Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 877) (1894 05 15)
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KS A \Y ® TW WRN WERT N i ini Sy v \y AR = Go Haine. NY Omi. All "y $2.50 PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Price, No, 877. a Year. No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 cents, Vol. XXXIV. Copyrighted 1894, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, Oa. SS BS rN =~ few York Nar’s Trume Carp, a ‘5 Ok, THE 4 Dare-Devil Detective’s Draw. —_———______—_ 9 = i } HUE ¥ —~ = ‘1 T er “ = 7 ae — 1 aaa | ae = r deere wilt Hla ates : Gs SS ‘SPECIAL MEETING OF THE LEAGUE TO-NIGHT, INBORM YOUR LIST, CHUB,” SAID NEW YORK NAT,
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Ss Sa ses a acai oe mite is La + ES at — . h * a ay * sae 8 biel Ir apo Apa oe —_—_—— New York Nat's Tromp Card: OR, THE - ' ‘Dare Devil Detective’s Draw. A Story of the Crooks and Crook Catchers of the Metropolis, BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM, a CHAPTER I. THE MYSTERIOUS SHADOWER, ° “On, sir, help me, for I am starving to death!” The words. were pleadingly uttered, the face white and the whole appearance of the one who thus begged for aid that of a man ae really suffered both physically and men- tally. The form was bent, the hair and beard unkempt and the clothing scant and in tat- ters. The man stood under a gaslight, in the up-town section of the city, as though to let his appearance plead for pity, and the ore he addressed was hurrying along toward a West Side car. He was a man of fine appearance, tall, fine: ly dressed and with handsome features, He gave a glance at the pleading face, the outstretched hand, hesitated, looked againand halted, while throwing open his coat he took out a well filled wallet and said in a kindly tone: 7 ‘* | feel sorry for you, my man, and every one in distress. This may relieve your wants for awhile.” He took out a dollar bill, hesitated, put it back, his fingers resting for 2 moment upon a two dollar bill, then changing to a five and this he drew out from among the others and handed it to the man. \ ‘*Oh, sir! may Heaven bless you, and—” “Never mind the thanks, my man, but tell me how far it is to the nearest down-town car?” ‘* You could catch the Elevated cars at One Hundred and Thirty-fifth street, if—” ‘No, I prefer.the surface road.” “*T will show you, sir.” : The man went along ahead, apparently walking with an effort, and clutching his fivé-dollar note tightly in his hand, yet glanc- ing at it when he passed under each gas- lamp. 7 ie The night was dark and .misty, threaten- ing a fog, and the beggar and the well-dress- ed stranger went along at a rapid walk until a passing car was found, and with a pleasant 23 hailed the car and was soon seated with- in it. But he did not notice that the beggar ran along under the shadow of the trees, keep- ing even with the car, and, as he ran be- gap to make a decided change in his appear- ance, First a false beard and wig were removed, the old derby hat gave place to a slouch, and, as he ran the light-colored overcoat was taken off, turned and proved to be black on the other side and by no rheans ragged. A run of a couple of blocks was sufficient to make these changes, the car stopping twice; mean while, ant then cutting across _ the beggar leaped upon the front platform and cast a quick glance to see if the stranger was there. He saw him-in the corner nearest to him, under the light and looking over some offi- eee he had taken froma large leather wallet. ’ oan ‘Taking a handful of change from his pocket the beggar paid his fare, the act re- vealing that he need not have gone hungry witha few dollars in his pocket besides the bill which had been given him. The car continued on down-town slowly, New York Nat’s Trump C nod of thanks to his guide the = | ard, giving the stranger time to look over all of his papers, and for which reason he had doubtless gone by the slower way rather than by the Elevated. He got off among the West Forties, and the beggar did: the same, A'short walk brought him toa handsome residence whose steps he ascended and rung the bell. He was soon admitted, the transmogrified beggar waiting outside. Half an hour passed, when the door open- ed and the stranger reappeared, and with him a young man also fashionably attired, They walked toward Broadway and Forty- second street together, the beggar close at their heels—so close that he heard his patron say: : a ‘Well, Walter, I must leave you here, for I shall take a hack and drive back up-town, as Norris will be im by that time. ‘** Half an hour will do to settle my busi- ness with him, and then I shall drive down to the steamer, which sails with the early morning tide. : ‘*Good-by, Walter, until we meet again, months hence, upon my return.” The two clasped hands warmly, then part- ed—one to return to his home, while the other leaped into a coupe and gave the coach- man an order, ‘It was the house that he came out of up- town, so I can take the Elevated train and get there ahead of him,” and the beggar shadower ran for the Sixth Avenue Elevated Station nearest and was soon being whirled rapidly up-town. - CHAPTER II. e THE OUTCAST HEIR. TuE Forty-second street house which the stranger had entered was a handsome brown stone mansion in the fashionable part of New York, and the servant ushered the visitor in- to a very cozy sitting-room where a young man sat enjoying his after-dinner cigar. He was in dressing gown and slippers, and there was an air about allas though it was a bachelor’s home. ; The young man had a handsome face and form: his complexion was darkly bronzed, as though from exposure, and he had a frank, brusque manner about him that was very at- tractive. . One glance at his visitor and he cried: ‘* Keene Mountjoy, by the gods of war!” “Yes, Walter, and I am only flying through the city, as I go by steamer at dawn to ep ll ‘* Sit down and tell me all about yourself, Keene.” ‘‘T have but a few minutes, as I went up to see attorney, Gray Norris, at his house on a Hundred and thirty-fifth street, hoping to spend the evening with you; but he was out, so I ran‘down to give you a call, and must then return, as Norris has considerable money for me.” ** And so you have turned farmer, eh?” ‘“Yes. My uncle made me his heir, so I am rich, yes, very rich. But, my wealth does not’ lie easily upon my conscience, Walter, so I have come to ask you to help me do an act of justice, at least looking at it from my standpoint.” ° ** What is it, Keene, for you know I'll do anything in my power for the old friend who was so good to me in my early college days, like a big brother to me in fact, for I believe you are some half a dozen years my senior.” ‘ ‘*More*than that, Walter, for I am thirty- five. Why, Ihave a daughter nearly thir- teen!” é' ’ ‘* How time flies!” “Yes, and you have never married? | Why, man, you do not know how happy a man can be esi he gives up Pechslon life; but alas! my wife died some years ago and | ‘with, and had killed a rival whom he believed = gion. ; A SR SRR RS ST Ihave to be both father and mother to my little daughter Ethel. But, Jet me tell you my story.” ‘“] shall be glad to listen indeed.” “First [am going to ask yowif you ever met a face that haunted you?” ** Yes, now and then.” “Well, I met one to-night, a beggar, a man in tatters who told me he was starving. ‘* One look into his face and I stopped. ‘I intended to give him a dollar, then ended by handing him five.” . ‘© You were generous.” ‘‘Somehow his face demanded it of me, and since I left him he has fairly haunted me, for somewhere have I scen him before and under strangest circumstances. But to my story. ‘ ‘‘T had an uncle in Maryland, my father’s : brother, and after leaving college [ went to see him and thank him for the education he had given me. ‘*He had an elegant old mansion and farm and was very rich, ‘*He had an oniy son who had been a dis- Pe 3 appointment to him, had led a wild life, had r been involved in a fatal duel, and gave his father so much trouble that he banished him from his home forever. ~ ‘‘The night I arrived I heard a shot in the house and cry for help. **T dashed in to find my old uncle strug~ gling with two men, both masked, while a third lay dead upon the floor, the old gentle- man having shot him. “TIT went to his rescue, felled one of the men with my cane, and grappled with the other, tearing off his mask. a ‘*My uncle uttered a cry of horror, the — man tore away from my grasp, and, with® the one whom I had knocked down, sprung through the.window and fled. “The one whom I had unmasked was my uncle’s son! He had come there to rob his own father, knowing that he had a large sum of money in the house! “My uncle had been wounded by the man he had killed, and 1 at once sought aid, the servants being in an out-house, ‘It was weeks before uncle recovered, and I nursed him as though he had been, my own father, for, although he had paid © for my education we had never met before. ‘‘He told me of his son’s evil career, but begged me to keep the secret that he had been one of the robbers to enter his home, and I have never spoken of it until this mo- ment. ‘*As my uncle insisted that I should live with him, telling me that he was getting old, and that I must care for the place, I did so, ~ and, six months after, I married the beauti- ful gir} my erring cousin had been in love ‘ she cared for more than she did for him, “I took my wife to the old home, Wave- lands they call it, and when my uncle died three years ago he left me his heir. ‘*But, Walter, let/me tell you that I feel my cousin, the outcast, is the direct heir, | and also let me add this incident.. Once — when bathing in the surf at Long, Branch, oe I was seized with acramp. Astrangerswam — out, and, at the risk of bis own life, after a — desperate struggle saved me from death. “JT never could find that stranger, but when I unmasked the man in my uncle’s — home that night, I recognized my rescuer in my cousin! Sig ‘*Now I am going to Paris, where I heard he last was, to find him and offer him one half the fortune left to me. aS: ‘¢You wrote me that you had turned ama- teur detective, having in some strange man-_ ner become allied with a band of young fer- rets here in New York; sol came to have ou look for this man I am in search of in ew York, while I go to Paris on a like mis-_ **Tf Ican find him I will share with the outcast heir the fortune left to me; but if.
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‘ 4 3 ot New York Nat’s Trump Card. do not find him, I shall have eased my con science by trying, at least. “Will you undertake the work, and let expense not stand in the way?” ** Yes, I will put my Boy Police upon the work at once, Keene, and if he isto be found they will unearth him. When they have the right material to work on they usually suc- ceed.” ‘*It is all here, name, age, description and the places he has frequented.” Keene Mount- joy placed a package of papers, with several photographs in the hands of Walter Vander- lip, who promised: ‘“‘My young shadowers shall go on his track to-morrow.” Ten minutes after, Walter Vanderlip and Keene Mountjoy left the house together, the beggar shadowing them as has been seen. CHAPTER III. THE BEGGAR’S PLOT. THE beggar who had taken, the Elevated Road to reach the address to'which Keene Mountjoy was going far up-town, got off at the station nearest to the place and entered a hardware store the doors'of which were just closing for the night. He made a purchase there, and entering a saloon bought a flask of whisky. Then he made his way rapidly along until he saw a carriage drive up toa door and halt. A gentleman got out, and when he entered the house the beggar shadower at once be- gan to stagger along as though drunk. The street was a quiet one, and as it was then nearly eleven o’clock few persons were passing. Humming a roystering song in a low voice he staygered up against the hack, raised his hat and said ina drunken way: *’Scuse me, sir*I didn’t see you. Will you take a drink with me?” **T only wishes thet I c’u’d, only I can’t ieave my horse,” was the answer. ‘* Don’t have to, fer I’ve got it along—the a best the market affords, Help your- self.” The coachman did help himself, taking ad- vantage of the man’s supposed drunkenness to drink a double allowance. Then the beggar pretended to take a drink, put the flask in his pocket, but almost im- mediately taking it out again said: ‘**Scuse me—take a drink.” The second drink was taken, as was a third, and then the generous beggar passed on around the corner. There \he stood tor awhile watching the coachman, whose head soon dropped forward and he was seen to be fast asleep. Then the beggar crept to the carriage, took from his pocket a wrench, and un- screwed the nut from the rear off wheel, for it had been to purchase a wrench that hehad gone into the hardware store, Going back around the corner he had quietly waited until he saw the gentleman come out of the house, and, after some diffi- culty in arousing the coachman, enter the vehicle and drive away. Ata ‘swinging trot the beggar followed, muttering quietly to himself: **T won’t have to run far,” Nor did he, for with a crash the freed wheel ran off of the axle after going a few squares, and the coachman was tumbled from his box. Fortunately for the passenger the horse was gentle and stopped, a circumstance that caused the beggar to utter an oath of disap- pointment. The coachman was not hurt, however, save aslight shaking up, and the gentleman leaped out with the 1emark: ‘This is a bad business, my man; but, ac- cidents will happen. ‘‘Here is your money, so tell me where I can catch a car.” ‘* Ah, sir, an unfortunate accident indeed— ST SS ee ee eee i a car did you say, sir?” and the beggar ap- proached, ‘*'Yes, sir,” ‘‘Tam going to the nearest car now, sir, if you will allow me to direct you; but, I had better stop at the stable, my man, and send help to you.” ‘* Yes, sir, if you please, for I’m in a bad fix. Ask them to bring me an axle-nut, sir,” said the coachman, now getting over his ac- cident. ‘‘T will;—this way, sir,” and the beggar led the way down the street leading toward the North River. It’ was a street with but few buildings upon it, save here and there a wooden shanty or old house allowed to go to ruin as the growing city surrounded it. ‘‘Are you sure you are right?” asked Keene Mountjoy, little dreaming that his guide was the beggar whom he had so generously aided several hours before, and who had shadowed him ever since. “Yes, sir, I know the city well, but you are a stranger, I take it?” ‘* Yes, I have not been in New York for ie, vears.” “Tf you are going far down-town, sir, a ferry leaves the foot of this next street at midnight, and we are in time. It is faster than the cars,” ‘Tam goingdown to the Cunard Wharf, iy;”’ ‘Then it is your best way to go, by the ferry. There is a cut across lots that I am familiar with.” The beggar led the way by a winding path among the rocks, with here and there a shanty, until at last coming to an old-time house crumbling to decay, he suddenly turn- ed and with a quick blow brought the iron wrench hard down upon the head of Keene Mountjoy, who, with a low-moan sunk in his tracks, while from the lips of his assail- ant came the words: “Tt was his destiny to die by my hand.” —— CHAPTER IV. ‘“DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES,” Tue night was dark; there were no gas- lights in that desolate region and no one was near to see the deed. The man who had so suddenly turned and struck the blow, quickly bent over the pros- trate form lying in a heap as it hed fallen, and raised itin his arms with the ease of great strength, in spite of his pleading cry for food and the assertion that he was starv- ing. He bore the form in among the shadow of the trees surrounding the deserted homestead, ascended the creaking steps of the long piaz- za, halted at the door, which he opened with a key taken from his pocket, and still hold- ing the body upon his shoulders, Entering a broad hallway he stopped at a door on the right and another key opened it. Placing the form upon the floor he struck a match and lighted a lamp. The room was comfortably furnished, witha lounge, rug, table, easy-chair, a shelf of books and through an open door were visible some cooking utensils, a tuble, cot- bed and a cupboard, Upon the walls of the first room were a score of paintings of merit, some of them un- finished. A portrait of a beautiful young girl was upon an easel, and needed but a few more touches to complete it, In the light of the lamp the beggar’s face na seen to be a strong one, bold in expres- sion, intelligent, handsome, yet marred witha look of cruelty and cynicism that was very marked. His form was elegant, his hands and feet small, and upon the wall hung a lot of cloth- ing, while a pair of foils, boxing gloves, In dian clubs, a belt with two revolvers, and a handsome sword were also visible. tenets —— _ SE Placing the limp form upon the floor, face upward, the one who had begged for food felt his victim's pulse with the air of a man who knew what he was about. ‘Not dead, though that blow must have fractured the skull, ** Well, if he is not dead, he must die, that is certain, for dead men tell no tales, ‘“‘Let me see what this night’s work is worth to me, ** Ah! a watch and chain, both of value, a diamond stud, and sleeve butions of the same precious stones; but, these must be laid aside as useless just now. ‘* Now I come to what is useful, this wallet of money, and these papers may be of value when looked over, ‘Yes, there is all of, let me see, five thousand dollars in Uncle Sam’s money right here, “Tt is a rich haul.” He counted the money over slowly, then looked over the papers, and his face was crossed by a grim smile as now and then he read something that seemed to interest him most deeply. Suddenly a groan came to his ears and he started, his face suddenly paling. ‘Bah! I am no coward to start at the groan of a dying man, ‘** By Heaven, but it is nearing dawn, and I must get rid of this body, and quickly. ‘‘Tf he is not dead, he soon will be, for I shall set him adrift in the river, and with arms bound so that, should the water revive him, he must drown. ‘Yes, I must get him away from here, for IT would not bring suspicion upon the artist who is so friendly with all the police, ‘*No, I must be the last man to be sus- pected, and I can soon reach the river un- seen. ‘ He took a rope from a corner of the room, bound the victim’s arms behind him, and then again raising his burden, when he had hidden the things taken from him, he left the old house, whose single occupant he was, and locking the door after him, hastily walked toward the river, distant only several hundred yards, Reaching the shore he placed the body up- ona wide board lying there, and then shoved it out into the river with the remark: ‘‘It is blowing fresh off shore, and the waves will soon wash him off the plank and that will be the end.” The board, with its human freight shoved hard off from the shore, soon disappeared from the view of the murderer in the dark- ness. After trying nard to pierce the gloom and gain another look at the floating form, the man muttered to himself: “Now I can go, for dead men tell no tales.” He turned away in the early light of com- ing dawn, walked a short distance and again glanced over the river, But there was a slight mist and it shut in the waters so that he could not see far from the shore, and the sight of that white, up- turned face, with its red gash over the fore- head and bound arms, was denied to him. ‘‘Oh I need have no fear, for he is doomed, When the sea gives up its dead he may ap- pear against me, but what care I then? ‘*No, no, so long as he does not reappear in this world I care not,” and assuming an indifference, if he did not feel it, the murder- er returned to his room in the old mansion, CHAPTER V. A GIRL TO THE RESCUE. Upon the banks of the Hudson River, watching the sun rise and dispel the mist that floated over the waters, a young girl stood evidently wrapped up in admiration of the scene, though often before had she gazed upon it, for her home was ina cozy little cottage only a short distance away.
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ad fa a ll eet The girl was young, scarcely over seven- teen, and her face was one of rare beauty and strength of character for one of her years. She was neatly dressed, and her form was willowy and yet compact, while the flush of perfect health was upon her face, As she stood gazing out upon the waters her eyes suddenly became fixed upon a dark ee that met her gaze. she rubbed her eyes, as though doubting what they revealed to her, looked again and then ran rapidly toward the cottage and dis- appeared. But, in a minute, she came out upon the piazza, leveled a field glass at the object that had attracted her, and almost instantly went flying down toward the shore. There wasa small sail-boat anchored off the shore, and a skiff half drawn out upon the land. With a strength one would not believe she possessed, she launched the skiff, sprung in to it, seized the oars and pulled rapidly off upon the waters. The wind was blowing fresh, and once out from under the lee of the land she caught a rough sea, But this she did not seem to heed, and glancing around to see that she had shaped her course aright, she pulled with a skillful and vigorous stroke further out among the white-capped waves of the river. A schooner far on the other shore, a steam- boat coming down the stream, but yet a couple of miles away, and a steam’ yacht flying along in the early morning, were the, only crafts visible just then upon the river. ‘ The young girl however seemed not to dread being comparatively alone upon the waters, and occasionally turning her head, to, see that the object was still in view, she kept up the swift, strong stroke, he had nearly reached it, and the waves were running higher, when once more turn- ing her head she uttered a startled cry as she saw the human form she had been rowing so hard to reach, suddenly washed off from the heavy board that had been supporting it, With tremendous strokes she now pulled upon a wave, she saw was bound, and, as she now believed, that life was extinct. But an instant more and her skiff was alongside, and ing: over the brave girl rescuer grasped the form with a strength which the waves could not break loose, It was no easy task for her to drag the form into her boat, but she was determined. She saw that the man was not dead; snd in the end she was successful. She was now some distance above her home, the tide and wind having carried her along, but she set to work to row back, buv first to pull close inshore where she would not feel the strength of the waves and tidal current, ' As she neared the shore and_ glanced around, she beheld a carriage and pair of horses close to the water’s edge, a coachman in livery seated upon the box, and a young man stylishly dressed standing near watch. ing her. > He had evidently seen her bold rescue, and as she came nearer he called out: \ ‘*Come ashore, miss, and I will aid you, if it is not too late,” ‘No, sir, thank you, it is not too late, for he is alive, though unconscious.” ‘*Tt was a brave rescue you made, miss, for I was watching you, and sorry I could ‘not help. \ - over— Ha! this is one 1 know! yy _ **Quick, James, dismount and help me _ with him into the carriage, and then drive _ with all speed—you will go with me, miss?” “No, thank you, sir; my home is not far away, and I will row down toit.” ‘* May I ask where you live, miss?” directly for the form, which, as it was tossed” New York N I “I expected every moment to see you go ra apn ep ae - > . = “At the Widow Herbert's cottage below, sir,” . **T will see you again and report how our friend is. ‘‘It is a most mysterious affair, his being bound and with this blow on the head; it shows foul work,” and, having placed the form in the carriage, he gave an order to the coachman and the vehicle rolled rapidly away, leaving the young girl standing upon the shore watching its departure. A moment she stood thus; then springing into her boat she rowed rapidly down to her cottage, keeping close inshore. As she landed she heard the words: “Ah, Olive, you ought not go out apon the river before breakfast, and especially in such a blow, for it is dangerous.” She sprung ashore and was confronted by a youth seemingly about her own age, and possessing an athletic form, striking face, full of daring and indomitable will. ‘*Nat, I went out upon the river to save a human life. A dastardly crime has been committed which you and your Boy Police must run to earth,” was the young girl’s re- sponse. CHAPTER VI. THE YOUNG FERRET CHIEF. Tuer youth seemed surprised at the words of the young girl, and said: ‘You are true as steel, Olive, and never make mistakes, but I don’t understand just what track you are on now.” ' ‘«T will explain, Nat, and you will see. ‘‘T am an early riser as you know, and you having told me last night you would come to breakfast, 1 got up before sunrise, and came out here on tbe shore, ‘‘T saw, as I glanced over the waters, what I at first supposed an upturned boat far out in the river. ‘“Then it seemed as though I could see some one clinging to it, and J ran in and got my glass. ah 5 ‘That showed me a man lying on a plank. ‘“‘T at, once ran to my skiff and pulled out to it, and a hard pull it was.” ; ‘“‘T should think so, with the river so rough off-shore. ‘‘You took a big risk, my sister, and should be more careful.”’ “‘T deemed a human life at stake, Nat, and it is worth a risk to save one. ‘*T got to the floating form, just as a wave tappiga the broad board over and washed it 18) n 7 ‘‘T grasped the man, and found he was live, but seemingly unconscious, and his hands were bound behind him.” ‘** Ah! this does look like a crime.” ‘Yes, Nat, and he had a gash to the bone. in the forehead, just where the parting in his hair was. i ‘‘T pulled ashore with him, when a gen- tleman who was taking a ride in his carriage hailed me, and he took the man at once toa physician, he said, and would let me know later about him, for he recognized him.” “That was strange.” . eR, . ‘Tt did seem a coincidence that he should be there in his carriage.at the very time he was needed, and saw me make the rescue,” “* Did you know him, Olive?” F ‘‘No, Nat; Inever saw him before; but his driver was in livery and it was.a stylish turn-out.” “ And the man you rescued?” “Was well dressed and a gentleman ap- parently, a very handsome man.” 1 . “*Had he any jewelry on?” - * Nothing that I noticed.” » “Then he had beefi attacked with a blow, robbed, and set adrift to drown, in case he should not be dead, which his assailants doubtless believed to be the case.” _ “ Yes, that must have been the way of it; but I suppose the gentleman who carried at’s Trump Card. him away will call, for 1 gave him my ad=) a dress,” ‘* Perhaps, and perhaps not, for he may be interested himself.” ‘* You have a way of jumping at the bot-. tom facts of a case, Nat, that is remarkable. ‘“You were really born for a detective, and I don’t wonder at your success as the chief of the Unknown Boy Police, who lend the chief of the Secret Service so much aid, yet mystify him completely.” ‘* And much of our,success is due to my little sister alone, who is herself a masked mystery to my Boy Ferrets, and can play a part with any of them as a shadower, in fact well deserves the title she has won of the Queen of the Unknown Vigilantes. ‘‘ But let us go in to breakfast, and then I must rig out in some disguise and go down and call upon Mr. Vanderlip and talk this. mysterious matter over with him, of the man you found afloat on a board, and bound and wounded. The two ferrets, ‘for such the brother and sister were, entered the house together, and an hour after it would take a very keen and practiced eye to recognize the youth when he came out in a complete disguise. ; He went over to the nearest line of cars, got on a car going down-town, leaped off at Forty—— street and rung the bell at the house which Keene Mountjoy had visited the night before. he servant who came to the door saw & youth wearing gold-rimmed glasses, long hair, and who had the look of a seedy young artist, peddling his own work, for he carried. a large portfolio under his arm, ‘The master don’t want nothin/,” and the servant looked as though he intended to Bie the youth the bounce, when the latter said: “Don't he? Well, see if you want that,” and he slipped half a dollar into the man’s. hand. ‘© Waal, I does, and maybe you kin sell him suthin’, arter all, “‘T’ll give yer a try at bim, anyway, for I ‘don’t believe in bein’ ’ard on & man workin” — for a livin’—see?” ’ “Yes, I see that you saw, “Trot me in, Boots, and if I get the cus- tom there’s more in it for you.” The butler left the youth standing in the hall while he went back to the cozy sitting- room where Walter Vanderlip was reading the morning papers. as oung man to see you, sir.” ** Who is he?” ‘‘Don’t know, sir; but I guess he hain’t no beggar.” ; ‘Find out his business,” ‘He half told me, sir, it was private.” ‘* Show him in,” was the answer. fi CHAPTER VIL THE BOY SHADOWERS’ ALLY. ‘*WELL, young man, what can I do for you?” said Walter Vanderlip ina kindly tone, as the young ferret entered. | ; The latter closed the door and said in a low - voice: | ; ‘‘Must I introduce myself every time I come, Mr, Vanderlip?” ‘‘New York Nat you are » wonder! Ino more knew you than I would the man in the ; moon if he called. ‘*T never saw any one who could change ott hate appearance as you do so often and well. . “But, IT am glad a CS 7 : a you have come, as I~ have work for you, though first tell me what trail you are on now?” ; ta ~ And Walter Vanderlip motioning the youth to a seat, laid aside his papers. 3 ‘Well, sir, I am selling pictures important find which Olive has made.” _ ug “Indeed! what has the fair Queen been discovering this time?” j to-day, ) . * but net to you, as I came to see you upon an
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New York Nat’s Trump Card. a aes 5 “A man in the river, sir, floating on a board, and with his hands bound and a gash on his head which may, or may not be fatal.” “* Ah! that is a strange find, inéeed. Who is he and where is he?” ‘“*T do not know who he is, sir, or where he is, but { thought I would come and tell you the story, and you could place it before the Secret Service Chief as you now do for us, and thus enable us to remain unknown to him.” “Tell me your story, New York Nat, and we will talk it all over.” Nat told the story just as he had gotten it from Olive, the Boy Ferrets’ Girl Queen, and when he had heard him to the end Walter ‘Vanderlip said thoughtfully: ** Nat, I came to this city as a tenderfoot, as we would say, just off of a ranch in Arizona, and but for you the night of my arrival, I would have lost my life. “Through you and your sister Olive I ‘Was saved, and so got. my fortune and live in luxury, and I would be base indeed did I refuse to help you in your schemes as Un- known Detectives. “I appreciate all thdt you have gone through, with yourself forced to become a boy outcast, as your sister was driven to working for an Italian organ-grinder and flower-seller. **T know that what you two passed through made you, as it were, gamins, and turned ‘your thoughts into the channel of detective work, causing you to organize your band of young Ferrets, or Vigilantes, as you like to «call them, from the verywnaterial best suited for Secret Service workers, : ‘** You have dragged these boys from lives of crimes, and shadowed futures, to lives of honor and hope for the future of better things. ** Afraid to make yourselves known to the chiefs of police and Secret Service, you have f \ in each instance given secret warnings of ts plots to commit crimes, and of crimes com- OB es mitted, until you began to communicate scat through me, still keeping your identity un- ma Oy known. ‘* Now it was my intention to run away on a trip abroad, but I concluded only last night that, as you have honored me with your confidence, I would remain and help you, become your ally in reality and do all in my power to aid you and your Vigilantes, and shield you from a discovery by the police and detectives, until in your own good time you desire to make yourselves known, when your many valuable services as crook-catch- ers will have commanded the recognition you deserve from the authorities, ‘*Now, Nat, you understand my position, that I am a bachelor, a man of wealth and leisure, so command my aid at all times as your oie New York Nut at once arose and held out his hand, while he said feelingly: *“¥ou have already been so good to me, to us, Mr. Vanderlip, that I know not how . is to thank vou; but we appreciate it, and you a) ie «an indeed help us, for 1 am determined that we shall not be known to the chief of police, and Secret Service officers, save as Unknown Ferrets, until we have, by our good work, gained a pardon for al! deeds some of my Eps boys may have been guilty of. Opts **Acain I thank you, sir, and now what ip is to be done about this case,that Olive has We” found?” **]T will see the chief, tell him of the res- cue, and learn what information he has of any one being missing.” ** Yes, sir, thaf may discover who the gen; tleman’is, and lead to the finding out why, and by whom he was attacked and then bound and sent to a sure death upon that plank, for he was not tied to it, only his hands bound, Olive says.” — “Well, the chief shall have the full par- ' -ticulars, and see what can be found out about him; but now I have something of importance for you to act upon, you and your Boy Ferrets.” ““T am ready, sir,” was the prompt re- ply of New York Nat. CHAPTER VIII. A MAN OF MANY MASKS, “Tim case I have in hand for you, Nat,” said Walter Vanderlip, taking a large en- velope from his desk, ‘‘ was placed in my hands last night by an ‘Old friend, who was a senior at college when I was a freshman, ‘‘T formed a strong friendship for him then, and we have corresponded in a way that has prevented us losing sight of each other. ‘*He was educated by a rich uncle, and I will tell you his story as he told it to me, for he sailed this morning for Paris to look up his cousin, who in honor he feels should share his fortune with him. “‘Tam giving you his story so as to enable you to act intelligently in your search, though it need be made known to none of your band, save the Girl Queen, whose ad vice is always good.” The story of Keene Mountjoy was then told, and also of the wild cousin’s duel, his attempt to rob his father, who had been wounded by one of the men with him, and one of whom had been killed by the old man. The discarding of the son was also told, while Keene Mosubos having discovered that he owed his life to that same wayward cousin, and believing, no matter what were his sins, he was really the rightful heir, had decided to share equally with him the in- heritance. ** Now, Nat,” Walter Vanderlip went on, ‘my friend Mountjoy is anxious to lose no time in tracing his outcast cousin, for as the affair of the duel was not pressed against him, and his intended robbery of his father was kept a secret, there is no reason why he should not return home and lead a different life, and Mountjoy in the nobleness, of his nature, is anxious to accomplish this end, ‘*He last heard of him in Paris, so he has gone abroad himself to search for him, while, also knowing that he lived for a long time in New York, he wishes to set you to look him up here, and I promised that you would do so.” ** Certainly, sir,” “Now he is rich, and is willing to spare no expense in the search, and offered a re- ward of five thousand dollars for the dis- covery of this outcast heir, or proof of his death.” ‘A very liberal sum, sir, and I hope the Boy Police can earn it,” ‘*T sincerely hope so, Nat.” ‘‘Now, sir, the name and _ particulars, please.” ‘‘Here they are, with a couple of photo- raphs, though the latter were taken some ozen years ago, and heis now that much older, remember.” “* Yes, sir,” ‘* His name is Mayne Mountjoy, and after leaving home on account of the duel, he was wont to write his father letters for money from the frontier and have the answers come to an alias, that of Jack Joy, miner, for he was in a mining-camp, and afterward en- listed in the army, but deserted. ** He was enlisted as Maybrick Mountford, and returning to New York City took an- other alias, that of Joyce Maymount, always you observe, sticking to parts of his real name, a peculiarity that may discover him, as he may again have assumed an alias,” ** You are catching on splendidly as a de- tective, I see, Mr. Vanderlip,” observed Nat, with a smile. “Oh, yes; and TI have no doubt but that under your teaching, Nat, I’ll be right in it; before long. ** Now your man whom you are to find, is described as being five feet ton inches, broad- shoulders, slender, with black hair and dark blue eyes, a bronzed complexion, quick in his movements, and with a deep voice. He carries himself erect, always dressed well, was quick in his movements and could change his voice with great ease, and the ex- pression of his face. “He was a person of fine education, and of refined tastes. but a spendthrift, a gambler and dissipated, and it ‘will be well to bear these vices in mind, as a man going down hill seldom corrects his bad habits.” ‘Very true, sir.” ‘““When in New York it was said that he was a great deal-with.actors, led a Bohemian life and sometimes went on the stage. * All this is told by his letters to his father, and here are several for you to see his hand- writing and style. ‘* Now, Nat, you have the story of your man, and of his peculiarities, with his name and aliases, and if you can run him to earth there is five thousand dollars im it. ‘* Mountjoy will return from Europe in a few months, and, for your sake, I hope you will have found the outcast heir here in New York.” *T can but try, sir, and will call my boys together to-night and place the facts befere them, so they can start at once upon the case, while will also make known the Queen’s rescue, so that they can pick up any data they may run across inthat mysterious affair,” ‘* Yes, I hope they may; but now, put some of your pictures out there to let my man see that I made some purchases, and I will go down and see the Secret Service Chief.” CHAPTER IX. THE SECRET CALL, ‘““TrLL the butler as you go out, Nat, that you will return this afternoon for your pay, and that I am to be a regular patron, so there will be no need of a dif- ferent disguise every time you come to see me, though I admit that I am interested in seeing how well you can make up,” said Walter Vanderlip as Nat arose to depart, after throwing out some of the pictures from his portfolio, “Then I must return this afternoon, sir?” ‘Yes, as perhaps I can discover something about this man whom Queen Olive rescued, as the chief may know about some one who answers to his description being absent ” New York Nat then took his leave, and wended his way, portfolio in hand, to one of the fashionable hotels on Broadway. He moved about the rotunda for awhile, until he saw a youth in the uniform of a bell-boy, and going up to him he said in a low tone: “Flip, there is a special meeting called for to-night, so let the boys on your list know.” ‘‘-Yes, chief, I will,” was the reply of the bell-boy, who was a bright-faced lad with a look of cunning and mischief com. mingled. Leaving the hotel New York Nat went to the office of messenger boys, and glancin over a lot of youngsters seated there, motione to one of them. Stepping up to the counter he wrote a note, addressed it, and paying the fee for a couple of hours’ service for the boy, handed it to the one he had called out, saying sim- ply: ‘‘Take this to its address and get an an- swer, ‘ If you are detained, come to my address and get extra pay for time.” The boy’s ‘‘ time” was taken and he dart- ed out of the door, glanced at the envelope and read on it: ‘* Teaser.” He opened it and read: ee ED
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“« TEASER: — “ Warn your list of boys of a special meet- ing of the League to-night. al Sa Pc Teaser the messenger boy at once went on his mission, while New York Nat’s next call was upon. a bootblack stand over which presided a youth as boss, with two assist- ants. Nat got into a chair and the boss blacked his boots, and heard also the words: ‘“‘ Special meeting of the League to-night. Inform your list, Chub.” Chub nodded that he understood, got his nickel and New York Nat took a car for the lower part of town, the bootblack stand be- ing on Union Square. * Going along near the City Hall New York Nat halted at a news-stand to buy a paper. There was a youth in the stand, and near it half a dozen youngsters calling out the papers they had to sell. ‘Paper, sir?” said the youth behind the stand, and whose face was terribly freckled and hair fiery red. But he was intelligent and shrewd, as any observer could see. “Yes, Freckles, I wish a copy of each one of the morning dailies. Come to the Den to-night to a special meeting, and bring all of the afternoon papers with you.” “* Yes, chief.” “* Let your list know of the meeting.” “‘Tll do it,” and, calling to one of the newsboys to keep the stand for him, Freckles went off on his mission, while New York Nat sauntered leisurely on, having informed the four members of the band who each had a list of others to notify of a meeting when it was not held on the regular nights. New York Nat then strolled down toward the wharves, and halted in a secluded posi- tion, whence he could see some boys near a ship that was unloading. ‘“There are several of my boys there, and they seem to be in some trouble,” he mut- tered, What the trouble was he did not know, but he could see that the boys were excited, and one of several men who were there was also talking in angry tones, As he looked, a seaman of one of the ships suddenly seized a ragged little gamin in his hand and struck him a couple of severe blows. \ He would have struck him again, when a rod youth of the party sprung forward, and, by a quick act, released the other from his grasp. The infuriated man, calling for help from other seamen, seemed about to attack the brave boy who so boldly defied him, when, with a bound, New York Nut ran between them and said sternly: **See here, old sea-dog, you shall not hurt those boys, for I’m in this game.” Laughter and cheers from the on-lookers greeted these bold words of the supposed young artist, and a stern voice from on board the ship called out: ‘‘ Avast there,men! Let those boys alone, or you will have me to settle with. I saw your persecution and you must stop it.” It was the ship’s captain who spoke, and the men sluak away, the boys too, while New York Nat said in a low tone to one of them: ‘ ‘Special meeting to-night, Shorty, so be on hand with your mates.” Then be walked guickly away. CHAPTER X. THE ALLY OF THE UNKNOWN FERRETS, Tue Chief of the Secret Service Bureau of the great Metropolis of New York, was in his private office reviewing ‘his morning mail, when a card was brought in to him that read: EID ‘WALTER VANDERLIP.” New York Nat’s ““Show the gentleman in at once,” he ordered; and when, a moment after, Walter Vanderlip entered the office whose threshold so many dreaded to cross, he was most cordially received by the chief, who, though stern and merciless to evil-doers, was a most courteous gentleman at all times. ‘Ah, Mr. Vanderlip! Always glad to see you; and do you know [I think I shall have to make you a member of my force, so I can give you a badge that will always ad- mit you, be a pr@tection to you as well, yes, and enable you at times perhaps to render good service. ‘* Sit down, please.” Mr. Vanderlip took a seat and said: ‘‘T thank you, chief, and it is just what I was thinking about asking you for, a badge of authority, and to serve without pay, for I see ways in which I can render good ser- vice,” ‘‘You shall have special badges as an officer, but you will have to be enrolled and draw pay.” “‘Then permit me to ask you to inform your paymaster to place my pay each month to the use of those of the force who are de- serving of roar > a ‘‘That is noble of you indeed, Mr. Van- derlip, and the corps will appreciate your generosity. ‘*T will have you enrolled at once as a special officer with full powers; but I be- lieve you come with valuable information for me as you generally do.” ‘*T have a report to make, sir.” “And from my Unknown Ferrets, whose identity all my plots cannot discover, and who have given mea vast amount of most important information indeed, while they are laying up for themselves a snug fortune in rewards, **'You are not yet ready to tell me, Mr. Vanderlip, where these Secret Shadowers are?” ‘*No, chief, the secret must still remain untold; in fact, it may be said now that I am one of them for all communications and warnings will henceforth be made through me. ‘*Understand me, chief, I am as ignorant as you are, of just who these Unknown Fer- rets are, save two of them, and in honor bound 1 cannot betray those two, for you know well the service they rendered me?” ‘*T do, indeed, Mr, Vanderlip, but I can- not but fret under the mystery about them, though Iam sure I will, in good time, know all about what I am now in such inky dark- ness regarding,” ‘Allin good time, chief, I hope will be as clear as noonday; but I saw oneof the Dare- Devil Detectives, as you are wont to call them, only an hour ago, and he gave me a piece of information that I decided to at once make you acquainted with.” ‘I shall be glad to know it, Mr. Vander- lip,” said the chief, warmly, and adding: ** Any information I receive through my Unknown Shadowers is always of an impor- tant nature.” ; ‘Can I ask, sir, if there have been any reports made to you of late of persons miss- ing from their homes?” The chief opened a book and began to read at a date a week back: ‘* A woman of twenty—” ‘* No, sir, she is not the one,” _ “A Jad has disappeared from—” “ ** No, sir, not a lad,” 5 tale ** An old gentleman has—” Not an old gentleman, chief.” ‘* Well, here is a negro man who has dis- appeared, a Chinese found murdered and several other minor cases.” _ ~ ‘None fit the case in point, sir, for it is a gentleman about thirty, handsomely dressed, with no papers to identify him, and no jewelry or money. “ 4 “He was seen afloat upon the Hudson River, lying upon a board, his hands tied, Trump Card. | rescue this morning, sent by the Secret Ser- and a blow upon his head that cut to the’ bone and had rendered him unconscious. ‘* He was rescued from death by a young girl who saw him, and brought him ashore, where a gentleman, with a stylish team out. for an early drive, saw the rescue and took the unconscious man in his carriage and drove to the nearest physician.” ‘That means foul play, Mr. Vanderlip.” ‘On the part of the one who took him in the carriage?” **Oh, no; his being found afloat and on the: river, bound and hurt.” ‘‘ And I am a trifle suspicious of the one on: hand to receive him, sir.” \ ‘* Ah! T had not thought of that. ‘*T will at once put detectives on the case, Who was the rescuer and where did it occur, also at what time?” ‘*The rescuer was a young girl, Miss: Herbert I think is the name,” innocent- ly said Walter Vanderlip, not caring in any way to connect Olive with the Unknown Ferrets, ‘* It occu early this morning, and you will find Miss Herbert, I think, at Widow Herbert’s cottage.on the Hudson River at. St ee a a ae One Hundred and —— street.” ‘* And where was the person in the car- riage?” ‘*Some blocks above where the landing was made, as the young girl could not pull back against the tide and wind.” ‘And how did you ascertain the facts, Mr. Vanderlip?” ‘‘Through one of my secret allies, sir, who ~ witnessed the affair.” “Thank you. ~ , ops ‘“‘T will send three men out at once on the case, and report by note to you if anything = — is discovered as to the unfortunate man;. but. I suppose after all your Dare Devil Detectives. _ wili have to be put on the case, as I have noticed that they generally unearth what | my ferrets fail to find,” said the chief with — a smile, As: After a stay of ten minutes longer Walter Jae arose and took his departure, returning to St his home after dropping into a District Mes- sengers’ office and writing a note to Olive, which he dispatched with all haste. ity CHAPTER XI. THE GIRL QUEEN SHADOWER. | OxIve, the Queen ofthe Boy Police League, = received the note sent by Walter Vanderlip, as soon after it was written as was possible, —__ a liberal fee to the messenger having en- couraged him not to let the grass grow | under his feet in going to the Widow Her- bert’s cottage. oa The note read simply: ‘Have seen N. Y. N., also chief. — a ‘Latter will put men to work on the case, 0 first seeing you, Miss Herbert., “* i mi ‘* Nothing told more than incident of rescue — and gentleman taking rescued away. “* ALLY.” Half an hour after the reception of this. — note three men came to Widow Herbert’s cottage and asked for Miss Herbert. a ‘* Olive had prepared for them, smoothing _ her hair down upon her forehead, putting on spectacles, and dressing so as to appear — years older than she was. t ‘*Miss Herbert, we have come about that. vice chief,” said one of the detectives, reveal- ing his badge. ie: ** What do you desire of me, may I ask?” coolly inquired the young girl. . - “To tell us all you know about it, de- scribe tie man rescued, and the carriage, coachman, horses and gentleman who too him away, with the place he was taken from,” __ ees ee ‘“That is easily done,” and Olive told her story, and getting into her skiff they rowed. to where she had landed, | rer ! : J
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- knew a gentleman and carriage and horses and saw that she was not recognized. . in that neighborhood she drove rapidly on, : 3) fatal accident there that morning by Mr. _ Harvey Dunham having had his horses take fright at the bridge and plunge down the +) ce her informer, ‘aad t’other badly hurt, but __ dying, and Mr. Dunham is hardly expected _ ‘to live, so badly was he injured.” asked Olive quickly. coachman, that was all.” New York Nat’s Trump Card. tins i — 2 a It was on the shore, near a meadow, the road running a hundred yards away beyond. The carriage had driven from the road down to the shore, and retraced its way as it came, “Ts that all you wish of me, gentlemen?” she asked, when she had described the gen- tleman in the carriage, the one she had res- cued, the coachman, vehicle and horses. ‘* Tt is all, thank you, miss.” She got into her skiff and rowed back to the cottage, while the three detectives put their heads together for a consultation. They must find out who the gentleman was who carried the rescued man away, and to do this they must trace the carriage. So they started’ off, dividing at the road. When night came on they had discovered that many stylish carriages drove that high- way, ® number had been seen with bay horses, and a coachman in livery, and one gentleman in them alone. They had been going both ways, from town and toward it. The physicians within a couple of miles around were called upon and not one of them had been seen regarding a case to suit the one the detectives were shadowing. So, footsore, weary and having made no discovery, the three detectives when night came returned to make their report. In the mean while the Girl Queen of the Ferrets had decided upon her return to the A todo a little detective work her- self. She went to a livery stable not far away, and hired a horse and phaeton, and in- vited Widow Herbert and the children for a drive. She took great care to change her ap- pearance completely, *y wearing her hair different, putting on pretty sun hat and a bright-red jacket, so that if the detec- tives saw her they would not recognize ,her as ‘‘ Miss Herbert” whom they had seen. Mrs. Herbert's two children were placed upon the little front seat of the phaeton, and Olive, who was a skillful driver, took the ‘road the carriage must have taken in the morning. A few inquiries convinced her that the carriage had not passed along by a certain point at the early hour she had seen it, and when she came to where it had turned off of the road to go to the shore, she noticed that it had come from up the river, and had returned the same way. She drove rapidly on then, and. half an hour after passed one, then another of the detectives, and the last one called to her and asked a few questions as to whether she which he described, Olive answered frankly, that she did not, As the detectives had discovered nothing and miles above came upon a party of workmen repairing a bridge. There she saw, drawn upon one side of the road, a carriage badly smashed and a dead horse, one of his legs being broken, , She at once drew rein, for she recognized the carriage and horse at a glance, and just then up drove a.wagon to carry the vehicle home, and men to drag the dead horse away. sha She soon learned that there had been a ravine, Z Nes ; “One of the horses was kilt, miss,” said worst of all the coachman was picked up “Was there any one else in the carriage?” _ “No, miss, only Mr. Dunham and the Nee ‘** Where does Mr. Dunham live?” *‘ At his home three miles above, miss.” Olive drove rapidly on and at last turned into the Dunham grounds. It was a handsome estate, and she soon met a gardener, while she saw several vehi- cles at the door. ‘* Cleverly questioning the man she learned that the coachman was dead, and the master very badly hurt and unconscious. She also obtained much information ts to who Harvey Dunham was, and though con- vinced that the carriage and horse were the same she had seen in the morning, she gave a fee to the man that made him talkative, and from his description of the gentleman and coachman she was sure she was right, that she had tracked the right party. But the gardener could tell her nothing of any one else having been in the carriage, and one thing was certain, that the man she had rescued had been gotten rid of somewhere by Harvey Dunham before he had met with the accident at the bridge. But where? CHAPTER XII. IN THE DARE-DEVILS’ DEN, New Yorx Nar had returned from down- town by Mr. Vanderlip’s home, and the two had had a long talk together, the latter tell- ing him that the Secret Service chief had no account of the man rescued by Olive, save what he had told him. : ‘“‘We must solve the mystery ourselves, then, sir,” said Nat. ‘‘We have a meeting to-night, and I will put the band at once to work on your friend’s case, of finding the outcast heir, and we will try and discover who that gentleman is, and where he was taken, while we must get at the bottom facts of who it was who tried to kill him.” ‘*When he left Walter Vanderlip, New York Nat went up to the Herbert cottage to see Olive, and learn if she had heard any- thing from the gentleman who had taken the wounded man away. But the cottage was closed, Olive being then out on a shadowing expedition herself, Nat thcn went along the river-bank for a short distance, turned into an unfrequented road, and soon found himself in a part of the city which had been left to go to wreck, as there were several estates there that had been deserted, and others were waiting for the spreading city to soon take them in. There was a large, old-time cemeter there, long since deserted, save by the dead, and with a high wall around it, which, how- ever, there was no need for, as the place was shunned as a plague spot would have been. Upon one sideof the graveyard was one of the old houses referred to, and of which dark stories were’ told, and the superstitious dwellers near said that it was haunted. It certainly had had a weird history, and the last dweller there had been an old man known as Miser Max and who had been one night murdered for his gold, The place was surrounded by large trees, and the undergrowth had completely hidden it from view. . Asthough the old place had no_ terrors for him, New York Nat had watched, to see that he was not observed and then leaped lightly over the wall, He made his way through the weeds and foliage-overgrown yard, and soon came to the old mansion, which was large, rambling and gloomy. r . He took from his pocket a key and open- ing a cellar door entered, closing it behind him, \ Apparently perfectly acquainted with the place he soon lighted a small lantern, made his way to an upper floor and then putting out the light went on to the third story, Opening 4 door he was greeted by a huge, | - savage-looking dog, that seemed to be de- lighted to see him, : ‘ * Ne ee oni The dog was closely muzzled, as though to prevent his barking, for New York Nat at once unmuzzled him and fed him with some meat he had brought on the way to the Herbert cottage. Tbe room he had entered was furnished, asin fact most of the house was, but with old, timeworn furniture, that had beenyhand- some many years before But the room showed that it was occu- pled, and had been made as comfortable as could be with its gloomy appearance. All of the shutters were closed tight, and j heavy curtains hung over the window. the ! light coming through a door that opened into an adjoining hall where stairs led to a cupola above. vat From here came light and air, and with the d>or closed at night no light was visible from without, Throwing off his clothes New York Nat lay down upon the bed to rest and was soon fast asleep, for his detective work caused him to spend many a night out, © The sug was just setting when he awoke, and hastily dressing himself so as to appear no different from any other youth on the street, he muzzled the “dog, lighted his lan- tern and made his way out the way he had come in. He left the lantern burning in the cellar however, and though he locked the door and placed the key on the twig of a tree not far away. He went out of the grounds by way of the burying-ground, the dismal, spectral place seeming not to cause him the slightest un- easiness. Again he went to the cottage of Widow Herbert. é A light shone in the windows now, show- ing that the family had returned home. - At his ring Olive appeared, and he was in- vited,in to supper, Which was ready, and he was told of the long afternoon's ride in the phaeton, and of the accident to Mr. Harvey unham and the death of his coachman, Olive left Mrs. Herbert to talk, saying but litfle, and then hastened to her room to get ready for the theater, as Nat said he had culled to have her go out with bim. When she reappeared she went at* once ed the little | piazza and he joined her there. She wore a long circular, and was closely vailed. Leaving the cottage they went along ata quick pace, until reaching the burying- ground, and seeing no one near they entered it, Olive appearing not to be at all alarmed at her surroundings, Passing through the graveyard they went to the old mansion, the cellar door was un- locked and left open, and the two went up- stairs together, Nat remarking: “The boys will soon be here, Olive.” CHAPTER XIII. THE SECRET MEETING OF THE FERRETS, Passtn@ through the room, in which New York Nat had his secret home, and Olive re- ceiving a welcome from the dog, that show- ed he knéw her well, they entered the hall in which there was a large table and nember of seats in front of it. q, Upon this table stood a large lamp, and there were two chairs drawn up to it. There were writing materials on the table, and appearances generally indicated that it was the Assembly Rooks of the Boy Police, who met secretly in the grim old mansion which others avoided as the abode of ghosts, The lamp being lighted New York Nat sat down in one of the chairs, while Olive, removing her vail, revealed that she wore a mask that at a casual glance looked like a’ human face. Her hair was worn ina colored net, also, and her hands were gloved, while her cir- cular concealed her form, Ce
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ers Sere See both z¢ ee the table. ‘‘T wish I could appear ‘as I am, Nat, without thismask and all bundled up,” she said, almost impatiently, as she dropped into the other chair at the table. He replied, quietly: ‘*Don’t get impatient, sister, for it is for, your good Task you to do so. “We have in our band only those whom we have every reason to believe that we can trust, and yet it may not be so. “T would not have one of them know you as you are, or be able to recognize you if called upon to do so. “Now you are to them the Girl Queen of the Secret Shadowers, and a mystery sur- rounds you, and masked as you are, you hold a greater power over them **Remember, we had one traitor in our midst, and glad am I that Sykes did not know you as you are, ‘No, no, still be the Vailed Girl Queen of si Vigilante Shadowers, and all will be we ” “You are right, Nat, and I will say no more about it; but do you know what I was gts a this afternoon when out driving?” ‘I had an idea you went for other pur- pose than a drive?” ‘* Yes, I went to discover who it was that carried the man I rescued away.’ ‘“You made some discoveries, si guaran- tee?” ce Yes.” “The chief sent three men out on the same errand,”’ “‘T saw them, and later met two of them, set I am confident they discovered noth- ng ; “¢ And you?” ‘Found out that the gentleman was a Mr. Harvey Dunham, a wealthy young man living in a handsome house miles up the river, ‘* What he did with the rescued man I do not know, but after he had left him some- where, he was returning home when his horses took fright, plunged off of a‘ new bridge men were at work on, killed the coachman, and Mr, Dunham is now lying . very badly hurt at his home.” ‘* This is remarkable, Olive.” ‘*T thought so, and wondered if it was a judgment upon him.” ‘How so?” ‘Might he—mind you, this is only a sur-. mise, Nat—have, for some reason been the one to deal that deadly blow and then tie that gentleman and set him adrift?” **But why?” ‘‘ Rivalry, jealousy, hatred or gain are motives for such acts.” ‘** Very true.” ‘* He Inight have been watching the float- ¥ ‘ing form, saw me bring it ashore, and thus got possession of it, after which he drove to or point on the-river and again got rid of «© Olive, you have a great big head for plots and ‘fathoming plots, and you may be right; but the coachman?” **Could have been a well-paid accom- plice,” ‘True, and we must now learn just who Mr. Dunbam is, his life, friends, foes and all about him, the motive for committing such a crime and all else.” “Yes, and you know that I told you he ‘reco nized the wounded man?” rue, but our faithful watchman gives the warning, and that means that thee boys are coming,” and as New York Nat spoke __ the huge dog went to a door leading into the main hallway and gave a low growl. “All right, old dog,” said Nat, and. going to the door he unlocked it as a “peculiar: tap » was heard on the other side. Half a dozen youths entered together, one of them bearing a lantern. The at and Olive, and went to seats front- oon eae others came in, two and three doffed their hats and bowed to New York Nat’s ome Cant i together, until at last the seats were filled, and Queen, who had been counting them, called out: “Twenty-two! all present, chief.” The young detective chief cast his eye over the lot, and it was a varied lot of youths that met his gaze, There were the Bell-boy, Messenger, Boot- black, Newsboy, and the three who had been in the trouble down on the w harf, all of which Nat had seen in the morning in his rounds. But in addition there were a dozen more, from one ragged little urchin of ten, toa youth over sixteen who looked like a divinity student, and was known as Parson, while near him sat another of his age, who wore gloves and was called ‘‘ Doc, * he having studied medicine. There were others of all sizes and condi tions, New York Nat then having under him a score of young Ferrets, he and Olive mak- ing twenty-two, Feeling that they had been called together for Some ” special reason all were as silent as specters and fixing their eyes upon New York Nat waited for him.to speak, CHAPTER XIV. TO UNRAVEL STRANGE SECRETS, . Tue Boy Police Queen had taken up a pen, when the band were seated, and wrote down in a book the date of the meeting, with the reason for it being called, and that each mem- ber was present. Then she waited to hear more, for she was the secretary and treasurer of the Secret Shadowers. ‘* Boys, I called you to frag ar to-night for two reasons,” said New ‘* First, there is some work “for us to enter upon, with expenses paid, and a re- ‘ward of five thousand dollars if we are suc- cessful.” A low murmur of approbation went the rounds at hearing this, and then New York Nat continued: ‘“‘ These papers I have here, give the de- scription of a person whom we are to find, a missing heir, and one who does not himself know that there isa fortune in store for him, as he is an outcast and has been so regarded by his kindred, ‘Here are photographs of him, the aliases he has been eure under, his height, an es- timate of his weight, and all that can be said to aid us in finding him. ‘*T will read all to you, so listen carefully, then impress the photographs upon your minds, and next find him.” “We'll do it,” said Teaser emphatically, and they all lau hed at his determined asser- tion. Then New York Nat carefully read the papers describing Mayne Mountjoy and giv- ing the numerous names he had’ been known under, the boys passing the photographs around among themselves the while, and en- deavoring to impress every feature upon their memory. This matter being disposed of, and there not being a dissenting voice against, taking up the case of finding the outcast heir, New York Nat continued: ‘The second matter to be donstacied to- night is one over which hangs a mystery we must clear up. “A young lady rowing on the Hudson this morning, saw a man floating on a board, and found t that he had been the victim of an attempt to murder him,” and continuing New York Nat told the story of the rescue, and then of the carrying off of the rescued man by a stranger, who had since been found to MS a Es young man by the name of Harvey unham, The accident which had befallen Mr.. Dunham and his coachman was made known, ARTA he at Sit ya off with him. and also that he had just disposed of bai moan Not a word was said about mk | Nolewed wa ca oe havea been the rescuer, as the young Ferrets veving very quickly have tracked out the mystery as to who was their Queen. The part she had played in the rescue was therefore kept as a dead secret by New York Nat. ‘It is my wish that you, Doc and Parson, find out for me all you can about this Mr. Dunham, and his past and present life, while you, Keno and Fatty, go on the track of what he did with the rescued man between the time when he drove away from the river with him, and met with the accident at the bridge. «Ag for the young lady who rescued her, our Queen will see her upon some excuse and get all the information she can of her rescue, and a description of the man. ‘Of course there was an attempt at mur- der, and from appearances, as the gentle- man had nothing about him of vaiue, a rob- bery. ‘* But was it an attempt to kill to rob, or for some other purpose is the question. ‘‘ Blow, you and Shorty are to take the whole shore in, finding out where there are any large planks upon it, such as the man was found upon, and trying to match the rope, with which he, was tied, and which I managed to get possession of. ‘Find out just who dwells along the river-banks that would be likely to commit a crime, and search both shores, though, as the wind was more from ‘the New York side, he must have been set adrift from this bank,” The Queen wrote down the names as spoken, and the duties each pair of Ferrets were sent to perform, Then, as some of the young Shadowers, asked for an advance, in case money shoul be needed to aid them in their work, Queen, as she was generally called by them, opened her treasure-bag and handed out to each one the certain sum named, dela) the amount down opposite to their names, for the Secret League of Ferrets was run on business princi- ples, all the boys being under pay, and with a percentage in all rewards obtained, and which, at a specified time, was to be drawn and divided, The cause for their being called together having been accomplished, the members of the League were individually asked for any reports that they had to make of work done. _ | Several of them had made discoveries of crimes committed, and of burglaries intend- ed, and these were written downjon a slip which New York Nat put*in his pocket to ‘hand to Walter Vanderlip, to take to the chief of police. Then, two by two the Ferrets stole out of the old mansion, Nat and Olive following, and when the young girl had been escorted: to her home, the young captain of the Boy Police returned to his own lonely abiding- place in the Haunted House, his only com- panion being the huge dog that kept watch for him, and looked savage enough to =e en @ ghost even.: CHAPTER XV. : THE RETURN OF THE OUTCAST. WAVELANDS was one of the finest estates in Maryland, and situated near a pretty village on one of the broad tributaries of the x Chesapeake. — The early morning steamboat from Balti- _ more, touching at the village, put off there a gentleman, who, grip in hand, as though familiar with the spot, at once went up to the pretty little hotel fronting the hares one day water. As he entered the office he: was recognized wr by the landlord, who extended him a wel- ; come and said: “We never expected to see you again, Mr. Mountjoy.” ‘ saan why, Host ier REE tee ¥
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brother. New York Nat’s Trump Card. ** Well, sir, we knew that you left here long ago, and never hearing from you, we supposed you were dead; in fact that has been the belief here for years.” ‘‘No, Mr. Barclay, 1 am a hard one to kill, and like a bad penny turn up when least expected.” ‘‘Yes, sir, you are a hard one to kill, as Mr. Wilton found out long ago, and—” “We'll not discuss that affair, Host Bar- clay, or any of my wild deeds of the past if you please, for I have spent much time of jate in endeavoring to forget bygones, and have tried to become a respectable citizen, so as to redeem myself in the eyes of my old friends.” “You was not so very bad, sir, asI re- member you; only a trifle wild, and would go it a little stiff sometimes, to your poor old father’s great sorrow; but he had bad ad- visers, sir, and I fear has cut you off without anything, especially as he also believed you dead.” The gentlemen turned quickly upon the landlord, throwing down the pen he had tiken up to write his name in the register, and grasping the armof Mr, Barclay cried earnestly. ** You speak of my father having left me nothing! ‘*My God! is he dead?” ‘*On, sir, I supposed that you knew all about it?” ** No, I know nothing. *‘T left this place fourteen years ago, and have been on the frontier and abroad ever since. ‘Is my father dead?” ‘* Yes, sir.” “* When did he die?” ‘Three years ago, Mayne,” said the land- lord in a kindly tone. + Mayne Mountjoy dropped his head in his hands and thus remained for a moment. Then he said, and his voice quivered: “Tt is a cruel blow to me, Mr. Barclay, for I was wild I admit, and my father, in his anger, drove me from his home. “I went away with a cloud upon me, with the life of Mark Wilton upon my hands, and many looked upon me as one who had taken the high road to perdition. “*T have not heard from my home for long years, and the last I did hear was that I was regarded as an outcast. “But I went to work, I have not done badly, and with a fair little fortune earned by my own exertions, I came back to ask my father to forget and forgive, to do as he pleased with his fortune, only to let me once more dwell in the old home. ‘« And now you tell me that he is dead?” ‘He is, sir,” and the good-hearted land- lord wiped away a tear of sympathy. ‘* And was I forgiven?” «““That I do not know, sir; but, as I said, he supposed you were dead, and his nephew, whom he adopted as.a son, became his heir,” ‘‘He is welcome to all: but I must go up and see him, and learn of my father’s death and forgiveness.” A ‘‘Mr. Keene Mountjoy is not at home now, air;?’ ** Where is he?” “‘He left here ten days ago, sir, to go abroad for half a year, he said, his wife be- ing dead, and his daughter at boarding-school at Baltimore.” .“*My cousin was married then?” ‘Yes, sir, he married —well, sir, the oung lady you had the trouble with Mark Wilton about.” Mayne Mountjoy started at this, took a quick stride across the office and back, and then said: *« And she is dead?” ‘< Yes, sir.” ** And they had one child?” “Yes, sir, Miss Ethel, named after her 5 ' Waa Ay we hk: a Sie + Be ha 4s! plates ee See ee ee ee EE EE ee Se ee eee ‘“‘She is now, as I said, at boarding- school, and she is a little beauty.” “And what of my cousin, whom my father left his. heir?’ ‘He is a handsome man, young yet, for he’s not over thirty-five, I take it, and there is not a more popular man in the State; in fact he has not an enemy, I believe.” ‘* Well. Iam sorry he is not here; but as I came back for awhile, I shall make my home with you, for I recall what a good host you were in the past, when many a time I had to stop with you, not daring to go home— By the way, when I left I owed you a little something, did I not?” ‘* Yes, sir, but I never spoke of it, as it was only a matter of seventy dollars.’ ‘* Well, it has been due for fourteen years, and drawing six per cent. interest—here is the amount, Host Barclay; just one hundred and twenty eight dollars and eighty cents,” said Mayne Mountjoy, after a rapid mental calculation of the fourteen years’ interest. ‘*Oh, Mr. Mountjoy, I could hardly ex- pect this, sir, and—” ‘¢Say no more about it, landlord, for there is your money, so give me a receipt,” and taking a well-filled wallet from his pocket he laid the money on the office-desk and con- tinued: ‘‘Now give me the best room you have, and I will need the use of a horse and buggy while here—oh! my poor father, it is sad to think of him as gone and unforgiving,” and Mayne Mountjoy went off to his room, his sorrowful face winning the deepest sym- pathy from the landlord, who now spread the news about the village of the outcast heir’s return, CHAPTER XVI. A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE, News of any kind travels fast in a coun- try village, and it was not very long before the whole neighborhood about Wavelands knew that Mayne Mountjoy, the outcast heir, had returned, and was stopping at the Seashore Inn, Landlord Barclay nad told the story a score of times to different ones, how greatly shocked Mayné Mountjoy had been to know of his father’s death, how he started, turned pale and while tears came into his eyes, bit- terly repented of his past. Then, too, it was repeated, and em- bellished, how the returned outcast had made a fortune in the mines out on the frontier, had then spent vears in traveling in foreign lands, and had at last come back to his old home with a well-filled purse. The bill he had paid; with interest, had been added to until it got up into the thou- sands, and the sorrow of the cutcast, when he heard how his old sweetheart, Ethel Al- den, was dead, was depicted by the gossips with great earnestness. Mark Wilton, whom he had regarded asa rival, and had killed in a duel, had been but a short While a resident of that part of the country, so had no kindred and few friends there, and there was nothing to dread from these, As soon as he had had breakfast the out- cast heir had driven off somewhere, the landlord said, and news came in that he had been seen driving into the grand gateway leading to the Wavelands estate. Later, a lady driving out to the village graveyard, had surprised him standing by his father's tomb, for a marble shaft had been erected over his adopted father by Keene Mountjoy the heir. Not thirty paces away was the grave of the woman he had loved, and taken life for, anda few paces in another direction was buried Mark Wilton. Seeing her, the lady said, he had quickly left the burying-ground, but she had gone the rounds and found upon the tombs of old Mrs. Mountjoy and Ethel Mountjoy, as well as upon the grass-grown grave of Mark Wilton, large bunches of flowers, which it afterward was discovered the outcast heir had gotten from the gardener at Wavelands, paying him a handsome price for them, for, being a new man, Mayne Mountjoy was unknown to him, These stories regarding Mayne Mountjoy won for him the sympathy of the entire community, ein his placing flowers upon the grave of Mark Wilton his old enemy, as it showed he held no enmity in his heart any longer Returning to a late dinner at the inn, Mayne Mountjoy found the cards of a num- ber of persons who were willing to forget and overlook his past, and had called upon him, ‘‘T heard only the kindest words for you, Mr. Mountjoy!” said Landlord Barclay, as he ushered him in to a most tempting din- ner. ‘My friends are all very kind; but I do not care to visit anywhere now, as aftera short stay, I will return when my Cousin Keene returns home,” Telling the landlord, after spending a week at the inn, where to address any mail coming for him, the outcast heir took the steamer for Baltimore, saying he would re- turn when his cousin got back from Eng- land, It was several weeks after his departure that Mayne Mountjoy received one day a telegram that read: “You are wanted at Wavelands. accident has befallen your cousin, by request of attorney. ‘* LANDLORD BARCLAY.” Some I wire The first steamer leaving for the village carried Mayne Mountjoy as a passenger, and when he landed the following morning at the village he was met on the wharf by the land- lord and a lawyer who had been his father’s attorney he remembered, Going up to the inn the outcast heir was told that news had come from New York the day before of the most mysterious dis- appearance of Keene Mountjoy, who had gone to take the steamer for Liverpool. He had engaged his state-room, gone on board during the day and put his baggage in it, and then had left the steamer saying he would return by midnight, as it sailed on the early tide. He ‘had been missed after the steamer sailed, and had been supposed to have got- ten left. Arriving, on the other side, it was expect- ed by the steamer officers that he would ar- rive by the next ship of that line, But such was not the case, and on her way back the steamer had met another of the same line and signaled to know if Mr. Keene was on board. No such person had taken passage on that vessel was the response, Returning to New York the captain had at once reported the affair to the agents, who in turn had made it known to the chief of police. | : At once the officers of the Secret Service were sent out to find some trace of the \miss ing man, and by wiring to his home, as the steamer’s register showed, it was discovered that he had an attorney in New York by the name of Gray’ Norris, who collected certain rents due from property in that city. Mr. Norris was found and quickly made his report, to the effect that Mr. Mountjoy had left his home at eleven P. M. to go at once on board of .the steamer, and had come and de- parted in a hack. He at once suggested that the nearest kins- man of Mr. Keene Mountjoy be made ac- quainted with his strange disappearance, and added that he would see to it that a large force of detectives would be at once placed upon the case to discover what had become of the missing man.
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» cana ts ey ok a rik oe Ne a a : 10 Upon this reply from Lawyer Norris, the Wavelands attorney at once decided to communicate with Mayne Mountjoy, and going to see Landlord Barclay the two talked it over and he was telegraphed for. In the hotel the three held a long con- ane aes upon the matter, and the attorney said: * Your duty is plain, Mr. Mountjoy, for, if your cousin does not appear, and has been killed, you are the heir direct in law, so my advice is that you go to Baltimore, break the news gently to Ethe! of her father’s ‘disappearance, and then start for New York and be on the scene yourself.” = ‘I will go,” was the reply of the outcast eir. CHAPTER XVII. THE MISSING MAN. Mr. Mayne MountJoy took the advice of the Wavelands attorney, returning to Balti more to see the little daughter of his cousin, and break to her the news of her father's strange disappearance, She was a beautiful young girl just enter- ing her teens, and having heard her father speak of his cousin Mayne, and never un- kindly, she received him cera and found him a deep sympathizer with her in her grief. Of course, young as she was, she had heard, when at home, of the fatal duel Mayne Mountjoy had fought with Mark Wilton on account of her mother, and often had seen the grave of the dead man who had then lost his life.- She had heard also of her father’s cousin having been a wild young man. But he was so handsome, so gentle toward her, his voice was so low and pleasant, and his sympathy so great that she was at once drawn toward him. ‘*T will do all in my power, Ethel, to find your dear father, and will write you daily of our progress, and wire, youif I get any favorable news. ‘But, my child, if it shéuld be that we cannot, remember that I have come back in time to take his place as far as I can, and you will,find in me a father, one who will do all in my power to make you happy. , **Now remember, Ethel, [ am to be your Uncle Mayne.” She put her arms up, drew his face to- ward her and kissed him, and thus they parted. Soon after he was on his way to New York and wired Lawyer Gray Norris to meet him at his hotel. Arriving there the lawyer’s card was al- most immediately brought up, and with it that bearing the name: ‘* WALTER VANDERLIP, ““ Arizona.” _ In one corner of the latter card was the address of Walter Vanderlip’s New York home. Lawyer Gray Norris was an elderly man of dignified mien, and introducing himself presented Mr. Vanderlip as a very oid friend of Mr. Mayne Mountjoy, and one who had been one of the last to see him on the night of his mysterious disappearance. Then the lawyer added: . ‘“When I was informed of my client’s strange disappearance, I at once wired to his home for his nearest kindred to come on and consult about the matter, and was glad to get your dispatch. ‘* Knowing that he had called on Mr, Van- derlip here, whom he referred to as an old. and valued friend, and whose address he pate me, I went to see him and heard that had left his home to come to mine, taking acab near Forty-second street. 3 “There Mr. Vanderlip left him, and he drove up to my home, remained an hour or moore, and then took his leave in the cab that she et ‘ Yatra eo erase ‘ YR se RRR 9g SO Chor, Tae KAW : [a ace ca oma, a te tee en pt - New York Nat’s Trump Card. Pate dt was waiting for him, and of course I sup- | certain story I heard regarding him, and ini ' posed he had caught the steamer. **T paid to your cousin a large sum of money, for the rent of property he owns here, and he was otherwise well supplied, I noticed, besides wearing a handsome ring, diamond stud and sleeve-buttons, with a watch and chain. zs ‘* He had also some important papers with im. \ ; ‘That is all I can tell you, sir, except that so far we have been unable to find the slightest trace of him, or of his fate, but I very much fear he has been foully dealt with.” ‘It certainly appears so to me,” said Mayne Mountjoy sadly,and then he went on to speak of his having lately returned from the West, where he had amassed quite a little fortune, and had gone to see his father, who had, on account of his wild escapades as a youth, and an unfortunate affair he had been an actor in, exiled him from his home and regard. Having sown his wild oats he had return- ed to see his father, to learn of his death, and | the changes that had taken place during his long absence. ; He had also learned that his father had adopted his cousin, as his son and heir, and left him his fortune, but that was a matter he cared nothing for, as he had ample means to take care of himself. ‘‘But, my dear sir, you are the direct heir, the heir in‘law, whether your cousin be dead or alive, and you of course could claim your own; but I trust you will find your relative and an amicable settlement be arranged between you,” said Lawyer Norris. ‘* Permit me to state what I know of this matter,” said Walter Vanderlip. ‘* Your cousin came to me and told me that he had been left your father’s heir ¥n toto, , - ‘‘He said that he felt that you yet lived and his conscience dictated that he should look you up and share the fortune equally with you.” ‘* What! did Keene Mountjoy say this?” asked Mayne Mountjoy, with deep emo- tion. ‘¢ Yes, and more, for he came to New York, on his way to find you, having last heard of you in Paris, “That he might leave no stone unturned, to find you, he went to a detective agency in this ‘city and placed the matter in the hands of the chief to have you looked up in New York, giving all the data he could re- garding you. ‘* Now, sir, you see that he was anxious to find you, and share the fortune with you, and should he not be found, as Mr. Nor- ris says, you are the heir; but, for “Heaven’s sake let us use every means to find him, for Tama man of means and will give liberally to have the most thorough search made.” ‘* There is no need of that, Mr. Vanderlip, for it is my duty and pleasure, for, as I said, Iam well off, and shall place in Mr. Norris’s hand a reward of ten thousand dol- lars for the finding of my cousin, dead or alive, and any plan you gentlemen’ ma suggest I will gladly enter into, for his fate, one way or the other, must be known, and if he has been killed then his’ murderers must suffer the full penalty of the law, so call upon me, gentlemen, and command me as xen please,” said Mayne Mountjoy, emphati- cally. . CHAPTER XVIII. THE WEIR DIRECT. +¢Wirn such a man to aid us, Mr. Vander- lip, success is assured,” said Lawyer Norris, as he left the hotel with Walter bas aaa ‘*Yes, and I am glad to have met Mr. Mayne Mountjoy and heard his story before I told mine. , ‘Hes ‘‘T like the man, and I cannot but doubt a a Nae 4 = » chy 4 think there must have been a mistake, a case of mistaken identity, in fact. ‘Yes, lam glad that he has turned up in time to give us his aid, and instead of being a poor man, he is rich, I take it from what. ‘he said.” “There appears to be no doubt of that; but you will call for him, as agreed, and take him to see the Secret Service chief?” ‘*Yes, I will go this afternoon with him.” And just at three o’clock a carriage drove up to the Secret Service Headquarters and Walter Vanderlip and Mayne Mountjoy got out and went into the chief's room. Walter Vanderlip presented Mr. Mount- joy, and the chief heard his story, and then. said; - ‘The whole affair seems to be wrapped in blankest mystery, for my men can get no clue, ‘‘Even the Secret Service shadowers you know of, Mr. Vanderlip, have not given you. any information on the case, I believe?” ‘Nothing yet very tangible, chief, but I am hoping for news daily.” ¢ ‘Aslam. ‘‘My men have been on the case, and some are inclined to believe that Mr. Mount- joy did go aboard the steamer, perhaps after drinking more than was good for him, and fell overboard.” | ‘‘He was a very temperate man, I learned by those who knew him well about his home, sir, and besides, Mr, Vanderlip says. that the steamer’s men assert that he did not go on board.” “True, Mr. Mountjoy, but he may have: fallen off the dock.” _ ‘Would his body not have been found,, sir?” ‘‘ Very likely, I must admit, unless carried’ at once out to sea on the tide.” : ‘‘Has the cabman not been found that. drove him to Lawyer Norris’s?” ‘* No one has been found who says that he had a call upon that night to go to the law- er’s address,” *« And I took no notice of the cab, horse or man, though I saw him take the vehicle and. drive away,” said Walter Vanderlip. “Tt certainly is a most mysterious affair,, and I cannot believe that my cousin could have taken his own life. ‘All who knew him intimately assert. that he appeared to be happy, the fortune left by my father was increasing rapidly un- der his care, his home was an elegant one,. with every luxury at command, and he idol- ized his beautiful young daughter. ‘*No, he has been done away with for the money and valuables he had with him, and I fear he will never be found alive; in fact it is very doubtful even if his body will be dis- sovered, for those wretches did their work well, ‘‘T say wretches, as my cousin is said to have been a man. of fine physique, and pos- sessed of great strength, so one man could hardly handle him. ‘* My idea is that the cabman suspected he. had. a prize, plotted torob him, and, being resisted, killed him. ’ ‘Find the cabman and you will discover — he murderer of my poor brother, chief.” This theory seemed to now impress the chief and Walter Vanderlip more strongly as. the right one, and it was decided that every _ effort should at once be made to find the man who had driven Keene Mountjoy to the home of Lawyer Norris. ‘ ‘*T shall remain in the city fora couple of | weeks, chief, and remember, let noifearof yt 7 expense stand in the er of finding “et cousin’s murderer, for I will pay any demands, and a large reward most liberally. ‘ff “Tn a couple of weeks my brother’s dau, ie ter leaves her school for her vacation, and I wish to go and take her to her home, poor child, and cheer her up all in my power, for _ and with some confederate, | ne {
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she will miss her father sadly in that grand old home. ‘But a telegram will bring me on at any time to consult with you upon the matter, should no clew be found before my depar- ture.” The chief promised to communicate dail¥ with Mayne Mountjoy through Walter Van- derlip, and seemed most favorably impressed with the brother of the missing man. Then the two took their departure, Mr. Mountjoy going to Walter Vanderlip’s to have dinner with him. After dinner, at which Walter Vanderlip found his new friend a most entertaining companion, the two talked until late about the missing man, and his little daughter, and the future of the child. “‘T, knowing the intention of your cousin regarding you, and that you are the heir direct, would urge, Mr. Mountjoy, that you go to your old home and take possession, trying to replace to little Ethel as far as you can her father,” said Walter Vanderlip, and Mayne Mountjoy responded: “Yes, I suppose it would be the right thing for me to do.” CHAPTER XIX. NEW YORK “*NAT) HAS A CLUE. Irv was a sore disappointment for New York Natand his Boy Shadowers to be called off from jthe hunt for the outcast heir of Wavelands, when it became known that he had suddenly turned up about the time his cousin had disappeared. Of course they were at once put on the case of the missing man, with the promise of a reward if they found him, or if dead, dis- covered his murderers, With this incentive another special meet- ing was held and the Boy Police set out upon the new track, the finding of Keene Mountjoy dead or alive, and if the former, the cause of his death, and if murdered, to discover his murderers. They began work with a will; but some- how did not make rapid progress, and when day after day they compared notes, they had very little to report. They seemed to have gotten into a run of ill luck, as very often happens, and it clung to them persistently. They had failed signally in their hunt for the man who had been rescued from the river and driven off by Harvey Dunham in his carriage. His coachman was in-his grave, so his lips were forever sealed, and not a soul could tell wheré the vehicle had gone after leaving the river. Harvey Dunham still lay desperately ill with brain fever, and the chances were ‘against his recovery, so nothing could be found out from him, at least7 until he became well enough to be questioned upon the sub- ject. Those who had been questioned at his home said that he had been out until after midnight the night before his accident, and returning home in his dog-cart ‘with his coachman, at dawn had started out again, this time in his carriage, and this was, in the eyes of the Boy Shadowers, a suspicious cir- -cumstance,. something to militate against both him and his coachman. But more could not be learned, and it was certain that if Harvey Dunham had carried the wounded man to any physician’s house, or private residence, on his way from the river, it would have been discovered, Except the Boy Shadowers, and the chief and his detectives, no one seemed to know of Harvey Dunham having driven off with the unconscious man, All the papers had been searched ‘for the finding of a body, or the loss of any one an- swering the description of the one who had been rescued from the river. But in vain the search, and the chief’s de- tectives had been forced to surrender, and New York Nat’s Trump Card. 11 admit that they were mystified and could find no clue. The coming on to New York of Mayne Mountjoy, the outcast heir who had found himself, so to speak, added renewed vigor to the search of both the regular detective force, and the Unknown Shadowers whose ally Walter Vanderlip was, He had told the Boy Police, through their young chief, New York Nat, that there was a reward offered by the outcast heir of ten thousand dollars for proof that Keene Mount- joy was dead or alive, and they had set to work with a will upon this new mystery, the disappearance of the master of a large estate, upon the very night he was to have sailed for Liverpool in search of the man who now offered a reward for him just double what his, Keene Mountjoy’s, offer had been for the finding of his cousin, whom he wished to bring back into the fold and make co-heir with himself of the Wavelands estate, After a week spent in New York, in a fruitless search for some clue as to what had become of his missing cousin, Mayne Mount- joy left for Baltimore, telling the chief of the Secret Service and Walter Vanderlip that he should take Ethel Mountjoy to Wavelands, and make it his abiding-place, to try and cheer the young girl up in her suspense regarding her father, but should he be wanted, to at once telegraph for him and he would come on. He had not been gone but a few days when the supposed young artist called again upon Walter Vanderlip. The butler had begun to know him now as one who always had a fee for him, and he was at once admitted to the library, where, as was his wont after breakfast, Mr. Vander- lip enjoyed his cigar and looked over his mail and papers. ‘‘Well, Nat, glad to see you. “Sit down.and tell me if there is anything new, for everything in the Secret Service among the Unknown Ferrets seems to be at a standstill now.” ‘Yes, sir, it does seem so, for my boys have discovered nothing, nor has Olive, with all her brightness, managed to bit upon any- thing of importance in the way of a clue.” “And you, Nat? for I believe you have something to tell of importance,”’ . ‘“‘T have a clue, sir, that is all,” was the reply. CHAPTER XX. THE BOY FERRETS’ CAPTAIN HAS SOMETHING TO SAY. “T rev? that, you would hit upon some- thing, Nat, where all others failed, and I have had strong faith in you throughout,” said Walter Vanderlip when New York Nat had said that he had only a clue. ‘ ‘Yes, sir, the case has been worrying me, for everything seemed to work against me. “‘T cannot tell you all J have done, or what suspicions I have had, but I will do so in good time if I find I am on the right track.” * All right, Nat, take your own way to go about it and I am content. ‘Bult what is this clue you have?” ‘“T’l] let you see if there is any thing in it to your mind, andI wonder it has never been thought of before and considered.” “Out with it, Nat.” “You know the date when Mr. Mountjoy ealled on you?’ sae f: Pag “Please give it to.me, sir.” Walter Vanderlip did so. ‘Now, sir,do you recall that it was upon the very next day, just seven weeks ago, that Olive rescued the gentleman from the Hudson River?” Walter Vanderlip sprnng to his feet and cried: ‘Nat, you are on the right track | am cer- tain. ‘‘How strange that none of us ever thought of that before. ‘‘T must let the chief know of this at ‘‘No, sir, please do not, at least for awhile.” ‘When did it occur to you?” ‘‘Several wecks ago, sir.” “Yes, I begin to feel now that the man | rescued by Olive was my poor friend, and eis ) | now it appears there can be po hope that he is alive.” ‘‘T will not be so sure of that, sir, for he may be, yet kept in hiding,. and he may be dead, ‘‘Have you a photograph of Mr, Mount- ‘(One taken some years ago, but not lately.” “Can I see it, sir, or rather will you lend itto me?” ‘* Certainly.” Walter Vanderlip went to a photograph album and turned the leaves over, “Strange, it is not here. ‘Could I have given it to the chief, Nat?” ‘¢} do not know, sir; but I should think you would remember.” ‘‘T do, and I have not done so. “The photograph was here before the visit of Mountjoy to me, for then I saw it. last, and he promised to send me a recent, one. “ But it has been taken out of the album.” ‘‘Now, Mr. Vanderlip, I wish to say Iam going away for a few days.” ‘Where are you, going, Nat, or is it & secret?” “To all save you and Olive it is a secret, sir.” ‘*T will keep it faithfully.” ‘‘Tam going to Wavelands, sir,” ‘‘Ah! the home of Keene Mountjoy?” S°Y'es, eit, ‘For what purpose?” ‘‘Well, sir, to have a look at the place, talk with people who knew Mr. Mount- joy, and get a few ideas that I may act up- on,” ‘*See here, Nat?” ‘OVe8, Sit,” ‘You are not telling me all you know, or suspect about this matter?” ‘No, sir, for I wish, as I said, to be on the safe side; but I have not been idle, and I have made a few-discoveries.” ‘* Will you tell me anything of them?” ‘*T will tell you, sir, that I found the hack- man who drove Mr. Mountjoy up to Lawyer Norris’s and back.” ‘‘Ha! you have discovered that, and the chief’s best men have been unable to do so?” ‘*Yes, sir, but perhaps they did not go about it as I did,” ** How was that?” ‘* Well, sir, I went to every house on every street, the hack would take in leaving the lawyer’s, and asked the people if they had seen a cab, or known of one passing at night on that date. ‘‘At last I found an Irishman who told me he had gone to a drug-store for medicine for a sick child, and had seena cab break down not far from his shanty.” ‘* Break down?” “Yes, sir, the wheel came off, he said, and the driver was thrown off, but not hurt, and a gentleman got out. ‘‘He was in a great hurry to get the medi- cine, but was going .to see if he could be of assistance, when he saw &® man run up, and so he went on. ‘“When he returned the hackman was there and said he was waiting for help, as. the man who guided the gentleman to the stable, said he would send aid to him, “‘'The Irishman went home with his medi- cine, and then, as he saw the cab still there, found an axle-nut among some pieces of iron he had and took it to the cabman who put. on his wheel and drove away,”
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> man. artist, Nat?” - “ And what kind of a man is he, one to be ‘ r nT Ba aid a eh DSI IN bo EN gee ORE ved salve **This is certainly evidence that the hack- man was not the murderer, Nat, of Mr. Mountjoy.” ‘He is not guilty, sir, for I have seen him and had a talk with him.” ** Ah, Nat, how did you accomplish that?” ‘said Walter Vanderlip with interest. ‘* Well, sir, Mr. Mountjoy took a cab at g hook: ace street and Broadway.” ‘é es “? ‘*<T asked the Irishman to describe the cab, -horse and man. **He did so, and so I began to hang about ‘the Forty-second street neighborhood, look- ‘ing at the different cabs, horses and drivers, ‘“‘I disguised myself so as to look like an Trish lad, and at last picked out my man and going up to him asked if he got home allright, the night his wheel ran off. nat nie ha but how did you know about tt?’ he said. ‘‘T told him I was the Irishman’s son, and after questioning him for awhile I found that while waiting for Mr. Mountjoy a man had come along half drunk and invited him to drink, and he believes the fellow removed the nut from the axle when he went to sleep, having taken too much to drink,” - ‘Well, Nat, you deserve the name your boys give you, Wizard Shadower,” said Wal- ter Vanderlip, admiringly. CHAPTER XXI. THE ‘‘ WIZARD” AT WORK. Nat seemed pleased at the praise bestowed upon him by Walter Vanderlip and modest- ly replied: . ““When I get a clue, sir, I stick to it for ‘all there is in it.” ** You certainly do; but your cabman did not suspect why you were questioning him?” ‘*'No, indeed, sir, and as the search for the cabman has been a secret one he did not have the remotest idea that anything was wrong, * Pretending to believe that the man who gave him liquor meant to rob him and his passenger, | asked him to describe him, which he did. ‘I then asked him about the man who had come to his aid, and went off with the entleman, but he said in his excitement he iad not noticed whether he was the same one or not who had given him the liquor, ‘Then I went to see the Irishman again and asked him about the man he had seen Tun up to the cab,” ** And his answer?” le ‘¢That he was not sure, but he looked like an artist who lived in an old mansion near the river that was going to ruin, and which other people avoided. | } ‘If he was the same one he had led the stranger in the direction of his home.” ** An artist, you said?” ‘* Yes, sir, so the Irishman told me, and he said he was a good one, too, though people regarded him as a crank. ‘He had plenty of paintings, and lived - -well, but dressed often in very seedy cloth- ing, while at times he had seen him well dressed and hardly to be taken for the same ‘*No one knew who he was or his past history, and there seemed a mystery hanging about him, for he would never talk of him- self, but he’ had many Indian trophies, ‘weapons and other things, a uniform and much else that led the people to think he had spent much time on the frontier and also been an artist.) - * Did you learn his name?” ‘‘The lrishman said he was known as i _ Mark, that is all they ever heard him called.” “Well, I suppose you went to see the 6 Veg \ hegstac guilty of a murder?” » gee Re eel ae ns ec A abe I ee 4 ied tees ae ; ' r; eee enameian meen eeiea mammal ana New York Nat’s Trump Card. = + oe at Ar ‘‘T. did not see him, for he had gone away.” ** Ah! that looks bad for him.” ‘*T asked about him of his nearest neigh- bors, and they gave him a good character generally, and said he rented the rooms he occupied in the old house, and, often went away on trips for weeks at a time, telling them that he was sketching in the country and on the sea-shore. , ‘‘He told them before leaving the last time, that he was going off on one of bis sketching trips, and upon his door was a notice that he was gone away for a month or six weeks.” ** Was there a name to it?” ‘* No, sir, only the letters ‘‘ ‘M. M’.” “lt isapity you did not see him, and I fear he has left for good, and that he may be the one who can account for the disappear- ance of Keene Mountjoy.” ‘*Perhaps so, sir; but I'll know whether he has gone for good to-night.” ‘“* How is that?” ‘*T shall enter the old house to-night, sir, and with my skeleton keys go into his rooms and have a look at them.” ‘You must not go alone, Nat.” **T do not fear to do so, sir,” ‘‘T had better go with you,” ‘*T think, Mr. Vanderlip, that you being seen in the neighborhood might attract at- tention, while I can slip along unnoticed, and can do better alone, and there is nothing to fear,” ““Well, you know best, and I shall be most anxious to hear your report in the morning.” ‘*T have had a look at the old home and its surroundings, and one of the shanty- dwellers near told me that there was a fine- looking gentleman visiting the place some time ago and asking for Artist Mark, and seemed greatly disappointed when he was told he was ee, ‘‘And when do you start for Wavelands, Nat?” **T shall go to-morrow afternoon, sir, tak- ing the train for Baltimore, and the boat down to-morrow night, for I learn that is the way to get there.” ‘* Will you be gone long?” ‘““Not many days, sir,” and New York Nat took his leave, promising to come by and report the result of his visit to the artist’s home. . Just at ten o’clock that night two forms, clad like gamins from the street, landed from a skiff not far from the old mansion where the artist dwelt, and crept cautiously along as though not wishing to attract at- tention. They avoided being seen by the dwellers of the shanties near, by hiding among the rocks when any one passed, and reached the old home successfully without having been observed. ' «* Well, Olive, we are here, and now to get in and see what discovery we can make,” said one, and the answer came in a low tone: ‘* Here are the skeleton keys, Nat.” The Wizard and the Ferret Queen were at secret work. , . CHAPTER XXII. wee THE MIDNIGHT RAIDERS. — | TAKING the bunch of skeleton keys from his sister’s hand, New York Nat soon found one that opened the front door of the map sion, and the two:entered. They closed the door behind them and afver a short search they found a nee to open the door on the right, for New York Nat had noticed that on that side the shutters were all tightly closed. As they entered the room, Queen slid back the slide ofa bull’s eye lantern and | they saw that they were in a large room, with a door open between that by the one adjoining. — SNE a SAY ie ——————— EEE —————EE——————————— : eS _ | and within was a ducling-pistol, with som Behe si iL aR Sabi Aart PA Ce ania, Me i egy CES ea See es All the windows of both rooms were heavi- ly cyrtained, as though to prevent light from from without. But the rooms surprised both Nat and his sister, for one was used as a studio, it seem- ed, and was not uncomfortably furnished, the other being bed-room, dining room and kitchen combined. sar, Shei wey Ge a number of Indian trophies and other things, indicated something of the character and liking of the lonely occupant of the room, while the sketchings, easel and really clever works of the artist showed that he wasa man of refined taste and talent. The cupboard was well filled with pro- visions, showing that the artist did not want for food, and having taken a casual glance over the two rooms, New York Nat and the Queen began to make a thorough search of the premises. They worked together and systematically, and nothing escaped their keen eyes. The paintings were looked over, the sketches in a large portfolio examined, a number of photographs carefully scanned, and some of them quietly slipped into a bag that Queen carried. : Then the sharp eyes’ of New York Nat caught sight of something upon the floor that riveted his gaze. 9 He bent over it, turned the bull’s-eye lan- tern full upon it and said in a low tone: “This is a pool of blood, Olive!” ‘Tt looks so, though it has dried up.” ‘‘There is no doubt of it. How careless a murderer often is, for see, there’ are spots leading toward the door. Come into the hall ” ® They went, and there was a spot seen here and there to the frontedoor. ‘“We must look in this house for Mr, Mountjoy’s body, Nat, that is certain.” “No, Olive. You forget you rescued a gentleman from the river, and it is my belief that it was Mr. Mountjoy.” ‘“‘ Ah, yes; but these blood-spots?” “This house stands on the way from where that cab broke down to the river, where those boards are piled up. ‘Now Mr. Mountjoy was, a stranger in New York, and he went off with a man who was to guide him toa car. ni ahs ‘* They came in this direction, the cabman told me, and the guide was beyond doubt the artist who lives here. ‘‘He caught Mr. Mountjoy unaware, struck him a terrible blow, brought him here and robbed him. ‘Then he took his body to the river, and his heart failing him he could not. strike an- other blow, so he bound his hands and set noticed one large one had been taken from the pile on the river-bank,’”’ reading from a book. ; ‘You are certainly right about this,” Queen said, admiringly. ‘‘T believe I am; but I shall soon know. _ “ Now to see what else we can find.” They continued their search with the same thoroughness as before, and with caution having been disturbed. After both rooms had been gone over twice, taking several hours in the search, Nat went to the chimney and threw the light of the bull’s-eye lantern up it. ‘eyes ‘‘ Here, Sis, hold the lantern just so.” | She obeyed, and facing his way, regard- less of the soot, up the chimney, he found on above his head. one side an opening in the chimney, just i Thrusting his hand into it he felt a box ay, and drew it out. inches wide, while it was locked, | One of the’skeleton keys soon opened lite shining through crevices and being seen The paintings on the walls, clothing, foils, . him afloat on one of those planks, for we — «Nat, you read signs as though you were that nothing should have the appearance of | It was a tin box, a foot long and six iM oer tah ie
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4 } i 4 le _ “engraving upon it, a bundle of letters, a lady's ring, a gold watch and chain, diamond stud, diamond sleeve-buttons and a seal ring, with a morocco case containing some papers. New York Nat looked all over carefully, put them back in the box, and handed it to Olive with the remark: ee this in your bag and you keep it, is. “* We must get out now and return, home; but I wish you to see one of the boys to- morrow, calla special meeting for to-morrow night, and tell them we are on the right track, and three of them must watch this old mansion day and night, and, if the artist re- turns he must be shadowed and not be al- lowed to escape. “Tam going away, as you know, and you will have to see to it that the boys catch this man if he returns, for he it is who murdered Mr. Keene Mountjoy beyond all doubt, as we have the proof right in this box and those blood-spots on the floor, ‘“What money he got he took with him, and yet he intends to return, that is certain, from all we find here.” Having left everything as they found it, save the tin box and the photographs, they put out their lanterns, left the rooms and the mansion, and going back to their skit pulled rapidly back to the Herbert cottage. There New York Nat left his sister, and going to his room in Miser Max’s Haunted House, he was soon sleeping soundly, for there was work for him to do when he awoke. CHAPTER XXIII. THE YOUNG ARTIST. WAVELANDS, for generations the home of the Mountjoys, was situated upon arise of land covered with majestic trees, and com- manding an cxtensive view of the country and water scenery about it for many miles. The house was a large one, with broad piazzas, massive chimneys, and ornamented grounds surrounded it, with a small village half a mile away, which in ante bellum days was the home of the slaves. Several thousand acres of fields, meadows, orchards and woodlands were within view from the piazzas, and all had the air of being the home of refinement and wealth, With all prosperous without, within doors there was an air of luxury upon all. Far away to the northward was visible the spires of the little village where the steamer . landed, and along the road leading from it to Wavelands, a youth was walking one after- noon, his destination evidently being the fine old mansion. He had a large portfolio slung at his back, wore spectacles, dressed fairly well, and his head was covered by a slouch hat. He did not seem to dread the dogs that came toward him as he entered the yard about the mansion, and walked straight on while 4 young yirl came flying down the steps and called out: . **Oh, I was so frightened for the dogs are vicious, and no one ever comes on foot. ‘But you do not seem to mind dogs.” ‘Oh, no, they seldom are cross toward me after I speak to them, miss; but is this Wavelands?” ‘Yes. Will you come in?” ‘‘T wish to ask Mr, Mountjoy’s permis- sion to make some sketches, if he don't mind.” The girl’s face reddened, and she replied; ‘‘My uncle is away this afternoon, but I suppose would not object, for I am sure my poor papa would not.” “¢- Your father is not-here then, miss?” «Oh, no, we do not know where he is, for he disappeared most, mysteriously in New York two months ago; but my Uncle Mayne lives here with me now,’and he is the owner if papa is dead.” > ‘‘Tam sorry,” and the youth gazed upon the lovely face of the young girl with un- disguised admiration. ‘* Could you not let me make the sketches, miss, or have youa portrait you would like painted; in fact I would like to make one of you.” ‘‘T would not dare give you permission without uncle’s consent, but I should like to have one very much,” ‘Perhaps you would like one of your fa- ther?” ‘*Oh, so much!” she said, eagerly. ‘* Well, if you will give me a good photo- graph of him, I will make a portrait of him from it and send it to you,” ‘*My uncle is an artist, too, and he prom- ised to paint a portrait of my father for me; but I do not know when he will do so, as he is so busy all the time. ‘* Would you charge me very much, for if th didnot charge more than the money I 1ave saved up which papa gave me, I would have you paint it—I have just forty dollars,” ‘‘T will paint it for that, miss, and you need not pay me until you get the portrait, for I will send it to you direct, and then you can tell your uncle.” ‘You are so good, and I will let you paint it. ‘*Come into the house and see which photograph you like best, and don’t you wish some lunch?” The young artist said that he was not bun- gry, a strange condition to find a youth in, and went into the house with her. She showed him into the handsome parlor and went up to her room for the photo. graphs. The moment he was alone the young artist began to look eagerly about him, gazing at portraits on the wall, and then opening a large photograph album. In this he seemed to find something to tempt him to break the eighth commandment, for he hastily slipped several of the photo- graphs out and put them in his pocket. When pretty Ethel Mountjoy returned he was admiring a large painting on the wall. ‘‘ Here are three photographs, sir, and you will return them with the portrait, won’t you, for they are all that I have?” ‘‘T will return them promptly, miss, as soon as { have finished with them, and I thank you for the order. ‘*May I show you my portfolio?” Ethel was only too pleased to see it, and after half an hour the young artist took his leave, refusing her kind offer to send him to the village in a vehicle, and saying he would make his sketches of the place when he brought the portrait of her father. She walked with him to the. gate of the grounds about the house, and answered many of his questions, seemingly prompted by interest, or simple curiosity. On his way back to the village, and, when half a mile from it, he saw a carriage com- ing. “That is Mr. Mountjoy, from the young girl’s description of the carriage,” he mutter- ed, and holding up his hand to the coachman he brought him to a halt. Politely raising his slouch hat he said: ‘Are you Mr, Mountjoy, sir?” “Yes, my young friend?” “T took the liberty of calling at your house, sir, to ask if I might make some sketches some time of the fine views, for I am an itinerant artist?” ‘‘Then we have a bond of sympathy be- tween us, for I am an artist also, “Will you get in the carriage and returu with me?” “Thank you very much, sir, but I will call some other time with your permission.” “Always glad to see you—your name please?” “Nat Chandler, sir,” and bowing to Mayne Mountjoy New York Nat passed on, a grim smile upon his face. New York Nat’s Trump Card. cr ES LL LL 13 CHAPTER XXIV. THE RECOGNITION, Tuouen New York Nat, as the young itinerant artist, had told Ethel Mountjoy that he was not hungry, he would have surprised ker greatly had -she seen him eat a most sub- stantial supper upon his return to Landlord, Barclay’s hotel that evening. He had a long talk with the landlord, presented him with several of the sketches in his portfolio, and thus encouraged him to friendly conversation, in which the youth managed to pick up a great deal of informa- tion. At ten o’clock he had paid his bill and gone down to the wharf to catch the night. steamer up to Baltimore, telling the landlord that he would visit him again some time, as: he wished to make a few sketches of scenes. in the vicinity. The steamer arrived at an early hour in the morning in Baltimore, and New York Nat was up and caught the first train for New York City. When he arrived he took the Elevated Road: up-town and went at once to the Widow Herbert's cottage. “Oh, Nat, back so soon,” cried Olive who let him in. ‘Yes, I got through with my work sooner’ than I expected,” ‘«-You are just in time for dinner, and then you can tell me what you have accomplish- ‘Much depends upon you, Olive, but we: will talk it over after dinner.” Olive was anxious during dinner to know all, but New York Nat was perfectly cool and allowed Mrs, Herbert to help him several times to what best suited his taste. ‘When the meal was over he took his port- folio and little sachel, and, with Olive, walk- ed out to a favorite seat of theirs overlooking the Hudson. ‘*Now, Nat, what do you know?” said Olive eagerly. “T’ll tell you of my trip, and I enjoyed it greatly, for it’s a lovely sail down the bay, the vice where I landed is a very pretty one and the little hotel is first-class, ‘‘T pumped everybody in a quiet way and got a great deal of information. Then I went out to the little cemetery and saw the fine tomb Mr. Keene Bou erected over ‘his adopted father and te wife. : ‘‘Not far from it was a headstone to Mr. Mark Wilton, whom Mr. Mayne Mountjoy, the outcast, killed in a duel, ‘*T then walked along through a beautiful country out to Wavelands, and it is a grand old home | tell you, and Ethel Mountjoy is a. Desny just the kind of a girl I’d fall in love with. ‘Her uncle was away, but I played the artist racket on her, and, she showed me into the house, and as I was going to paint a por- trait of her father—you’ve got to do it, Sis, for I'm not up that fine in art, you know— she got me some photographs of Mr. Keene Monee: . ‘“ While she was out of the room I hit up- oran old album ond orn ne out of it several photographs which I will show you. i On oe way back I met Mr. Mayne: Mountjoy, und playing the artist dodge again had a talk with him.” ‘You played a bold hand right through, “‘-You bet I did, and to win, Queen. ‘Now, whose photograph is this?” He suddenly placed before her a photo- graph which Ethel Mountjoy had given him of her father. “Oh, Nat!” ‘* What?” “Tt is the photograph of the gentleman I took out of the river,” ‘* You are sure?” ‘* Perfectly.” ** And this one?”
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4; or = 4 FER: A ay PREP . ~ es fs ua as Saepeemenaee een ‘«The same face, only taken differently.” “* And this?” “* Ts also of the same person.” ‘**There is no mistake?” “* How can there be, for, was not his up- turned face staring into mine all the way as I p led ashore? ‘!' is indelibly stamped in my mind, Nat.” ‘*Then we have found that Mr. Mountjoy was the man you took from the river, beyond all doubt, and we know that he was attacked by the artist at the old home.” “eé Yes.’’ *‘Now, here is a photograph I took from ‘the album at Wavelands. ‘* Who is it, Olive?” “Why, Nat, it is a photograph of the beautiful lady whose portrait we saw in the artist’s room on an easel,” ‘* Yes, it is, and it isa photograph taken ears ago of Miss Ethel Alden, afterward frs. Keene Mountjoy, the lady” whom the outcast heir killed Mr Mark Wilton about.” *‘Nat, you are certainly gathering the threads together in a wonderful way.” ‘** The artist has this same photograph, one @ great deal worn, in his studio, and he painted the portrait from it. “One of his paintings is a view of Wave- lands from memory, and another of the little cemetery, bringing in the grave of Mark Wilton, while a third is of a river scene near the mansion, as I recognized when I saw them, and in a morbid way he seemed to wish ‘to portray them on canvas to have them con. ea before him, ow whose photograph is this, Olive?” She looked long at it, and responded slow- Mey have seen the face somewhere, but I cannot recall it.” “‘ And this one?” *‘Tt appears to be of the same-person, but under different circumstances,” ** And this one, Olive?” “Is of a boy, but the face has a resem- -blance to the others I have here.” ** Now here is a fourth?” ‘““Why it is like the painting we saw in tthe artist’s sudio, one we thought was of himself, from the descriptions you had of him.” ** Yes, Olive, these are all of the same per- son, and taken from twelve to twenty-two or three years of age, except the last one, which was taken some half-dozen years ago, and sent to Wavelands. “The artist made his painting from this ~ one, and all have the same resemblance, and are the artist himself.” CHAPTER XXV. NAT TYING THE KNOT. OLIVE, the Ferret Queen, sat considering the last words of her clever detective bro- ‘ther, and did not speak for some time. Then she asked: ** What do you make of all this, Nat?” “First. tell me if you called ‘the special meeting of the Bey Police?” “T did, ** And set the day and Ene watch on the artist’s home?” ** Yes, but nothing has been discovered . of him.” “Tam aware of that. “To-night 's the regular night for a meet- ing of the Vigilantes?” “ Yes, lat.” ; ‘Good! we will be there and I will have aimetind to oy OY importance.” And now, Na photographs?’ 2 ~ “Put your boy’s rig on, Olive, and go with me do wn to see Mr. Vanderlip, or rather follow me there, and you shall know. _ 4*Rig out as a messenger, and the butler ~will abewr you right in. ‘‘ 7 will go now.’ Just half an hour after, again = your opinion of all these . Nat.” @ fa York Nat’s Trump Card. as an artist, New York Nat was ushered into the library where Walter Vanderlip was found, reading as usual, and taking it easy in dressing- -gown and sli pers. He jumped to his feet ht Nat’s comiag in, greeted him warmly, and said: ‘Your quick return tells me that you have made some important discovery, Nat?” ““T have, sir; but the Queen will be here soon togged out as a district messenger boy, sir, and please tell your’ butler to admit her, and then, sir, pardon me for suggesting it, send your man off on an errand,” ‘“ Your word goes, Nat,” answered Walter Vanderlip, with asmile, and soon after Olive was admitted, with her uniform, cap and wig, looking the very picture of a handsome messenger boy. ‘You two have a way of disguising your- selves that is remarkable, for no one ~ would ever mistake you for a girl, Miss Olive. “Now, Nat, IT am all anxiety to“ know your story.” “Well, sir, we have found out that it was Mr. Keene Mountjoy that Olive rescued.” ** You are sure?” ‘What photograph is this, sir?” ‘** Keene Mountjoy’s among a thousand.” ‘‘Here are more of them, sir, and Olive recognized them at a glance.” ‘Poor Keene, and what has since been his fate?” ‘That is yet to be found out, sir. * But the man who got the cabman drunk was the artist known as Mark, and he was the one who took the nut off of the axle and caused the accident. ‘You told me that Mr, met by a beggar in that part of town, and gave him five dollars?” ** Yes, Nat.” cy Well, I believe the man was beggin for a purpose, recognized Mr. Mountjoy, an then plotted to kill him ‘‘He was the artist Mark, that is certain, and he was Mr. Mountjoy’s ‘guide after the accident. ‘*T have discovered that he was dealt a blow with a monkey-wrench, for I have the wrench, and it has a red stain upon the heavier end of it, and just such an instru- ment, Olive thinks, made the gash on Mr. Mountjoy’ s head. “The rope his hands were bound with I found a piece of where I found the wrench, and I have proof that the artist struck the blow and robbed him.” ‘ ** What proof, Nat?” ‘““The piece of match rope, the wrench, spot of a ry blood on the floor, and spots leadin g to the outer door of the artist's home.” ‘You have been there, then, as you in- tended?” . “ Yes, sir, and took Olive with me.”’ .* Ml did you get in?” ith my skeleton ke 8, sir, and I'll tell you all that we discovered. Nat then told of the two rooms and their contents, and added: “In a tin box, taken from the chimney, we found a dueling- pistol with a telltale in- scription on it. “Also a handsome watch and chain, dia- mond stud and sleeve-buttons, and a moroc- co case with some papers belonging to Mr. Keene Mountjoy, one of them a letter of ex- change on London for five thousand dollars, given by a Baltimore bank.” _ “And where are these things, Nat?” ueen, our treasurer, has them all, sir.” hen there is no doubt but that this artist murdered my tet Mountjoy?” “None whatever, “That Mountjoy was wd rj _Jeaves two a to be done, “* Yes, Mr. Vanderlip. atatas x. find Mount. that he is dead, an “T think, about acing the murderer. ro oy’s ‘ay. for I now feel ‘| to find his murderer.” sir, there will’ be rn trouble : * You expect him to return?” ‘© Oh, yes, sir, he will surely come back, and can then be bagged very quietly.” ‘““And you expect trouble about finding the body?” ‘‘Not exactly, sir; but we will begin work to-morrow on that track,” “Do you suspect Harvey Dunham?” ‘*No, sir, there is not a shadow of sus- picion against him, as will be seen when he is well enough to talk. “The only question is, what has he done with Mr. Mountjoy, dead or alive?” ‘“A most important question, indeed,” added Walter Vanderlip. CHAPTER XXVI. THE SKEIN UNRAVELED. WALTER VANDERLIP saw that New York Nat had still a secret he had not divulged, and Olive knew that such was the case, At last Walter Vanderlip said: “Come, Nat, out with it all, for you are keeping something back.” ‘*Tam, sir, for I did not know just how you would take it.” *«Don’t mind me. “Come, out with it all.” ‘‘ Well, sir, will you kindly telegraph for Mr: Mayne ] Mountjoy to come on?” ** Yes, for I think we have enough facts to call him on, and he may tell us about this artist, for, perhaps he knows of him, if his cousin was in ahyway acquainted with him,” ‘Simply wire him, sir, that you think the guilty party is found, and to come on for consultation,” ‘ All right, Nat, our messenger boy here will take the message when he leaves. ‘* Ask him to come direct to your house, sir, if you Please.” **T will.” ““ Now, Mr. Vanderlip, do you know this face?” ‘* No, Nat, I do not, but I have seen it.” ** And this one?” ‘*T think it is of the same person.” ** And this one, sir?” “They all have a certain familiar look, yet I do not recall who the person is,’ ‘‘Of whom do they remind you, sir?” ** Well, strange as it may appear, of Mr. Mountjoy.” ** Which one?” ‘* Mayne Mountjoy.” “They are his photographs, sir.” ‘“‘ Where did you get hem?” ‘From his cousin’s photograph album at Wavelands, sir, and Miss Ethel Mountjoy gave me those of her father. ‘«T went there as amartist, and passed mus- ter very well, accomplishing my purpose, for i got those photographs, had a talk with Mayne Mountjoy, heard lots of family his- tory, saw the grave of Mark Wilton, who was killed in the duel, and from the photos discovered who it was that Olive rescued.” ‘“You certainly have Scat ‘won: ders, Nat ” ‘“T have more to tell, sir.’ «© Well?” ‘“‘T have discovered who it was who was Mr, Mountjoy’s assailant. * “« The artist, yes.” ‘And more yet.” Ves? oy “| know who the artist is.” * What?” ‘He goes by the name of Artist Mark, sit, : and signs his name Mark Wilton.” ‘The same name as the man whom Mayne Mountjoy killed?” , ‘Yes, sir, and in that tin box which Olive _ has, is the dueling pistol that Mark Wilton — was killed with, and it has on it the ital ‘M. M.’ and the date of the duel.” mn ‘This is strange.” “There is an old bondle of clears ir the rns a peg by Ethel Alden, and of ‘S
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New York Nat’s Trump Card. 15 date prior to the ducl, and a ring bearing the initials ‘E. A.’” ** And what do you make of all this, Nat?” *“In the box also, sir, is a well worn photograph of Miss Alden as she then was, her name on the back, and a portrait of her, painted by the artist Mark Wilton, is on an easel in his room. ‘‘Other paintings are of Wavelands, one of the little burying {ground and of Mark Wilton’s grave, and scenes about Wave- lands.”’ Walter Vanderlip gave a low whistle as though some bright light was dawning upon him through New York Nat’s words. Continuing, Nat said: *“‘Now, Mr. Vanderlip, I have gone most thoroughly over this whole case. I have sifted it well, as Olive has, and I have come to what I believe is the right conclusion.” ** And that is that Mayne Mountjoy is the murderer of his cousin?” “Yes, sir, if Mr. Keene Mountjoy really is dead—which is yet to be proven. ‘*That this cousin hated him as the one who married the woman he loved, there is no doubt. The cousin was poor, living like an outcast, while the heir of Wavelands was rich and honored. ‘*He had led a wandering life, according to what he told Landlord Barclay of the village hotel—having been a soldier, miner and-at last gone to Europe and devoted him- self to art, for he had a great deal of talent. **He sold only paintings enough to live on, was a strange nature, bitter, morbid and lived alone. ‘*He met his cousin by accident, I sup- pose, and plotted to kill him and then claim the property, for he was the direct heir. ‘*He made the attempt, took the body to his home, robbed it, then carried it to the river and set it adrift. ‘* Next he disappeared, believing his work thoroughly dome, and turned up at Wave- lands as a rich man. ‘*Get him on here, Mr. Vanderlip, and [’ll lot to have you drive him up-town, the Boy olice will be on hand to halt your carriage, and we'll make Mayne Mountjoy a prisoner and the rest is easy.” ** And he will confess all, you think?” “No, sir; he is not of the confessing kind, for see how he came on here and talked all over with you and the chief, offered rewards and then went to Baltimore and took the daughter of the man he had murdered to her home, establishing himself as master, ‘When he could do so, he intended to re- appear as Mark the artist, pack up his traps and disappear from sight utterly, save as Mayne Mountjoy the millionaire. ‘Oh, he is a slick one, Mr. Vanderlip.” * And you are a slick one, Nat. Why, the chief will ask me to kick him when he dis- covers that his Unknown Shadowers have run down this case,” laughed Walter Van- derlip, and soon after his two visitors took their departure. CONCLUSION. Tat night the Boy Police held their se- cret meeting in the old Haunted House, and New York Nat yave them an. idea what his discoveries had resulted in establishing, He also told, them that he wished the whole force to go to work in the morning to find some clue as to what had become of the man rescued from the Hudson, and who he now told them was none other than Keene Mountjoy. Another order was. given to the Young Shadowers, to the eftect that six of the larger ones must report every night at dark in the neighborhood of the artist Mark's home, and have with them police uniforms to slip over their own clothes at a moment’s notice, and helmets as well. ; The League of Unknown Young Ferrets ‘was then dismissed, subject to a special call, mo Ne a Ee RS at a ee ee ne ae ee ee a ee ee SS EE SE ee eee if wanted, and Nat escorted Olive to her | might be tortured to make my friend appear home at the cottage. in a bad light, and eagecial as he married ‘‘Nat, there is one place we did not visit | the woman whom Mayne Mountjoy loved to see if Mr. Mountjoy had been left there | and killed Wilton as his rival. by Mr. Dunham,” said Olive as they reached ‘You shall have your way, though, tothe the gate. end, only the chief must know that again his ‘* Where is that, Sis?” Unknown Ferrets have outgeneraled him,” **Do you remember that there is a private And New York Nat did have his way, for hospital back from the river some distance, | his plot was carried out perfectly, by his established by old Mr, Dunham, and known | ally, Walter Vanderlip; und, wholly unsus- as the Dunham Sanitarium?” pecting trouble, Mayne Mountjoy found ‘*No, is there such a place?” himself a prisoner within a few yards of “There is, for I saw the sign over the! the old rookery where he had lived as Artist gate, and was foolish not to go there, for it | Mark. is just where Mr? Dunham would be most He was taken into his studio by New York likely to take Mountjoy, where he could | Nat, and shown that his guilt was known have every attention.” from beginning to end. ‘The iron wrench ‘Be up early, Olive, and Ill call for you | was shown him, the two pieces of rope, one to drive out there with me. I’ll come in time | piece taken to bind the hands.of his victim, for an early breakfast,” and Nat'seemed to | the tin box and its contents, and then Nat feel that Olive was on the right track now, said, turning upon him a face covered with The next morning bright and early the | a false beard, his Boy Police being similarly two were on their way to the Dunham Sani- | disguised: tarium. ‘Now, Mr. Mountjoy, confess what you It was a fine structure, a charitable be- | did with the body of your victim?” quest of old Mr. Dunham, and equipped ‘My dear sir, you are making a mistake with a good corps of surgeons and nurses, that you will rue, for in spite of circum. Driving up to the door Nat asked oneof | stantial evidence you have trumped up, I the attendants regarding Mr. Mountjoy, | am not the artist you accuse me of being, or and the reply was: the assailant of my cousin.” ‘We have a gentleman here whose name New York Nat Jaughéd, and the prisoner, we do not know. He was brought by Mr. | well ironed, was’ led back to the carriage Harvey Dunham the day of his accident, | and driven to the home of Walter Vander- and he said that he had traveled with him | lip. from Baltimore, but had not learned his There the chief of the Secret Service met name, but to take every care of him, him, and from Walter Vanderlip heard the “He was suffering from a fracture of the | whole story of the man’s guilt, and how, skull, and it was so serious we all thought it | step by step, the Unknown Shadowers, his would be fatal; but, an operation was per- | Dare-Devil Detectives, had fathomed the »rmed a few days ago by our chief surgeon, | mystery. and the patient’s mind is clearing so there is ‘*T will do as you ask, Mr. Vanderlip— every prospect of his rapid recovery now to | just cage him until his brother can be talked perfect health again, with,” said the chief, and that night the ‘‘ We did not report the affair, as we wish- | guilty man slept in a cell. ed to first consult Mr. Dunham, who I It was a week before Keene Mountjoy learn, this morning, is a great deal better.” | could talk over the whole affair with Walter Asked if they could seggthe gentleman, the | Vanderlip, and then he at once said: permission was granted,’ ‘‘T will not appear against him, on con- One glance was suflicient, for Olive said: | dition that he leaves this country never to ** There is no doubt now; that is the gen- | return, tleman I rescued.” **T will also place in safe hands for him ‘* His clothes bear the mark ‘K. M.’, and | enough money to give him an income suf- he was dripping wet when brought here by | ficient to support him in comfort.” Mr. Dunham,” the attendant said. | Upon these terms Mayne Mountjoy was Telling the one in charge that Mr, Mount- | glad to get off} and though the Secret Ser- joy’s friends would call and see to his wel- | vice chief was very loth to allow him to go fare, Nat and Olive drove rapidly back into | free, yet he released him, but had him under the city. That afternoon the young Shad- | guard until he had packed up his traps and ower captain called. upon Walter Vanderlip | taken the steamer for London, and told him what he had discovered. When he knew all that the Secret Shadow- ‘*Well, Nat, you have won both rewards, | ers had done for him, Keene Mountjo for you found the outcast heir, and you now ! wrote a check out for fifteen thousand dol- have found Keene Mountjoy. My word for | lars, which Walter Vanderlip deposited, to it, all that was promised by Mayne Mount- | draw interest for them until they saw fit to joy, his cousin will pay.” divide it with the other rewards banked to ‘* Have you heard from him, sir?” their credit. ‘‘ Yes; he wired me he would arrive at When Mr. Mountjoy returned to Wave- seven o’clock to-day.” lands, Ethel was matte happy at seeing him, ‘All right, sir. I have six of my big | and also by receiving a portrait of her loved boys, with uniforms along, who will be at | father with the compliments of the artist, the old mansion the artist occupied, The Secret Service chief in an interview “Tf you will tell Mr. Mountjoy to drive | with Walter Vanderlip, acknowledged that with you up to Lawyer Norris’s, I will act | his Unknown Ferrets were wonders, and as your coachman, and my Boy Police will,| added: halt us right by the mansion. “Someday, Vanderlip, I’ll turn shadower ‘«Then [ will get down from the box and | myself, just to solve the mystery of who cover Mr. Mountjoy, and with your aid, | those Dare-Devil Detectives are. make him a prisoner, only you need not be But, up to last accounts from New York known to my boys in the matter.” Nat he had not done so, and they still do ‘“‘T un@erstand, Nat, it is an excellent | secret service as the Unknown Shadlowers. plot.” THE END. ‘* When he is a prisoner, sir, I’ll drive you back to your home, where you can have the chief awaiting him, and it would be a good idea to suggest that no publicity be given to the arrest, until Mr. Keene Mountjoy is able to speak and say what his wishes are, for, as he was not killed, he may wish to take steps to avoid a trial, you know,” ‘*That isa wise head of yours, Nat, for, to prosecute a man whose fortune he has, ee eee ee ee eee NExtT Hatr-Dime Lisrary, No. 878! The Street Arab's Blind ; Scooping the Swindler Sharps. BY JO PIERCE.
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———_______ BY EDWARD L. WHEELER. Deadwood Dick Novels, 1 Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road. 20 Deadwood Dick's Detiance; or, Double Daggers. 28 Deadwood Dick in Disguise; or, Buffal, Ben 85 Deadwood Dick in His Castle. 42 Deadwood Dick’s Bonanza; o., The Phantom Miner, 49 Deadwood Dick in Danger; or, Omana Oll. * Deadwood Dick’s Eagles; or, ‘he Pards of Flood Bar. 78 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or. Calamity ¢ ine, the Heroine 77 Deadwood Dick’s Last Acts or, Corduroy Charlie. 100 Deadwood Dick in Leadville, 104 Deadwood Dick's Device; or, ‘the Double Cross Sign. 169 Deadwood Dick aa Detective. 129 Deadwood Dick’s Double; or, The Gorgon’s Guich Ghost. 188 Deadwood Dick’s Home Base; or, Blonde Bill. 149 Deadwood Dick’s Big Strike; or, A Game of Gold. 156 Deadweod Dick of Deadwood: or, The Picked Party. 195 Deadwood Dick’s Dreamy; or, The Rivuls of the Road. 201 Deadwood Bick’s Ward; or, The Black Hill’s Jezebel. 205 Deadweed Dick’« Doom: or, Calamity Jane's Adventure. 217 Deadwood Dick’s Pead Deal. 22t Deadwood Dick’s Death-Plant. 282 Gold-Dust Dick. A Romance of Rough« and Toughs, 268 Deadwood Dick’s Divides or, The Spirit of Swamp Lake. B68 Deadwood Dick's Death Trail $09 Deadwood Dick’s Deal; or, The Gold Brick of Oregon. 821 Deadwood Dick’s Dozen; or, The Fakir of Phantom Flate 847 Deadwood Dick's Ducats; or, Days in the Diggings. 851 Deadwood Dick Sentenced; or, ‘Ihe Terrible Vendetta, & Jeadwood Dick’sa Claim, 405 Deadwood Dick in Dead City. 410 Deadwood Dick’« Diamonds. 421 Deadwood Dick in New York; or, A “Cute Case.” 420 Deadwood Bick’s Duat; or, The Chained Hand. 445 Deadwood Dick, Jr.3 or, The Crimson Crescent Sign. 448 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Defiance. 458 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’a Full Hand. 459 Deadwood Bick, Jr.’a, Bie Round-Up. 465 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Racket at Claim 10. 471 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’«, Corral; or, Bozeman Bill. 476 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Dog Detective. 481 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Deadwood. 491 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’«, Compact, 496 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Inheritance, &OO Deadwood Dick, drs, Di nga. 608 Deadwood Dick, Jr.'s, Dell verance, 515 Deadwood Dick, Jr.'s, Protegee. S22 Deadwood Dick, Jr.'s, Three. 529 Deadwood Dick, Jr.'s, Danger Ducka. 584 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Death Hunt, 539 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Texas. 544 Deadwood Dick, Jr., the Wild West Vidocg 549 Deadwooa Dick, dr., on Hina Mettle, 554 Deadwood Dick, Jr., In Gotham, 561 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Boston, 567 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Philadetphia. 572 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Chicago. 578 Deadwood Dick. Jr., Afloat. 584 Deadwood Dick, Jr., In Denver. 590 Deadwood Dick. Jr.a, Decree, ' 595 Deadwood Dick Jr., in Beclzebub’s Basin, ) 600 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at Coney Island, ‘ 606 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Leadville Lay. G12 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Detroit, 6185 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Cincinuatl. G24 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Nevada. 680 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in No Man’sa Land, 686 Deadwood Dick, Jr., After the Queer. 642 Peadwood Dick. Jr., in Buffalo, 648 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’a, Chase Across the Continent 654 Deadwood Dick, Jr., Among the Smugglers. 660 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Inauronce Case, 666 Deadwood Dick, Jr., Rack in the Mines, 672 Deadwood Dick, Jr., ta Durango or, “ Gathered In.” 678 Deadwood Dick, Jr.'s, Discovery; or, Found u Fortune. 684 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s. Dazzle. 690 Deadwood Diek, Jr.’s. Dollars. 695 Deadwood Jr., at Danger Divide. TOO Deadwood Pick, Jr.'s, Drop. TO4 Deadwoed Dick, Jr., at Jack-Pot, 710 Deadwood Dick Jr., in San Francisco. 716 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Still Hunt. 722 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Dominoes, 728 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’a, Disgulae. 84 Deadwood Dick, Jr.'s, Double Deal 40 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Deathwatch. T47 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’*, Doublet. TH2 Deadwood Vick, Jr.’«, Deathblow. TSS Deadwood Dick, Jr.’«, Desperate Strait, 764 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Lone Hand, TTO Deadwood Dick, Jr.'s, Defeat. 776 Deadwood Diek, Jr.’s, Rosurreetion., 783 Deadwood Dick, Jr.'s, Dark Days, TST Deadwood Dick, Jr., Defied. ZT92 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’a, Double Device. 97 Deadwood Dick, Jr’.«, Desperate Venture, b+ 4 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Diamond Dice. Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Royal Flush. 12 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Hend-off, 16 Deadwood Diek, Jr.’«, Rival. 22 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Boom. 28 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’«, Scoop. B84 Deadwoed Dick, Jr.'s, tien g 840 Dendwood Dick, Jr.’a, Clutch. 845 Dendwood Dick, Jr.'s, High Horse. 852 Deadwood Dick Jr., at Devil’s Gulch. 858 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’4, Death-Hole Hustle.” 868 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s Bombshell. BY WM. G. PATTEN, 629 Violet Vane, the Velvet Sport: or, The Jubilee ot Jacktown, 66% Violet Vane’s Vietory; or, The Jasper City Clean Out, 698 Violet and Datay, the Posy Pards. yee Violet’ Vane’s Vows; or, The Craity Detective’s Cratt, 24 Violet Vane’« Vengeance; or, The Wipe-Out. 780 Violet Vane’a Verdiet; or, The Game at Coffin City. Z41 Violet Vane, the Ventriloquist Vidoeq; or, Sport ve. Sport, 750 Violet Vane, the Vanquished. or, The Life Strugg'e. 768 Violet Vane’s Viaton; or, The Fiery Hand of Fate, 485” The tiamond Sport: or, The Double Face of Bed Rock, 519 Captain ma yatery’s or, Five in One. 681 Dais> ware the Sport from Denver. 6ST Old Hombshell, the Ranger Detective. 604 Iron Fern, the Man of Fire; or, Among the Vultures. 619 The Boy Tramp Detectives or, The Doubie Grip Witness 641 Diamal Mave’s andy Pard; or, The Clue to Capt. Claw 651 Bound Boy Frank, the Young Amateur Detective 682 Wild Vulcan, the Lone-Range Rider, 714 Old Misery the Man from Missouri. 774 Clear-Grit Cal, the Never-Say-Die Detective, 789 Sam ShePidan, the Secret Service Special, 806 Cowboy Steve the Ranch Mascot, 820 Nobby Nat, the Tenderfoot Detective, 886 Sharper Stoke’s Double Deal. 857 Spotter Bob in New Vork, 866 potter Bob’s Bowery Racket. Aah, 9 eat Nahi Ye aot — 7 Published Every Tuesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the REY ener Seo Meer as Meet Ces READLE’S* H ALF- DIME+ | IBRARY. Other Novela by E. L. Wheeler. 8@ Rosebud Rob; or, Nugget Ned, the Knight. 84 Rosebud Rob on Mand; or, [dy], the Girl Miner, 8S Rosebud Rob's Reappearance; or, Photograph Phil. 121 Rosebud Rob’s Challenge; or, Cinnamon Chip. 277 Denver Doll, the Detective Queen; or, The Yaukee’s Surround 281 Denver Doll’« Victory; or, Skul! and Crossbones, 255 Denver Doll's Decoy ; or. Littie Bill’s Bonanza. 296 Denver Doil’s Drift; or. The Road Queen. BES Yreku Jim. the told-uiherers or, The Life Lottery, 872 Yreka dim’s Prize; or, The Wolves of Wake-Up. j 885 Yreka Jim’s Joker} or, The Rivals of Red Nose. BS9 Yreka Jim’s New Kole; or, Bicycle Ken. 894 Yreka Jim of Yuba Dam, ZOU” Fritz, the Bound-Boy Detective: or, Dot Leetle Game, 218 Fritz to the Front; or, The Ventriloquist Hunter 244 Slerra Sam, the Frontier Ferret;or, A Sister's Devotion, 2445 Sierra Sum Sceret; or, The Bloody Footprints. 255 Sierra Suana’s Pards or, The Ange! of Big Vista, 2558 Sicrra Sam's Sevens or, The Stolen Bride. 684 Kangarov Kit; or, The Mysterious Miner. 89 Kangaroo Kit’*s Racket; or, The Pride of Played-Out, $9 Death-Fuce, Detective; or, Life in New York. 69 The Boy Detective; or, Guid Rifle, the Sharpehooter. 96 Watch-Eye, the Detective; or, Ar be and Angels. 117 Gilt-Edged Diek, the Sp rt Detective 145 Cuptuin Ferret, the New York Detective. 16! New York Nell, the Boy-Girl Detective. 226 The Arab Detective ¢ or, Snoozer, the Boy Sharp. 291 Turk the Boy Ferret. B25 Kelley, Hickey & Co., the Detertives of Philadelphia. 848 Manhattan Mike, the Bowery Detective. 400 Wrinkles, the Night-Watch Detective. 416 High Hat Harry, the Base Ball Detective. 426 Sam Slabaidea, the Beggar-Boy Detective. 484 Jim Beak and Pal, Private Detectives, 26 Cloven Hoof, the Buffalo Demon: or, The Border Vultures, 82 Bob Woolf; or, The Girl Dead-Shot. 45 Old Avalanche; or, Wild Edna, the Girl Brigand. 58 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., the Boy Phenix. 61 Buckhorn BIDl3 or, The Red Rifle Team 92 Canada Chet; or, Old Anaconda in Sitting Bull’s Camp. 118 Jack Hoyle the Young Speculator. 125 Bonanza Bill, Miner; or, Madam Mystery, the Forger. 188 Bosa ob the King of Boothlacks, 141 Solid Sam, the Boy Road-Agent; or, The Branded Brows, 177 Nobby Nick of Nevaday or, The Sierras Scampa. 181 Wild Frank the Buckskin Bravo; or, Lady Lily’s Love. 286 Apollo Bill, the Trail Tornado; or, Rowdy Kate. 240 Cyclone Kit, the Young Gladiator; or, The Locked Valley. 278 Jumbo Joe, the Boy Patrol: or, The Rieal Heirs. 299 A No. 1, the Dashing Toll-Taker,. 808 ’Liza Jane, the Girl Miner; or. the Iron-Nerved Sport. B80 Little 9 “k-Shots or, The Dead Face of Daggersville, 858 First-Class Fred, the Gent from Gopher, 878 Nabob Neds or, The S-cret of Slab City. 882 Cool Kit, the Kirg of Kids; or, A Villain'’s Vengeance, 488 Santa Fe Sal, the Slasher; or, A Son’s Vengeance. 486 Sealskin Saw, the Sparkier; or The Tribunal of Ten, BY LIEUT. A. K, SIMS. 589 Tom-Cat and Pardy; or, The Dead Set at Silver City. 622 Tom-Cat’s Triad; or, The Affuir at Tombstone, 681 Tom Cat’s Terrible Task; or, The Cowboy Detective. 688 Tom-Cat’s Triumph; or, Bleck Dan’s Great Combine 5646 Captain Cactus, the Chaparral Cock; or, Josh’s Ten Strike 568 The Dandy of Dodge; or, Rustling for Millions, 576 The Silver Sporty; or, Josh Pepper inint’s Jubilee, 588 Saffron Sol, the Man With a Shadow 601 Happy Hana, the Date tarea or, Hot Times at Round-Up 611 Bildad Barnacle, the Detective Hercules. 646 Cowboy Gid, the Cattle-Range Detective. 657 Warbling William, the Mountain Mountebank, 665 Jolly Jeremiahys the Plains Detective, e 676 Signal Sam, the Lookout Scout. 689 Billy, the Gyps Spy: or, The Myatery of Two Lives, 699 Riraple Sim, the Broncho Buster; or, For Ble Stakes. 712 The Meamertat Sport; or, The Mystified Detective. 788 Toltec Tom, the Mad Prospector, ’ 745 Kansas Jim, the Crose-Cut Detective, 761 Marmaduke, the Mvetanger Detective, 778 The Ruatler of Rolling Stone, 735 Lone Hand Joe, the Committee of One. 801 Kent\Kirby, the Hieh-Kicker from Killbuck, 882 The Doctor Detective in Texan. BY J. ©, COWDRIOK, Broadway Billy Novels, 868 Broadway Billy Shadows London Slums, 490 Broadway Billy, the Bootbiack Bravo. 514 Broadway Billy’« Boodle; or, Clearing aStrange Case 586 Broadway Billy’s_ ‘Diftikilty.” 557 Broadway Billy’s Peath Racket. Bre roadway Billy’s Surprise Party. 605"Rroadway Billy; or, The Boy Detective’s Big Inning. G28 Broadway Billy’s Dead Act: or, The League of Seven. 669 Broadway Billy Abroady; or, The Bootblack in Frisco. 675 Broadway Billy’« Best; or, Beating San Francisco's Finest. 687 Broadway Billy in Clover. 696 Rrokdway Billy tn. Texas; or, The River Rustlers, 708 Broadway Billy’s Brand, 711 Broadway Billy at Santa Fe; or, The Clever Deal. 720 Broadway Rilly’s Full Hand; or, The Gamin Detective, 785 Broadway Billy’« Business, 78S Broadway Billy’s Curious Case. 758 Broadway Billy tn Denver. 762 Broadway Billy’s Bargain; or, The Three Detectives, 769 Broadway Billy, the Retriever Detective. 775 Broadway Billy’s Shadow Chase. 788 Broadway Billy’s Beagles; or, The Trio’s Quest. 786 Broadway Billy’s Team; or, The Combine’s Big Pull. 790 Broadway Billy’s Brigade; or, The Dead Alive. 796 Broadway Billy’s Queer Bequest, 800 Broadway Billy Baffled, 805 Broadway Billy’« Spel Scoop. 810 Broadway Billy’ Wipe Out, 815 Broadway Billy’« Bank Racket. 821 Broadway Billy’s Bluff. 826 Broadway Billy Among Jersey Thugs. 888 Broadway Billy’s Raid. 889 Broadway Billy's Big Boom, 844 Broadway Billy's Big Bulge. * $49 Broadway Billy’« #100,000 Snap. 856 Broadway Billy’s« Blind: or, The Bootblack Stowaway, S62 Broadway Billy in London. 860 Rilver-Mask, the Man of Mystery; or, The Golden Keys. 869 Shaata, the Gold King; or, For Seven Yeara Dead, 420 The Detective’s Apprentice; or, A Boy Without s Name, 424 Cibuta Jonny; or, Red-Hot Times at Ante Bar, 9 Sandy Sam, the Street Scout, 467 Disco Dan, the Daisy Dude. 06 edlight Ralph the Prince of the Road. 524 The Engineer Detective; or, Redlight Ralph’s Resolve Mart, the Night Express Detective, 671 Alr-Line Luke the Young Engineer: or, The Double Case 59 ie Boy Pinkerton; or, Running the Rascala Out, 615 Fighting Harry the Chief of Chained Cyclone, Bareback Beth, the Centanr of the Circle. 647 Typewriter Tilly, the Merchant’s Ward. 659 Moonlight Morgan the Pizenest ’ Man of Ante Bas. J ‘ + ee / Uniform Price of Five Cents, by all Newsdealers.. SE ee ee Eee BY COLONEL PRENTISS INGRAHAM, 865 New York Nuat’« Masked Mascot, 859 New York Nat, the Gamin Detective. 858 Dick Doom’s Kidnapper Knock-Out, S47 Dick Doom’s Ten Strike. 842 Dick Doom’s Flush Hand. 72 Dick Doom’s Death-Grip; or, The Detective by Destiny. 77 Dick Doom’s Destiny; or, The River Blackleg’s Terror. 84 Dick Doom; or, Ibe Sharps and Sharks of New York. 88 Dick Doom in Bosatony or, A Man of Many Masks. 98 Dick Doom tn Chicago. 798 Dick Doom in the Wild Weat. 808 Dick Doom’s Clean Sweep; or, Five Links in s Clue. 808 Dick Doom’s Death Clue. S18 Dick Doom’s Diamond Deal, $19 Dick Doom’s Girl Mascot. S29 Dick Doom’s Shadow Hunt. 8835 Dick Doom’s Big Heul. 749 Pashing Charlie: or, The Kentucky Tenderfoot’s Firet Trali. 756 Dashing Charlic’s Destiny; or, The Renegade’s Captive, 760 Dashing Charlie’ Pawnee Pard. T66 Dashing Charlfe, the Rescuer. 497 Buck Taylor, King of the Cowboys. T87 Buck Taylor, the ¢ omanche'’s Captive. 748 Buck Taylor's Boys: or, The Red Risers of the Rio Grande, 560 Pawnee Bill, the Prairie Shadower. 718 Pawnee Bill: er, Carl, the Mad Cowboy. 719 Pawnee Bill's Pledge; or, The Cowboy's Doom. 725 Pawnee Bill; or, Daring Dick. G92 Redfern’s Curious Cane; o1, The Rival Sharps. 697 Redfern at Devil’s Ranch; or, The Sharp from Texas, T0O2Z Redfern’s High Mand; or, Blue Jacket. TOT Redfern’a Last Trail; or, The Red Sombrero Rangers, 668 Red Ralph’s Ruse; or, The Buccaneet Miushipman, 674 Red Ralph’s Bold Game; or, The Wizard Sailor, 679 Red Ralphs the Shadower, or, The Freedooter’s Legacys. 644 Butterfly Billy’s Disguise, i 650 Butterfly Billy, the Pony IF xpreas Rider. 656 Butterfly Billy’s Man Hunt, 662 Butterfly Billy’s Bonanza, 565 Kent Kingdon; 0+, ‘Ihe Owls of the Overland. 570 Kent Kinudon’a Shadower; or. the Card Queen, 575 Kent Kingdon’s Duels <r, The Surgeon Scout, 586 Kent Kingdon’« Doom; or, The Buckskin Avenger. 545 Lafitte Run Downy; or, The Ruwaneers of Barrataria, 550 Lafitte’s Legacy: or. The Avenging Son. 555 Lafitte’s Confessions or, The Creole Corsair. 5620 Buckskin BIL, the Comanche Shadow. 525 The Buckskin Brothers In Texas, 580 The Buckski» Bowers; or The Cowboy Pirates, 585 The Buckskin Rovers: or, The Prairie Fugitive. 640 The Buckskin Pardes’ Quest: or, Captuin Ku-Klax, 508 The Royal Middy ; or, The Shark and the Sea Cat. 507 The Royal Middy’s Luck; or, The Hunted Midshipmas, 611 The Royal Middy’s« Foe, 450 Wizard WIll: or, The Boy Ferret or New York, 454 Wizard Will’« Street Scouta. ’ 474 Wizard Wills Pard; or, Flcra, the Flower Girl, 488 Wizard Will's Last Coxe; or, The Ferrets Afloat. 429 Duncan Dare, the Boy Refugee. 488 Duncan Dare’s Plot; or, A Cabin Boy’s Luck. 487 Duncan Vrere’s Prize; or, The Sea Raider. 441 Duncan Duare’s Secret: or, The Ocean Firefly, 402 Iandor, the Young Conspirator; or, The Fatal League, 407 Ixodor’s Double Chase; or, The Boy Insurgent. 412 Ixodor’s War-Cloud Cruise; or, The Wild Yachteman. 216 Rison BRI. the Prince of the Reina. ) 222 Bison Rill’a Clue; or. Grit, the Brav® Sport. 804 Dead Shot Dandy’s Dilemma, 808 Dend Shot Vandy’s Double; or, Keno Kit. 814 Dead Shot Dandy’s Defiance or, The Boy Bugler, 607 Dead Shot Dandy’s Chicfs or, The River Detective. 245 Merle Monte’s Teap for Life. 250 Merle Monte’« Mutiny ¢ or, Brandt, the Buccaneer, 264 Merle Monte’« Treasure Island, 26° Merle Monte the Condemned. 276 Merle Monte’« Cruise: or," The Gold Ship” Chase, 280 Merle Monte’s Fate; or. The Pirate’s Pride. 284 Merle Monte’s Pledge: or. The Sea Marauder. 197 The Kid Glove Sport; or. Little Grit, the Wild Rider, 204 The Kid Glove Sport’« Doom; or, Buffalo Bill, the Pony Ex: rese Rider. 867 Dead Shot Ralph’« Drop. 82h Marlo, the Cowboy Coaster, TBL Ruth Redmond, the Gir) Shadowen 6R6 Orlando, the Ocean Free Flag. 617 Ralph, the Dead-Shot Scout, 602 The Vagabond ofthe Mines, 5Y7 The Texan Detective; or, The Black Bravos, 591 Delmonte, the Young Sea Rover; or, The Avenging Sailor, 5680 The Outcast Tenet or, The False Detective, 495 Arizona Joe; or, The Boy Pard of Texas Jack. 487 Nevada Ned, the Revolver Ranger 468 Neptune Ned, the Koy Coaster; or, Pirate in Spite. 462 The Sailor Boy Wanderer; or. The Born Guide, 446 Waphazard Harry : or, The Sea! Scapegrace. 898 The Red Clasped Wands; or, The Boy Lieutenant. 887 Warpath WILL, the Traitor Guide. 888 The Indian Pilot; or, The Search for Pirate Island. 877 Ronodel, the Buy Rovers or, The Fixgless Schooner, 287 Billy Blue-Fyes, of the Rio Grande. 287 Lone Star, the Cowboy Captain. 229 Crimson Kate, the Girl Trailer; or, The Cowboy’s Triumph, 116 The Muxsar Captain: or, The Hermit of Hell Gate. 111 The Sea-Devtl ¢ or, The Midshipman’s Legacy. 102 Dick Dead-Eye, the Smuggier , or, The Cruise of the Vixen. 75 The Boy Puelsats or, The Cruise of the Sea-Woll, 62 The Shadow Ship; or, The Rival Lieutenants. 24 Diamond Dirk; or, The Mystery of the Yellowstone, 17 Ralph Roy, the Boy Buccaneer; or. The Fugitive Yacht, % The Flying Yankees or, The Ocean Outcast, LATEST AND NEW ISSUES. 870 Deadwood Dick, Jr., In Mexico: or, The Gir! Prisoner of the Madhouse. Ry Edward L., Wheeler. 871 New York Nat and the Grave Ghouls; or, The * Unknown Ferret’s Arizona Ally, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 872 Two Showmen Detectives in Colorado; or, Pete Parmelee, the Vig bond Tramp. By Lieut. A, K. Sims, 878 Deck-Hawk Roy’s Big Scoop; or, The Sea Rover's Protege. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 874 Broadway Billy’s French Game: or, The Miner Mil- lionaire Among the Sharper’ of Paris. By J. C. Cowdrick. 875 Detective Dave’a Close Cally or, Farrel Fox, the Man of Many Faces, By Dan Dunning, (ol the Secret Serviee Corps.? 876 Deadwood Dick, Jr's, Decoy Duck; or, The Cowboy Chief's Tenderfoot-Tangle. By Fav ard L, Wheeler. 877 New York Nat’ Trump Crrd;z or, The Dare Devil Detetive’s Draw. By Col. Prentis Ingraham. 878 The Street Arab’s Blind; or, Scooping the Swindler Scamps, By Jo Pierce, A New lesue Every Tuesday. The Half-Dime Library is for sale by all newades.ern, five: Gents per copy, or sent by mati on receipt of six cents each. (BEADLE AND ADAMS, Pablishere, 98 William Street, New York, Cred