward with a low, glad cry, and was folded in the young detec- tive’s arms. *“*Oh! Dock!” she exclaimed, “is it really you?” ** Yes, Cele, you dear girl, I have come for you, af- ter a month of search. You are mine now—I know all—eve . But, come; let us go. I will take you to a better place than this.” Dock gave Maloney a liberal fee for his kindness, then purchasing some wraps at a neighboring shop, he and Celia set forth into the night. A hack was soon hailed, and inside of an hour they were safely set down in George street, before Evans’s house, where they found Charley, Sherry, Fred, Nel- ly Orwick and Fay in waiting for them. CHAPTER XVII. A HAPPY REUNION—CONCLUSION, DeaTH-Face was somewhat startled, but notin the least alarmed, as he beheld the policeman, and felt a heavy hand laid upon his shoulder. “Now I’ve got you!” the officer said, with a little chuckle, ‘‘ Didn’t expect to find cops this wet night, did you? Come along!” ‘* Not if I know myself,’’ Death-Face said, coolly. ** Better find out who you are arresting first. See here,’”’ and he pulled the officer toward the nearest maak Pe I =e Dee e we ceecere. ; sd is my roof,” and he displayed a handsome gold badge, on Net his name was @ ved; ‘‘ and now, in: of arresting me, you must give me a little aid. Do you know the character of that house?” “No. Respectable, ain’t it?” ‘Tn a virtuous sense, yes; but in other words, it is a private mad-house.”’ ‘The devil, you say!”’ ** Yes, a private mad-house, with fifteen or sixteen ea in it—girls and women—who are no more insane an ro or 1.” ‘*Phew! how do you know this?’’ visiting phen foroee from the eeepc first, and by ns ! that is.a very! What were you goil to a Rag now?”’ a th ies as going for carriages, an en go! et the girls out of the den.’ - . “Tn the upper story, eh?” “Yes. Can I depend upon you for assistance?” ** Certainly.’ “T shall call upon you to make the arrest of this old cuss—Heidle his name is—when I get around to it. You procure four and fetch them around the corner, while I get out the prisoners.” Then the officer hurried off on his errand, while Death-Face reascended the rope ladder, and crawled back into the chamber, where the females were hud- dled together. **Oh, what is the matter?’’ demanded Amy Elwood and Annie Boyce, together. ‘* We saw a man below, onto need of .y dear,” C “Non rs) my dears,’’ was Conroy’s rep! with a smile. ‘That was a policeman, ana he Wil help us off. He has now gone for carriages, and we must get out—” At this moment heavy footsteps were heard in the entry, near the elevator-way, and a key was thrust in the lock of the prison room, ‘Oh! °tis Mike, the jailer, coming!” whispered pre nan cn e has h noise, and is vi “Oh! what we do?” gasped Annie Boyce, “ rrp on us.”’ the ‘ Just kee ” exclaim -Face, “and T'l rn uiet!” ex ed Dea' coolly, ; He =_, saroi the room and got behind the oor entered, sprung upon him, and dealt him a terrible blow 4 the forehead’ Down he went like a log, when Death-Face securely bound and gagged him, “There! one ——- less!” he said, with a grim laugh. ‘ Now, ladies, if you will get upon my back, one at a time, and hold fast, I will get you out of here. Amy, dear, you may try first, and set the rest an example.” - It was rather an undignified position for a young — but as there was no help for it, Amy cheerfully obeyed. : And Death-Face succeeded in placing her safely upon the pavement, Annie Boyce came next, and then the others, one at a time, until all were safely out of their prison, thanks be to Death-Face. Without tarrying, they hurried around the first corner, and there found Coggston, the policeman, waiting with four hacks, ready for departure. Death-face put Amy and Annie Boyce into one cab with three of the others who had no particular homes, and then mounted with the driver, and gave orders to drive to number — George street, leaving Coggston to see the remaining prisoners to their re- spective homes. The ride to George street was soon accomplished, and Death-Face and his five companions were made welcome into the little home of the Evanses, which already had been the scene of a joyous reunion be- tween Celia and Nelly Orwick. 4 Thus was the little circle as complete as it could be made. But a new sensation was there, when, with a yell, Sherry sprung up, rushed over to the side of Annie Boyce, and threw his arms about her neck, giving her a resounding kiss. “Leo, my sister, as I live!” he cried, in delight. “See here, Uncle Sam, this is she! I twig her jib, superfine.” ; Sherry! se ooh can. this possibly be you?” re- turned the astonished girl “I never should have known you.” “But [knew you, bet your life on that!”’ he cried, with enthusiasm. ‘See here,” and he drew a pic- ture from his pocket; “this is you, and you're this. I got it at the gallery where you worked. Hey, Death-Face, ain’t this boss?” “A very enjoyable discovery, indeed, I should say,’ replied Conroy, ‘‘ but ma: I inquire, Miss Ray- nor, how you came in the mad-house?” “That is easily explained, sir,’ replied Leo, in answer to his request. ‘‘I was placed there two years ago. As some of you may be acquainted with my histo ry I will say, that after leaving the gallery 1 went to keep house for a Jeune man named Ned St. Cloud, upon Twentieth street, in this city. “While in his Sr: I came into possession of an important secret, belonging to him and a man by the name of Seymour.” “Clarence Seymour, was it?’ demanded Amy, eagerly. Ree, that was the name. I was going to notify the proper authorities, but ore my knowledge, St. Cloud had me put in Heidle’s place, where for two years I have remained.” ‘And this secret? What was it about?’’ asked Death-Face, eagerly. ‘Tt was about their running a counterfeiting busi- ness, and a plot to flood the country with spurious money. I found out where their ‘ mint’ was located, and will tell you!” And then she named a certain place within the a limits, the exact locality of which we must with- hold from the reader. Suffice to say that it was in a — where it might have remained a lifetime, tun- vered, but for the information of Leo Raynor. The following day was a busy one with Death-Face and Co., for they had their hands full in making ar- rests, which were necessary, now that the fruit was ripe and fit for plucking. rst of all, Dr. Heidle was arrested and delivered up to the authorities; and next came St. Cloud and Seymour, on various charges. en Death-Face and his two bowers, accompa- nied by a posse of police, made a raid upon the coun- terfeit den of the Ring, only succeeding in capturing + a presses, etc., and one man, who was on uty. This work safely ste ae there was, one evening, a great wedding at the little house in George street, Sherry and Fay, Dock and Celia, Death-Face and Amy, and Fred and Nelly, being the happy couples who linked their fates together. A week later, old Samuel Raynor started back for Virginia City, Nevada, and with him went Sherry and his darling Fay, and Charley Evans and Leo, aw pee” Me sister, who has since then wedded. And out there in Mineral-land they all still liye, as happy in their love as the day is long. ; Heidle, St. Cloud, and Seymour, received earl trials for their crimes, and severe sentences. Hei- dle went to Sing Sing for twenty years, and well he deserved a longer sentence. St. Cloud and Seymour were put to work side by side in Sing Sing—each for a term of ten years, only to serve a new term at the end of that time on new indictments. And if you want any detective business done, dear reader, you cannot do better than call upon the “Big Three ’—Conroy, Raymond and who still hold forth in the metropolis, experts in their profession, and devoted husbands to those dear girls whom On took for better, not for worse. One of Death-Face’s great successes was the clean- ing oe oe Serge 27th street establishment, but re sa again started up on Broadway, in ful Girne wi take § f ‘ s nd thus we eave of them all, with our best wishes forever, * THE END, THE NEW YORE Fireside Library. 1—Was She His Wife? By Mrs. Mary Reed-OroWells vw. 5 So ciee es 10 cents. 2—Fleeing From Love. By Harriet Ir- VINE. Pare ese a5 eR ok COMES, 38—Did He Love Her? By Bartley T. Campbell.; . .civc meee eee, 10 cents. 4—A Strange Woman. By Rett Win- Sigs vse ve es ve oe OO 10 cents. 5—Nadia, the Russian - By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. .... Spy: ee if eedta. 6—Two Girls’ Lives. By Mrs. Mary Reed CrowGlhd .<..... eds ape". Voaes 10 cents. 7-8—Lady Audley’s Secret. By Miss M. E. Braddon. '’'wo Numbers in one. 20c. 9—The War of Hearts. By Corinne Cushman......... Giger .-..10 cents. 10—Leighton Grange. By Miss M. E. BPaddon 35.2. vs" ts wae Ce 10 cents. 11—The False Widow. By Mrs. Jennie Davis Burton............. 10 cents. 12-13—Lost For Love. By Miss M. E. Braddon. (Double number)... . 20c. 14-15—Toilers of the Sea. By Victor Hugo. Two numbersin one. 20 cents, 16—The Octoroon. By Miss M.E. Brad- LC RES 8 a as Sy e0cd.ceiecents: 17-18—Uncle Silas. By J. 8. Le Fanu. a Two numbers in one...... 1.20 cents. 19-20—Dead-Sea Fruit. By Miss M. E. Braddon. Two numbers in one. 20c. 21-22—Little Kate Kirby. By F. W. Robinson. Two numbers in one. 20c. 23—Sowing the Wind. By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell......... duNncape 10 cents. 24-25—Birds of Prey. By Miss M. E. BradQon .55. A ee vires 20 cents. 26—That Boy of Norcott’s. By Charles LIS Ol sine New Ho el ...-10 cents. 2'7-28—Charlotte’s Inheritance. By Miss M. E. Braddon......... 20 cents- 29—A Girl’s Heart. By Rett Winwood 10c. 30-31—Red as a Rose is She. By Rhoda Broughton. Double number... . .20 ets. 32—The Lily of St. Erne. By Mrs. Lo) eee eeron | eS 33—Strangely Wed. By Mrs. Jennie Davis Burton... 4... .++-,-10 Cents. 34—The Gipsy Bride. By M. E. 0. Palen. 3)... t 1 So 10 cents. 35—Annie Temple. By Rey. J. H. In- a Bea oe 10 cents 36—Without Mercy. By Bartley T. Campbell. .. gos _ A iv Sante 37—Black Eyes and Blue. By Corinne Cushman........ Eine Seas sve 10C. 38—Brave Barbara. Ry Corinne Cush- MAD... 0.6.0. seers kia s oss case LOC, 39—A D us Woman. By Mar- garet Blount................4., ..10¢. 40—Ouida’s Love. By Henrietta E. De QORGOmer ns ches so... ane eee 41—Lost: A Wife. By Corinne Cush- I eis 668 icc i . og AeereeeeTnOr. 42—Winning Ways. By Margaret ES ce weeveee 10 Cents, 43—A Woman’s Heart. By Mrs. M. 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BEADLE’S HALF-DIME LIBRARY. Every one of them “Live” Stories by “‘ Live®? Authors. Each number a Complete Novel, at the extraordinary price of a HALF-DIAIE, DEADWOOD DICK. 1 Deadwood Dick, Ter PrINcE OF THE Roap; or, THe BLAcK RIDER OF THE BLACK His. By Edward L. Wheeler. Yellowstone Jack; or, Tok TRAPPER OF THE ENCHANTED Grounp. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr,, author of “ Pacific Pete,” ete. % 3 Kansas King; or, Tue Rep RiGcat HAND. ul ) : By B lo Bill (Hon. Wm. F. Cody). 4 The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Capt. Mayne Reid and Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 5 Vagabond Joe; Tur YounG WANDER- 1InG JEw. By Oll Coomes. 6 Bill Biddon, Frappers or, Lire IN THE NortHwest. By Edward §. Ellis. q The Flying Yankee; or, THE OCEAN Outcast. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. fe, Seth Jones; or, THE CAPTIVES OF THE Frontier. By Edward 8. Ellis. 9 The Adventures of Baron Mun- chausen. 10 Nat Todd; or, THe FATE OF THE Sroux Captive. A Sequel to ‘ Bill Biddon, Trapper.” By Edward S. Ellis. 1 The Two Detectives; or, THE Fortunes or A’ Bowery Giri. By Albert W. Aiken, author of “‘ The Spotter Detective,” ete: THE OCEAN BLOODHOUND.—No. 33 or, THE WONDERFUL 1 Gulliver’s Travels. A Voyage to Lilliput, and a Voyage to Brobdingnag. 13 The Dumb Spy. By Oll Coomes, author of “ Vagabond Joe,” ete. 1 Aladdin ; LAmp. 1 The Sea-Cat; or, THe WircH oF Darien. _ By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 16 Robinson Crusoe. His Life and Surprising Adventures, (27 illustrations.) 1 yf Ralph Roy, The Boy Bucca- neer; or, THE FUGITIVE YACHT. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 1 &§ Sindbad the Sailor. His seven voy- ages. From the Arabian Nights. 19 The Phantom Spy or, THE PrLor oF THE Prarrie. By Buffalo Bill. 20 The Double Daggers; or, DEAp- woop Dick’s DEFIANCE. By Edward L. Wheeler, author of ‘‘ Deadwood Dick.’ 21 Frontier Angel. A Romance of Kentucky Rangers’ Life. By Edward 8. Ellis, author of ‘*Seth Jones,”’ ete. 22 The Sea Serpent; or, THz Boy Rostnson Crusor. By Col. Juan Lewis. 2 Nick o’ the Night: or, THz Boy Spy or '76.. By T. C. Harbaugh. ROBINSON cRUSOE.—No. 16. 24 Diathond Dirk: or, Tat Mystery oF THE YELLOWSTONE. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, author of ‘The Flying Yankee,” etc. 2 5 The Boy. Captain: or, Tue Prrate’s DaveuTseR. By Roger Starbuck. 26 Cloven Hoof, the Demon. Edward L. Wheeler 2Q7 Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide. By Oll Coomes, Qe Buffalo Ben, the Prince of the Pistol: or, DzADWwoop Dick IN Diseuise. By Edward L. Wheeler 29 The Dumb Page; or, THE .DoGr’s Davcuter. By Capt. Frederick Whit- taker, author of ‘‘The Wild-Horse Hunters,’’ ete. 30 Roaring Ralph Rockwood, THE ReckLESS RANGER. By Harry St. George. 31 Keen-Knife, THe Prince or THE Prairies. By Oll Coomes. 32 Bob Woolf, the Border Ruffian: or, Tue Girt Drap-SHor. By Edward L. Wheeler, author of “ Deadwood Dick,” éte., ete. The Ocean Bloodhound; or, THE Rep Pirates or THE Cartppers, By Samuel W. Pierce, author of “The Boy Detective,” etc., etc. 34 Oregon Sol; or, Nick WHIFFLES’ Boy Spy. By Capt. J. F.C. Adams. Ready March 19th. By ANTELOPE ABE,—NO, 27, 3 5 Wild Ivan, Tue Boy CLavupE Dt VAL; or, THe BRoTHERHOOD oF DrATH. Dead- wood Dick Romance No. 4.- By Edward L, Wheeler. 36 The Boy Clown; or, THE QUEEN OF THE ARENA. By Frank 8, Finn. 37 The Hidden Lodge; or, Tn LitTLE HunTER OF THE ApIRONDACKS. By T. C. Harbaugh, author of “ Nick o’ the Night,”’ etc. 38 Ned Wylde, Tur Boy Scour. Texas Jack. 39 Death-Face, the Detective; or, Lire AND Love In New York. By Ed- word L. Wheeler. Ready April 23d. 40 Roving Ben. A story of a Young American who wanted to see the world. By John J. Marshall. Ready April 30th. 41 Lasso Jack, THE YounG MusTANG- ER. By Oll Coomes. Ready May 7th. By A new issue every week. The 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. WILD IVAN,—1.0, 35.