Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 415) (1885 07 07)
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EIGHTH EDITION. bi ~ } * “ J N E | CUMS ; SELELEELLELLELIA \ ‘ a Of . Z| ft ical ea! Se ee Me ae Ey : iwi 0? Aull ikl AS a $2.50 &@ year, Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., at Second Class Mail Ratos. Copyright, 1885, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, J uly 7, 1885. Sing! J SHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND AMS v Vol. XVI. Pec oe PUBLISH V LE AND ADAMS, Price No, 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. BS Cents, No. 415. sy fl Mail \\\\ GG. Gra iN, Witiiigic: marrititit ir HTiil GU ULUULLI YN He " Bowery Bob’s Boom. . . - BY JO PIERCE, (Of the New York Detective Force.) CHAPTER I. THE BEGINNING OF A BOY'S STRANGE pxpE- RIENCE. : “Wat, I must say the state o’ affairs is per- fec’ly stagnatin’. No emeanor sol kin play detective, an’ not a SS SSS meas! i turns up, It’s hard lines, fer Bock-fuhin’ r , — 4 BURLY NEGRO SUDDENLY DARTED FORWARD AND CLOSED THE DOOR BEFORB SS BOWERY BOB COULD RETREAT, AND THEN PLACED HIS BACK AGAINST IT.
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ed The Vagabond Detective. The person who thus lamented his ill-luck | the latter was far from being pleased with his was a boy of about fourteen years. He was standing on the sidewalk near Trini- ty Church, watching the double stream of peo- ple that flowed through Broadway, and regret- ting that none of them seemed to need his help as a detective. He looked like anything except a person en- gaged in that business. Detectives are not sup- posed to be fourteen-year-old boys, much less such ragged young lads as this particular one, We shall hear more about his detective busi- ness soon, however. Whatever he was, it was plain he was no eeny. He had a face as sharp and shrewd as hat of a rat, if we may use the comparison Without disrespect. A clear-cut, wise face was his, intelligent and precocious beyond the ave- rage of his years, and yet thoroughly honest. He was ragged, but he wore his tattered gar- ments. with a grace and dignity worthy of a duke, and more than one passer-by had smiled at sight of him. New York is full of boys whose circumstances compel them to work hard as soon as they are large enough to perform any kind of labor. Having no choice, they become, in many cases, bootblacks, newsboys, or something of the kind. To them has been applied the general name— street Arabs. This particular boy was one of this class, and, like the rest, his wits had been prematurely sharpened by contact with the world until his mind was far older than his body, though that seemed as tough as a knot. He was standing as before mentioned when a hand was laid on his arm by a man he had not before seen. He turned and stood facing a rather flashily- dressed man of about thirty years, but who probably imagined himself as well made up as any man on Broadway. he boy, however, was not favorably im- pressed, ** Here, young fellow, are you busy?” abrupt- ly asked the new-comer. ‘ “ Can’t ye see I am?” “No; what are you doing?” ‘‘ Watchin’ ter see that Trinity steeple don’t fall over an’ mash nobody,” the boy coolly ob- served. “That's enough of that kind; I’m not in a joking mood. he question—do you want to earn a dollar?” “Ef I don’t Pil. never chaw India-rubber steak ag’in, boss. .Ef you’ve got a lonesome dol- jar ter mortgage, jest roll yer tongue an’ lemme inter ther scheme.” ‘““The matter is simple enough. Do you see this package?” The man pointed to the bundle which he car- ried in one hand, All the boy could see was a brown wrapping-paper, but his poor opinion of the stranger led him to inquire: ‘ain't dynamite, is it?” ‘‘Nonsense! It is a very simple package which I want carried half-way up-town. Iam too busy to go eh and want to hire some boy to carry it. ill you take the job? Speak quickly now, for I am in a hurry.” ““T see you be, but ye needn’t be squintin’ around fer any other chap, fer I’m ther hoss fur ae erdooce yer stamps, an’ Til be 0 ‘*- You know where Houston street is?” “ Bless yer boots, ‘ge Who don’t?” ‘“« And will you take the package faithfully?” ‘See yer, mister, do I look like an emb’zzler or road-adjutant? Wat d’ye take me fer?” “Oh! I think you’re all right, but you see I have some bananas here fora friend, and I want him to get them as soon as possible. Here’s the package, and here’s a dollar—yes, and here’s a eyed more. Take a stage and go at once. e odd change you can keep, but don’t open the package !” ‘Strikes me I don't impress ye over-favor- able, boss. D’ye s’pose I’d ruin my reputation fer a banana, ora Havana, or even fer Susan- nah? Not any, fer Joseph! I am one o’ ther solid business men o’ Gotham, an’ ef you'll go ter ther Board o’ Trade, or Shoeblack Ex- i 9 bi find I am square all ’round,” “T know you're all right, boy; don’t make so much talk. Get a stage at once and be off, Waitwhat’s your name?” ‘“Wal, I’m ginerally called Bowery Bob, or Bob 0’ the Bowery. er rest o’ my name was lost. outer ther baggage-car when I come ter town, an’—” “That'll do; that'll do. Be éff, now!” The man fairly shoved Bob away, and though manner, he felt the money still in his hand and was not anxious to lose the job. Accordingly, he obeyed the last direction and was soon seated in a stage and rolling up Broad- way. He looked back once, but his employer had already been swallowed up in the thick mass of humanity that crowded the sidewalk. **T don’t reckon I'll git inter ther detective biz by dealin’ with him,” thought the boy. ‘‘ Ef I ain’t lost ther faculty o’ readin’ character, he’s a gent o’ off-color, "[wouldn’t s’prise me a bit ef he’s a bunco chap, or some sech crooked char- acter. Wonder w’at made him so nervous? He kep’ lookin’ around ez though he ’spected a copper ter fall onter him, an’ he was in» creat passion ter git me‘away. Wal, that’s 1 Te- sult o’ bein’ a crook. I don’t ’spect I'd be more’n half happy ef I was one o’ them kind o’ cattle.” Bob sniffed at the package. ‘* Them bananas smell sorter good, an’ T don’t know ez it’s so very odd that silk-tile chap was Cy I’d open ther bundle, but I ain’t in that diz. ny looked at the card which had been given im, ‘‘Ethan Eames, or Rosa Reddington,” he read. ‘‘Sorter poetic names, them be, but I reckon they kin chaw fruit ef they do drink poetry. Hold yer breath, Ethan, fur I'm a- comin’ |” The stage made its trip in due time, and Bob alighted at Houston street. Thedesired number was not far away, and he was soon pulling at the bell of an old-fashioned brick house. It looked respectable, though not very high-toned. The door was opened by a sharp-nosed ser- vant, whose face grew positively vinegarish at sight of the boy. ‘ What d’ye want?” she demanded, in a way which somewhat disturbed Bob’s placidity. ‘Wat d’yes’pose? D’ye take me fer a book- agent, or a gas-meter fiend? I ain’t neither— not fer Joseph! I lack ther lip fur ther one an’ ther national bank bill o’ t’other. W’at I do desire is ter intervoo Mr. Ethan Eames, Esquire.” ‘Well, you can’t. He ain’t in.” ‘No? Wal, then, mebbe her serene majesty, Miss Rosa Reddington is in?” “Wal, what of it?” ‘Ther whole of it,” calmly replied Bob. ‘*See here, madam, [ don’t like ter make too much confab with anybody w’at I’ve never been interdooced to, but [ll inform ye in a casual way that this hyar bundle is fur one o’ them two parties, him or her.” ‘* Give it to me!” ‘* Be you Miss Reddington?” “ee No.” ‘Then you must excuse me. I was ter give it only ter them, and biz is biz in 1885, yer know.” The woman’s sharp nose seemed to grow sharper with ape but she saw that Bob'meant just what he said, and she made no more useless talk. Bidding him follow, she led the way up one flight of stairs and bade him knock at a cer- tain door. ' Then she bounced away with her old air of esc gs & passion. la Bob knocked, and a low ferhinine voice bade him enter. He obeyed, and found himself in a very well-furnished room, alone with a tall young woman of rather impose appearance, She looked as handsome and elegant as. a tigress, as Bob mentally expressed it, but she was buried deep in an easy-chair and looked in- dolent and dull. Her eyes expanded at sight of Bob, however. : “Oh! I thought it was Hannah,” she said. “'That’s whar ye was mistook, ma’am,” Bob replied, “but ye got mighty near ther bead- center 0’ truth, *Tain’t ‘Hannah, but it’s them bananas.” The woman made a sudden, violent start and saterect, — ** What?” she cried. 7 It was Bob’s turn to be surprised, for he could not see what there was in his simple announcement to create such a sudden stir. , “T said I had brought them bananas, miss.” “You?” she exclaimed, ‘‘ You have brought Miss Reddington held out her hand. «“‘ Let me see!” she said. Bob ge over the package, and she at once beoky e pper enough "prove his state- ment. wet, “ ee is Jack?” she then asked. The boy understood this question to refer to the sender of the bananas. ‘“Can’t say. He give ’em to me an’ dusted.” ‘* ‘Where was he?” “Down by Trinity Church.” ‘*And you mean to say that he allowed you to bring these all the way here—alone?” - “Sart’in he did. Why not? Ain’tI s’ponsi- ble fur a few measly bananas? I s’pose ef I had on a striped suit an’a handcuff, you'd take me ter be jest out o’ Sing Sing.” _ Miss Reddington looked at him for a moment in silence, and then suddenly laughed. : ‘Do not feel offended,” she said; ‘‘I am not questioning your honesty, Still, I don’t—but never mind. You can go.”. “Correct. .Ef you find any o’ ther fruit_mis- sin’ yer kin apply ter me. My name is B. Bow- ery, Esquire, an’ I hev a peanut stand on ther classic street arter which ’m named. Call thar. You may not find me in, but Stumpy, my pard- ner, will be thar, an’ you'll find him well-roasted an’ three quarts to ther pint. I hev ther honor terbid you good-day. Farewell!” And Bob bowed himself out with the dignity of one who feels that his honor has been unjust- ly questioned. ‘“‘Mighty queer why folks all o’ a sudden git ter takin’ me fur a pock-picket an’ embezzler. I don’t want no more job with that crowd; they thinks I can’t be trusted with six or eight ban- anas, an’ I reciprocate. I do, b’gosh! I b’lieve—” P His meditations were interrupted as a hand was laid on his arm, and he turned and saw ~ the, sharp-nosed servant, who seemed out of breath. ‘Hello, is this you in ther flesh, or is it only yer shadder?” he genially inquired. ‘““'You’re wanted back,” she replied. ‘‘ Miss Reddington wants you.” ‘* She does? What fur?” “T don’t know. She’ll tell you that.” “She will, will she? Wal, it wa’n’t in ther contrack that I should wear my patent leathers all out in this hyer job, but I’m a sort o’ public benefactor, an’ I ain’t goin’ terbe mean. Heave ahead, an’ pilot me inter port.” They returned, and Bob was soon ascending the stairs again, wondering why he had been called back. In fact, his mind was so occupied with such thoughts that when he reached the second floor he forgot that politeness required him to rap, and he unceremoniously opened a door and entered. His first view of the room showed him that it was not Miss Reddington’s, and he was about to retreat when something which he saw held him fixed to the spot. CHAPTER II. BOB’S SURPRISING DISCOVERY. Tus second room was not so well furnished as was Miss Reddington’s, and was a very ordinary place in itself, but on the table which stood in the middle of the room was something quite unlike what Bob had been accustomed to see. A yellow pile of something glittered there, and eta to the amazed boy like a quantity of gold coins He had seen such money before, though little of it had ever passed through his hands, but its appearance was somewhat familiar. es, unless appearances were very deceptive, there lay many dollars in good, hard money, the coins ranging from diminutive dollars up to sturdy ‘“ eagles,” : The room seemed to be untenanted, too, and Bob was astonished that such a treasure should be left unguarded—a treasure which he mental- ly estimated at not less than two thousand dol- ars. “Reckon I’ve got inter ther wrong nen this time, fer sure,” was his next thought, ‘an’ Pil be a-scuddin’ afore some Cerberiuster comes ‘long an’ a’cuses me 0’ bein’ a burglarious burglar.” He was about to act on this wise plan when a ery sounded from the further end of the room, and it became clear that occupants were there, after all. To Bob’s wondering eyes there suddenly a passed a little, old man, who was so deformed at he looked more like an ape, but who danced out from behind the corner of an alcove and be- an to shake his fist at the boy amd try to talk, ut was kept from doing so by hisextreme rage, which almost choked bim. = _ “What! what!” he finally mumbled, ‘ Who is this? Why are you here? Malediction! I will cut your tongue eut!” *‘ Don't!” said Bob, coolly. “There ain’t no sorter reason why ye should. tongue M A an article that would be o’ any market walueter — you, an’ ’twould be mighty inconvenient ter me
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Soe > er be without it. I came in by an erroneous - ‘blunder, an’ now I'll bid ye farewell an’—” Bob was interrupted, The old man had stamped on the floor, and a burly negro suddenly darted forward, closed the door before Bowery Bob could retreat, and then placed his back against it. “Good! good!” cried the old man. have him! We will cut his tongue out. Nelva!” At the last call a girl emerged from the alcove —a girl of about fifteen years, though she was so small that one would have thought her not over twelve, at first sight. j ‘“* Here!” added the old man, “ bring a knife— bring a knife. Malediction! we will cut this wagabond spy’s tongue out!” { “Now, hold on, Cap,” said the boy, still cool outwardly, though he was far from being pleas- ed with his situation, ‘‘ an’ jest evolve ther idee that this hyar is a free country, an’ that J hev got a vote in this int’restin’ caucus. W’at sort 0’ ‘a chromatic chap be you, anyhow? Reckon this Ahyar’s ther Cannibawl Islan s, hain’tit? That’s right, little gal, you freeze ter ther floor, an’ keep on stayin’.”’ : The last words were spoken because he saw that Nelva, as the girl seemed to be named, had not stirred, but stood looking from the old man to Bob, and then back again, deep trouble ex- ‘pressed on her face. “Do you hear me?” shouted the old man, again my 4 Ped his foot. ; ‘‘ Yes, I hear you,” the girl slowly replied. “Now we Nelva! ‘“‘ Then why don’t you o a ** Because I can’t do it. have not sunk so low as to obey such an order. I will not get the knife.” ‘* Hooray for our side!” put in Bob. The old man, however, uttered a dog-like ‘snarl and started for the aleove. Nelva darted in ahead of him, and in a moment more came a crash of glass. The villain paused as though amazed, and then Nelva reappeared, her face pale but calm. ‘You'll have to look in the back-yard for the nife, Mr. Riddle,” she said, steadily. The old man almost choked with rage. ‘* Malediction!” he cried; ‘‘ how dared you?” “*T don’t know,” she answered, ‘* but I guess I’ve got where I don’t care tolive. Before Pl help you to do what you said, you may kill me!” “Now, you hol’ on right about hyar,” said Bob. ‘‘Séein’ ez how I’m a leadin’ figger in this disturbance, I want ter exercise my jaw. W’at’s ther racket hyar, anyhow? [ve told ye once I’m inter this hyar coop by mistake. I wos ter call on Miss Reddington. he wit, namely, an’ I swung ther wrong door. W’at on’t?, I’m ready ter ambulate, I be, an’ ye needn’t make sech a row. B’gosh, you’ve got more ears than a balky mule, you hev!” ; Despite this unfavorable comment, the old ‘man grew much calmer, and he turned to the giant negro. ** Jocko, did you leave that door unlocked?” he asked. A ‘“‘Gorry, I reckon I must ’a’ did so, Marse Rid- ” e. ‘Tl kill you for it.” ; The moet looked sober until Riddle’s gaze “was turned from him, and then grimaced. In the meanwhile Bob’s mind been busy, ‘and he had drawn a conclusion from this at- ’ a criminal, but it would not be strange way off their pedestal. ~ Joseph!” j H “ old Riddle aeaet to him, ein ‘august pacbem is Samuel Samson Short, ez you kin diskiver by inquiry at City Hall. I’m known thar perfesh’nally, ez I fur- nish them with fresh-baked peanuts ev’ry day when biz is so they kin raise ther bullion,” + “Why are you here?” ‘ **T’ve tol’ ye severial times that I’m here ’kase Imade a blunder. Wanted ter find Miss Rosa- ton—Reddington, I mean—an’ got inter ther ” 1 =, w. Jest her an’ she'll give me a wrong pe" health, an’ she'll gi _ “Miss Reddington, eh?” a iz og The Vagabond Detective. Sion? ‘*T will see her.” Riddle left the room, but Jocko remained by the door and there was no chance for Bob to escape. He employed his time with using his eyes freely, but without discovering anything new. The pile of coins remained on the table, and looked as genuine as could be, but Bob did not change his opinion of them. He looked closely at Nelva. She was a very » hea A girl, but she looked sad and weary, and all his sympathy went out to her. There was now a shadow in her dusky eyes which he believed came of his own adventure, and after looking many times at him and the bi negro alternately, she walked to the alcove an disappeared. Bob was anxious to see what this place con- tained, but when he started to get a view of it he was stopped by Jocko, and as the negro was twice his size he had to obey him. Ina few minutes the door reopened and Rid- dle entered. His ugly face did not look any more amiable, but he nodded to Bob and said: ‘“‘T have seen Miss Reddington, and it is all right. You can go to her, Jocko, show him the room.” Bob did not care for the escort, but, thinking it best not to be obstinate, he said nothing. It was at this juncture, when both the men were looking elsewhere, that Nelva came out of the alcove. She held something in her hand, and, seeing her chance, she tossed a bit of twist- ed paper on the sofa beside Bob, * he latter, seeing that she looked even more troubled than before, quickly interpreted the secret act, and gathered the paper up with quick but quiet skill. Neither Riddle nor Jocko had seen this by- play, and, without any perceptible break in his movements, Bob followed the negro out of the room, putting the scrap of paper safely away. Jocko conducted him to another door and pushed it open. ‘* Hyar’s de place!” he said. Bob took one step forward, but he then saw that it was not the place. This new room was dark, having no window, and he saw at one glance that Miss Reddington was not there. He tried to turn, but Jocko gave him a sud- den push which sent him half-way into the room, and then walked in after him. ‘* Set down!” he directed. “Thank you, but I don’t keer ter set. Allow ped ter ask whar my friend, Miss Reddington, is ** She’ll come purty soon.” ‘* She will, hey?” ve Yes.” ‘Wal, I don’t keer ter loaf ‘round hyar an’ do nothin’, fer I’ve got an engagement wi’ ther mayor which orter be a’tended to. This is her biz, not mine, an’ ef she can’t come I'd prefer ter 0.” ** You can’t go,” said Jocko, sharply. “T can’t?” ac No. ” ** Now, you see hyar,I ain’t used ter bein’ talked to like that. D’ye see arything about me that looks ez though I was a hirelin’ o’ any man? Not any fer Joseph! I’m a free-born rockin’- oss, I be, an’ef you don’t git outer my way you'll see me kick, an’ squeal, an’ r’are like sin ‘*Mebbe you kin make me git outer de way,” said Jocko, belligerently. ‘* I won’t take my swear on that, fer there is a pile o’ flesh onto ye. ’Cept fer some draw- backs, you’d make a good Bartholdi statoo but all ther ‘lectrie lights in New York an Siam couldn’t make ye look purty. Still, ef ye’ve got any liberty instincts about ye, I'd like ter hev ye prove it.’ “You = k ee you do,” ‘* Ef ye don’ © my way, why don’t ye let me git eh an’ be red on: me?” a . ‘©You’ve got ter stay hyar wid me.” “Thev? D’ye mean ma pris’ner?” ‘* Dats jes’ it.” ' “Tis, hey? Now, see hyar, my colored frien’, I ain’t wal impressed a sech words. Don’t ter ’em fer acent. You'd better letme go or thar’ll be a epidemic. ma blue-bloodk Tammany warrior, 0’ ther forty-ninth degree, an’ ef I put on war-paint an’ take my tommy- hatchet, I give yer ther straight tip, gore will flow. Lemme out, or I'll paint ther town red!” Bob tried to look as fierce as he talked, but Jocko was not to be so easily moved. He kept his place and there was nothing for Bob to do but remain quiet. y The little room in which he now was, connect- ed with one on each side, but he was wise enough to be sure that both doors were locked. As has been said, there was no window to the room,but a faint light entered through an opening in the wall which led to the front room. From that at the rear the boy at one time heard a faint clicking, and he suspected that Riddle was gathering up the pile of coins, Bob took the situation quite calmly. He knew very well that he was among law-breakers; it was pretty sure they were counterfeiters, and he did not know what else; and as it was absurd to suppose words of his would move them, he made no serious attempt. He was, however, thoroughly awake. Before the flashy young man had accosted him at Trinity Church, he had been longing for a chance to do detective work. The chance had presented itself much sooner than he expected, and he was resolved to make matters lively for the gang. In thus deciding he did not forget that he wag still in the clutches of his enemies, nor was he at all certain they would willing let him get out. He had by chance stumbled on an important secret. Might not these men try to keep him from telling it by severe measures? CHAPTER III. BOB GETS LIGHT. HALF an hour passed. Bob took eg coolly. He louanged in an easy-chair and freed his mind to Jocko occasionally, but did nothing belliger- ent. Now and then, though, he glanced long- ingly at the hole ip the wall, which let in light from the next room. He knew he could quickly go through this if let alone, but the time had not come. At the end of the time before mentioned, there was a distinct rap at the door. Jocko opened it, passed out, then followed a click which told that the boy was locked in. He sprung to his feet at once. He was now alone, and free to act as he thought best. He moved the table toa place under the hole in the wall, mounted it and tcok a look at the next room. As he had expected, it was Miss ees hg i but that young woman was not visible. Bob saw something else which was of interest —the whole room was in confusion. *“ Cricky!” he exclaimed, ‘I'll bet a pint of peanuts favre sloped. ’Pears like ther young woman is inter ther gang, an’ they’ve taken ther scare an’ h’isted anchor!” He listened, but not a sound could he hear from the interior of the house. The rumble of wagons arose from the street, and that was all. or a few seconds he hesitated, and then, with a quick contortion of his agile body, he wormed through the window and dropped in Miss Red. dington’s room. Still, no one opposed him, and he went to the front of the room. ‘The street lay just below. He raised the window and looked down careful- ly, noting the chances of a safe descent. ‘Ef I can’t do better I kin go by ther air-line, but I rather admire ther ole-fashioned huff-style. I reckon them hoss-flies has gone, an’ I'll light out an’ ’form ther p’lice, and try ter make things be ed an’ int’restin’ fur them. But hol’ on a jiffy! e had suddenly remembered the scrap of pa- per conveyed to him by Nelva, and he drew it quickly from his pocket.. Upon it were a few lines in pencil, which he had no trouble in read- ing: ‘ ‘Escape at once if possible. These men are ter- ribly wicked and I don’t know but they will kill you. If you can get away, inform the police and tell them I want to be rescued. Tam awfully afraid of these men, and they have got my father shut up asa slave. Oh! in mercy’s name, help us, and 1 will bless you always. NExva.” ‘*Gosh ter all fish-hooks!” muttered Bob, “that air needs inwestigatin’. I ’member that coppers ain’t over-favor’ble ter me, an’ I'll waltz right down an’ see Mayor Grace. Don’t reckon he'll “low nobody ter be kept in bondage in his moonicipal arena, while ez fer Nelva, she’s pur- ty enough ter touch any man’s heart, ’ceptin’ mine. I’m pledged ter another, an’ I can’t be perfiditious.” By this time he had the note put away, and he tried the door. It was not locked. He open- ed ~~ ame looked out into the hall. No one was visible, His opinion that the gang had hastily deserted the house was co’ ed, but he paid enough at- tention to prudence to move carefully as he hastily went down-stairs, No one 0 his departure, and he was soon on the street. As he left the house he saw a keen-eyed mam
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#% ql eee re The Vagabond Detective. who seemed to be passing by chance, and noticed Whatever chances had once existed of rescu- that he looked at him sharply, but thought noth- ing Nelva seemed growing rapidly less. ing of it until, he had gone several yards when Jhippley’s next step wieieh bine been to lock a heavy hand fell omhis shoulder, the boy up, but Bob insisted so strongly that he ieting around, he saw the keen-eyed man, should be taken to the office of another detective S tll do,” said the latter. whose name was Wrixley, that his captor yield- * W’at’ll do?” ed, and once there Bob was given such a good “You can’t go any further.” character that Chippley changed his tune en- ‘Can't Ii, Why not? D’ye think my patent- | tirely and let him go. leathers has gi’n out, or w’at’s ther figger?” Now that it was too late, he regretted not Bob spoke mildly, for he had an idea which | having moved as Bob at first advised, and was soon verified. after some delay did start off to run the “ The ‘ eget ? is that you’re my prisoner.” ‘*crooks ” down. “T be? ’at fur?” , When they were gone the boy turned to ‘*Oh! you needn’t be so confounded innocent, | Wrixley: for it won’t go down. I know your game, and “* Be you busy?” ‘*T am; head over heels in work. Why?” “‘T wish you could take this hyer case,” Bob wistfully explained. ‘*T wish I could, but it is out of the question. I’m so busy I can’t devote any time to it,” ‘‘ Thar’s a confounded pile 0’ rascality in it.” “T believe open. I know some of the parties well, Jack Huntsman is an old offender, and this: Rosa Reddington is his accomplice, It seems those diamonds were brought over from Europe by one of the-gang, and. given to Jack near Castle Garden, but he, finding himself watched, handed them over to you. e took a big risk, but bold ventures often win the game.” ‘One did it this time.” ‘Exactly, for Jack would have lost his dia- monds had he done any way except the one he did.» But to continue: Then there is the gang at the Houston street house who had the yellow coins. Counterfeiters, they, of course.” ‘* Beyond a oita o’ evidence, I should observe.” ‘* And Nelva?” said Wrixley, looking thought- fully at Bob.” ‘*Now ye come ter biz,” said the latter bright- ening. ‘ Diamon’s an’ gold coin is all hunk in their way, but w’at is they compared ter flesh an’ blood, an’ sech a gal as she is.” * You think highly of her.” “T don’t think. I know she is a peri, an’ a Heber, an’ all them mythologious fairies an’ oddesses—that’s jest w’at she is, and don’t ye urgit it. Now, yer hyer, Wrixley, ye’re a uare man.” ‘* Well?” questioned the detective, smiling. ‘* You orter rescue her outer bondage.” _ “IT would try ef I were not so busy, but, as it is, I really can’t make a move. But Chippley is on the case—” ‘“ Yas, like a blind cow onter a flea. He Iknow-you. You're a palof Jack Huntsman.” }. ‘* Who's he?” **So you don’t, know him!” sarcastically com- mented the stranger. ‘“‘ Not ez I am aweer on.” ‘*Didn’t you take.a package from him beside of Trinity, two hours ago?” ‘‘QOh! that was Jack Huntsman, was it? I did not know his handle afore. But is that w’y ye sa ye *rest ma?’ ‘Low me ter ask ef thar’s any law ag’in’ my conveyin’ parcels, mister?” ‘There is a law against smuggling diamonds, and you'll find that when you carry diamonds about in meek-looking bananas, after the gems have been stolen, you make yourself liable.’ Bob looked at his companion in real amaze- ment, “Wat be ye givin’me?”’ he demanded. ‘Dia- mon’s in bananas! Come, boss, my throat is a reg lar Suez canawl, but I can’t swaller that.” ‘We will not make any more useless words about it, but to let you see that I am not work- ing in the dark, I'll tell you whatIknow. Jack Huntsman is a city confidence man and sharper- in-general, and it was he who got up the scheme of smuggling the diamonds in bananas. <A con- federate brought them over, but gave the pack- age to Huntsman near Castle Garden. : “‘T was spo them, with another man, though we did not know all then, or suspect that the package had the sparklers in it; and we followed Jack up Broadway. At Trinity he gave the whole business to you, and then you took a. coach and came up here. Now, you see we're dead onto you, and if you know when you're well off, you'll just give Jack away, look out for Number One, and lead the way to where the klers are.” . won’t git no game, Chippley won't; he couldn’t Bob had listened attentively to all this, and | find a hole in ther sidewalk, ‘less he fell inter it.” as he no longer doubted the man’s good faith, Bob spoke with accents of deep regret, for he was very anxious to rescue Nelva. Her touch- ing note was before him to remind him of her lovely mournful face, and evident sorrow, and nothing would: have pleased him more than to see Wrixley take hold of the case. When he saW that it wasimpossible he threw he arrived at an understanding of pal facts of the case. ‘“ That’s all right ez fur ez it goes, an’ it goes a good ways; but you ain’t got a true bill. I ain’t no palo’ ther desperadoes, but a wictim, That's jest w’at I bo—a wictim an’ a innercent. e princi- Ib them thar bananas, I admit, but I never | back his shoulders, thrust his thumbs into the see’d t silk-tile bloke afore he give ’em ter | arm-holes of his ragged vest and nodded empha- ringin’, tica me, an’ I never knowed w’at I was “Nonsense!” retorted the man. ‘‘ Would Huntsman trust a stranger with thousands of dollars’ worth of diamonds?” sae question dazed Bob for a moment; then “Why not, ef ther stranger was a kid, an’ a@idn’t know a boodle was inter them blamed lly. “Wal, ef fishes can’t fly they kin swim, an’ I'm goin’ ter take up this hyar case. It won’t be my fu’st, fur we remember that when Adam Wi n, ther ticut nabob wi’ hay-seed — his ree in conser I and him. onsequently, I may er myself a vet’ran detective, am ez ther peanut, trade ain’t over- flourishin’, I'll let Stumpy attend terthat branch 0’ ther civil service while I go an’ reform them surpentine snakes thet hez got Nelva.” ‘* How’ll you do it?” Wrixley doubtfully asked. _ “IT can'tjest tell now, but you kin bet’ yer sus- ders thar’ll be a whistle when I let off steam. ome = we ed lez said thar’s no se¢h word se ;an’ I'm goin’ ter win this case or t’ar New York all up by ther roots, b’gravy!” CHAPTER IV. ) . A WOLF IN SHEEP’S CLOTHING. THREE days passed, and there was no news ‘om Jack Huntsman or the supposed counter- but oh ah The former had been released soon af- Chippley would not take any measures to stop r his arrest, for there was no evidence that he the affair. e de . avating, but not alarming. Bob | | Rosa Red n and the rest of the gang, but | haddone any smuggling, though Chippley felt persisted in believing them still in the house. very sure that he had: and that offider’s meat in- He had a er near at hand, and they, | defatigable efforts had failed to develop any- thing new. He felt sure that diamonds had been smuggled in bamanas, but the bananas, Jack Huntsman and Rosa Reddington were alike missing. He was not the only one who was trying to ‘my friend, Count Ivan Royalschoff, late of other boy nicknamed ‘‘ Stumpy,” but the latter- usually attended to the stand while Bob went. abroad in search of strange occurrences, or act-- ed as purchaser for the firm. Since his last adventure, Bob had utterly ne-- glected business. Nearly all his time was de-- voted to thoughts of Nelva, and plans for rescu- ing her, and he haunted Broadway persist- ently. ; He did this because he thought it was the best 2 place to find Jack Huntsman, ard if he once : oda eyes on that person he intended to follow im. But one day followed another until, as before. it stated, three passed and there was no sign of Jack, nor of his confederates. : Bob had grown uneasy. He had patience. ~~ enough to keep the watch for a month, but, in. ah the meanwhile, what was happening to Nelva. 4 and that father whom he represented as being- Ur “shut up as a slave” by her own enemies. ‘ Delay might be dangerous, and Bob fretted : more and more as time passed: ree _ Hour after hour he haunted Broadway,watch- 3 ing for flashy Jack Huntsman or Miss Redding-- ton, but it was not until the fourth day that he saw anything to arouse him from monotonous: ae On that afternoon he was sauntering along near Great Jones street when two young men passed him, moving up Broadway at a brisk pace. They were fashionably dressed, wore tall hats: and carried the prevailing style of canes, which seemed to Bob more fitted for fire-pokers than anything else, and, on the whole, made quite a show ina certain way. ; Now neither of these men had a familiar’ ‘ face, yet Bob came toa halt and gazed after them - a very thoughtfully, his attention being fixed sharply on one in particular. ‘Ts it, or ain’t it?’ he muttered. ‘‘ Ez Macbeth Hamblet said ter his wife. ‘Is this a dagger I see, or is it Jack Huntsman?” Bob removed his old cap and scratched his: head with unconscious vigor. + ‘* Tt don’t look like ther bloke, fer this feller is- ‘ black enough ter be a Hottentot dude, but thar- ‘i: is a familiar unfamiliarity in ther way he slings- J his huffs. Is it, or— Go’way! it can’t be. This hyer chap is a furriner, fer sure, an’ Jack is cne o’ Uncle Sam’s chickens, though I s’pect some- body py tr a buzzard’s egg inter ther nest. Hol’ on a bit, Robert, my frien’, fer w’at is more» likely than that Mister Jack, knowin’ ther storm- signal is out, hés got inter a disguise ter delude Chippley’s wigilance? B’gosh, I'll amble ‘long arter them bloods!” The decision was no sooner made than Bob: started. His quarry had not observed him, and the pursuit was easy, so he followed them up» Broadway nearly to Union Square. His suspicion was gaining ground, for though the watched man seemed several shades darker ~ than Jack Huntsman, the boy believed he could see many of that man’s old movements, Near Twelfth street they stopped to look in a window, and Bob pulled his cap lower over his: ; face and boldly advanced to their side... eh. His idea was to overhear the dark man talk- i i ing, but just as he arrived the second man was oP slapped on the shoulder by a third young blood, who exclaimed: : ‘“‘ Hallo, Murdough! If you want to star-gaze : look higher.” Mh The man addressed started, looked alarmed, Bob thought, and then laughed. 3 “Oh! is it you, Trippton? Glad to see you. ‘ How is everyt ing? t me introduce you to ussia. Count, my friend; Mr. Stuyvesant. Trippton.” g These ponderous names almost paralyzed Bob, fb broken and imperfect, but Bob, who had not Boe vy all .these years without *m onter yer voice, } u my Mister See es The conversation which he heard was of ne- aa e { all. other suspicious t find the plotters and» sharpers; Bob o’ the Bow- | betray the fact that he was acting the ; he ae “Ghiptiey Was angry, and inclined to blame | ery was zealously working with the same end in | was Fe ooking in the window and his be i ie Bob for Wanye 3 it une , while oe hy = ¥ 7 OS Bu 4 .— . hoe was toward the ons but he heard all = \ eau " (- as angry and a good more 1ncil ob’s ‘* trade,” as y indicated; was that | contiriied to analyze the voice of th ju ey te. oa ae a men the detective, though he said nothing in- of a pean merchant. He had a stand on: the count. sti rg ee .F he | mn ; } discrest, Bowery, w. he ran im combination with an-
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+," ‘with zea. The Vagabond Detective. consequence in itself, except that part in which Murdough announced that the Russian was his guest for the time being, and then he said in an aside to Trippton that the count wasa very rich and noble man in his own country. “Gammon!” thought Bob. “Sing Sing is full o’ jest sech nobles, an’ they’re no ’count neither.” Trippton finally went his way, and Murdough and Royalschoff kept on up-town. We need scarcely say that Bob followed. He was vow anxious to know where Mur- dough lived. When he had learned that, he ‘would deliberate on the future. -He naturally supposed that Jack had made a fool and victim of Murdough, and led the latter to take him in as so many weak-minded aristocrats take in titled foreigners, simply because of their titles; but if such was the case Bob intended to show the young blood that he was the one who had been “ taken in.” Still, the young detective noticed that Mur- dough had a dissipated look, and he was not so sure about the state of affairs. — He followed the men nea Union Square, and to one of the streets between that point and Madison Square, and saw them enter a very imposing house. Standing at a safe distance, he reconnoitered the house and tried to decide what he ought to do next. He had very clearly settled the point that Count Ivan Royalschoff was Jack Huntsman, and had he been as reckless as some people, his first step would have been to call at the house and denounce him. Luckily, Bob was too wise for this. He knew it was not probable any one would believe him, and such a rash move would alarm Jack. No; his proper way was to “lay low” and -continue to spy upon the sharper. While standing thus, Bob saw a negro boy emerge from the basement door and advance toward him, and his active mind at once formed a scheme for getting more points in the game. He had an orange in his ket, and by the ‘time the colored boy arrived he had it ready for a bait. ** Hallo!” he said. ‘‘ How'd ye like ter wob- ble bl jaws ’round that thar golden sphere?” The negro boy grinned. ‘*Looks mighty good,” he said, wishfully. ** Jess try if an’ see et it filfulls yer expections, I’ve jes’ b’en a-eatin’ oranges all day, an’ I feel like a alderman arter a session. Do it pan out wal, my frien’?” “Bully,” said the other lad, using his teeth “Tm rejoiced ter hear it, ez I hev an ambi- tion ter be a benefactom o’ ther human race, I’m pleased ter see ye look fat an’ healthy. Got a good place?” * Pooty fa’r.” “Many in ther fambly?” ‘* Free.” “Three, hey? Name is Murdough, I b’lieve?” “c Yas.” The colored boy was too busy with the orange ‘to waste many words. ‘¢ Wot’s ther boss’s name?” * 7Z7’Vander.” “Wot?” The name was repeated. **Oh! I unnerstan’. You talk wuss than a chicken wi’ ther croup w’en yer a-chawin’ that orange, b’gosh. Alexander, yer say? Alexan- der Murdough, Is’pose. Wai, he’s one. Who's tiothers?” ‘¢ His two chillun, Albert an’ Dora.” “Tm! Did I see Albert jes’ go in?” “Yas: him an’ de count.’ ‘¢ Who's the count?” “‘ He’s a Rushing, and his name is Even Ras- ‘selcoff,” the negro clearly explained. “Tyan Royalschoff, hey? Wal, w’at’s he do- in’ inter ther elder Murdough’s palatial edi- fice?” -- ‘Oh! he’s dar cause he’s a big man—I ’speck he’s bigger dan der President, J do—leastways, { know de Murdoughs is mighty good ter him, an’ I speck he’ll marry Miss Dora.” “That a fack?” ‘Ves? ““Humph! What sort o’ a mistress is she, anyhow ; “She's de bestest girl in dis city, she is. Say, ye wouldn't go back on me arter I’ve eat ‘yer orange?” ‘“ Nary a time.” “Den Dll say she’s an angel, is Miss Dora; but ez fer Marse Murdough an’ dat young Al- bert I don’t like dem fur a cent.” “That's right an’ proper. Is Alexander real- ly rich?” ‘* He’s rollin’ in money.” ‘*An’ he seems ter want his darter ter marry that air black-hided Russian, does he?” “Yas, but young Albert seemsde most anx- ious. But I can’t stop no longer, ’ca’se I’m on aerrand, Thank ye fer de orange, an’ good- day.” ‘ The negro left, leaving Bob to meditate anew. “Thar’s something crooked hyar, or I’m a blind goslin’ with a church debtin my crap. I reckon Alexander Murdough is tooken by that air Russian, fer ef he’s got lots 0’ cash he would- n’t let no sech humbug spark his darter—not any, fer Joseph. Wal, Mister Jack Huntsman, you’re a good ‘un, ain't ye? W’at’ll ye hev yer | fingers inter next? Ye ought ter be in Sing Sing, b’gosh, an’ I’m jest ther p’isen-fanged wasp ter put ye thar. tive, an’ I’m right onto ye like Government glue I be!” At this point his thoughts were interrupted. A hand was laid lightly on his arm, and he turn- ed and saw a young man of twenty-five—a rather good-looking fellow, but one who had a flashy air which recalled Huntsman at once to the boy’s mind. ‘Nother o’ ther brood, b’gosh!” was his un- spoken verdict. “See here, young fellow, are you busy?” ask- ed the stranger. ‘Wal, no,” replied Bob deliberately; ‘trade ain’t drivin’.” ‘Do you want to earn a quarter?” ‘My frien’, you can bet yer high-heeled shoes I do,” Bob freely acknowledged. ‘You can have the money by delivering this note at the fourth house yonder—Murdough is the name on the door, If you can read you will see it is addressed to Count Ivan Royal- schoff. I want you to inquire for him, and de- | | of Nelva. liver the note to nobody else. See?” Bob thotight he saw a good deal more than the man intended he should, and he nodded | promptly, showing no particular interest. ‘*T should rvee-mark that I do see. °Tis ez cl’ar ez Croton. Give us ther note an’ ther quarter, an’ I'll put ’em whar they’}l do ther most good, ez ther mouse said when he swaller- ed ther cat.” “Very good; don’t fail to do ther job right. I'm in haste and must leave, but do you give the note to Royalschoff.” CHAPTER V. BOB GETS INTO HOT QUARTERS. THE flashy — man repeated his directions earnestly, and then hurried away, jumped on a Fourth avenue up-town car and was soon whisk- ed out of Bob’s sight. The boy shut one eye and looked after him speculatively. ‘“‘ Farewell, my royal nibs, an’ ef ferever, why, so-long. I’ve got yer quarter, an’ P’'ve got yer note, an’ I ’member I promised ter put them whar they’d do ther most good. That ain’t in ther hands o’ ther Russian no-’count count, not fer Joseph! I ain’t in ther habit o’ burglarizin’ letters, for I allow ’tain’t square, but when deal- in’ wi’ sech lop-eared coyotes ez you an’ Ivan, thar hez ter be a special bill put through ther ouse o’ Lords. I’m goin’ ter see w’at is con- tained in this dockyment.” So the young detective turned the corner and, stepping into a deep doorway broke the en velope open. Then he read the following letter: “‘ Dear Counr:—Come to No. — Seventeenth street at eight to-night, without fail. The girl is contu- macious, and may make trouble. We want your Shall be able to ship the yellow boys in two Come Without fail! advice. days. *“ ErHan Eames.” Bob’s face brightened. The whole tenor of the letter seemed vitally important. In his opinion the girl referred to was Nelva, while what could the reference to ‘yellow boys” mean unless it was the counter- feit money? And the signature! Bob had not forgotten that when he carried the bananas for Hunts- man, his orders had been to first ask for Ethan ames, and, in case he was not in the Houston street house, for Miss Reddington. ; “Wal, now, ef this ain’t biz, wat is sit? Reckon that chap didn’t s’pect who he ‘vas a-givin’ this due-billy to. Must be I ain't got a perfeshnal look, Deliver this ere dockyment ter Count No~count? Oh! yes, I will—snot! I'm onter a ripple in ther game, an’ I won't let no grass grow under my cowhides afore I in- vestigate. I’m goin’ straight ter No. — Seven- teenth street an’ take a look at thatair mansion, an’ ef Nelva is shet up inter it, I'll hev her out or bu’st my boot-heels off, b’gosh!” I’m Bowery Bob, detec- | | / | | 5 —~ The young detective lost no time in maki the first move in this direction, but at once ‘set off for Seventeenth street. When he arrived at the stated number, he found the house to be a large one which had once been quite grand, but time had laid a heavy hand upon it, and it now looked grim and lonesome. It stood somewhat back from the street, and was surrounded by a small yard, and Bob found that he could not learn much about it from that 0int. F He looked wishfully at the yard. He could easily scale the fence, but would it be prudent? ‘* Til try it, ef they set a Siberian blood-suck- er onter me. I feela feelin’ that I kin learn enough ter make it a joodicious inwestment, so hyar goes!” With one last look to make sure no watcher was in sight, he leaped over the fence and then took refuge in the shrubbery with which the yard was filled. Of course it was leafiéss, but it served as protection enough. Using it carefully, Bob gained the rear of the house. Then he saw for the first time that a piazza ran along one end and the rear, which was really the best part of the house, and a dar- ing scheme entered his mind; Why couldn’t he enter the house? The back-door was open, and so was one win- dow which opened on the piazza, while no one was visible. Now, no one was better aware than Bobo’ the Bowery that what he contemplated was a dan+ oe move in a double sense. To enter any 10use as he thought of doing was to run the risk of being arrested as a burglar; while to en- ter one where Riddle, Jocko and: Miss Redding- ton were was torisk his life; but:he thought only She must be rescued. If she was in the house, danger should not keep him back. Thinking thus, he quickly crossed the yard, ascended the stairs and stood on that part of the piazza which was on a level with the second story windows. All remained quiet. Here the adventurer paused, and well he might. He knew he was daring a good deal and intended to be cautious, but he did not kno all. If he’ had, he would have made a hurried retreat. From a third-story window his every move- ment was being closely observed, and the mam who peered out so secretly through the blinds, and smiled triumphantly as he saw Bob venture along a step at a time, was none other than he’ who had given the boy the letter to Count Royalschoff. “ ad Bob seen him it would not have failed te~ flash upon him that that letter was the first step m an attempt to decoy him into the old house for—what dark purpose was there in view? ‘ But Bob saw him not, and little dreamed that he was doing just what his deadly enemies wish- ed him to do. Finding everything so quiet, the boy cre through the window and stood fairly within the lair of the sharpers. He was in an ordinary bedroom, but he lést little time in opening the door, and seeing what was beyond. It proved to be a small room with only one other mode of egress, and as Bob reach= ed this he was brought to a halt by the sound of voices beyond. ’ Cautiously opening the door a trifle, he looked through. What he saw settled one question in his und. The room was a sort of kitchen, and two persons were working there, They were Jocko, the big negro, and Hannah, the woman who had admitted him at Houston street. “Tm arter them, ez sure ez clam-bait!" Bob thought. ‘Hyer is two o’ ther main-braces 0’ ther crook caravan, an’ ther rest o’ vher derrick must be "round som’ers. Ther chief inter- rogatory is, hows’ever, whar’s Nelva?’ This point he was anxious to settle, and hae would have moved at once had there been am way except to return to the piazza, but at moment old Hannah began to speak and Bek was held motionless by her words. “T tell you, Jocko, we want to keep a clos watch on that girl, Nelva.” ‘Wal, ain't dat wat’s bein’ done?’ Jecky asked. "T suppose they think so.” **T don’t see no t harm in a like ‘6d the giant sulkily added. ‘I eo scrush bee wid one hand.” ‘Don’t you try it.” ‘“ Wal, who said I’s goin’ ter?” JNA 5 Ra — > -
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6 The Vagabond Detective. ‘‘-You don’t know all about that girl, Jocko.” **Do you?” “Well, no,” thoughtfully replied Hannah, ** but I know a good deal. For one thing, I know she is heiress to a mighty pile of money.” ““Go way.” ‘Tt’s a fact, Jocko. Murdough, I suppose?” “ Don’t im though!” ‘ Well, Nelva’s his daughter!” Jocko stared at her with dilated eyes. ‘‘Go ’way!” he repeated. ‘¢ She’s his real heiress, and Albert and Dora are mere nobodies. Who they are I don’t know, and I admit there is a mystery about the case which I can’t get at. One thing I do know, Nelva is old Murdough’s daughter.” “Then,” said astonished Jocko,‘* whose daugh- ter is de man we hab shut up—I mean, whose father am he? Dat is ter say, he claims ter be de gal’s father, an’ she claims him, too. How’s dat?” “Now, you have me, Jocko. As I said before, there is a mystery about the whole affair. It is mightily mixed up, but I give you_the straight tip that if we want any good out of Ethan Eames, we don’t want to let Nelva escape.” We need scarcely say that all this was very 1n- teresting to Bob, though quite as surprising and lexing as it was to Jocko, not the least as- Gaalsbing point being that Nelva was Murdough’s heiress, when Albert and Dora seemed to stand im the way of succession. Careful consideration of this point was pre- vented, however, for the time being. Beb heard a slight sound behind him. He wheeled, nimble as a cat, but as he turned his arms were grasped by strong hands and he found himself a prisoner, and looking into the face of the man who had given him the note. Close behind that person was a second man. Bob’s captor laughed aloud. ‘‘ Aha! so we've got you, my vagabond spy?” For once Bob had no reply ready. ‘‘You run your head into the trap just as prettily as a lamb, didn’t you? Ha! a!—that note for Royalschoff was alla decoy to*bring you here. I knew you'd read it and stick your nose in where it didn’t belong, and I arranged the trap. You're init, too. Jocko, do you re- member this kid?” ‘‘ Bet yer life I do, dat!” the negro returned. “Wal, I reckon ye don’t know no harm on me,” retorted Bob, who could not long be kept down. ‘I’m a blue-blood o’ ther fu’st water right from Murray Hill. Ihev got p’litical in- fluence ‘nough ter send me ter Congress ef I wanted; an’ I’m a stockholder in ther Bartholdi tatoo ter ther extent o’ twenty-five cents, an’ don’t need no better posish.” ““You'll need a statue of your own pretty soon,” said his captor. “‘ Hello! be you thar, Ethan Eames?” ‘‘That’s not my name; I merely signed it be- rause I knew it would help decoy you here. No, Ethan is one of our gang, but not here at pres- ent. Asfor me, I am named Chug Bates. You see I am frank, but I’m notafraid tobe. You'll never give us away.” ‘* Won't 1?” r No, you won't.” * Jes’ ez you say, yer nibs.” “Do you know why? I'll tell you. morning you will be asleep at the bottom of the Hast river.” “Go way! Ye must think I hev a queer taste. My skin is so ma, porous, I'd git wet a-sleenin’ thar. ’Sides, I knew one chap what slept thar a week fur a wager, an’ when his time was up he died. He won ther boodle, but water on ther brain did him up.” “Thatll do. Itseems your tongue is one of the kind that goes like perpetual motion, but I don’t care to hear it. At any rate, it’ll stop for- ever to-night.” Jocko took up a huge knife and advanced. ‘Let me at de little reptyle!” he said, in a ter- rible voice. ‘* Let him alone,” replied Bates, Jocko, however, was on the war-path, and he flourished around Bob and made passes at him with the knife until Bates was obliged to erder him back in a way not to be disregarded. Hannah then claimed attention and, looking a You know old Alexander grt deal frightened, wanted to know how Bob ppaned to &% there, for it seemed neither she mor Jocko h&d been taken into Bates’s confi- ce, The latter stated that he had seen enough to eonvince him that the boy was spying upon fhem—here he winked at Hannah suggest that further particulars be reserved for a fu- tare time—and had hastily arranged a scheme for getting the spy into captivity. Before | ** And here he is,” he added. “You think you’ve did a mighty smart thing Mister Plug Bates, don’t ye?” scornfully asked Bob. ‘‘ Wal, I wanter impress one cardigan truth on yer mind, an’ that is that ye can’t hold water in a muskeeter net. No more kin ye hold me. I’m inter hock now, ez I admit, but Pll git out ef I bu’st ev’ry porous plaster on my body, an’ when I do git out I'll go up ter Albany an’ git ther Governor ter order out a hull rigi- ment o’ m’lishy ter my aid, an’ I'll jest make ther walls o’ yer durned ole castle drop in flakes an’ scabs, b’gosh!” “You're not out yet, my young gamecock, and don’t you think you will be. I tell you that you'll sleep in East river to-night. Desperate cases require desperate remedies, and since you've poked your nose into our affairs, you've got todie! Do you hear that, you young vil- lain? I’ve got a revolver in my pocket, and the lead that’s in it is for you !” CHAPTER VI. THE BOY DETECTIVE’S GREAT PERIL. ‘Wat, hyarI be, shet up like a lamb ’bout ter be slaughtered. I’m powerful afraid Pll be cut off in ther flower o’ my youth, an’ ther world be deprived o’ my talent fur onraveling detective skeins, S’pose I orter be reconciled, but it seems sorter hard ter be switched off on a side-track jest ez I war onter ther track o’ sech big game.” The speaker was Bowery Bob. He had been confined in a strong room with the comforting announcement that in a few hours he would be butchered, after which his lifeless body would be sunk in East river. He knew that his enemies were in earnest, but he had given no sign of weakness. His last words to Mr. Chug Bates were brave and buoy- ant, and when alone he had maintained his cool- ness. His present quarters were much like the room at Houston street where Jocko had kept him for atime; it was a ‘dark room,” without any window, and situated between two others; and in this case there was no hole for him to crawl through. The gas was burning, however. ‘¢ Seems sorter tough ter douse a feller’s glim wi’out givin’ him a chance fer ter make his will, b’ gosh! Now, thar is ther peanut stand on ther Bowery, an’ Stumpy don’t know who my heirs ~ fer that matter, I don’t neither, but I know a gal named Nan, which same sorter hes a mortgage on my heart, an’ ’'d like her ter hev w’at lucre I’ve got saved up. B’ gosh! she shall hev it, an’ I’m goin’ ter git out an’ deliver ther cash ter her pussonally afore I slide over ther crick.” Bob looked speculatively at his bound wrists. He was strong and agile, and past experience led him to believe he could get out of this difficulty, but how was he to leave the room? ‘Both doors locked, an’ no winder what- somdever, Wal, w’at 0’ that? W’at’s ter hinder me hig through ther wall? S’pect thar’s nothin’ but plaster an’ brittle boards thar, an’ I’ve got a pocket-knife strong enough ter slash ther mortar all ter smash. I'll try it!” He began operations, but it was no small job to get clear of his bonds. He twisted and squirmed into all possible shapes, and after a long battle they weakened. Continuing, he finally had the satisfaction of standing clear, but his mind began to be troub- led. So much time had elapsed he knew it must now be nearly dark—perhaps quite as late as that—and Chug Bates might take it into his head to play the assassin game at any time. “Thar ain’t no time ter lose,” thought Bob. ‘“‘T must be up an’ doin’, or I'll git most mightily done up.” » He produced his pocket-knife, It was an unusually large knife of the kind, but only a brave and sanguine boy would have expected to gain liberty with it. ob lost no time, but attacked the_plaster- ing on the east wall, and he soon found that in this respect he would have no trouble. Time had loosened it, and it gave way quite readily. For some time he had heard nothing from his enemies, but he worked in constant expectation of their reappearance. Nobody could realize the danger more clearly than he. He had made himself dangerous to desperate criminals, and ng) intended to take his life. ow would his efforts to escape result? Would he be detected in the midst of all and killed off-hand like a mere ox? He worked rapidly, expectin to hear his returning foes, but headed as ever, The plastering was soon removed, and then his real work began. Beyond him was a line of laths, something not so easily got away with. every moment eeping as cool- Still, he did not stop, His knife, originally very keen-edged, had not been blunted to any great extent, and he began cutting away the narrow strips of board. His success surprised and delighted him, and he went on with zeal. One after another was removed until his half of the wall was perforat- ed to such an extent as was necessary for es- cape. R Now fur ther other! Ef thar should happen ter be folkses in t?other room I’m a gone goslin’, but ef thar ain’t, I reckon TU ’stonish them measly blood-suckers.” He went on. The wood which he had to cut proved to be uncommonly adapted to cutting, and he wielded his knife with skill. One thing troubled him, however. The first lath came out quite easily, but the second loosen- ed a good deal of plastering, which rattled down, in the other room audibly. “Gosh all fiddle strings! ef them chaps is any- whar about, that’ll bring ’em down on me like a wolf on ther fold. Anybody would think ther ole house was a-tumblin’ down ker-slap.” He waited a few moments, but all remained: quiet and he renewed his attack. Lath by lath was removed until at last—eureka!—he had. made a hole large enough for him to pass. through. Up to this he had not been able to see any- thing beyond, but the gaslight from his own room now showed him a red substance close at hand in the other apartment. He reached through and found that a table, covered with a cloth, stood against the wall, ex- actly where he had made the opening. As he was now ready for his real attempt to escape, he was about to move this when he heard voices and the door-knob of the other room rat- tled. Quick as a cat he sprung back and turned his gasnearly down, and then returned to the hole in the wall. Just as he did so a light flashed up in the other room. The table almost hid the opening, but he could barely see over the top of it, and two mem were thus brought to his view. One was Chug Bates. The other was a tall man with coal-black hair and beard, but Bob had no sooner seen these last articles than he suspected they were false. Why he did he could not have told, for they looked real enough. So far he felt sure his digging operations had not been discovered. It became a vital question, would they be discovered? The floor was covered with piaeicHibg which had rattled down, but this was behind the table. The spread hung well down, but not far enough: to hide the white pile if the men looked that way. To Bob’s, uneasy mind, the plastering seemed to glow like an electric light. he men, however, had seated themselves and: were so far sublimely unconscious. ‘¢ Well, about this boy,” said the larger man. ‘““ Who is he, anyway?” ‘A mere street Arab; one of those ragged, dirty fellows whom we are apt to underrate,. but who are really as sharp as needles. There is no experience develops a Jad half so much as: their life.” “T know all that, but tell me about this par- ticular one.” “Well, he calls himself Bob o’ the Bowery, which 1s all I know about him except what he’s done in this case. “You see, Jack Huntsman got the diamonds after Dooley brought ‘em over in the bananas, and as Crig laid for Dooley. ‘Huntsman saw he was spotted, and as *twas: a chance if he wormed out, he resolved to play desperate game. Seeing a street boy by Trinity, he gave him the package and hired him to take: it to Ethan Eames or Miss Reddington. Of course it was running an awful risk, for if the: boy stole the bananas, Jack would also lose the sparklers; but what could he do? Chippley had his eye on him, and it was his only chance; “ Luckily, Chippley was too stupid to suspect the dodge, and the boy was allowed to go. I need scarcely say this boy was Bob o’ the Bow- ery. Il arrived on the scene just in time to geta ood look at the boy, but not soon enough to re- eve him of the bananas. Jack and I foiled Chippley and got clear, but Dooley was not so lucky. The other detective gobbled him, and Dooley weakened and told the- whole business. In the meanwhile Bob went to Houston street, where he stumbled onto Gnarl Riddle and his operations, and the gang had to light out. The cops had Jack at one time but had to let him go for lack of proof. ‘T soon learned that the boy meant mischief, , and when | saw that he had actually tumbled te Chippley and Criggins was on the watcb, the first shadowed Jack while t
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Huntsman in his disguise as Count Royalschoff, I gave him a decoy note which brought the kid here, and then [ bagged him.” The elder man had listened carefully to this explanation, as had Bob, also. ‘ “You really think the boy is dangerous?” “T know it,” “Then he must be put out of the way.” “Of course. None of us wants to go to Sing Sing.” . ‘“*T don’t, for one,” said the elder man, with a shiver, ‘If it was known who Cap Golden, the money-maker, really is, it would make a terri- ble uproar.” “ And make it uncomfortable for you.” ** Confoundedly so.” “ As a.result, the boy must be removed.” “Yes; show him no mercy.” “All right; Ill settle him inside of an hour.” } 5 “ Will ye?” thought listening Bob. ‘‘ Wal, now, this ere is mighty pleasant. Next ter be present at a chap’s own funeral, hearin’ hisself disposed on orally is int’restin’; I may say it is mighty interestin’.” ‘Well, you can attend to that,” said Cap Golden. ‘In the meanwhile, what about The Coiner and Nelya?” “Nothing new.” ‘‘ Coiner still works?” “Oh! yes. , He often gets sort of desperate and says he would kill us if he could, but we don’t give him a chance, and he just works so he need not go mad with thinking.” ‘¢ Very commendable in him. effect of putting Nelva back?” ‘‘Tt works well. Both she and the old man work more cheerfully.” Golden laughed. ‘‘ Wouldn’t people be amazed if they knew there were slaves right here in New York, work- ing day after day?” * At dangerous work, too.” “Mighty dangerous.” ‘‘ But profitable for us.” ' “‘ Right you are, and The Coiner is a treasure to us. I don’t know another man who is his equal on such jobs.” ‘Nor I, but do you know, Cap, I’ve had an uneasy feeling lately; a sort of presentiment that our game is about over, and the claim worked out?” ‘“* Nonsense!” ‘¢'That’s all very well, but ever since that Bob o’ the Bowery began to amble around I've felt rage pale ; ‘“* My dear Bates, it is plain that the boy is a nightmare to you, and the sooner you silence him, the better. I feel a little uneasy about him, too, and I'll wait in the house until the job isdone. Do you go and get Jocko, and finish the kid at once.” “All right. Mister Bob will be a clod in five minutes.” Bates arose and left the room, while the sub- ject of their conversation gripped his pocket- snife and stood in doubt and irresolution, Had there been a chance he would gladly have thought the danger exaggerated, but there was none. He had made himself obnoxious to des- nerate scoundrels, and they had decreed that his life must be the forfeit. The danger was close at hand. In a very short time the murderers would ajp- pear. What was he to do? , Bob was a brave boy, but- when he saw him- self hemmed in between so many enemies he could not help feeling that the odds were greater than he ought to encounter. What was to be done?” Just then he could think of but one thing and But whatis the he sprung to the gas-jet and turned the light en- tirely off. He at once saw that this was a mis- take. The light from the other room sent one narrow ribbon of yellow into the darkness, through the space above the table,-and would, of course, betray his work at once ‘to Chug Bates and the giant negro. , But even as Bob comprehended this he saw that it was too late to remedy the mistake; the key clicked and the door opened. CHAPTER VII. BOB'S STARTLING DISCOVERY. EMERGENCIES often stir one to greater efforts, and Bob o’ the Bowery, instead of being dis- pee by the near approach of danger, in- ntly regained all his coolness. “Tt y Saa he” thought he, “an’ Pil be chawed ef I don’t do /” : And then he scrambled through the hole in the wall, at the same time pulling the table- cover up so as to shut out atl light, and found i SN The Vagabond Detective. himself in the room with Cap Golden, and only screened from view by the table. This tefuge he knew amounted to nothing, for there was nothing to hide his avenue of de- parture from Bates, and he determined on prompt action. Golden had drawn a letter from his pocket and was unsuspicious of what was being done, but though Bob might have darted past him, he thought it best to put him temporarily out of the way before leaving the room. Accordingly, he made a rush, and as Golden turned his head he was struck by something which upset both himself and his chair, and sent him rolling over on the floor like a hoop. The gas was within the boy’s reach, and with one sweep he turned it off. "Then he sprung to- ward the door. As he had hoped it was unlocked, and he dart- ed through into the hall, Here all was darkness, and he knew not which way to turn. He remembered, however, that the longer part of the hall was to his left, and in this direction he mace haste to go. As he did so an angry outcry was mingled with Cap Gold- en’s curses, and he knew Bates had discovered his flight. Then the latter’s voice arose again. ** Quick, Jocko! Go to the outside door and cut off his retreat!” The first part of the order was obeyed with unexpected promptness and the big negro swept | along like a cyclone. Bob heard him coming and thought best to make himself as small as possible, so he crouched on the floor, but the result proved that he had got in just the wrong place. When too late, he saw that Jocko was goin to collide with him. Then one big boot struck him in the shoulder, and the negro gave a bad ‘alg grunt and turn- ed over him like an acrobat. But this was not all. A tremendous clattering followed, and Jocko went bouncing down the stairs. Bob did not care to follow. He wanted to get out on the piazza by which he had entered, and he ey. arose and pushed forward, look- ing for a window. He did not at first see any, but a faint light finally guided him. He threw up the sash, un- closed the blinds and passed through. By this time both Bates and Golden were in the hall and storming like pirates, but the racket made by Jocko had disturbed them and they did not move with remarkable celerity. The boy felt that his chances were very good, and he ran nimbly down the piazza stairs. He had no desire to remain longer, and he made for the street without delay. Once on the sidewalk he drew a long breath and looked back. Lights were appearing in the house. ‘* Go it, Ole Hundred!” Bob cried, exultingly. “You kin s’arch till yer knee-pans loosen, but divil a chap 0’ my inches will ye find. I’ve see’d all I wanter o’ yer style 0’ f-hash, an’ now I’m off ter pastures new. Ef it lays within me ter make ye sick, thar’ll be an awful un- heave hyer purty quick!” And away went the boy to the nearest police- station. We have before observed that officers, and, we may add, officials of all classes, are not pre- judiced in favor of boys. Let a ragged, sharp- faced, prococious boy make a complaint, and the chances are that he will at first be regarded as trying to ‘‘ sell” those to whom he makes it. t was so on the present occasion, The well-meaning officer who heard the hur- ried story could not help thinking that it sound- ed more like a tale from the Arabian Nights than anything else, and though he finally sent several men with Bob, so much time had been consumed that they found—nothing! Once more the gang had taken the alarm and an unceremonious flight, Investigation showed that the house had been hired, ready-furnished, from an honest owner by Chug Bates, inside of a week. But Cap Golden, Bates, Jocko and Hannah had all disappenred like will-o’ the-wisps. Bowery Bob was chagrined, but he was more than ever determined to persevere in his work. As he expressed it, * it looked mightily ez though he had got arter big game, an’ he was goin’ ter corral ’em in Sing sag He went to his own humble quarters at a late hour and slept soundly until morning, and then prepared for another step he gad decided to e. o t=] According to what Hannah had _ said to Jocko, there was that about the case which ought to interest the elder Murdough, and Bob wished to see him, “°Tain’t a dead sure thing he'll wanter see | | ’ 7 me though,” he thought, as he walked up the Bowery to Fourth avenue. ‘‘He’s a ’ristocrat, while I don’t spose my numerous streaks 0’ genius show through these hyar rags. Still, ef I kin git ther ear o’ his nibs, I reckon I kin pin his attention wi’ one sentence. W’atshall it bet I must contrive ter make it a stunner.” By the time he reached Murdough’s house he had it ready, and he boldly rung the bell. It was lucky for him that at that moment Miss Dora Murdough was near the door, and as she did not think it any disgrace to open it, he was soon looking at a face so pretty that he promptly pulled off his old cap. ‘** Hope ye'll *scuse me fer introodin’,” he said, “but I hev ’portant biz wi’ Mr. Alexander Mur- dough, ter wit, namely, an’ I hev called fer ter inquire ef Ikin hev ther august privilege o’a pussonal interview in his presence.” The young lady smiled. **Mr. Murdough is in his library, and I think you can see him,” she replied. ‘* Then ef you'll hev ther kindness ter p’int out pa ges Ili walk inter it an’ introdooce my- sell, ‘** Tl show you there myself.” The library proved to be close at hand, and, the young detective was soon in the presence of a tall, gray-haired old man who looked crabbed enough to Jead to the suspicion that he fed chief- ly on nails, glass and such articles. Bob was then left alone with him. He gazed at the intruder in mute amaze- ment, for never before had such a ragged imp stood on his magnificent caryet. ‘‘ Beggin’ yer pardon,” said Bob, coolly, “I hone ez how ye ain’t so driv by mental labor that ye can’t give me a few minutes o’ time. I b*Heve I kin make myself int’restin’, ef not amoosin’,” ** Who in the furies are you?” Murdough de- manded. “*My name is Long, but you'll obsarve that I’m rayther short in statute. Got stunted w’en I’s a mere boy, an’ never could spread over much sile sence.” ‘‘How dared you come here?” angrily asked the old man. ‘* How dared I?” “That was my question.” ‘Wal, I wa’n't aweer that it took sech a pow’- ful amount o’ nerve, but ef yesay I ain’t wanted I kin shove my patent leathers outer ther shop. Still, [hev that tersay w’at may be important ter you.” “*T thought you were a beggar,” slowly cbserv- ed Murdough, looking at his visitor with strange intentness, “Do Ilook like that sort 0’ a hair-pin? No, sirree, I ain’t, not any fer Joseph. I’m a ‘light- ened American citizen, who needed no civiliza- tion papers; an’ a down-town merchant in good stannin’, wal-knowed at ther Produce Exchange, City Hall an’ Custom House. A beggar? Nary time, you bet; I ain’t even s‘licitin’ alimony for charitable purposes.” All this while Murdough had continued his close regard. He now pointed to a chair. ‘* Sit down!” he said, but all the severity was gone from his voice and manner. Bob calnly obeyed. ‘* Now, what have you to say to me?” Bob opened his mouth for the ‘‘ stunner ” which he had prepared on his way to the rich man’s house. ‘*Be you aweer,” he asked, “that Albert an’ Dora hain’t your children?” Steady and quiet was the question; but as a “stunner” it seemed to be a complete success. The boy was amazed at the result. Alexander Murdough’s jaw fell, his eyes di- lated, and his face assumed an ashen nallor un- usual to it. He sat still and speechless, staring at Bob as though he had seen a ghost. Such strange agitation could not escape the boy’s keen eyes; but he could not understand it and, though he wanted to say more he had no words ready. The clock on the shelf seemed to tick a vast number of times before more was said. Then one word burst explosively from Murdough’s lips: “ What 2” Somewhat abashed by the commotion he had created, Bob still had nerve enough to repeat his exact words. ‘What do you mean by such an absurd ques- tion?” then demanded Murdough. “Wal, dunno perzactly w’at I do mean, but ef ye’re agreeable, I kin unfold ther primitive cause o’ my interrog.” ‘De so!” and Mr. Murdough’s jaws came to- ether with a snap. “Wal, ye see, heerd a benighted female cit-
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“ al will be a rattlin’ o’ dry , t -s \grave-stone.” ‘izen obsarve ter that e’fect. I don’t jestly ketch onter ther riffle, but she lowed that Albert an’ Dora wa’n’t yer kids, but that another kid was; an’ ez I heva weakness ter benefit my feller- bein’s, I set ther machinery o’ my j'ints in mo- | wh tion, an’ huffed it hyer fer ter let ye onter ther hull game.” ‘* Who said anything of the kind?” ‘A sort o’ bilious-looking female woman nam- ed Hannah—ter wit, namely.” ** Hannah!” *‘-Yas—Hannah. Spell it either way.” The gray look was no longer on Alexander Murdough’s face, but there was that about his mouth which told that he was thoroughly inter- ested—and something more. Bob had good rea- son to believe his companion knew Hannah, for his expression was wolfish. His voice was quiet enough when he spoke again. “Tell me all about it.” This was a natural request, but Bob did not feel so communicative as he had. He did not like Murdough, and if he had been well away from the place he would not have walked in again at present. Still, he was embarked on the enterprise, and he felt obliged to tell something ; so, without any details, he repeated _as nearly as he could what Hannah had said to Jocko. One thing only he kept back. Something told him not to mention Nelva’s | DAIS, and he simply referred to her as “ the | 2 “Where did you hear all this?’ asked Mur- | dough, who had watched him keenly; his scru- tiny was painfully close. “Tt come ter pass on Sixteenth street.” ** How did you happen to overhear it?” Every minute increased Bob’s dislike for the | man, and something more was now in his mind. From the first he had thought there was some- thing familiar about Mr, Murdough, and all the while he had been studying him. An idea had now suddenly entered his mind which rather staggered him, but he was not in- clined to decide hastily on the point. wie in such a state of uncertainty, he thought himself justified in telling the story to suit himself, and he informed his questioner that he heard the talk while ‘‘ near a house,” “What house?” Murdough’s voice rung outsharply again, and as he spoke he made a quick gesture which con- firmed Bob’s latest suspicion. It also nearly 3 t him, for, unless he was greatly mistaken, r. Alexander Murdough and Cap Golden were one and the same person! CHAPTER VIII. AN ARCH-VILLAIN’S PLOTS. Ir Bob o’ the Bowery had seen a few years more experience as a detective he would have learned by that time that nothing is too strange to be true, but be was only a boy and it rather dazed him to discover that this pon- derous aristocrat was also a counterfeiter and ally of low scamps. en the idea was once fixed in his mind it did not waver. Although ‘‘ Cap Golden” had worn jet-black hair and beard, and Mur- dough was gray, he saw the resemblance more and more every minute. ““Reckon I’ve put my foot inter it cl’ar over my calfskin gaiters, an’ brung my pigs ter ther wron miafeet,” was his mental comment. “Gosh all bagpipes, how’m I ter git out on’t?” Luckily for him, his active mind suggested a way. He had, indeed, come to the wrong man to tell hisstory, and he was not slow to see that he was in danger. By this time, of course, Murdough knew him to be the boy who had overturned him the pre- vious night, and the old schemer must see how dangerous the boy was. ore than that, he would probably try to get him out of the way, so that he could tell the story to no one else. But how would he go to work to do it? ‘* Wal, I opine he hez only ter call ina copper an’ hand me over on acharge 0’ theft an’ I’m up astump wi’ slivers all stuck inter my skin. “He'll {do it, too, ef he knows I hev recognized ) him, B’gosh! I’ve got ter play sharp, or thar boneses an’ B, Bob, d-squire, will git his hip-jint flung inter con- vulsions. I’ve got ter brace up an’ lie like a These oughis flashed through the young de- | - tective’s mind, and the way he ‘braced up” was wonderful. He stretched both legs out in front of him, thrust his hands into his poe, a story ~ and with the coolest air imaginable, tol to suit himself. 4 > Atin nile = SA ata om ey ta, ey | > bd ‘The Vagabond Detective. It sounded plausible, though, of course, Mur- dough knew it was not true. Bob, however, had a distinct object in view. His hearer could mentally find several reasons he should speak falsely on small points, and if he could get out of the house in safety it was all he asked. As the boy went on Mr. Murdough began to caress his chin and look thoughtful, and at the end the man’s voice arose as gently as the song of a bee. ‘This is a very strange story, my boy—very strange. What did you think of it?” ‘““Wal,” seriously replied Bob, ‘it sorter struck me thet you orter know yer own child’un ez wal as that female woman did. I reasoned like unto this hyer: Ef yer s’posed darter, Dora, ter wit, namely, was.o’ ther same age ez t’other gal, they might ’a’ b’en changed in their cradles, er when sojournin’ at Coney Island or elsewhar, but ez thar seems ter be a hiotus 0’ somethin’ like ten year, more or less, in their ages, ’twould ’a’ b’en difficult ter deceive yer pariental eye by sech a swap.” “* Well reasoned,” replied Murdough. “'Thar’fore, ther statement o’ ther female wo- man seemed ter me ter be summut fishy, ez *twar, by which I mean thet it sounded like a mighty big lie. Still, ther idee got ter carousin’ | in my mind that I orter tell ye w’at she hed said, an’ hyar I be, thar’fore an’ hence,” “You have done right, very right,” said the rich man, ‘‘ and though I regard all the woman said as absurd, I mean to take counsel frora your own course and look her up.” ‘oTwould be a good idee. She ain’t a beauty in ther usual sense o’ ther word, fer ther roses an’ pinks is all gone from her face an’ her cor- lexion is like a sunflower arter it’s b’en wilted by bein’ hung under a dude’s eye-glasses, bué pins old lady’s tongue is still agyle—’tis mighty agyle. “s Well, I wish to seo her this evening. Can you call at eight o'clock and go with me in my carriage to identify her?” As Murdough spoke he drew a handful of bank-notes from his pocket and began to run them: over iugcastivery, Bob allowed his eyes to sparkle. “Oh! sartin. My pardner, Stumpy, will need me ter close up ther office "bout seving o'clock, but I kin git erround by eight.” “Very well; I shall look for you. I want to settle this matter. Here is a five-dollar note for your trouble, and V’ll give you more this even- ing. If we don’t find the woman you shall have a ten, while if we do find her Pll make it a twenty.” “That's square—yes, it’s more’n that; it’s rodigal; an’ you kin bet yer extra stamps I’m inter ther game with blood in my eye an’ a business step. If porous plasters ain’t lost their drawin’ faculties, we'll ‘git thar.’ ” Mr. Murdough seemed satisfied-with this ar- rangement, 2nd then he offered no objection to Bob’s departure, The latter went, and lost himself in the dis- tance as soon as possible, not being quite sure that Murdough would not set a policeman on his track. . When satisfied that he was not pursued, he paused and looked back thoughtfully. “Wal, PU be pulverized fur hash ef that wa'n’t a close call. Who'd ever hev thunk his | nibs, old Murray Hil] Murdough, was a counter- feiter war chief? B’gosh, ’tain’t safe ter put yer trust in princes these times—not any, fer Joseph! Why, I'd ez soon hev thought 0’ findin’ Settin’ Bull loafin’ ’round thar.” His surprise was well-founded, but it did not prevent him from meditating further, : “Pears like w’at ole Hannak said was a un- truthful fable. A, Murdough, E-squire, ain’t no blind goddess 0’ spring po’try, an’ he’s up ter fire-crackers. Ef Nelva is his darter, he mows it—but, of course, she ain’t; not fer Joseph. She’s ther chick o’ ther man called The Coiner, an’ she an’ her parient is slaves o’ ther gang ter which Plug Bates, Cap Golden, Jack Hunts- man-Cuffmyeyebrowoff, an’ company, is mem- bers. Kerosene ‘ilean’ ketchup! this is a measly sort o’ a banquet, an’ it rayther chills my detec- tive blood w’en I. see w’at big game I’m arter,” Bob rubbed his nose ruefully, and then sud- denly threw back his head and shoulders, “Tt don’t stan’ a civilized American citizen ter be skeered by any devastatin’ epidemic knowed ter mah, an’, b’gosh, I won’t take water —not fer Joseph! I'll keep on an’ un’arth that nest o’ serpentine vipers, an’ all their hissin’ sha’n’t skeer me. Hi! hi! Mr. A. Murdough, squire; won't you be so tickled yer moceasins will drop off w’en yer see me thiseve? You would jost revel in gittin’ me inter yer measly & destroy my ee 5! old carriage so ye could shet me up in a prison, some’r’s, wouldn’t ye? But i can’t; no, sir- ree, hoss-fly! I sha’n’t keep that ’gagement, but ye needn’t be lonesome ef my Beane face don’t rise above ther horizone. I’m arter ye, Murder, ole boy, an’ when I git thar ye’ll think a cyclone hez come from Timbuctoo by exe press!” Half an hour after Bob’s departure, Dora Murdough was summoned to her father’s room. Whatever was in the old man’s mind, his face showed no trace of trouble. Perhaps the time since Bob’s going had not been one of pleasant thoughts, but he had a strong will, and if he really felt alarmed by what had lately occurred, he had conquered his annoyance so far as out- ward signs went, and he greeted her with a blandness which rather surprised her. Usually he was not a very pleasant man; he ad never wasted any affection on either Dora or Albert, and, on the whole, there was no strong liking between him and his present com- panion. ‘ As a result, his unusual suavity surprised er, “Sit down, my dear,” he said; ‘‘I have something of importance to say to you. Within an hour I expect a caller, whom you do not now know, but whom I desire you to receive pleasantly.” ‘Do 1 ever receive your guests otherwise?” asked Dora, freshly surprised. “Oh, no; I do not mean to convey that idea. But this is something more than an ordi- ‘Who is he?” Mr. Murdough smiled faintly, ‘*You have used the wrong pronoun; the word ‘he’ requires an ‘sS’ before it. The expected guest is a lady.” ai Oh {”? The single word expressed a good deal, for the way in which the-announcement had been apprpachers suggested an idea to the young ady. f “Not to have you waste your time in conjec- tures,” added Murdough, ‘* let me say that she is a member of a noble old Creole family of New Orleans, and is, at present, named Miss Lethroe. Within a week I hope to see ber called Mrs. Alexander Murdough!” The speaker leaned back in his chair and tried to assume a careless air, but his gaze was fixed on Dora’s face with almost hawk-like keen- ness. Although this was merely confirmation of her geet the young lady felt somewhat star- tled. She could not remember her own mother, and consequently felt less pained at the thought of another woman in her place; but though she recognized her father’s right to proceed accord- ing to his own pleasure, it seemed contrary to all propriety to have an utter stranger thrust into the family so abruptly. Murdough did not fail to read her expression. “‘T have known Miss Lethroe for years,” he added, ‘‘ and this is no sudden move. She has lived in Philadelphia, and I have passed ie ood deal of time in her presence, ‘You will like her, T am sure.” ‘¢ Why have you never told me of her before?” | asked Dora, a troubled look on her face. Mr. Murdough cleared his throat twice before replying. ee ** Well, you know Iam naturally a secretive man—at least, so people say—and one never ee speak too much about affairs of the eart. The speaker looked like anything but an ar- dent lover. His face Was grim, and he almost scowled upon Dora. . “Well,” she said, quietly, ‘‘of course I shall receive well any one who is to occupy such a position in regard to you.” ‘Quite right, my dear; I felt sure I could de- pend on you. Your mother has now been so long absent from us that there can ke no impro- priety in my brightening my latter Cays with one who—ahem !—regards me so highly as Miss Lethroe does.” 7 Probably this sentiment had not been prepar- ed in advance, and it did not seem to please Mr, Murdovgh. He hurried_on and said he was then going to bring Miss Lethroe, and that they would appear before the end of an hour, He took his departure, Jeaving Dora in any- thing but a happy mood. ‘Ts it foolishness on my part,” she thought, . “or will the coming of this woman, as I fear. eace? I have a presentiment that T shall not like her, and— But I don’t know that ; rg be more disconten ate, Ihave been of
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- As she spoke she chanced to look from the window and saw Albert Murdough and Count Royalschoff approaching the house. She made a gestureof repugnance and prompt- ly retreated from view. Of late both her fath- er and brother had sounded the praises of the so- called Russian persistently in her ears, but she disliked and feared the man. Poor Dora! She was the only onein that house ‘who was honorable and true, and the hands of her rascally relatives ware placing thorns in her path. Had she suspected that Royalschoff was no Russian, but an adroit city sharper named Jack Huntsman, she might well have wondered what dark hands were moving the pieces over the chess-board of life, and to what end they were playing the game. She knew enough to be unhappy, but not enough tosuspect the gigantic frauds and schemes with which she was surrounded. In the meanwhile, Alexander Murdough had left the place and gone to another house on West Nineteenth street. There he was promptly ad- mitted, and was goon joined in the parlor by ** Miss Lethroe.” It was well for this scion of the ‘honorable old Creole family” that Bowery Bob was not there to see her, for she was none other than Rosa Reddington! Yes, ‘‘ Miss Lethroe” was the accomplice of the various sharpers of our story, and this was the woman Murdough was preparing to take as his wife. The aged lover, who was going to ‘ brighten his latter days” by his marriage, nodded indif- ferently. ‘* Sit down,” he said. * Aren’t I going to cali on Miss Murdough?” asked Rosa, a little sharply. ** Ah! yes,” “Then why not go now?” “I don’t believe in hurrying a funeral. Do not be alarmed, my dear Miss Lethroe, you shall go to the mansion unless some detective drops on you previously.” Rosa stamped her foot. ** Why do you speak of such things?” ‘* Detectives are like Old Nick; you can keep them off byignoring their existence. However, I hope they won't drop on us, and by the end of a fortnight we will, if all goes ooh. get rid of the latest lot of money, be married, go on our wedding trip and forget to return. ut that isn’t what I have to say. You know that infer- nal boy of whom you told me?” “ce Yes. ” “T’ve seen him.” * Since last night?” To-day.” ** Where?” “‘Tn my library.” ** What?” ‘“*T repeat it; he has been inmy library. The young hound actually called on me.” “Has he discovered that you are Cap Gol- den?” * No.” “Then why did he visit you?” ; “It seems that old fool of a Hannah tattled to Jocko last niglt, while the street Arab was in the house, and the latter overheard her say that Albert and Dora were not my children, so he came to tell me about it.” “Great heavens! we are ruined!” cried Rosa, in alarm. **No, we're not. Tl fix all that. I’ve ar- ranged for Mr. Bowery Bob to take a ride with me to-night in my carriage, and I’m going to chloroform him and execute the job Chug Bates planned—feed him to the East river fishes.” ‘* Perhaps you'll be as Paes as Chug was.” “ Never you fear,” Murdough confidently re- plied. ‘* Whatever I undertake, I do. “Few men could have carried onall the daring schemes I have to my credit, and my success in them argues well for the future.” ; ‘* What will become of The Coiner when we leave here?” thoughtfully asked Rosa. : ‘*My innocent lamb, do you med ose he will be allowed to go free? No; he would ruin me past redemption. But he will not go free. When he is no longer required as a slave, his life goes a too, like a candle. Possibly he and Bob wi sleep ther in the river. But, enough of this. Get ready, Miss Lethroe, and let us call on your future step-daughter. Ah! how you two will love each other!” CHAPTER IX. TIDINGS OF THE DIAMONDS. “Wat I need most now isdevelopments. I’ve found out beyond a shadder o’ doubt that my game is big game, furisn’t A. Murder, E-squire, H h hi a nabob o’ ginerous proportions?—but I can’t egy over affydavys ter prove thet he’s inter ther iz. My only holt is ter lay fur some o’ ther gang, dog ’em ter whar ther ‘ queer’ is made, an’ let loose ther dogs an’ cats o’ carnage, ez ther ace shot off his jaw ter remark. That’s ther Jloomin’ idee; ef bogus yeller coins, I reckon ther coppers won’t hump their Grecian noses at me so much arter this. The speaker was Bob o’ the Bowery. He had eaten dinner since his visit to Alex- ander Murdough, and was now making a tour pen on Chug Bates or some other member of the ang. and when he reached the jewelry store of a cer- tain merchant who had often given him a kind word at his Bowery peanut-stand, he saw a fine private turnout in front of it. Carelessly he glanced atthe carriage, The door was closed and the curtain down, but, just as the boy looked, the latter was for a moment shoved partly aside and a female face became visible. Then the curtain dropped, but Bob had seen enough to bring him to a sudden halt. Unless he was greatly mistaken, the lady in the carriage was Rosa Reddington! Bob was wide awake in a moment. He felt sure he had not been seen, for there was quite a crowd on the sidewalk, passing up and down Broadway, and he quickly slipped into a door- way and stood on the watch. en minutes passed. The female face did not appear, but Bob was patient. He also took ad- vantage of the pause to count his money, and, finding that he had nearly a dollar, fixed his gaze on one of the cheaper class of cabs standing near at hand, “T may want ye d’rectly,” he said, ‘‘ fur ef Dutchess Reddington is in that wehicle, I'm goin’ ter foller her ef ther hull town don’t collapse wi’ spontaneous "bu’stification,” He turned his gaze back and then his face brightened. A man had just come out of the jewelry store, and he was as well known to Bob as was Miss Reddington. It was his host of the forenoon. “* Hello, Murder, old Boy!” muttered the young detective, ‘Ill be shook dizzy ef you ain’t on ther ram-page ag’in. You ’n’ Miss R., is it? Wal, you're a daisy pair, you be, an’ I hev an idee in my brain-basket that this hyar visit ter a jewelry shop meansbiz. I’m goin’ ter know, b’gosh, but ther fu’st duty is ter hive your female chum.” Murdough had entered the carriage with Miss Reddington, and Bob ran to the disengaged cab and told the driver he wanted to hire his outfit. The man looked superciliously at the speaker’s dress. ** You do?” he scoffed. *‘That’s w’at I said, wa’n’t it?” “Why, ye poor critter, I wouldn’t dare to carry you in my cab. Your clothes are so mighty ragged that when we jounced over the pavement they'd fail to hold you together and you’d bu'st.” “See yer,” angrily retorted Bob, looking after the retreating carriage, ‘‘ef you've livec long enough ter color yer nose that red, an’ ain't bu’st with sech a cargo 0’ gas on boord, ye needn't be afeerd o’ me. Mebbe ye won't curl yer hairy lip with scorn ef I say them air rags o’ mine is lined with Uncle Sam's best gold!” Here Bob clinked his money—a sound no cab- man can resist; and in a very short time Bob was in the vehicle end rolling along in pursuit of the other carriage. Murdough had taken ‘‘ Miss Lethroe ” to see Dora, and they were now homeward bound, and as neither suspected that they were oursned, and it was supposed that the woman had kept herself closely screened from sight, the expedi- tion was not regarded as injudicious, Bob, however, had soon won one more move in the game. He knew where Rosa Reddington was stopping. é made a careful survey of the exterior of the house, and decided that it was not likely that it was a resort of the gang. It looked th« proughly respectable, Bob did not try to follow Murdough further, but dismissed his own cab and started to walk back to the jewelry store. 1g pope I'd impress ther boss more forcible ef I's ter dash up wi’ four or six steamin’ chargers, but sech luxuries cost lucre, an’ I ain’t got no stock in a gas comp’ny this year. But ther jew- elry man knows me, an’ it'll be all hunk.” e entered the store, but did not sueceed well kin show a few bushels o’ | of Broadway with the hope that he would hap- | His attentive eyessaw everything but the way, | 9 at first. A smart clerk was going to ‘‘ bounce” him because he wore rags instead of diamonds, but the proprietor suddenly appeared and put an end to the trouble. ** Aren’t you the boy who keeps a peanut stand on the Bowery?’ he asked. “I’m that same identicle nabob,” the young sleuth replied, ‘‘ an’ I wanter put an interroga~ tory to ye.” ‘Do so, by all means. What is it, my boy?” “You've frequently inwested yer nickels at ther curbstone store o’ Bob Bowery, Stumpy & Co., ain’t ye?” ** Quite often.” Jes’ so, jes so. Wal, did ever me or Stumpy give ye any cheap talk, or insult ye, or threaten ter absorb ther mud wi’ ye, or eroducate ther dust?” ** Never!” ‘** Then,” said Bob, one hand in his pocket and the index finger of the other pointing at the guilty clerk, ‘‘allow me fer ter ask whar’fore that gorilla threatened ter fire me through ther door? I mean him thar—that chap who would look like a portable cane, only fer ther way he parts his ha’r. That gives him sorter a chim- panzee look.” The clerk retreated to the further end of the room in haste, and the indignant young detec- tive was pacified by the clerk’s master. *“**Course I don’t blame you,” said Bob, ‘‘ but ther young man thar should Varn that folks o’ blue blood an’ freckles, like me, are nat’rally o’posed ter horse-style reemarks. But that ain’t biz, an’ biz is w’at mc: t_y brung me hyar. Will ye How me ter put a solemn interrogatory ?” “Certainly. Proceed!” “ D’ye know one A. Murdough, ter wit, name- y” ‘“Mr. Murdough? Oh, yes.” ‘*He war in hyar this Pp. M.?” ac Yes. ” ‘* Will ye kindly ‘low me ter ask w’at fer?” ‘**To get some diamonds set.” ‘He was, hey?” oe Yes. ” **T thought so, b’gosh!” “And if bags had those diamonds, my boy, you would be a veryrich man. A thousand dollars for every year of life you’ve seen would not buy them.” ‘Hum !” quoth Bob, dryly. ‘Be they Mur- der’s? “Mr. Murdough’s? Oh! he owns them, but who will wear them I don’t know. Probably his daughter.” ‘* Was they in settin’s afore he brung ’em?” “They had been, but had been taken ont, The gems were old heirlooms in his family.” ‘*Bananas!” exclaimed Bob. ““No, no; I said heirlooms. An heirloom is something which has been handed down through successive generations of a family.” “Yas, I know ye said heirloam,” coolly re- lied Bob, ‘but while ye was talkin’ about oam, my mind sorter run on bananas, some- how. Allow me ter ask how long ’twill be afore ye hev them sparklers set, an’ ready fer Murder ter take home?” ** Just about a week.” ** An’ ye won’t d’liver ‘em afore?” “See here, my boy, why are you anxious to know about the diamonds?” moré seriously ask- ed the jeweler, Bob was at a loss for a reply for just a mo- ment or so. He saw how easy it would be for the merchant to suspect that he had designs of a burglarious nature on the gems, and, while he could not think of telling the whole truth, felt the need of some explanation to maintain his reputation. Fro therefore allowed his face to relax into a smile. ‘* Wal, I ain’tat liberty fer ter eloocidate ther hull biz; but I give yea quiet tip that thar is ter be a ball ’mongst ther Tpper Ten next week, an’ that them ez wears ther most diamon’s is ther most admired. Furdermore, thar is a sar- tin young woman as is in a terrible takin’ ter know ef her rival is goin’ ter wear ther Kohi- noor, yer know.” Here Bob winked knowingly to the jeweler, and the latter laughed. Bob had told no fic. tion, but his artful words left due impression on the Fentleman’s mind. “TI see—it’s the old case of feminine jealousy. Well, I wouldn’t have been so confidential had I Suspected you were the agent of a Murray Hill belle, but I guess there’s no great harm done.” “Not by me, ner you, boss; that’s ez true ez lemons is Jemons,” Bob replied. He did not prolong his call, but left the store and walked on toward Union Square. “Ef Iain’t onter one part o’ ther racket 'll
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be chawed by rhinossernoses. Them sparklers wat was brung over in ther Mayflower, or some other craft, an’ was innercently conveyed by me in bananas is now in that ere shop ez old Murder’s pussonal property. Fam’ly heirloams, is they? So’s Sing Sing an’ Bartholdi’s statue. Murder, ole stock, youw’re a deep ’un, you be, an’ it does me proud ter lock horns wi’ sech a big giraffe.” Despite this assertion Bob did not feel quite sure how he was to get the best of Murdough. He had reached Union Square, and he looked up at the top of the tall electric light tower and mentally admitted that it was no higher above the bench than Murdough was above him. ‘Ef I’s ter go ter ther p’lice am’ tell them w’at I know an’ suspect, they’d laugh atme, Could- n’t git em ter descend an’ seize them sparklers, nohow, I s’pose. Wal, I dunnoez I wanter; Pll keep on an’ git ther hull game in my hands, an’ then I'll jest let loose ther dogs an’ cats 0’ war. I won’t be too previous—not fer Joseph!” He continued to sit there for some time, look- ing as grave as a judge. Several boys were playing in the middle of the square, chasing each other around and diving in and out of the now ,empty water-basin, but Bob hardly gave them a thought. All his attention was on business. He was still there when he saw something which suddenly aroused him. A colored man passed rapidly by, and in the burly figure and coarse, brutal face Bob was not slow to recognize Jocko, ? ‘“Hoss-chestnuts an’ huckleberries! hyer is . jest ther chance I hanker arter. Jocko, ole chap, ’'m arter ye like a dude arter a wasp- waisted coat. Ill fold my tent an’ press ther pavement right whar you do!” The big negro did not appear to have seen Bob; indeed, he had the manner of one wholly absorbed with meditation; and he passed through the square and up Fourth avenue at a rapid pace. ‘Now, it seems sorter ree-markable that Mr. Detective Chippley can’t strike some o’ ther ay-dirt layin’ ‘round so promiscu’s. Wat was his two eyes gi’n him fer, anyhow, Id like ter inquire? Why, ef I weighed a hund’ud an’ ninety-nine pene an’ measured seven foot *round ther read-baskét, like he does, I'd hev this gang inter hock in ther shake o’ a rat’s tail!” . Bob was not Chippley, but he was an ener- getic boy, and it is.seldom such a young chap gets ‘‘ left.” He did not intend to be left this time, and he followed. closely on Jocko’s heels, yet not near enough to run any great risk. e had pulled his cap down over his eyes, and unless the negro looked closely Bob did not fear recogni- tion. The big man walked up Fourth avenue for several blocks, and then turned to the right. The pursuer felt encouraged. There was a dis- trict lying over toward East river which was just the place he thought the missing gang would like as a hiding-p ace, and he continue ind journey in Jocko’s rear with fresh confi- ence. CHAPTER X. THE TRAIL GROWS HOT. Jocxo finally aroused from his thoughtful air “and seemed to Nd more attention to his sur- roundings, and Bob was not at a loss to account for the fact. ‘‘He’s gittin’ nigh his roost, an’ ez it stands ter reason he'll look ter see ef anybody is dog- in’ him—he won’t wanter give ther roost away —he’ll look ter see whar ther rest o’ mankind is, T’ve got ter be keerful.” The young detective was not only careful but shrewd. The first time Jocko looked squarely around, Bob was standing innocently by a win- dow, looking inside at the goods; the next time, he was out of sight ina doorway. : The ei seemed satisfied and, after going a little further, turned into an area and entered a basement door. ‘“E Pluribus!” muttered Bob, looking at the building, ‘‘ ther stock o’ B. Bowery, Vidoq & Co., goes up like a b’loon. Jocko seems ter home thar, an’ I'll bet a quart o’ peanuts, all that The Coiner an’ Nelva is confined thar. ms jest ther place fer crooked work. Ther gloomy front of spice reminds me o’ ther Sauk Bastile at Hong Ho, Chiny. Reg’lar prison look, it hez, an’ seems fit ter shet up slaves inter.” . He sauntered past the house, scanning it secretly, but maintaining an air of being wholly unconcerned. \ | The V yee Detective. agabond Every curtain in the house seemed down, ex- cept at the fourth floor windows, and the whole place had a lonely, deserted aspect. ‘“Wery suspicious!” thought Bob. ‘ Thevan internal feelin’ that thar’s crooks in thar. Now, ef I was Inspector Byrnes or Superintendent Walling, I'd jest walk in onter them ter onc’t, but ez ’m Bowery Bob, I s’pose—_ Hello!” The last exclamation was one of surprise and delight, and was occasioned by the appearance at an upper window of a face far from strange to him. It was that of Nelva, The Coiner’s daughter. Bob loolzed breathlessly, but even then he no- ticed that she was pale, and that her face had a weary, lonving expression as she gazcd cut on the open werid. “B’cosh! I’m onter ther trail, sure as dyna- mite, an’ it seems sorter warm. She’s thar, an’ —Hello!” Nelva was no longer visible. The pale face had disappeared with a suddenness which led \him to believe she had been jerked back by an unfriendly hand, but, just before she disap peared, Bob had seen a new look flash to her face; a sudden brightness, while her gaze was surely turned toward the street. “She seen me, by jinks!” was his mental comment, ‘‘but I dunno ez that’ll do much good. Perobably itll lead her ter think I'm a reg’lar plaster-headed dude, fer she seems ter *magine all I’ve got ter do is ter call on ther p'lice an’ they'll send a rig’*ment 0’ coppers. But they won’t, nary time, fer Joseph—nor fer me, nuther. W’en I take ther war-path I hev ter do my own skulpin’.” he boy loitered near long enough to satisfy himself that Nelva would not reappear, and then, as it was decidedly imprudent to remain where the counterfeiters might see him, walked on down the street. ‘*T feel a terrible hankerin’ ter git inside that temple 0’ crookedness, an’ ef thar’s a way ter do it, I’m goin’ in,” he decided. ‘‘ I’m aweer they- re tough tickets, but a detective hez] ter 8 some risk,” Accordingly, he made his way around to the next street. J udging from the character of the place he thought it possible there might be some means of communication between the two thor- oughfares, so that he could get at the suspected house from the rear. In the first estimate he was proved correct, for not only did he find an aliey, but at one point a new building was going up to replace an old one; and these points taken with the fact that the back-yards were full of various kinds of shanties, and distinguished by broken-down fences, made the place a sort of wilderness. Bob had no trouble in recognizing the par- ticular house of which he was in quest, for he had noted a peculiarity about the chimney, and, as at the front, all the curtains were down. He eyed it keenly. ‘Doors all shet, an’ I'll bet they’re fastened. How am I — ter effect a admittance?” His way did not appear clear, but after some time he saw what seemed a chance, though a rather desperate one, The second house from that of the ‘‘ crooks” was a deserted one, and several boys were play- ing on the roof, which was flat and cnaily gained, From that it was easy to go to the next house, and Puc the one he wanted to enter lay just be- yond, All this was easily planned, but Bob saw the difficulties in the way of executing his plan. The greatest of these were the danger of being seen and arrested for trespass or burglary, an the probability that all the windows of the further house were fastened. ‘*Don’t a’prove on’t a tall,” the bey discon- _solately muttered, ‘‘ Thar’s a law ’g’in’ breakin’ ‘an’ enterin’, an’ thar’s a place called Sing Sing, but w’at is a feller goin’ ter do? Is that little alan’ her dad ter remain ez slaves right hyar in this classic town? Notany, fur Joseph! It’s ther duty o’ ther hour that I git ‘em outer bond- age. Lincoln libertized ther colored folkses an’, b’gosh, I reckon I’ve a right ter free ther white ones,” _ This ingenious argument settled the question in his mind, and he began operations. It was not hard to gain the roof of the old house, and as the other boys paid no particular ea to him, he easily wandered to the next couse, He was then beside that in which he believed Nelva was held prisoner, and by climbing a wall of brick of a yard or so—the crooks’ house being on much higher—he found himself on \ bi 2 ; K ; | a e was now lucky in being on the highest roof near at hand, for, if he remained in the’ middle, no one would be likely to see him. But he did not wish to remain there. He wished to enter the house. This was all very well, but how was he to do it? He had relied on finding a scuttle, or some sort of an opening, at the top of the house, and none was visible. ‘* Scissors an’ Shanghai roosters! be I left? Be I on a train that ain’t a-goin’? Looks like it, b’ gosh! I can’t swing off’m ther ruff an’ ketch at. a winder ez I tumble, fer I ain’t up in circus athletics. Nary, but I’m up a stump on a ruff; that’s w’at I’m up /” He was looking Jugubricusly ground when a reculiarity about the roof at one point attracted. is attention, and he walked forward. Then his face suddenly expanded into a smile, “Come off, kittens an’ cats! Ef this hyar ruff ain’t all false, part on’t is. Mebbe Pll go in yet.” _He had discovered that at one point a square piece of tarred canvas, or stout paper, took the: place of the usual roof material, and he knew it was designed to deceive casual inspection. Ata short distance it weuld deceive the eye, and, undoubtedly, that was just what was in~ tended. Ms Beyond much doubt, a scuttle was just below it. Examination convinced Bob such was the case: and while he was hesitating to use his knife upon the canvas, he discovered that it was loose. The wind had probably been too much for the nails: used to fasten it down. Bob moved it and found. the scuttle underneath. So far he was doing well,’but how was he going to open it? If it was not fastened, it would be very strange, considering the care taken. to hide it. Nevertheless, Bob reached down and tried it, and, greatly to his surprise, it came up without: trouble. A cavity, with the top of a rude stair- With this resolution, he teok the first step down the ladder. All was dark and silent be- yond, but he had no fear of finding things dull inside. The “gang” was there, and the members: thereof were not of the dull kind, As much thought as the boy gave to the ille- gal feature of his entrance, he scarcely dwelt at. all on the danger he was daring from Chug Bates and his men. He had due respect for law,. but not for law-breakers, Step by step he went down the ladder until the floor was reached. Just ahead he dimly saw a door. What lay beyond?” ‘Tl find out ef I bu'st ther cast-iron sole 0” my slippers!” he muttered, and then turned the knob of the door. It opened readily, and he saw a dark hall be- yond him, He half-expected scme enemy to challenge him at once, but all remained quiet. Which way he ought to move next was uncer- tain, for he could aee but a short distance ahead of him, but as he had seen Nelva at the front of the house, he turned in that direction and went. slowly along. After going a few feet he brought up against a door, which he tried and found u Hearing no one inside, he opened it and found the room without an occupant, To settle a question in his mind, he moved for-_ ward and looked out on the street. This convinced him that it was the same room: in which he had seen Nelva. : ' “But she ain’t here now, b’gosh, an’ whar is she? That is ther p’int fer me ter ’vestigate. 1 spect I'll git inter hock an’be flayed alive, but w’at on’t? My cuticle ismy own, an’ I reckon ef I wanter offer it ez a sacrifice thar ain't no out- side cherub need kick.” Now that he was paely embarked on his ad-_ a buoyant confidence, — his steps and moved toward the * venture, he n to fee and he retra other end of the ned. _ ge. ee 4 4 il “s There he soon founda wall, but nodoor. There eB was something oor, butit was now boarded u “a Jes’ so! Wal, that looks Suis s’picious. _ else, however; there had been @ a +s 4 *
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| | : - a Wonder w’at is in behind this measly old slab concern?” He listened, and soon became.convinced that there was something there. Tohis ears came a clinking such as is made by rattling coins to- gether. The boy’s eyes brightened. ‘Gosh all fish-bait! I’m onter’em fer sure. Ef that thar ain’t biz, I’m a forked-tongued Paw- nee squaw, wi’ a whiskyflask an’ a_pension- agent’s skulp. No doubt Plug-ugly Bates an’ Jocko is thar—” He paused suddenly. To his keen hearing had come the sound of a well-defined sob, as of some one in trouble and tears. Then a man’s voice arose. ‘‘Nelva, child, what is it?” ** Oh! father, { am sick at heart,” answered a voice well known to the boy detective; it was that of Nelva, “My poor child! Would to Heaven I could say something to comfort you, but I am as help- less as you—and as hopeless. Still, 1 cannot be- lieve you are doomed to this life forever, Ihave made a large sum of money since thesescoundrels put me at work, and though they have not passed any of it off yet, I have gathered from their con- versation that they think they now have enough so they may well give up a hazardous business, flee from New York and enjoy their ill-gotten wealth in a safer place.” ‘But what will become of us then?” asked. There was no immediate reply, and when it came the man’s voice was unsteady. ‘Hor you I anticipatea release, I cannot be- lieve these men, scoundrels that they are, will be inhuman enough to give you over to the fate which doubtless awaits me.” ** Father!” ** Yes, dear.” ** What do you mean?” ‘““T may as well be frank with you and say that it is not at all likely they will allow me to outlive my period of usefulness to them. I know enough to ruin the whole party, and they will not give me the chance, Nelva, my poor child, I fear you will soon be left alone in the world. Death stares me in the face. For my- self I care nothing, for the grave is better than this life; but you, my child, you—” The speaker’s voice failed him, and Bob heard the girl begin to sob anew. “Wal, now, this ’ere is sorter int’restin’ es historical faxs, but w’at does it amount ter fer ter git Ther Coiner out? Nary thing, b’gosh! an’ I’ve got ter chip in, O’ course them two is alone, so—” F He rapped on the wall. Nelva’s sobs at once ceased. Bob rapped again, and then, as all continued quiet, spoke aloud: ‘*T say, in thar: jest raise yer bazoo, will yer, an’ tell me who you be?” There was an instant stir. ‘Who are you?” quickly asked a voice, which seemed moved with excitement. “Tm a frien’, previdin’ ye’re ther parties wat I take ye fer. Ain’t you Nelva an’ her Nelva father?” é : “We are,” was the quick reply. ‘‘ Who are ou?” “Wait a bit. Be you alone?” bf “Then ask Nelva ef she recomembers ther ' good-lookin’ young nabob in rags who see’d her at Houston street w’en ole Riddle wanted ter cut out his tongue.” ** Oh, father,” cried the girl’s voice; ‘‘ it is he— it is the brave boy!” ‘“‘T’m ther boy; that’s sart’in ez fish-cakes; but don’t spend no time in describin’ my brave valor, That ain’t important. You asked me ter git ye out 0’ bondage, an’ that is why I’m hyar. Tell me how ter do it, quicker’n ther gasp oa sick hen!” Both The Coiner and his daughter spoke at once, so that Bob did not understand what was said: but the former’s voice then arose, agi- tatedly: ] “Noble youth, if you can rescue us I will for- ever bless you for my child’s sake. There is but one way to us. Leave the passage where you are by means of the east door; descend the stairs; pass through the room at the left; come up another stairway, and our door 1s at the head of the ascent. Turn the key, which is in the lock, and we will see you.” ‘“‘ Correct, fer prairie chickens. a banquet at Delmonico’s, fer Wait fer me!” Bob turned away and easily found the first door mentioned by The Coiner. This he opened, and saw the stairs just beyond. Prepare fer I’m a-comin’! Se ee a cane The Vagabond Detective. 11 He had forgotten to ask where the members of the gang were, but as he thus invaded the in- terior of the place he fully realized the danger he was running, and moved with corresponding care. Discovery by them would probably be fatal to him. CHAPTER XI. SOMETHING UNDER THE TABLE. Bos moved with extreme care, but the silence | continued and he reached the foot of the stairs. | He then turned to the left, as directed, passed through a small room, found a second stairway and began to ascend. So far his success had been greater than he prising. Of course when the counterfeiters made the elevated workshop for their slave- workman, they must have taken such precau- tions to prevent his escape that it would not be necessary to watch him all the time. The explorer went briskly up the stairs, found the key in the lock as The Coiner had promised, and did not hesitate to turn it. The bolt clicked, and then the door was open- ed from the inside, Bob looked in silent wonder at the view vouchsafed him. He saw Nelva, as pretty and as sad as ever; and he saw anold man over whose breast swept a snow-white beard of re- markable length. Hehada grave, sad, thought- | ful look, and, as his presence was imposing, might have been mistaken for a philosopher, Beyond them was a room, and it was clear The Coiner had lately been at work. Several gold pieces lay on the table, as did some instru- ments which were new to the boy, but, as he readily surmised, were those used in making the bogus coins. The room had a sort of fascination for the boy, and he remained silent uutil Nelva moved quickly forward and grasped his hand. ‘“‘Brave boy!” she exclaimed, ‘‘ I thought you would come, and I hope you will be rewarded for it by One who can reward you.” “Thank you,” Bob answered, ‘‘ but 1 sorter like ther pay I’m gittin’ now, an’ ef we git outer hock I’m willin’ you should keep on_a-thankin’ me. But this ain’t biz, an’ biz is ther lever o’ success, We wanter git outer hyar quicker’n a copper _kin club seven men. Mister,I take it you're Nelva’s dad. Ef so, le’s all slide!” Bob’s idea was eminently sensible, and he would soon have had the party started, but just then there was a sound of voices on the floor be- low and Nelva’s face became white. « on they're coming—they’re coming!” she cried. “Yes, it’s Gnarl Riddle; I know his voice,” | added The Coiner, like one in a horrible dream. Bob was the only one who kept his wits about him, and he at once saw the irritating and dan- gerous fix he was in. It was impossible to re- treat the way he had come, and there was no other way to leave the rocm. Even the window peas boarded up, the necessary light being that of gas. is escape was cut_off, and, in a moment more, no doubt, Gnarl Riddle and his companion would be in the room. Discovery meant death to Bob. What was to be done?” _It was very fortunate that the young detec- tive retained his presence of mind,” He used his eyes like a flash, and then closed the door. It was barely done when the voices sounded from the foot of the stairs. ‘I've got ter hide,” said Bob, “ an’ that there table is jist ther place. Ther cloth on’t will | | | | | modern cand ing, ‘‘so Mr. Plug Bates is t’other one. Wal, they make a sweet couple, an’ they’d do fer ef thar wa’n’t quite so much arsenic inter their compersition.” Old Riddle bustled in and looked at his slaves. ‘‘ Well, well,” he said, sharply, ‘“‘ you haven't turned off much work.” “Do you want your coins spoiled?’ calmly | asked Nelva’s father. ‘“No, but I want them made.” ‘“‘T am making them,” was the imperturbable reply. ‘* Like a snail!” snapped old Gnarl. The Coiner laid down the die he had been hold- ing. dared hope, though it was not particularly sur- | “You need not expect to hurry me, Gnarl Riddie. I have labored for you for months and years at a work I detest, turning out counterfeit money, but you are aware that it has not beena work of love. I have simply done it becausemy brain would have reeled and I would have be- | come mad, bad it not been for this employment. hide me, an’ do you two brace up an’ git ter | work, an’ look sorter nat’ral. racket away we'll git flagitated, now, pards!” The last warning was spoken from under the table, to which the boy had retreated. This Ef ye give ther Mind yer eyes article of furniture was covered with a red | | once the key was turned upon him, good-by to* spread which fell on all sides so as to completely hide what was within. Then he Cropped the cloth as footsteps sound- ed on the stairs nearer at hand, and The Coiner and Nelva had sufficient nerve to resume work | with a degree of calmness. W’at Gnarl Fiddle will say when he finds ther door unlocked, I dunno,” thought Bob, ‘but Is’pect he’ll rais ha’r, b’gosh!” Most luckily, Riddle did not make the dis- covery. He was coming up with Chug Bates, and chattering angrily about something, and | when he reached the door and gave the key a vicious half-turn, he failed to notice that no bolt | | | he—Bob—was but a boy. So far as being hurried is concerned, you have tried that before.” ‘¢ Malediction! you are a saucy cog!” mutter- ed Riddle, though his tone was less irritable than before; he knew the slave was not to be influ- enced by threats. The Coiner’s lip curled with disdain. ““T om still master of my own tongue, and no one shall control that. I was born as free as any of you, and you know what | would be had not an infamous scoundrel put me here—as a slave! A slave in the heart of New York! How many people would believe such a thing possible?” The speaker’s voice trembled with emotion, but Bates made an impatient gesture. “Oh! that’s rothing,” he said; ‘‘ there are _ many other such cases between the Battery and High Bridge. One-half of New York don’t sus- pect what the other half is doing, and there are more strange things here than Munchausen ever conjured from his brain. But encugh of this. We came to ask if you can fill another roll within three days.” The Coiner meditated. “Possibly Ican. It won’t be very bard work. I think it probable.” “Do this,” said Riddle, ‘and we will try and do you some favor in return.” His voice was unusually bland, but the slave did not fail to notice a secrét and sinister glance toward Chug Bates, and various other ¢cirecum-~ stances led The Coiner to think: “The end is near: This lot is to be my last work, and then, if I do not escape, they will kill me!” Despite this startling theory, he showed no emotion. and did not. seem half so much con- cerned as was Eowery Bob under the table. ‘You darned measly skunks!” he thought, looking at Riddle and Bates, ‘‘I’'d jest like ter weigh “bout seven hundred an’ eighty-nine pounds now, an’ ef I wouldn't give ther two cm ye ther wu’st Jammin’ you ever had, Pd be chawed by a brindled poodle fer hash!” The Bowery tcy had geod cause to feel dis- turbed, and he knew it. If the two men went out and locked the door—and, of course, they would lock it—he and the slaves would be on the wrong side, and, instead of rescuing them, he would simply be cne more prisoner added to the score. The Coiner said he had been confined there “for months and years.” Reckoning from this basis, how socn might Bob o’ the Bowery ex- pect to get out? ‘“Bigosh, somethin’ must be did. Inactivity won't do—not fer Joseph! Ef I swim ‘round hyar like a trout under a ledge, I'll be bound ez *prentice ter them measly counterfeiters. But what's ter be did? W’at kin I do?” And the young detective scratched his head in dire perplexity. His situation was, indeed, a desperate one. If thoughts of escape; while if he was discovered, the chances were he would be murdercd without compunction. On the other hand, when resistance was | thought of, The Coiner was a very slight man, and did not seem able to fight successfully, and robably Chug Bates: would handle them both maida; and Gnarl Riddle, though well advanced in years, would be no mean factor in the game, ‘“ An? perohably they is both armed ter ther teeth, hip an’ thigh, while I ain’t got no weepons: but a jack-knife. Gosh all *tater-diggers! P moved, and opened the door with a fortunate | buy out a gun-shop ez soon ez I strike firm unconsciousness that it had been previously un- ocked. ‘‘ Hello!” thought Bob, cautiously reconnoiter- terror, or terror firma, or— But see yer, ef something ain’t did thar will be a wacancy im ther firm ©’ B. Bowery, Stumpy & Co.”
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“he did not offer violence enough to bring others of the gang to the scene. -a craven and be ged for merc ‘he was not long in getting them. ‘rebel, thou This fact impressed itself more and more on ‘Bob’s mind, and as he was really afraid of no -danger, he had begun to contemplate a bold at- tack on Chug Bates, when that young man | ‘sauntered up to the table to examine the coins, thus bringing: himself within a few inches of, |' Bowery Bob. The temptation was too strong to be resisted, and the boy at once resolved to proceed to hos- tilities. He did so with a vengeance. Reaching out, he seized Chug’s ankles, and then gave a tremendous jerk. The countér- | feiter had started at the first feeling of Bob’s | fingers, but that was all he had time todo, The boy had not pulled in vain; Mr. Bates’s feet ! flew from under him, and he went down like a log. | Lucki y for our friends, he fell partly against a chair, or the crash might have been loud This occurrence caused universal surprise, es- | pecially to Gnarl Riddle, but Bob did not wait | for him or Chug to recover lost composure. He darted from under the table and, seizing a stool, waited tomenace Bates if he tried to rise, but, by a piece of great good fortune, that young scoun- -drel had struck his head so heavily on the chair in falling that he lay perfectly insensible. As Bob saw this he flew between Gnarl] and the door. ‘**Surrender, you p’ison ‘ole hoss-fly!” he or- dered. ‘ We are three ter one, an’ ef you don’t ive in we'll sweep ther floor up clean wi’ ye. Cover him wi’ yer repeatin’-rifle, an’— Hi! that’s it!” The Coiner had moved at last. Bob’s opera- ‘tions had seemed to bewilder him as much as they did Gnarl, but as he realized that the fight against his bitter enemies was at last begun in earnest, he sprung toward Riddle like a tiger. “Surrender!” he cried, in a thrilling voice. ** Surrender, you scoundrel, or I will not be re- esponsible for what I do!” ‘Sponsible?” cried Bob; ‘‘ course we won't. Ef that measly ole Fagin s’pects us ter sign 4 sech bonds, he’s way o!? his Bartholdi pedesta ‘Give him ther strai ght catechism, pard!” The Coiner was terribly in earnest, and though his flashing eyes com- pletely awed Riddle. The latter at once became “That's all h ez fur ez it goes,” said Bob, ** but we don’t wanter forgit that Jocko may be close at hand, an’ I reckon he could slap ther hull on us inter quod in ther tremor o’ a mule’s sankle-j’int. Jest you hol’ ther fort, pard, an’ Til use them wae I see yender, an’ bind these cannibawls ez Gulliver bound ther Lillypods.” His quick eyes had discovered some cords which were just suited to the work in hand, and i Of course Bates was the most dangerous per- ‘son, and Bob proceeded to wind the cords around ‘him until he was totally helpless. He then per- formed a like service for Riddle, who dared not zh his eyes glared the wrath he could not wholly hide. The Coiner helped in the last part of the work, sand showed a cool resolution which pleased the young detective. ** Now, then,” said the latter, ‘‘ we’ve gons so ‘fur like a Maud 8. trotter, but I obsarve some ruts in ther road jest ahead. How’re we‘ter avoid ’em? In other words, though we hev got ther fu’st knock-down, we’re still in ther inemy’s ‘sugar-box, an’ I reckon Jocko may wanter vote about our departur’.” CHAPTER XII. BoB’s ** FUN” CONTINUES. THe CornEeR looked troubled at the last re- mark, “The black giant is in tho house; I heard him’ only a short time ago,” he said. “Then that p'int is settled,” observed Bob. ‘** We don’t want ter see Jocko—not fer Joseph! He would chaw us all up like cheese. Now, ef my pardner, Stumpy, was hyar, ’twould be -difrent, fer Stumpy is an awful slugger, but he ‘ain’t hyar. Now, ‘low me ter ask”—here Bob lowered his voice—‘‘if you kin climb over ther ruff?” “Any way!” exclaimed The Coiner; “any “way, So long as we escape.” ‘*T tried to get out that way,” said Nelva. “* They don’t always keep me shut up in one ‘room, but make me do other work; and I got away and went to the scuttle, unfastened it an tried to raise it, but I couldn’t lift it.” “That so? ‘Wal, now, that s’plains wh found ther roof-door unfastened. I Wal, ef ye ‘kin amble that way, let’s be scratchin’ ther ‘slates ez Soon ez possible.” ‘But these men,” interrupted The Coiner, re They will give the alarm.” ¥ r. “ The Vagabond Detective. alu, ons ' “Not ef we stuff their mouths wi’ cloth, tie ’em tergether so they can’t wabble, an’ lock ther door on ’em.” ‘‘A capital idea, my boy. Let it be done at once.” They lost no time, and in a very few minutes Riddle and Bates were secured as indicated, and all was ready for departure. They left the room, locked the door, and moved down-stairs cautiously, expecting every moment to see Jocko appear. All remained silent, how- ever, and they went on. Bob saw with some uneasiness that now that escape seemed quite possible, the old man trem- bled, and seemed to lose entirely his late cool self-possession, He had grown stonily calm in captivity, but the reaction greatly weakened im now. ‘“1 s’pect he’s seen trouble ernough ter shake ther teeth outer Bartholdi’s statute,” thought Bob, ‘‘an’ this narvousness is nat’ral, but it is mighty inconvenient.” No one obstructed their way, and Bob re- traced his steps up the other stairway, through the passage and up the last flight of stairs—that which led to the roof. As he raised the scuttle door he was surprised to see that it was already night. He had not supposed it was so late, and in the prison-room all hours were the same, but if the darkness made their descent more difficult, it would also hide their movements from prying eyes. Bob took the lead wholly, for The Coiner was worse than Nelva; but the boy was equal to the demands of the occasion. As before said, he had no great trouble in gaining the roof of Riddle’s house, and the same remark will apply to their retreat. In due time they stood on the ground. ‘Whar now?” Bob asked. et don’t know,” the old man helplessly re- plied. ‘* Have you any frien’s?” ** Not one.” ‘*Wal, sha‘n’t we call on ther p’lice an’ hey ther gang gobbled up inter bondage?” a No no; don’t do that!” “Why not?” ‘“Gnarl Riddle and—and some one else— would kill me.” ‘* Not ef they was slapped inter a cell.” “‘T dare not molest them; let us go away; far away from them.” Bob scratched his head. He did not relish the idea of losing such a chance, and disliked to comply with an idea brought about by mental and physical weakness. Luckily, Nelva proved clear-headed. ‘Father is overcome now, and what he needs is a good night’s rest,” shesaid, in a low voice. ‘He is not friendless, and he will be ready for the fight to-morrow, but, it is best we should all rest to-night. Still, we have no money.” Bob saw his way clear by this time. “Don’t ye worry ’bout that, fur I kin give ye quarters on Macdougal street, ef ’tain’t too high-toned fer comfort. That’s jest wat Ill do, an’ I'd like ter see a yarler cab bounsin’ this way.” | The cab did not appear, but when they started in search of one, only a few yards had been gone when the very article desired made its ap- pearance. As Bob still had money enough for the purpose, passage was engaged and they rolled away toward Macdougal street. Bob o’ the Bowery was not inclined to rest on his oars, and he only waited to see his new proteges safely housed, after which he pro- osed to make things lively for the gang. At ast he felt sure he had the means of securing their arrest, and he intended to do it. The house on Macdougal street was that of honest friends of his, and in due time he had | The Coiner and his daughter there. They were kindly received, and the old man grew some- what calmer, but still protested against be- ginning hostilities against his enemies—an idea so different from his usual one that Bob knew he would be sorry as soon as he regained his mental vigor. “He'll hev ter hey his own way now, I s’pose, but ’'m my own boss an’ I ain’t afeerd o’ them measly biokes, not fur Joseph. Fur- dermore, I’m goin’ on ther war-path with more paint onter my face than er, Hill belles wear, b’gosh! I reckon I'll hev some more fun wi’ them ravenin’ wolves.” He left the house and started up-town again, anxious to resume his ‘‘fun,” but had gone but a few rods when a man loomed up in his path in such a way as to force him to stop. He looked up and saw what Ft to be a middle-aged person with red hair and beard Lani Ne SOY eee ee *\2 WE se Ree 7 to t ‘“‘Hallo, boy,” he bluffly saluted, ‘‘can Iget you to do an errand?” ‘* Not fur Joseph,” was the terse reply. “I don’t care about Joseph; this errand is for | me.” “Wal, I can’t do it ’cause ’'m otherwise en- gaged, but thar is plenty 0’ poor boys ‘round who'll wery like snap at ther chance like a red- nosed man at a whisky bottle.” ** But won’t a dollar be any object to you?” persisted the man. **Nary object.” “Then [ll give two dollars.” Bob opened his eyes somewhat larger, for such pertinacity surprised him. As he had indicated, there were’a good many other boys near at hand, and he could not see what object the man hadin urging him. . ** W’at’s ther errand?” he asked, looking sharp- ly at the red-whiskered man. **T want a package carrled to No. —, Creshy street.” |} This was but a very short distance away, and Bob’s wonder increased. Two dollars for five minutes’ work! What did it mean? ** Wat sort 0’ a package?” “This one,” and the man produced a flat parcel from beneath his coat. ‘‘ You see it is small, If you will carry it, and be sure and de- liver it to no one but the Reverend Mr. Mossey, for whom it is intended, you shall have the money—the two dollars.” The bait was large, but, in Bob’s opinion, it did not half-cover the hook. Several questions naturally suggested themselves. Why didn’t the man carry his own package, since he could have done it in the time already wasted? Why was he willing to pay at such a rate? Above all, why was he so determined to secure Bob as his agent? P These questions set the boy to thinking, and it began to dawn upon him that there was something familiar in the red-whiskered man’s voice. Where and when had he heard it before? It suddenly flashed upon him whose voice sounded like this person’s, and he was wide- awake in an instant. Unless he was greatly mistaken, Albert Murdough stood kefore him. This was an important discovery, but not a muscle of Bob’s face betrayed him. He was thinking like a flash, however. Events had al- ready led him to believe that Albert was nearly as bad as his father, and he clearly saw a plot to lure him into a house where others of the gang were ready to seize him. : Probably Alexander Murdough had discover- ed that Bob was not likely to take that ride in the close carriage with him, and intended to get him out of the way otherwise, Acting on this belief, the boy had his an- swer ready without suspicious delay, “Wal, I’m ’portantly engaged fer jest about ten minutes, but ef you kin wait till I run over ter Washington Park, I’ll come back then an’ ketch onter yer cash fur keeps,” ‘Are you sure to be back?” ‘‘ Sart’in sure.” ‘* And in ten minutes?” “Fifteen at ther outside.” Then I'll wait for you.” ** All right; I'll be off.” “You'll find me right here, boy, so don’t disappoint me, as I want a trusty messenger.” ** You kin depend on me,” replied Bob, as he hurried away, but he muttered to himself: “Yas, you kin depend on me not ter put my head inter that trap—not fer Joseph! I can’t see very wal wi’ my blind eye, but kin tell when I run ag’in’ @ brick house. Now, I don’t like ter postpone my wisit ter ther p'lice but I feel a terrible hankerin’ fer ter see that Crosby street house. “Tain’t impossible I may see some o’ ther gang ’round thar, an’ I'll give ’em a try.” ; He accordingly made a detour and worked / around to where the ‘‘ Reverend Mr Mossey” was said to live, keeping in the shadows asmuch as possible. The house proved to be a plain, old two-story coneern, Which had evidently stood there a long timé, but still looked respectable enough. Bob reconnoitered carefully, but all his ef- forts failed to discover any one about the place, There was a light in one room, but the curtain was down and all was quiet and monotonous, _ While thus engaged the boy detective caught sight of a passer-by, and pounced upon him in a moment, It was his friend Wrixley, the detec- tive, and it occurred to Bob that here was just the person to lead the raid on Gnarl Riddle’s lair, if the detective could be drawn into the game, é Pr So he poured out his story rapidly and ear-
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'w’at’s ther odds? Ef ther firm o’ B. Rowen nestly, wag much pleased to see Wrixley listen y, but he was interrupted before he was through. ‘Capture them?” repeated Wrixley. ‘‘ You bet I will. Oddly enough, my own game has worked around to include Riddle and Bates, and I only wish I could strike a certain ‘ High- heeled Moll,’ as wellas the two men. Resteasy, Bob, for I'll attend to them, But won’t you ac- company me?” “Can't, possibly. I’m onter another lay, an’ ther trail is red-hot an’ still a-heatin’. Jest you gobble Gnarl an’ Plug Bates, an’ I'll chuck in my blessin’. Ketch on?” ‘Yes; and I’m off. Wish you good luck here.” ~ 5 ‘* Thank you, an’ I'll try tergive ye a clean bill 0’ health w’en we meet. These ere is pipin’ times, ez ther plumber said ter ther landlord; an’ them ez pulls ther wires sees ther battery. So-long, Wrix!” The detective went off, and Bowery Bob was left to give all his attention to the other case. How to proceed he did not exactly know, but as all continued quiet where he was, he began to feel a desire to get another look at disguised Albert Murdough. After some hesitation he began moving cautiously toward where he had left him, but had gone only a short distance when he perceived two men talking on a corner. : At. first +g he recognized one of them as Albert, and he at once felt a strong desire to overhear what was being said. Circumstances were in his favor, and_he worked around to a covered wagon that had been stabled for the night on the street, in the uliar way common to New York, and, in its shadow, listened unobserved. Albert was speaking. “T don’t intend to remain in this city a day longer than is necessary,” he said; ‘‘ for matters have got so hot that I feel the need of a Euro- an tour. Fact is, when I began with Cap olden’s band I never thought I'd goso far, and I'm a bit afraid.” “‘ Nonsense!” replied the other. ‘‘ There is no danger. The police would never suspect you to be Ethan Eames!” CHAPTER XIII. BOB FALLS OVER SOMETHING. Bowery Bos could not avoid astart, As we know, he had clearly decided: that. Albert Mur- dough was anything butan honest man, but here was plain evidence that he was a first-class ras- ca When Jack Huntsman gave the bananas—and diamonds—to the young detective, he had di- rected that they be delivered to ‘‘ Ethan Eames” or Rosa Reddington. J That showed that Eames was in the diamond scheme, and now he knew that ‘‘ Eames” was Albert Murdough. ‘‘Gosh ter rattlesnakes! than w’en I ‘lowed I was arter big game. They is big; bigger than ther Produce Exchange an’ a twenty-seven story house all inter one. But I never said truer Vidoq and Pinkerton can’t hold their own, I’ never w: my left ear ag’in!” Mean ile, the conversation continued. ' "No, suspicion has not yet fixed upon me,” said Albe » ‘but who knows when it will? There is that confounded boy, Bob o’ the Bow- ery; he’s nosing around ina way I don’t. like, and he may learn too much,” ‘“* That confounded boy” grinned in high glee. “But if we get him into the old house, we'll now a’pal of the g. Gol- es - think it was “ Nobody but himself knows.” “Heisa deviti” dleclercd Aibert; bitterly. ‘He & great chief. at are Riddle, Bates and Huntsman, com “ Subordinate. rascals,” aid Albert, tersely. sees re is the greatest scoundrel that ever The Vagabond Detective. ‘See here, Ethan, it strikes me your loyalty is wavering, ‘‘said Alf, suspiciously. ‘* Remember how I am situated,” replied Mur- dough, gloomily. ‘‘I am a member of a proud rich and honorable old family. See where it am!” “Strikes me your governor, old Alexander, is no saint. What about his resolution to marry Miss Reddington?” ““That puzzles me,” said the young man. “ Fa- ther knows just what she is—’ ‘* Does he know she is High -heeled Moll?” Bowery Bob started. With his retentive mem- ory, he had not forgotten that Wrixley had men- tioned this ver same name. ‘* He knows all,” Albert answered, ‘* Yet he will marry her?” c Yes.” ‘‘Well, it strikes me the governor is no angel,” ‘“‘ The Murdoughs have lost their high sense of honor. Only Dora, my sister, is like our an- cestors.” ‘ *‘And you are trying to marry her to Jack Huntsman?” ** It’s none of my work.” ** You took Jack to the house as Count Royal- schoff.” “Thad to. Jack requested, and Cap Golden ordered, it,” “Tl bet a dollar Dora don’t marry your bogus Russian, just thesame, By the way, when does the marriage of your pater and High-heeled Moll take place?” * To-night.” “To-night!” ‘¢ Yes,” “Isn't that sudden?” ‘* Yes; for some reason, father sees fit to h it up, and there is to be a private ceremony this evening at ten. That’s why I am in such haste. And that reminds me, I must now go and meet Bob o’ the Bowery. if hope our decoy scheme will work.” Albert hurried away, leaving Alf gazing after him. ‘* Poor, weak-minded fool!” he muttered, “‘ he little suspects that he is but a cat’s-paw for others. I rather pity him, but if such ashe will take to evil ways, we who are sharks from necessity must receive them—and their money.” He paused to light a cigar, while Bob o’ the Bowery, who had listened to all with eager at- tention, shut one eye and screwed his face into a remarkable expression, ‘“Wal, this reverlation takes ther fodder, b’gosh! I've got onter some vallyble p’ints an’ I'm a-goin’ ter make ther wheel 0’ jestice revolve like a Western blizzard was a-playin’ onter it. One thing sticks me, though; I te who Ca’ Golden is, ef ther rest 0’ ther gang don’t; an’ know he an’ Alexander Murdough, ter wit, namely, is one an’ ther same scallawag. But ef sech is ther case, why hez he led Albert, his son, adown ther crooked patho’ sin an’ moral smash-up?” , Bob scratched his head vigorously, but no an- swer came. “So ther vener’ble Alex an’ Rosa is gwine ter hitch up at ten this eve?’ Wal, mebbe they will; but I[hev a faint glimmer o’ doubt ef ther obsequies takes place. | in see Wrixley an’ tell him Rosa Reddington is High-heeled Moll, et seattery, I don’t b’lieve she'll be a blush- in’ bride ter-night—not fur Joseph. Hello !” Another man had appeared and paused before Alf, and Bob lost no interest in the case. “Tl be broke on ther wheel ef "tain’t ther bogus Russian, Count No~count! Now, then, w’at hez he got ter say?” ‘‘ Hallo, Huntsman!” saluted Alf. ‘**Not so loud,” replied Jack. ‘‘ Remember I am Count Royalschoff. Are you busy?” “Now Why?” ‘Come in and get a pull of whisky, I need bracing up, and I baxe a word to say to you.” Alf agreed and the two moved down the street. So did Bowery Bob. He was all alive to the demands of the occasion, and intended to cranes, what was said if such a thing was pos- sible, ; ‘‘T opine things is comin’ ter a focus, an’ ef I was a reg’lar commissioned detective, I’d hev these measly skunks inter hock afore another sun-up.. But we'll see, sez ther blind man.” He followed Jack and Alf to a saloon suc- uly, and then, seein that it was well filled with other customers, boldly entered close behind em. \ _ They went to the bar, while Bob looked eager- ly around. _ There were four tables in the room, but, all were filled save one. He immediately decided that there a chance of their taking that, and as it was just beside a screen made like a ‘ 13 window-blind, he took position behind the screen and waited. be The two men took their drinks and then came and sat down as he had hoped. ‘“Now, then, to business,” said the bogus: Russian. ‘‘ What do you think of the outlook?” ‘On the coin business?” ‘Hush! What are you saying? Noneof that) Yes, I mean on that point.” ** All lovely, ain’t it?” *¢ Ts it?” ‘*T thirik so.” ‘*T don’t!” ‘*“Why not?” “‘T suspect that Cap Golden intends to play us: false, scoop in the boodle and leave all the rest of the gang to whistle for their share.” ‘*The blazes you do!” ‘* That’s just my idea.” ¥ But I can hardly believe Golden is such @. 1an. ‘“ Well, I believe it. He is a long-headed old fellow, and as ‘selfish as Old Nick himsélf, He played his cards well, and while all the rest of us are well known in the gang, who can say who Cap Golden is?” ‘That's a fact,” thoughtfully admitted Alf. ‘‘ Well, if he should slip with the cash, how could we find him— and the cash?” ‘We should have a hard job, of course, but ou are proceeding from the standpoint that he is likely torun away. Have you any real rea- son for believing he may do this?” ‘*T have some mighty strong suspicions.” ‘* Well, what do you propose?” Huntsman looked around to make sure no one was looking, and then, bending forward, he lowered fis voice. ‘T propose just this: It is dog eat dog, and we don’ want to get left. Consequently, in or-- der to prevont Cap Golden from running away with tho boodle, we must run away with it our— selves!” ** And turn traitor?” cried Alf. **Rubbish! Haven’t I warned you what the captain intends? Shall he win, or shall we?” ‘ But there is no proof that he intends such a, thing.” Huntsman uttered an oath. ** Well, if you will have the proof, here goes: Cap Golden is Alexander Murdcugh. Oh! you’re surprised, are you? Well, [m not. Ive been onto this thing:for some time, and what I’ve told is not all that I know. Listen!” Jack leaned still further forward and uttered. a few rapid sentences which left both Alf ard Bob o’ the Bowery mute with surprise. The boy crouched behind the screen and stared with en- larged eyes, for the revelation,was a startling one, but before another word could be said there: came an unexpected interruption. drunken man had ‘surged through the door. and he suddenly lost his balance, stumbled against Bob, who tried in vain to get out of the way; and then the two went crashing agai the screen; the screen fell over upon the table; and Bob and the drunkard were sprawled out before the eyes of the conspirators. Bob was up in'a moment, but he camedirectly into the view of the men, and the bogus Russian looked decidedly scared. He had recognized the boy. For an instant he seemed dazed, but criminals: of his caliber are not long at fault. He sprung forward and seized Bob’s arm. ‘* See here!” he exclaimed, ‘didn’t I tell you to keep away from saloons? You just make tracks for home, or I'll cuff you!” “rect fur water-bugs!” coolly replied the Bowery boy. ‘ All I want is fer yer ter etgomy arm an’ [ji slide. W’at, be ye still hol’ on’t?” “T reckon T'll take you home.” . And Huntsmem tried to drag Bob along. He knew his only hope was to get him away where: he could not use his nimble tongue, and it was his dodge to pretend the lad was his son. If he could once get him clear of the saloon, and to a. retired place, he would soon still that tongue, But Bob clasped a post and held on tightly. ‘* No, sirree, hoss-fly!” he retorted. “TI ain't goin’ yer way jes’ now. Call ’round ‘bout twe o'clock next week.” Huntsman’s eyes flashed, and he disregarded bem weap of all observers and eraiped Bobs oat. “Come with me!” he hissed; wild with fear and rage, “or I'll strangle you!” ‘ ‘No, ye don’t; not fur Joseph!” retorted Beb,, still hanging to the post, and reading aright the murderous expression in his enemy’s eyes; and then a happy thought struck him, and he reached up, caught the beard and pulled it from its owner’s face, “Look hyar, all ye clam-eaters!” be cried,
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- 1 7 y > — ied ee LT Nig eH a OF RT NE TS PIT TE: pos 14 MERLE Hy deg 0s - we The Vagabond Detective. “‘this hyar ig Jack Huntsman, a law-breaker, an’ ther officers is jest a-hankerin’ ter git him inter hock fer—” x One of the crowd started forward. ‘* What's this, boy?” he demanded. ‘*Do you say this is Jack Huntsman? J want that man, and I hereby arrest him. I am Detective Chippley !” Bob laughed aloud; for he saw that the man- hunter had not recognized him, and such stu- pidity seemed amazing. ‘Oh! is it you, Chippley?’ he cried. ‘‘ Are you sure it is you, ole boy?’ But_you don’t know me, nér you didn’t know Jack Huntsman till I tole ye all. Gosh ter goslin’s, Chip, ef I’s you kerry my photo all ther while so’s not ter git ost!’ CHAPTER XIV. BOB ATTENDS A WEDDING. Mr. Detective CHIPPLEY turned very red apon hearing this sarcastic talk, but he tried to hide his emotions. “Know you?’ hecried. ‘Of course I know you! I’ve seen you before to-day, and I’ve eee you as a future candidate for Sing Sing.” “Wal, I ain’t got thar yet, an’ ef I depend en you fer indentifercation, I reckon ez I won't ‘very soon.” There was a jeer from the crowd, which was not inclined to love officers of any kind, and Jack Huntsman, who had been trying to get in his protestation, became encouraged to try and jerk his arm away; but Chippley, anxious to wreak his vengeance on some one, drew his offi- cial club and fell upon the unhappy Count Ivan Royalschoff-Huntsman in the business-like way which officers have when they take to the war- path, and Bob seized the chance and slipped out ot the place. ‘‘No need o’ me in thar—not fer Joseph! Ole Chip is onter a reg’lar t’ar, with blood inter his blind eye, an’ he’ll yank ther Russian inter quod %hout my help, wile I’ve got biz elsewhar. Oh! Susannah X. Slowboy, ef I kin find my pard, Wrixley, I'll jes’ make Rome howl ter-night. I’m off arter him like lightnin’ slidin’ down a greased cloud!” If he did not go as he said, he certainly made good time, and with all possible haste made his ‘way to the "owen station where he had reason to believe Wrixley might be found. Luckily he met the detective just leaving, and from him learned that the aectrterdeieors knee had been raided, and Gnarl Riddle, Chug Bates, Jocko and Hannah secured just as they were on the point of leaving; the two former having been released by the negro. Bob, all excitement, stopped Wrixley and told him what new developments he fallen to, and though his friend was a good deal sur- prised, he did not think of doubting his word. ‘Well, if you haven’t a natural tact for get- ting hold of points, I’m a liar!” declared Wrix- ey. * Jes’ wat Gus Redding said w’en I helped him in a detective case.” “‘ By the way, I thought Redding did well by you. Why are youstillinrags?” . “My 2 ae frien’, why are you still a detec- tive? You're rich ez Solomon—or was it Moses? —but ye still keep on in biz.” ‘*T should be unhappy out of it.” “Wal, pard, ’'d be onhappy out 0’ these aris- tocratic rags! I needn’t w’ar ’em, fer I hez money in ther bank, an’ I’m a pusson 0’ infloo- ence on Wall street an’ Pier 11,111, North river, but these hyar rags is my bes’ frien’s; they’ve been wi’ me a long time an’ sarved me wal, an’ 4tain’t in my warm heart fer ter shake ’em now they’re ole an’ gray—not fer Joseph! But see yere, Wrix, le’s git a rigiment 0’ coppers an’ @ cannon, an’ go an’ stop old Murder from jinin’ hisself in weedlock ter High-heeled Moll.” This was sensible advice, and preparations were at once made for a descent on the pretty gang of law-breakers who were making the better part of New York responsible for hiding them. It was nine o’clock before they were ready to start, however, and half an hour later when they neared Murdough mansion. There ‘was nothing there to indicate that such a thing as a marriage was to take place, and for awhile Wrixley hesitated. “Tf there is a mistake, we shall make a retty mess of it by descending on a nabob like this,” he said. ‘+ Jes’ you see hyar,” observed Bob, “I'm elgg sure 0’ my dough afore I bake my an’ I give ye a straight tip on this biz, but I hev an idee that kin be played ef you think best. I hev some ’quaintance wi’ a s’pectable colored youth who isa sarvint here— his name is Julius, an’ I won his ’fections by givin’ him an orange—an’ ef you say so, I kin apply at ther basement door and ‘vestigate afore we make ther gineral raid.” Wrixley would not have decided in favor of this plan, but the other officers were very much for it, so Bob prepared for the attempt. He rapped boldly at the basement door, and, very much to his delight, it was opened by | Julius. ‘‘Hello!” said the small negro, promptly. ** Come in!” Bob had not expected so cordial a welcome, but he did 1.0t fail to accept the invitation. He entered. “ Come right inter de kitchen.” Again Bob obeyed, but when Julius turned about his eyes looked like two full moons rising against a dark sky. i: Wh’-wh’— what!” he stammered. ‘‘ T didn’t speak, my colored frien’.” ‘Why, I fro’t twas Harry.” “ Wal, ’tain’t Harry, ez you hev now diskiv- ered,” Bob replied, ‘‘ but I trust Iain’t none ther less welcome by my ole frien’. Julius, ole stock, yer ain’t forgot ther orange I gi’n ye hev yer?” ‘‘No,” said the negro, ‘‘mebbe you’ve got a nuther orange?” ‘‘T ain’t, not now, Mr. Julius. But do ye ad- mire ther d’licious fruit ye mention?” ‘* Bet yer life, I do.” ‘‘Then you shell hev a dozen on ’em ter-mor- rer mornin’. A dozen! Gosh all porous-plas- ters! yer shall hev a cart-load. Yes, sirree, jes’ ez many ez a hoss kin haul. Tll go ter Patsy McOshaunaghran—he’s ther chap w’at owns ther spirited white hoss wi’ ther blind eye an’ chronic whoopin’-cough—it’s ther hoss has ther cough—an’ Pa’sy shall bring ye a hull tip-cart load o’ oranges, b’gosh!” Here Bob put one arm akimbo and, flourish- ing the other hand, added: ‘I’m nat’rally ginerous, an’ ef thar’s any one thing I’s profligate of, it’s oranges!” * Ah! but you’s foolin’ me now,” said Julius. ** You won’t gib away no sech heaps ob oranges.” ‘‘ My frien’, low ‘me ter say I’s a s'pectable merchan() o’ ther Bowery, wal known in ther i ae trade an’ president o’ ther Free an’ En- ightened Non-Potterson Shine’em-up League. Oblige me by car’fully repeatin’ w’at I said.” Poor Julius had to confess that he could not. ““Wery likely,” said Bob, ‘‘ but you must see I am a Alderney rooster that kin be depended on ev’ry time he crows, Eh?” Julius admitted it, ‘Then ye must know I would not lie ter ye— not fur Joseph. My friend’, you shall hev them oranges, but fu’st ye must ’arn’em. I wanter put a few questions, Ter begin onter, whar’s ther folkses?” ““Dey’s allin. Massa Albert was out, but he came in to attend de weddin’.” “So ole Murder is ra’lly ter be spliced ter Rosa?” ‘* He’s ter espouse Miss Lethroe in de bounds ob perio yrat sah.” Julius, take my hat, fer that ree-mark takes ther fodder. Espouse! That’s good. I'll pre- sent that word ter Stumpy. He’s jes’ dead-gone on Daniel Webster’s directory, an’ he'll stick ter ‘espouse’ ef his wig blows off. But this ain’t biz. How long afore ther obsequies takes “Um! see’d?” Julius hesitated, but he thought of the oranges and decided that it could be done. He led the way up-stairs through a hall and into a small room, and then pointed beyond. “Look froo’ rn door, but be werry careful. Dey is dar.” Bob looked. “Right yer be, Julius. Thar is a solemn-look- ing individooal who is promably @ parson; an’ thar is Albert and Dora; an’ thar is Rosa, ez brazen ez a ticke *Jator in front 0’ a theater —an’ they hev got a gall like ther Palisades, in size—an’ thar isole Murder, jes’ ez chipper ez an undertaker. B’gosh! ef gittin’ married ex’cises sech a malev’lant inflooence over a chap, I won’t never— Hello!” Alexander Murdough had suddenly arisen and started for the small room, and the two boys had no time to retreat. All they could do was to dodge into the darkest corner of the room—no light was burning there—and hope for the best. SU ieiites.t radi 2 sc match aber end Bob felt Julius quake, however, when Mur- dough struck a match, reached up and lit the ras. ¥ The place thus became perfectly light. If Mawdoughe looked their way, discovery was inevitable. : He did look their way, and then stood dum- founded, That Julius should be there was not strange, but Murdough recognized Bob, and his | face actually paled with fear and anger. ** You here?’ he gasped. ‘‘T am, ez you may diskiver. in ter attend ther obsequies, Murder, ole stock an’ it’ll jes’ do me heaps 0’ good ter see yer tied up ter High-heeled Moll—I mean Miss Redding- ton-Lethroe!” The young detective knew that it would dono good to mince matters now, and he went ahead with a rush. He spoke loud enough to be heard by the clergyman, for he had an idea that that gentleman might be the means of saving him from harsh usage, if not from death. ‘“You scoundrel!” cried the master of the . house, starting forward, ‘‘T’ll throw you out of the house!” ‘‘ Hol’ on, Murder, ole boy!” cautioned Bob. ‘‘Ther wu’st thing you kin do is ter offer me voylence, an’ I'll prove it.” The speaker slipped past Alexander, into the room with the} surprised listeners to the alter- cation. ** Albert, my callow youth,” He then con- tinued, ‘‘I wanter put a good-sized flea inter yer right ear, an’ ye kin bet high that ’m sound on ae This hyar obsequy has got ter be stopped. "Cause why? Ther blushin’ bride an’ groom ain’t w’at-they advertise ter be —not fer Joseph! Miss Lethroe ain’t no sech mild-eyed gazelle, but she’s a female eck commonly nowed ter ther Aa ez High-heeled Moll, an’'she’s a tough— Hol’ on, Murder, ole boy; hol’ on!” The master of the house had advanced, but Bob agilely retreated behind the portly parson. ‘“‘ Keep yer distance, Murder, fer I’ve a word ter say ter you. Albert, mebbe you've heerd 0” one Cap Golden, ter wit, namely; but dunno who he is. Wal, thar he stands; him an’ Mur- der is identicle!” Bob leveled his index finger at the counter- feiter chief, and that man, suddenly bereft of all nerve, dropped into a chair heavily. “But that ain’t all, by a matter o’ severial miles, Murder may be Murder, but_he ain’t Alexander Murdough, ther nabob. Not any, fer Joseph! He’s a scum an’ tramp, w’at hes usurped ther place o’ ther right heir severial centuries ago, an’ he’s kept ther real Murdough shet up in a garret ez a slave, makin’ bogus money fur ther gang over which he ruled as Cap Golden, b’gosh; an’ ef ye wonder, Albert, why Cap Golden hez seemed 80 rabid ter lead you in crooked paths, you kin understand now, “Though Golden is Murder, Murder ain’t A. Murdough, nor he ain’t your dad—-not fer Joseph!” | Bob poured forth this revelation with remark- able rapidity, and Albert’s face was a panora- ma. .He heard, u-.derstood and believed, im- possible as tho charge seemed, but it would take too much time to record all he felt and thought. He wac <'! awake, however, and when Cap Golden started up, revolver in hand, and tried to aim at Bob, Albert flung himself upon him. At tho same time there was a tramp of heavy feet beyond. Wrixley, becoming alarmed for Bob, had sought and obtained entrance, and he and his men promptly took charge of Golden and ‘Miss Lethroe.” Dora and the cler an were amazed, while Albert actually shed tears. “Tve been a weak, weak fool!” he exclaimed. | “T have let this man, in his disguise as Golden, | lead me step after step In crime, little cting | who he was. Officer, tako me, too, for I was of the counterfeiting band!” “No,” said Wrixley. ‘It is clear you have been made a cat’s-paw by bigger knaves, and ; young Bob and I have arranged to let you go free, I hope other officers will be as lenient, for I believe there is hope of your reformation.’ “Yas,” added Bob, ‘‘an’ ef you don’t do it when ye hev sech a daisy 0’ @ sister, you orter be ducked in a sewer.” : “T solemnly swear that I will reform!” de« clared Albert. “K’rect fer bristle-back fishes! Keep yer blind eye on that goal an’ you'll git thar sure ez preachin’, ‘You've had sorter a hard row ter hoe, an’ ther weeds hez sprung up amazin’, but that’s "cause ole Murder went out on ther sly an’ watered ’em afore you war up a-mornin’s. Oh! don’t be skeered fur ther future; you'll be all hunk when yer see w’at a patriarchal nabob yer real dad is, au’ I'll hev Ther Coiner an’ yer I hev dropped
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+ ) ’ ‘ aried terfeiting gang. ¥ oung sister hyar ter-morrer afore ther mud is up in ther Bowery!” The boy detective had made no mistake. The clew te the mystery which he obtained from Jack Huntsman’s words in the saloon was veri- fied. ‘“‘The Coiner” was the real Alexander Mur- dough. His story may be told ina few words. + When a young man he married a poor girl secretly; his proud father learned all; Alexan- der was unjustly accused of crime and forced to flee the country. He left his wife and two children, Albert and Dora, behind. The wife died, and the elder Murdough took the babes home. After two years, word came to Alexander in Italy, where he was hiding, that his father was dead, and that he thus became heir to much wealth. He resolved to return. Unluckily he had in Venice become attracted to a man of his ownage. Their remarkable resemblance was responsible for the acquaintance at first, but it grew so friendly that Alexander told Justin rom kins all about himself, en the good news came, Tompkins resolved to play the old trick of assuming another’s iden- tity. He had Alexander imprisoned, and, him- self became young Mr, Marion. He did not venture to return to New York for five years. ‘When he did, nobody suspected the fraud. It might never have been suspected had the usurper been wise, but he was not. Tho real Alexander was held prisoner, but, after a time, the pepe had actually married the daughter of his jailer and had another child. Tompkins scented danger. If the jailer had permitted this marriage, treachery must also be intended. Tompkins paid a flying visit to Italy. ‘One night he and Bravos descended on the cot- tage. The jailer and his daughter were killed. The real Alexander and Nelva were brought away. _ The usurper resolved to have Murdough under his own eyes. He was brought to New York, and as Tompkins knew of his skill, the counter- feiting scheme was thought of. For two years the prisoner refused to work, but solitary con- finement drove him to it at last. To save himself from going mad, and to be with Nelva, he yielded. Then began his career as *‘ The Coiner,” Where it would have ended but for brave Bob o' the Bowery it is hard to say, but when the nian restored to life recovered his mental vigor, as he did, fully, and established his claim as Alexander Murdough, he forgot no one, good or bad. He helped to give justice to all the coun- Cap. Golden, Gnarl Riddle, Jack Huntsman, Chug Bates, Jocko, Hannah, and the others, all got long terms in prison, Unless Golden is par- doned, which is not likely, he will not outlive his heavy sentence. Albert’s career of folly was overlooked, and it is believed his reformation ‘is complete. His _ father has given him a home, and Dora will help him keep his good resolutions, ‘** The Coiner” seems to have taken a new lease ‘of life, and Nelva is the sunshine of his latter days. ‘He rewarded Bowery Bob financially, and would have done more had not that young gen- tleman declined. . ‘‘ Much obleeged ter you, but I reckon ez how ) ey Tl stick to my present occupation. Peanuts is a toney trade, an’ thar is piles o’ bullion inter it, Thank you, but I'll keep ther Bowery stand; be fur Stumpy, my pard, must hev some means o’ keepin’ his blood a-flowin’, an’ he’s jest a hum- _ Ter on peanuts. He could run a stan’ ez big ez _ a dry-goods store, so I'll let him hev that line, while I look erround fer ter see W’at crookedness -Ikin unravel. \ Ther firm 0’ B. Bowery, Vidoeq & Co. is young, but it’s bound ter spread like ther measles, Thar is plenty o’ field fur detec- tive work in ther village o’ New York, an’ while ther measly crooks is raisin’? Cain wi’ honest folkses, I ain’t goin’ ter sot down in sloth an’ fossil idleness—not fur Joseph!” THE END, a ~The Vagabond Detective. Half-Dime Singer's Library Waoa; Exma! and 59 other Songs, CAPTAIN Curr and 57 other Songs, THE GAINsSBORO’ HaT and 62 other Songs, JoHNNY MoreGan and 60 other Songs. Vu. Strike You With A FEATHER and 62 others, GEORGE THE CHARMER and 56 other Songs. THe BeLLe or Rockaway and 52 other Songs. BDNIOS ore coer 9 Say Youne Giri and 65 other Songs. 10 I’M THE GovERNOR’s ONLY SON and 58 other Songs 11 My Fan and 65 other Songs. 12 Comin’ THRO’ TUE RYE and 55 other Songs. 18 Tue Rouiickine IRISHMAN and 59 other Songs, 14 Or’ Noa Tray and 62 other Songs. 15 W.._A, CHARLIE and 59 other Songs, 16 IN THIs WHeat By AND By and 62 otner Songs. 17 Nancy Lee and 58 other Songs. 18 I’m THE Boy THAT’s BoUND TO BLAZE and 57 others, 19 Tae Two OrpHANS and 59 other Songs, 20 WHat ARE THE WILD WAVES SayIna, SISTER? and 59 other Songs. 21 InpiananT Potty Woe and 59 other Songs. 22 'I'nE OLtp ARM-CHAIR and 58 other Songs. 23 On Coney IstanpD Beach and 58 other Songs, 24 Op Simon, THE Hot-CorN Man and 00 others. 25 I’m in Love and 56 other Songs. 26 PARADE OF THE Gvsrps and 56 other Songs. 27 Yo, Heave, Ho! and 60 other Songs. 98 *TwiLt NEVER bo To Gin it up So and 60 others, 29 Buve Bonnets Over THE PorpER and 54 others, 80 Tue Merry Lavcnine Man and 56 other Songs, 31 Sweet Foraxrt-me-Not and 55 other Songs, 82 LeeTLE Basy Mrve and 53 other Songs. 83 Dz BAanJo AM DE INSTRUMENT FoR Me and 53 others, 34 Tarry and 50 other Songs. 85 Just To PLEASE THE Boys and 52 other Songs. 86 SKATING ON ONE IN THE GUTTER and 52 others, 87 Kotorep Kranks and 59 other Songs. 88 Nit DESPERANDUM and 53 other Songs. 89 Tue Giri I Lerr Beninp Me and 50 other Songs 40 °Tis Bur a LitTte FapEp Ftower and 50 others 41 Pretry WaiiHetmria and 60 other Songs. 42 DANCING IN THE Barn and 63 other Songs. 43 H. M.S. Pinarore, COMPLETE, and 17 other Songs Sold everywhere by Newsdealers, at five cents per copy, or sent post-paid, to any address, on re- ceipt of Six cents per number. BEADLE AND ADAMS, PustisHers, 98 Witt1aM StreET, New Yore, Baa’ Weal The Best Weekly of Popular, Entertain- ing and Useful Literature Pub- lished in America! Its Unrivaled Corps of Contributors, almost all of whom write ercluvsively for its publishers—embraces the following authors of world wide repute— Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, Albert W. Aiken, Lack. Fred. Whittaker, Capt. Mark Wilton, Joseph E. Badger, Jr.. Edward L. Wheeier, Charles Morris, Ol! Coomes, C, Dunning Clark, Buffalo Bill, White Beaver, Buckskin Sam, Major Dangerfield Burr, T. C. Harbaugh. Philip S. Warne, Williain R, Eyster, Anthony P. Morris, Launce Poyntz, Ned Buntline. 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BEADLE'S« H ALF- DIME*« [| IBRARY. Published Every Tuesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price-of Five Cents. No Double Numbers, BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, Deadwood Dick Novels. 1 Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road. 20 Double Daggers; or, Deadwood Dick’s Defiance. 28 Buffalo Ben; or, Deadwood Dick in Disguise. 85 Wild Ivan, tiie Boy Clande Duval. 42 Phantom Miner; or, Deadwood Dick’s Bonanza, 49 Omaha O11; or, Deadwood Dick in Danger. Bi Deadwood Dick's Eagles; or, The Pards of Flood Bar. 78 Dendwood Dick on Deck; or, Calamity Jane, the Heroine, 77 Corduroy Charlie; or, Deadwood Dick’s Last Act. 100 Deadwood Dick tn Leadville. 104 Deadwood Dick’« Device; or, The Double Cross Sign. 109 Deadwood Dick aa Detective. 129 Reaswoud Dick’s Double; or, The Ghost of Gorgon’s mich. i 188 Blonde Bl; or, Deadwood Diek’s Home Base. 149 A Game of Gold; or, Deadwood Dick’s Big Strike. 156 Beadwood Dick of Deadwood ; or, The Picked Party. 195 Deadwood Dick’« Dream; or, The Rivils of the Road, 201 The Black IUille Jezebel; or, Dexdwood Dick’s Ward. 205 Deadwood Dick’s Doom; or, Calamity Jane’s Last Ad- venture. 217 Captain Crack-Shot, the Girl Brigand. 221 Sugar-Coated Sam; or, The Black Gown, 282 Gold-Dust Dick, A Romance of Rough« and Toughs. 268 Deadwood Dick’s deers Re The Spirit of Swamp Lake. 268 Deadwood Dick’« Death TratlL 809 Resanaes Dick’s Big Deal; or, The Gold Brick of regon. 821 Deadwood Dick’s Dozen ; or, The Fakir of Phantom Flats. 847 Dendweed Dick’s Ducats; or, Rainy Days in the Dig- ngs. 851 headweed Diek Sentenced; or, The Terrible Vendetta. 862 vs Dick’s Claim; or, The Fairy Face of Faro ats. : 405 Deadwood Dick in Dead City. 410 Besswore Dick’s Diamonds; or, The Mystery of Joan orter. A21 Deadwood Dick in New York; or, A “ Cute Case.” 480 Deadwood Dick’s Dust; or, The Chained Hand, 448 Deadwood Dick, Jr. 448 Nickel-Plate Ned; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Defiance, 458 Sunflower Sam, of Shasta; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Full Islands 269 ‘The Gold Ship ; or, Merle, the Condemned, 276 Merle Monte’s Cruise; or, The Chase of “The Gold Ship. : 280 Merle Monte’s Fate ; or, Pearl, the Pirate’s Bride, 284 The Sca Marauder} or, Merle Monte’s Pledge. 287 Billy Blue-Eyesx, the Boy Rover of the Rio Grande. 804 The Dead Shot Dandy ; or, Benito, the Boy Bugler. $08 Keno Kit; or, Dead Shot Dandy’s Donbdle. 814 hee, Mysterious Marauder; or, The Boy Bugler’s Long rail, 877 Bonodel, the Boy Rover; or, The Flagless Schooner. 888 The Indiau Pilot; or, The Search for Pirate Island. BST Warpath WII, the Boy Phantom. 898 Seawalft, the Boy Lieutenant. 402 Ianvdor, the Young Doneplrators or, The Fatal League. 407 The Boy Insurgent; or, The Cuban Vendetta. 412 The Wild Yachtsaman; cr, The War-Clouu’s Cruise. 429 Duncan Dare, the Boy Refugee. | 488 A Cabin Boy’s Luck; or, The Corsair. 487 The Sea Ralder. 441 The Ocean Firefly ; or, A Middy’s Ver geance. 446 HMaphazard Harry $ or, The Scapegrace of the Sea. 450 Wizard WIIl; or, The Boy Ferre: of New York. 454 Wizard Will’s Street Scouts, 462 The Born Gulde; or, The Sailor Boy Wanderer. 468 Neptune Ned, the Boy Coaster. 474 Flora; or, Wizard Will’s Vagabond Pard. 488 Ferrets Afloat: or, Wizard Wil!’s Last Case. AST Nevada Ned, the Revolver Ranger. 495 Arizona doe the Boy Pard of Texas Jack. 497 Buck Taylor, King of the Cowboys. 508 The Royal Middy ; or, The Shark and the Sea Cat, BY BUFFALO BILL (Hon. Wm, F. Cody). 8 Kansas King; or, The Red Right Hand. 19 The Phantom os or, The Pilot of the Prairie. 565 Deadly-Eye, the Unknown Scout, 68 Border Robin Hood; or, The Prairie Rover. 158 Fancy Frank of Colorado; or, The Trapper’s Trust, BY CHARLES MORRIS, 118 WII! Somers, the Boy Detective. 122 Phil Hardy, the Boss Boy. 126 Picayune Pete; or, Nicodemus, the Dog Detective. 180 Detective Dick; or, The Hero in Rags. 142 Handsome Harry, the Bootblack Detective, 147 Will Wildtire, the Thoroughbred. 152 Black Bess, Wil! Wildfire’s Racer. 157 Mike Merry; the Harbor Police Boy, 162 Will Wildfire in the Woods. 165 Billy Baggage. the Railroad Boy, 170 A Trump Card; or, Will Wildfire Wins and Loses, 174 Bob Rockett; or, Mysteries. of New York. 179 Bob Rockett, the Bauk Runner, 188 The Hidden Hand iar Will Wildfire’s Revenge. 18% Fred Halyard, the Life Boat Boy; or, The Smugglers, 189 Bob Rockett; or, Driven to the Wall. 196 Shadowed ; or, Bob Rockett’s Fight for Life, 206 Dark Paul, the Tiger King. 212 Dashing Dave, the Dandy Detective. 220 Tom Tanner} or, The Black Sheep of the Flock, 225 Sam Charcoal the Premium Darky. 235 Shadow Sams the Messenger Boy. 242 The Two “ Bloods”; or, Shenandoah Bill and His Gang. 252 Dick Dashaway : or, A Dakota Boy in Chicago. 262 The Young Sleuths; or, Rollicking Mike’s Hot Trail, 274 Jolly Jim, the Detective Apprentice. : 289 Jolly Jtm’s Job; or, The Young Detective. 208 The Water-Hound; or, The Young Thoroughbred. B05 Dashaway; of Dakota; or, A Western Lad in the Quaker ‘ity. 824 Ralph Ready, the Hote) Boy Detective. 841 Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective. 858 The Reporter-Detective; or, Fred Flyer’s Blizzard, 867 Wide-Awake Joe ; or, A Boy of the Times. 879 Larry. the Leveler; or, The Bloods of the Boulevard, 408 Firefly Jack, the River-Rat Detective. 428 The Lost Finger; or, The Entrapped Cashier, 428 Fred Flyer, the Reporter Detective. A8$2 Invincible Logan, the Pinkerton Ferret. 456 Billy Brick, the Jolly Vagabond. A466 Wide-Awake Jerry, Detective; or, Entombed Alive, AT9 Detective Dodge; or, The Mystery of Frank Hearty. 488 Wild Dick Racket. 601 Boots, the Boy Fireman ; or, Too Sharp for the Sharper. BY JOSEPH E. BADGER, JR. 2 Yellowstone Jack or, The Trapper. 48 Black John, the Road-Agent; or, The Outlaw’s Retreat, 65 Hurricane Bill; or, Mustang Sam and His Pard. 119 Mustene Sam ; or, The King of the Plains. 186 Nigner awk kit; or, The Daughter of the Ranch, 144 Dainty Lance the Boy Sport. 151 Panther Paul; or, Dainty Lance to the Reseue. 160 The Black Giant; or, Dainty Lance in Jeopardy, 168 Deadly Dash: or, Fighting Fire with Fire. 184 The Boy Trailers; or, Dainty Lance on the War-Path, 208 The Boy Pards; or, Dainty Lance Uninasks, 211 Crooked Cale, the, Caliban of Celestial City, 810 The Barranca Wolf; or, The Beautifal Decoy, 819 The Black Rider; or, The Horse-Thieves’ League, B85 Old Double Fist ; or, The Strange Guide. 855 The King of the Woods: or Daniel Boone’s Last Trail. 4419 Kit Fox, the Border Boy Detective. BY EDWARD 8. ELLIs, 6 Bill Biddon, Trapper. 8 Seth Jones; or, The Captives of the Frontier, 10 = oF F bear or, te ate of the Sioux Captive, a e Frontier Angel. . 58 The Boy Miners por, The Enchanted Island. 182 The Hunted Hunters of, The Strange Horseman. 254 The Half-Blood; or, The Panther of the Plains. 271 The Huge Hunter ; of, The Steam Prairie Man. 461 One Aga BY OLL COOMES, & Vagabond Joe, the Young Wandering Jew, 18 The Dumb Spy. 27 Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide. 81 Keen-Knife, the Prince of the Prairies. 41 Lasso Jack, the Young Mnstanger. — 58 The Border King or, The Secret Foe. 71 Delaware Dick, the Young Ranger Spy- 74 Hawk-eye Harry, the Young Trapper Renger, 88 Rollo, the Boy Ranger. 184 Sure Shot Seth, the Boy Rifleman. 148 Sear-Face Saul, the Silent Hunter, 146 Silver Star, the Boy Knight. 158 Eagle Kit, the Boy Demon. 168 Little Texaa, the Young Mustanger, 178 Old Solitary, the Hermit Trapper. 182 Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain. 202 Pro« rt Pete; or, The Young Outlaw Hunters. 208 The Boy HMereules: or, The Prairie Tramps. 218 Tiger Tom, the Texas Terror.’ 224 Dashing Diek ; or, !rapper Tom’s Castle. 228 Little Wildfire, the Young Prairie Nomad. $8 The Parson Detective; or, The Little Ranger. 248 The Diaguixed Guide; or, Wild Raven, the Ranger. 260 Dare-DevilL Dan, the Young Prairie Ranger. 272 Minkskin Mike, the Boy Sharphooter. 290 Little Foxtire, the Boy Spy. 800 The Sky Demon ; or, Ruinbolt, the Ranger, 884 Whip-King Joe, the Boy Ranchero. 409 Hercules; or, Dick, the Boy Ranger. 417 Webfoot Moxe, the Tramp Detective. 422 Pebr Sam, the Boy Giant of the Yellowstone. 444 Little Buckskin, tne Young Prairie Centaur, 457 Wingedtoot Fred 3 or, Old Polar Saul. 468 Tamarae ‘Tom, the Big Trapper Boy. 478 Old Tom Rattler, the Red River Epidemic, 482 Stonewall Bob, the Boy Trojan. BY T. C. HARBAUGH. 28 Nick o’ the Night; or, The Boy Spy of '76. 87 The Hidden Lodge; or The Little Hunter. 4? Bighsingats Rat; or, The Forest Captains, 64 Dandy Jack ¢ or, The Outlaws of the Oregon Trail. 82 Kit Harefoot the Wood-Hawk. 94 Midnight Jack; or, The Boy Trapper. 106 Old Frosty, the Guide; or, The White Queen, 128 Kiowa Charley the White Mustanger. se Jdudge Lynch, dra or, The Boy Vigilante. 16 18 Gold Trigger, the Sport; or, The Girl Avenger. 4 q 5 9 Tornado Tom; or, Injun Jack From Red Core. 8 Ned Temple, the Border Boy, 198 Arkansaw ; or, The Queen of Fate’s Revenge. 207 Navajo Nick, the Boy Gold Hunter, 215 Captain Bullet; or, Little Topknot’s Crusade. 231 Plucky Phil; or, Rosa, the Rei Jezebel. 241 Bill Bravo; or, The Roughs of the Rockies, 255 Captain Apolle, the King-Pin of Bowie, 267 The Buckskin Detective, 279 Old Winch} or, The Buckskin Desperadoes. 294 Dynamite Dany. or, The Bowie Blude of Cochetopa. 802 The Mountain Detective; or, The Trigger Bar Buily, 816 Old Eclipse, Trump Card of Arizona, 826 The Ten Pards; or, The Terror of Take-Notice. 886 Big Benson; or, The Queen of the La-so, 845 Pitiless Matt; or, Red Thunderbol)’s Secret, B56 Cool Sam and Part; o- The Terrible Six. 866 Velvet Foot, the Indian Detective. BS6 Captain Cutlass; or, | he Brccaneer’s Girl Foe. 896 Rough Rob; or, The fwin Champions of Blue Blazes, Alt The Silken Lasso; or, The Rose of Ranch Robin. 418 Felix Fox, the Boy § ter. 425 Texas Trump, the Border Rattler. 486 Phil Flash, the New York Fox. 445 The rf Slenths; or, Red Rolfe’s Pigeon, nst Fifty 3 or, The Last Man of Keno Bar, ATO The Boy Shadow ; or, Felix Fox’s Hunt, A?7? The Excelalor Sport; or, The Washington Spotter, 499 Single Sight, the One-Eyed Sport, 502 Branded Ben, the Night Ferret. BY ALBERT W. AIKEN, 11 The Two Detectives or, The Fortunes of a Bowery Girl, 76 Abe Celt, the Crow-Killer; or, The Great Fighting Man of eo West. 79 Sol Ginger, the Giant Trapper. 288 Joe Buck of Augels and His Boy Pard. 447 New York Nat. A Tale of Tricks and Traps in Gotham, 458 New England Nick; or, The Fortunes of a Foundling. 464 Nimble } lek, the Circus Prince. 498 Taos Ted, toe Arizona Sport. LATEST AND NEW ISSUES. 504 Five Points Phil, the Pavement Prince; or, Caught in the Spider’s Web. By Jo Pierce. 505 Powell's Pard; or, The One-Armed Giant, By Maj. H. B, Stoddard, Ex-Scout. 506 Redlight Ralph, the Prince of the Road, By J. C, Cows. drick. 507 The Hunted Midshipman. By Col, Prentiss Ingraham. 508 Deadwood Dick’s Deliverance. By E. L. Wheeler. 509 Jack Jaggers, the Butcher Boy Detective, By Jo Pierce. 510 Cool Colorado, the Half-Breed Detective. By A. W. Aiken, 511 The Outlawed Middy. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 612 Dodger Dick, the Wharf-Spy Detective. By T. C. Harbaugh, 518 The Demon Doctor. By Geo. C. Jenks. 514 Broadway Billy’s Boodle. By J. C. Cowdrick. 515 Deadwood Dick's Protegee. By E. L. Wheeler. 516 Tartar Tim; or, Five Points Phil’s Menagerie. By Jo Pierce, 517 Jim Gladden’s Deputy. By P. 5- Warne. 518 Cool Colorado In New York. | By Albert W. Aiken, 519 Captain Mystery ; or, Five in One. By William G, Patten,. 520 Buckskin Bill, the Comanche Shadow. By Colonel P,. Ingrabam. Ready July 12. _ 521 Dodger Dick's Best Dodge. By T. C. Harbaugh, Ready July 19, ;, : 522 Deadwood Dick’s Three. By Edward L. Wheeler, Ready July 26, 4 528 Wizard-Arm, ‘the Dandy Sport. By Arthur F, Holt, Ready August 2. e A A New Issue Every Tuesday, 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 AND ADAMS, Publishers, 95 William Street, New Yorks. 4 = 4 1 a. | fou 13%