Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 96) (1879 05 27)
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iy Hn 1a = Whe “ =, > tt ES Pr ae es ee a FE leet ecm poll ll tlt ttt. i er Tae 82.50 a year. Copyrighted in 1879 by BEADLE AND ADAMS. " : May 27, 1879. Single PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Price, Vol. IV. Number. No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents. No. 96. BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, AUTHOR OF “‘ DEADWOOD DICK” NOVELS, ‘“‘ ROSEBUD ROB” NOVELS, ‘‘ DEATH-FACE, DETECTIVE,” ETC, = = — ne cy) Wii py pc ~~ q " Hh SS ase (lh Se aTOGRARH ea “Pi Il. AND CHARACTER ILLUSTRATIONS FROM HIS WORKS.
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Cm) so = eee Watch-Eye Waitc’-Eye, the Shadow; Arabs and Angels of a Great City. LY EDWARD L. WHEELER, wITHOR OF ‘‘ DEADWOOD DICK” NOVELS, ‘* ROSEBUD ROB ’’ NOVELS, ‘' DEATH-FACE, DETECTIVE,” ETC. CHAPTER I. EIGHTEEN YEARS PREVIOUS, Upon one of the main streets of the city of Balti-. more, stood a one-story frame building, painted reddish-brown, and not bearing a very cheerful ap- pearance. It was evidently a place of business, for a creaking sign swayed to and fro above the door, bearing tie intelligence that this was the residence, or atleast, the office, of ** Silas Pry, Broker.” A step within the office revealed asmall contracted room, meagerly furnished with wooden-bottomed | chairs and a desk and table. The windows were dusty and ornamented with an ave age crop of cob- webs, and the floor did not look as if it had been scrubbed for a century. Altogether, it was a disreputable looking den to ornament beautiful Baltimore. One day in May, 185—, a man sat in this office, turning over the pages of a large ledger, a thought- ful expression upon his knitted brows. He was not an old man—indeed, but thirty gears had passed over his head; yet there were wrinkles about his face and a.crafty glitter to his steely eyes. His attive was very common—few would have thought him above the humbler paths in life. Yet, there were those who regarded Silas Pry as one of the pillars of Baltimore finances. A man, he was, with plenty of money, esteemed by all as honest and fair in all his dealings; a man who had a finger in the city government, and whom everybody called sharp and shrewd. Silas Pry had come to Baltimore when no one knew it, cvidently, and had e tablished himself, withcut attracting notice; no one knew what were his antecedents. He might be the veriest scoundrel in the world—nobody took pains to in- quire into his case, In his little dingy office he sat, day in, and day out, and ‘‘shaved’’ money and let money upon security, dealing equally hard and grasping with the widow or the millionaire. It mattered not to him whom he smote, or whose mouths he wrested the bread from, by his exorbitant interest and merciless “ shave.” As he sat poring over his accounts, to-day, he wore an anxious expression of countenance, and occasionelly ran his fingers through his wiry hair, or over his smoothly-shaven face. **No use,’’ he muttered, closing the book, at last, and lighting his common clay pipe, ‘I shall let no more money without a bigger premium, and better | security. 1 cannot live on it. “here is Franzbingen, of Charleston, hitherto esteemed a millionaire—he has fled the country, with two thousand dollars of my money in his pos- session, and what have Ito show for it? Nothing— only a bit of worthless paper called a note. And, come to find out, his brother owns all of the real es- 9a and personal property, and—Silas Pry, you're Mt! The money-lender bit his lips savagely, as he con- cluieLhi meditative s nn hy But he was speedily aroused by a knocking at his docr, in » peremptory manner, Laying down his pen, he went to answer the summons. A young man, of about his own age, stepped with- in the office as he opened the door—a stalwart, hand- somo fellow, of dashing appearance, with a fair face, light wling hair and blonde mustache—a man whose very move was grace and ease, attired in the hight of fashion, and earing the refinement of a higher station in life than that allotted to Silas Pry. nto th office strode this individual, and dropped into a chair, as if exhausted from long. exertion; while Silas Pry turned upon him, after closing the door, with a frown. “Well, Gerald Tracy, what do you want?” It was in a peremptory manner that this demand was made, as the money-lender confronted bis dash- oe eon with an ugly glitter in his crafty eyes. erald Tracy started, as if the harshness of Pry’s voice grated upon his senses unpleasant] iv. “You need not speak so pointedly,”’ he replied, evenly. “My coming to you, Silas Pry, is not so often that you need regard me as troublesome.” “Yet Ido,” the m ney-lender replied, eg nh “You and I[ were never first-class friends, I flatter m . You were the son of old Richard Trocy, as rich a man as ever Maryland reared. I was the son of acart-driver. Yo \-re received into society and idolized, because o ~our wealth, while I was kicked out and igncred, because I was poor. That was the sole diffe. ence between us.” “Well, allowing ¢ . that, what offense have I com- mitted that Is) ould incur your enmity, Silas?” “Ho! ho! you don’t know that you have done aught to incur my enmity. eh? How forgetful you to be sure, ou did not wed the woman, then, whom J held dearest of all things on earth?” T smiled good-naturedly, as he stroked his ae londe mustache, ell, yes, I did win Marion Lee for my wife, but it was not my money that did it,” he replied, shrug- ging his shoulders. “Perhaps it was your beauty,” Pry said,/with an undiszuised sneer. ** Perhaps,” Tracy replied. ‘‘ Anyhow, we loved ach other truly—always shall, for that matter. | | to the cheek of any me to you?’ “Tam, undeniably,” Silas Pry replied, drumming upon the table. “Then you shall know. Iam in trouble, old fel- low—in such trouble as I never dreamed of getting in. Jmprisonment and social disgrace stare me in the face, and I have come to you for money.” sh bs vu come to me for money, Gerald Tracy— you al ts ys even so! Iam penniless, and even more—a thief / Listen, and you shall know all, and even though we were never friends,if you are half the man | believe you to be, you will assist me out of my scrape. You have money—though the Lord only knows how youcame by it, and you must help me! Do you hear—you must help me, I tell you.” Silas Pry bowed, calmly. “*Goon,"’ he said. ‘I will listen to what you have to say, and eet gas “You will?’ Tracy exclaimed, joyfully. “Then God bless you, for you are more human than I gave you credit for being. Here is my story—a story which ought to cause a blush of shame to rise man, As you may have heard, we have been living fast over in Washington. Style was requisite to keep us in social standing, and style we have adhered to, firmly. It was not so much my wife’s fault as I taught her to be proud, for I como of blood that brooks no equality, you to know that the three thousand a year revenue have received from tho old plantation, made but a small figure in keeping up the expenses, and the three thousand additional which I received for my cleckship in the bank went like chaff before the — saw it go—saw that something must be done, Either Imust have more money, to pay off the many debts contracted, or my wife and IT must bid farewell to Washington and Washington society. This I could not bear to think of, and soI surrep- titiously_ borrowed fifty thousand dollars from the Bank, in the dead of one night. You have no doubt heard of the bank robbery, asI find that re- orts are circulating rapidly, although efforts are eing made among the directors to hush the matter up. * And you—?” interrogated . “Have been accused of the appropriation. 1 have one chance to save public disgrace and impris- onment.”’ **And what is that chance?”’ “The directors offer to let me go, scot free, and hush the affair up, providing I return every penny I have stolen from them, and leave the country for five years.” * And you accept?” “Tf I can get the money, yes.” “* And you intend to leave the country, after hav- ing paid them off?” “Certainly. By so doing Ican in five years re- turn, my crime unknown, and none to taunt me of it, an honest man among my fellows.” “And what would you do with vour wife during all these years?” “* Leave her in Washington. She will never know what has become of me until I return, rich enough, I hope, to settle all my indebtedness, and begin life anew. My Marion isnot afraid to work, and can sup- tt herself by her needle, as she did before I wed- ed her. Though her pride must have fall, it is bad po. a “You have Riverdale, yet,” Silas Pry suggested, seponing his head, ‘ How much do you vale that a “T have refused seventy-five thousand dollars for it, because I promised my father upon his deathbed never to part with the plantation. It is one of the best in the State.” “Well, I have heard you through, What more do you want?” Silas Pry demanded. ‘You seem to be under a cloud, despite the fact that you have always carried your head so high.’” “Do you mean to taunt me?’’ Gerald Tracy de- manded, his eyes flashing. ist “ Certainly not,” Pry ten to Marion, 80 everything is complete except—” ““My God, why was TI ever so long in the dark as to this?’ Tracy murmured, as if he had {crgotten “Why could I not avaken in time to steer out from these accursed bieakers, of which I have now run afoul? Poor Marion! it wilt be a bitter blow to her, when ghe learns: JJ. But there is no other alternative. God knows I wish there was. I must accept the terms of this inhuman land-shark, and break my promise to my dyin father. For the time is growing short. Inside o an hour, I must place the money in the detective’s. hands, or go to jail and suffer disgrace and imprison- ment. No! no! not that, by Heaven! I'll commit murder before I go to jail. Let me see. A train leaves for the West to Pike’s Peak and Denver this and there I shall go, I have already writ- “Signing the mortgage!’ Silas Pry finished, eagerly, laying aside his pen, for he had been writ- ing rapidly during tho latter part of Tracy’s solil- | oquy. he Washingtonian looked up with a start, and gazed keenly at the money-leuder, ‘Why is it that you are so eager?” he demanded, suspiciously. ‘‘Perhaps you expect to have River- dale for your own? But you will be mistakcn. In- side of twenty years—aye, nineteen years irom this,. the 10th day of May, I will return prey ared io pay off your claims, principal and interest. Lo you un- derstand me?” “Perfectly,” Silas Pry said. “Shall I fill out a mortgage for your property to be fcreclosed in nineteen years from to-day, if not taken up?’ “T suppose so. I see no other alterr a ive,” Tracy said. ‘Go ahead, I will call in the detective fora witness to the compact.” Silas Pry set to work at writing, briskly. At acaray the detective crossed the street and en- ered, He was a low-browed, fierce-looking fellow, power- | ful of build, and the possessor of an evil } air of eyes, around which lingered traces of dissij ution. Gerald Tracy paced up and down the room, his head bowed, and an expression of despoudency up- on his face. Silas Pry at last finished YY 2 and after 1 ading over the mortgage handed it to Tracy. ‘Sign that, please,” he said, briskly, ‘tend River- dale shall raise you the money.” Gerald Tracy took the document and read it sev- eral times over. It was e formal mortrage upon the plantation known as Riverdale, given to Silas Pry ie Tracy in consideration cf :eventy- five thousand dollars U.S. money, seid n citgage not to be foreclosed until nineteen years {icm date —interest, during the interval, to accii.e ind be added to the principal at time of liquidation or fore- closure, “ All satisfactory?” Silas Pry demanded. “Yes, I suppose £0,” the other rej lied, as he seated himself, and signed the document in a bold, graceful style of chirography. ‘‘ Now give me the money.’ Without demur, Silas Pry unlocked a safe which stood beneath his desk, and took out a Lig roll of bills, of large denominations, Out of these he counted fifty thousand dcllars, the whole making a large stack of paper, Gerald Tracy took the money, and counted it over to assure hims: If that it was correct; then he turned to the detective. “I have here the price of my liberty. Give me S recipe for it, and it is yours to return to the ank,’ Upon a receipt prepared expressly for the occa- sion by the bank, the detective, William M« Quaver, by name, appended his signature, whereujon the receipt and the money exchanged hands, and Ger- ald Tracy arose to his feet with a sigh of relief, “At last!” he said, “I am a free men, and pre- ared to begin life anew. Look out fcr me, Silas Bry. nineteen years from to-day, the tenth of May!’” “And you would take trenty tive thousand dol- | e of lars out of me for the us rageous!”’ *“ You may look at it so, but I can not make a liv- ing at a less shave.” ty? Why, it’s out- | A desperate look came into the eyes of Gerald | Tracy, as he glanced at his watch, and then through the window across the street, where a well-dressed man stood leaning against a tree. “A detective, eh?” Silas Pry said, following his gaze, with a crafty smirk. Gerald Tracy nodded, as he sat staring in a reverie upon the dirty floor. And bowing haughtily, he turned and quitted the room, and strode down the street with a firm, elas- tic step, while Silas Pry smiled, craftily. CHAPTER I. EIGHTEEN YEARS LATER. EicuTren years from the month of May in which Gerald Tracy borrowed fifty thousand dcllars from Silas Pry, in Baltimore, previous to his ceparture sors thé land of his birth, to seek a fortune in golden lands. Highteen years is a long lapse of time, end many changes rite’! be noted in the growth anu seitliement of our fair, beautiful continent, of which every true- born American is justly proud. We cliange the scene of our romance t« ‘he Cen- tennial city of Philadelphia, where w+ 2 cpose to chronicle the secret and open events of © 0 y vay life in the great metropolis—the Quaker City. _ Upon one of the principal thoreughfares »tood the imposing residence of Judge Felix Vi!) ive. It was built entirely of stone, of elaborat’ nirh, and | Stood upon a terraced lawn which w perfect yaradise of fiowers, well-kept shrubs, : | aying ountains, within a labyrinth of circliu; serven- tine walks. It was one of tho finest residences upc, - — sweet, and therein dwelt Judge Vermillye alc is aeccom- plished daughter, the stately Beatrice, acknowl- edged queen of society. Of the antecedents of the Vermillyes, very little was really known, although it was currentl ed that they were enormously wealthy, and: report- were OL
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_yifle practice, as it was full of bullet-holes. Virginian birth. They were at once admitted into the best society, and idolized because they were leaders in fashion, and had a limitless bank ac- count, The judge was interested in a steamship line, own- ed a large woolen manufactory, and shortly after taking up his residence, was elected to the vice-pre- sidency of one of the first banks of the city. All thie combined to make him popular, and his hilanthyopy upon several occasions gained him urther # toriety through the press. Y In socis’¥, Miss Beatrice shone resplendently as a star, for ers were ever the most expensive and stylish tedlettes, and she was universally esteemed a beautiful woman—a tall, stately brunette of willowy form, with cold, purely chiseled features, dark hair, and eyes to matoh—eyes that had the power of flash- ing with intense scorn, or of lighting handsomely with enthusiasm. us , : Thus the Vermillyes lived in their magnificent home, drove their costly turnouts, gave their fash- ionable receptions, and carried on a style of existence that was the marvel and topic of discussion at many a tea-table. One dark rainy evening in May, the grand man- sion on Vermillye Terrace was brilliantly illuminated for a fete, in honor of Miss Beatrice, upon her nine- teenth birthday. Cards of invitation had been freely circulated among ‘‘the best families,” resulting in gathering a lara assemblage of guests in the Vermillye parlors. The music of a fine orchestra throbbed weirdly upon the a the perfume of rare flowers from the well-stocked conservatory was delicately grati- fying to the senses; while the hum of busy voices, the revelry of the dancers, the clinking of glasses, and sounds of laughter all betokened the general en- joyment of the hour. ; Miss Beatrice was resplendent in a rich evening costume, with her hands, hair and throat bejeweled, and her arm given over toa gay English marquis, De Haven was his name—the Marquis of De Haven, from London; quite the ‘‘catch”’ ef the season the judge had assured his dutiful daughter, previous to the introduction at the Jele. The marquis was a pale, effeminate personage, with milky complexion and eyes to match, light hair and sickly side-whiskers of the veriest sandy hue. His dress was natty and his linen ‘mmaculate, while hes ported a ‘‘loud”’ supply of genuine diamonds, and other jewelry. An accomplished dancer, he and Beatrice were the observed of all observers, as they whirled through the mazes of the dance, Judge Vermillye stood gazing onin due parental pride, in company with several business gentlemen of his acquaintance. * Beatrice looks her best, to-night, Sheffield, eh?’’ he said, stroking his long beard, compacently. “Indeed she does, and she and your Eng dance gosh From London, you say?” “De ven? Oh! yes. I have telegraphed and found out that he isa big gun over on the other e. “Indeed! Then I suppose we need not be surprised to hear of an ae soon, eh?” The judge smiled. “Tt depends how well Beatrice likes his lordship. If everything goes on smoothly, I’d as soon have the marquis for a son-in-law as any man I know of, as he seems to be a decidedly jolly dog, and a thorough- ly good fellow.” nd so, the evening wore on, within the mansion one round of gayety, while outside the spring rain poured down, and the thunder boomed along the eavens as answering the sharp flashes of lightning. The judge was a liberal provider, and his guests lacked not wine and champagne to wash down ths Sultriness of the evening and the fatigue of the ball-room. Outside the illuminated mansion and grounds of Judge Vermillye, humble passers-by would occasion- ally pause for a moment, to gaze upon the scene of revelry, or to listen to the exquisite music that float- ed out through the open casements, But such as deigned to pause, were sure soon to hurry away to escape the drenching shower that fell evenly from the clouds—all, save one. A man came zig-zagging along the street and paused under the lamp-light in front of the gate which ted into the lawn of the Vermillye place— a man such as one will scllom meet in the city of Philadelphia—a gaunt, hungry-looking individual, with bleared eyes, an uncommonly red nose, and hair that, to ali appearances, had not made the ac- uaintance of a comb or brush for many a long pay he beard upon his face was of a two weeks’ growth, giving him a rough and uncouth appearance. _ His arments were torn and ragged, except where they were patched with contrasting material; his boots were broken out at the sides and toes, and his hat had evidently some time been used as a target for This comprised his pee ey Save it be a small bundle swung to a stick over his shoulder. A full-fledged tramp looked this fellow, and that he had taken “spirit? consolation lately, was evi- denced by the unsteadiness of his gait, He paused, and page he. himself against the lamp-post, gazed up toward the gaslit parlors, wherein forms of men and women were whirling in the giddy dance, to the music of unseen musicians. For several minutes the tramp gazed in silence toward the mansion, while the rain poured down upon him pitilessly; then he gave vent to a grunt, nh nature of which it would have been difficult to an “4 “ They’re havin’ a big (hic) time up in thar, durned if they ain't,” he soliloquized, scratching his chin. “Wonder who keeps that high-toned roost, anyhow? hman 3 Watch-Eye. Phew! do my nostrils deceive me, or do T really | smell champy? Must be a fust-class kind of han *otel, I reckon. Wonder ef they receive guests at all hours? Reckon I ain’t in fust-class rig, but meb- be Dll p-p-pass (ic). I wonder ef there’s enny dorgs about?” And, with the instinct belonging to his race, the man peered about the grounds in search of the tramp’s worst enemy, a watchful dog. A sleepy-looking coach-dog lay upon the terrace steps, with one eye open. An ordinary observer would have classed him among the most harmless of dogs, but not so with the tramp. Muddled as was his brain, he was well aware that the sleepy-looking —- was secretly smacking his lips for a piece o ramp. ** No, no, I hain’t got any (hic) meat for ye, dorgy,” this lone adventurer muttered. ‘‘Ken’t spare a pound, nohov, Kinder (Ac) intelligent-lookin’ purp, that. Wonder if he be susceptible ter f-f-flattery?” And, searching around among the rags of his coat, the tramp brought forth a fresh piece of beefsteak, and tossed it up on the terrace, in front of the dog. At first the sagacious animal disdained to notice the offering; but after a few moments, during which time the tramp waited patiently, the scent of the meat caused the dog to rise and approach it and smell it over and over. As a final result, he swal- lowed it with relish, while the tramp, from his posi- tion by the lamp-post, chuckled audibly. “No, (hic) beast or man who is not (hic) suscepti- ble to flattery,’’ he said. The dog went back and laid down upon the steps, after finishing his meal, and waiting afew minutes more, the tramp zig-zagged forward, opened the gate, and ascended to the terrace. As he passed the dog, he gave it a kick, but the poor brute stirred not. He was dead! Staggering on, the tramp ascended to the veran- da, and entered the grand vestibule, which was de- serted, and made his way along the hall toward the refreshment-room, in the rear, pausing occasionally to inspect such articles of furniture or pictures as aroused his curiosity. Judge Vermillye was in the dinner salon, with a group of his most intimate friends, at the time, en- | gaged im sampling some rare old vintage, and the udge after proposing a toast had raised the glass of iquor to his lips, when a trembling hand suddenly reached over hissshoulder and snatched it from his grasp. With an aces gee of surprise he wheeled to be- hold a sight that caused the blood to boil in his veins, The tramp was quaffing the wine with the great- est of gusto, his face suffused with gracious siniles. The judge’s companions burst into a shout of lace niter, while the judge himself smothered an oath, ‘By my soul!’ he gasped, his face pone in color, “‘ this surpasses any case of actual impudence — came to my notice. Who is the fel- ow?’ ‘OR-r-r-rastus Racket, at yer (hic) service!”’ vouch- safed the tramp, seeming to think that he was called upon to introduce himself. Me sn good wine— w—w—werry good, Don’t (Aic) mind ef I do take another nip, seein’ it’s you. Y—y—yes, take mine straight!” : to he passed back the glass, smacking his lips, oudly. J biee Vermillye snatched the glass from his hand, and pointed toward the door. “Go!” he said, authoritatively, “or I'll have my servants kick you out, you ragged loafer.”’ | ‘Rastus Racket looked in the direction indicated by the judge’s finger, then back at the judge, the blankest of leers coming upon his face. Then he shook his headdubiously, and his ears wiggled to and fro with agamuch ease as the ears of a mule. “ Have to (hic) speak louder!” he muttered: “ much deaf, an’ (hic) can’t understand.” ‘**Leave the house I say!” the judge thundered, at the top of his voice, “orl s put you out!”’ An expression of intelligence immediately lit up the face of the tramp, as if he fully understood. “Yes, w-we1 uizzical leer, “Your treat? Yes. J wi’ you as any better man.” This caused another roar of laughter from the judge’s guests, but it thoroughly exasperated the judge, and seizing the tramp by the arm and coat- collar, and dragging him out into the hall, he forci- bly pitched him headforemost out of doors: Closing the door, he returned to his guests and hastily drank off the toast, after which he excused himself for a few moments, and sought the solitude of his library, Here he turned on the gas, and paced to and fro, his face flushed, his whole being agitated with nervous excitement. “That face!” he gasped—“there is none other in the world exactly the same. By heaven! Iam not mistaken in the man, shrewd as was his disguise. This matter must be settled. Tam not safe. Ruin, re Bight di in the face. Ha! a ready thought. I have Chica, my Mexican steward. He issafe and trusty!” Touching @ bell the judge summoned a servant whom he in she dispatchec for the Mexican, who soon appeared. He was adusky-skinned fellu, ~* some twenty- eight or pe years, with anevyil +), ~- his head, and a general exhibition of restlessness. “You saw the tramp,” Judge Vermillye said. “Well, I don’t want him ever to be seen alive again, in this city. Do you understand me?” The swarthy face smiled, and nodded; then witb- drew. While Judge Vermillye descended to the have my servants good wine!” he assented, with a Razzer drink With that man at large ce, stare me parlors, feeling somewhat easier, copies the fact that he had pronounced a fellow-mortal’s doom. For. Chica was a faithful bloodhound—a human tool to perform whatsoever the judge willed, * Curse the fellow, how his coming unnerved me!’* the judge declared, to his friends, later, as he crack- ed a fresh bottle. “T have a particular horror of tramps, and then this fellow was so much bolder than they usually are. To your health, gentlemen, and to the tramp’sf’ CHAPTER II. THE TRAMP FINDS FRIENDS. “Hetio! bless my eyes if I haven’t a case of mys~ tery to tackle the very first night of my career as @ detective. Jack Sphinx, old boy, you're in luck.” The speaker was &@ man enveloped in a long oil-cloth coat, with a broad-brim hat slouched over his eyes, He had stopped in traversing one of the many nar- row, dark thoroughfares of the city, to bend over an apparently inanimate form which lay outstretched upon the sidewalk, The night was well advanced toward another day, and as dark as Stygia. The rain still poured down ceaselessly, and not a person was to be seen or heard abroad. The lamps that were posted at the street corners gave forth but a feeble, flickering light—often seemed to die out altogether, as a fierce blast of wind would sweep along through the street, Jack Sphinx glanced sharply at_his surroundings before making an examination of the case which lay at his feet, He was in a locality that had the repute of being none too safe after dark, and caution was one of the ingredients of his composition, A close scrutiny failed to reveal any ade in the neighborhood, and he turned toward his ease. Producing a dark-lantern he shot the slide, and directed the little bolt of light upon the prostrate man, It was the same tramp who earlier in the evening had invaded the mansion of Judge Vermillye on —— street, Had Chica followed him, and executed his mas- ter’s bidding? ; Evidently so, for ’Rastus Racket lay quite still, as if dead, and there was an ugly bruise upon his left eye, and a red discoloration about his throat. ‘There has been foul play here,’’ Jack Sphinx an- nounced, ‘*Asensation for the morning papers: ‘A man found dead upon a, disreputable street, at midnight, by Sphinx, the great detective!’ Hal ha!” andthe man laughed at the idea, Closing the slide of his lantern, he knelt beside the tramp, and tearing open his dirty, ragged shirt, placed his ear to ‘his heart. A moment later he raised his head and glanced around him, “The chap otill lives, whoever he pry | be,” he muttered. “I should say by the scent of his breath that he had been drunk and fallen by the way, only for these bruises and discolorations, I wonder how heavy he is, anyhow.” An were to lift the inanimate form proved that he was quite too heavy for one man to carry, al- pi he appeared thin and gaunt from exposure and hunger, This fact became immediately apparent to Jack Sphinx, and taking from under his coat a small whis- tle, he blew it rapidly, and shrilly, in little jerks. In the course of a’ few moments loud footsteps were heard approavhing, and a policeraan came dashing up. “ W'at’s. gone wrong?” breath, from his run. “You see, don’t you?” Jack Sphinx said, pointing to the body of the tramp. ‘‘ There’s been foul play here, and j want you to help me carry the fellow to 0 glesby Row.” ‘Sho’! Is the chap dead?” _ “No—merely stunned, I take it.” “ Been drunk at that, too,” the cop said, smelling the tramp’s breath. ‘Come, let’s jerk him down to the station,” “*T say no!’’ Sphinx replied, coolly. ‘TI will take him to my hospital, if you yee The fellow has been assaulted, and I will take care of him, fv r the ’ he demanded, out of present.’ : a; pao who are you?”’ the policeman demanded, surlily. For answer Jack Sphinx exposed a handsome badge, in the light of his lantern, with a cool ironi- cal Jaugh. “ y name is Jack Sphinx, detective, at your ser- vice!”’ he answered. The policeman muttered an unintelligible ejacula- tion of some sort, and seized the tramp by the legs. “Come along!’ he called, “I reckon you bee new one, or I should ‘a’ know’d ye.” ; Without more ado they raised the inanimate form of Rastus Racket between them and bore him away out of that street, into another which was, if any- thing, darker, but cleaner and less offensive. Ate a journey of several blocks, they halted in front of a tenement block, four storics in hight, which must have been built years before, for it was. now in a ruined condition, the windows being minus many panes of glass, and the bricks decaying and falling out in places. The first floor was occupied by German and Irish families of the lowest grades, while the upper stories were chiefly tenanted by a more respectable class, the up rooms being in better condition than those upon eqrannd. A broad staircase led from the erert, and up thie Sphinx and the policeman carried *Rastus “You seem v0 be familicr with this den,” the po liceman remarked, as th roceeded “To some extent, yes,” Jack replied, “I nave®
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& Uttle private hospital of my own up in Room 13, run by my Angel of the Attic as I her. When you see her, you will not think I have overrated her, I am sure.’ Pausing a moment on the first lan for breath. they then ascended to the second, then trudged along a long hallway, finally stopping before a door on the left-hand side. Upon this Jack Sphinx gave a peculiar rap, after which it was opened by a young woman—a maiden, rather, of eighteen summers. } Fair of face and graceful in form, she was a most _ object for gaze to rest upon, with her rown, sparkling eyes, sunny hair, and bright ex- pression of countenance. She uttered a glad cry as she saw Jack, but her ery seemed to die out into a little wail of horror as she caught a peeling of the policeman and the‘insen- sible "Rastus Racket. Jack, however, took pains to reassure her, in a kindly tone. “Don't be frightened, Nellie. I’ve brought my first case, as I promised I would. An old codger, ou_ see, who has been foully dealt with. Is old gglesby in?” No, I should not have opened the door, had he been here,” Nellie replied. _“* Bring the poor man in- eee AS and if I hear Jared coming, I will hide im,’’ With the policeman’s aid, Jack lifted ‘Rastus Racket inside the room, and laid him on the lounge. The officer then bowed and took his departure. As soon as he was gone, Nellie sprung eagerly to Jack's embrace. *Oh! Iam so glad you came, Jack, for I have been so lonesome, and fearful that some harm would come to you in your new vocation!” she said, throw- ing her arms about his neck, and pulling him down so that she might kiss him. For Jack Sphinx was a fellow that any woman might adore. Tall and stalwart, with a well-devel- oped form in which was a superabundance of strength and muscle; a keen eye, regular classic features that many would have pronounced hand- some, brown curling hair, and a high, intellectual forehead, he was the picture of a handsome man. A light brown mustache shaded his mouth, about which ever lurked a good-natured expression. ‘You are glad, my Attic Angel?’’ he said, return- ing her caress. “Well, I am glad. But, laying aside lovers’ matters, here’s my first professional case waiting our attention. How long before you expect Ogglesby?”’ “Oh, Jack, I do not know. He is very cruel to me. 6 got very drunk to-day, and went out, de- claring his intention of making a night of it.”’ *Humph! Let me catch him drank upon the oS and see how quick I'll jerk him into the sta- on, * Don’t do it, Jack, I beg of you. He is a vindic- tive old wretch, and he would do you harm should you interfere with him. I grow to fear him more and more err’ day I live. e even threatened to ound me, last night, and would, no doubt, had not ir. Crockett, next door, interposed and argued with him, Oh, Jack, it is awful to be bound out to such an old wretch. I sometimes get to feeling desperate. T didn’t used to mind it so much, until I—I met you, Jack, and learned that there were some good people in the world.” * My poor little Angel,” the young detective said, softly, smoothing back the sunny hair from her forehead. ‘* Yours is indeed a hard lot. But take cheer. Three more years will place you out of Jared Ogglesby’s hands, and then whom will you seek to protect you for the remainder of your life?” “You, of course, Jack—who else do I know who has been as kind to me as you? No one—no one whom I care half so much for. You may have me even sooner than you imagine, Jack."’ ‘* How do you mean?” “Jared Ogglesby is failing every day. Old age and rum are shattering his system, and he can not long hold out.” “Well, pretty, the sooner you are free to come to me as my little wife, the better it will suit me, I’ve a little nest all prepared for your arrival. But re we are again, neglecting oursubject. I willsee how badly he is bruised, peice him up a little, and leave him in your care, 1en Ogglesby comes, you can hide him in the secret partitioned hallway which I discovered. I don’t believe he'll be molested there, watil I can come and see him again.” They now set about making an examination of the tramp’s a a Search disclosed only the ugly bruise over his left eye, and the discolored ring about his neck. Other he he appeared to have received no disabling urts, ‘‘He has been choked, evidently, or else a cord with a weight to one end, such as is used by the Ori- ental strangers, has been slung about his neck, the weight strising him upon the eye!” Jack said, re- flectively. * The latter is probably the correct theory. He seems to breathe regularly, and will be all right as soon as restored to consciousness. Is there any liquor in the house?” ellie hurried to a cupboard, and brought forth a bottle which was the property of Jared Ogglesby. This Jack took, and poured a few drops between the lips of the tramp. P | The effect was electrical. A shudder seemed to traverse the man’s roma ! et yoy he gave a gasp, after which he slowly open his eyes. Jack raised him to a sitting position, and then sia. back a pace. ‘““Humph!” "Rastus Racket grunted, staring about ™™ some curiosi! y. “YThet's the matter? Where am I? Who are Watch-Eye. ou?” and his bleared eyes turned inquisitively upon ack and Nellie. “One question at a time, if you please, my friend, and we will endeavor to answer ‘age Jack answer- ed, with a smile. ‘“‘My name Jack Sphinx, at your service. This young lady is Miss Nellie Morton, my betrothed.” e tramp stared at Nellie, queerly. * Beautiful!’ he muttered, half aloud. ‘*You’ve made a good choice, young man. She will make you agood wife. But, how came I here?” ‘** Well, you were carried here Ke a policeman and myself. I found youlying insensible in a dark street, and taking pity on you, you conveyed here to my parae ospital.”’ ‘Ugh! Iremember,” the tramp said, rubbing his injured eye. ‘‘I was drunk, as usual, and somebody lassoed my neck, like they do on the plains, and thumped me over the eye with a stone. I didn’t seem to remember any more just then. Ruther a game-lookin’ optic, eh?” “Yes; you will have to be careful or you will lose it. So you were drunk, then, when attacked?” “Tl allow I was. Yousee the fact is I hain’t seen many sober days since I’ve been East.” “And wis Do you not know that whisky is a man’s worst enemy?” “Yas, Ireckon you’re right, young man; but, you see, when I cum back East, after an absence of near- ly seventeen years, and found the hopes of a lifetime all blasted and withered, I war as disconsolate a mortal as evyer trod terra firma, an’ I tuk ter drink. That war nigh a g in th r Bible as lettin’ it alone. Besides, ye see, thar’s nothin’ for me ter live for—no wife, no chick nor child, no friends—an’ I calculate the | sooner I find my way to a hole in the ground, the better for myself and the world at large. “You have a wrong idea altogether, my friend,”’ | Jack said, earnestly. ‘‘There are hundreds ready to grasp you warmly by the hand, were you to re- deem yourself.” feller?” ‘ “Certainly Ido. Ispeak only what I believe. A has many. The world is not yet so gone to the bad that there are not honest, faithful souls in it.” “Mebbe you're right thar, but I’ve been cl’ar over the world, and as a general thing the people war all greedy, selfish an’ worldly. No use o’ me tryin’ ter stop ticklin’ my weazand wi’ tarant’ler, no use. Nothin’ short o’ extreme pee an’ a prison cell’d do the job. Sumtimes I think I'd go to jail a year efI could regain my wits an’ be as I was a few years “Oh! sir, Iam so glad to hear you say.so!”’ Nellie cried claaping her hands eagerly. “Jack, if we could only induce him to go to the Reform Home! Tam sure they would kill his appetite for strong drink, and oh! how happy it wou d make me!” “Thankee, little gal. You're the first woman who hes said as pleasant a thing to me since—well, since long, long ago.” And the tramp brushed moisture from his unin- jured eye. “There is a Home of Refo here in the city,” Jack hen ary “in charge of a kind-hearted physi- cian and his family, where intemperate men and wo- men are taken under treatment, and I am happy to say that many wonderful cures have been & ected, But the ame are necessarily high—and—and I fear they would be above your reach, But perhaps the united contents of our ket-books might pro- cure you an entrance, that is, if you would go. ““Oh! do go—please do!” Nellie said, eagerly, ‘‘and when you come out, we will be your friends, and so will others, and perhaps Jack could get you a good paying job, for Jack’s bound to be an influen- jal citizen, you know, and—” ge éllie paused in her childish enthusiasm, while ’ us Racket chuckled outright: “You’re a good little girl, miss, an’ it does me goc8 to hear you talk. My life o’ late years has een barren o’ sech streaks 0’ sunshine as your bright presence unfolds. An’ I’ve made up my mind that ’'ll try your paoncelttan, though it’ robabl be a tough pull through. As to money, little aL why, I've lots of it, an’ when ’Rastus Racket makes his will, you an’ your prospective husband, thar, shall have a large slice out of my golden pie. Ah! t pad forgotten—my bundle! at has become of And the tramp’s face grew pale as he gazed around and did not behold it. “‘My bundle!’’ he repeated, excitedly. “If that is “T left lost I am ruined!’’ “Calm yourself, my friend!” Jack said. the bundle behind, for I did not consider it of any value. I gave it a kick up an alley, and no doubt it is there still. I will go at once and get it!” And seizing his hat, he hurried from the room, in the course of half an hour heard somebody com- ing . the stairs, three steps at a time, asif in a great hurry. “Tt is Jack! it is Jack!” Nellie cried, joyously, springing forward and opening the door, to admi him. ‘And he has got your bundle, too, Mr. Rack- | ” . “Yes, I found it just where I had kicked it,”’ Jack explained, as he delivered the budget, which was wrapped in an old silk handkerchief. ‘Lue wamp received it with muttered thanks and proceeded to open it. Nellie and Jack stood by, baer more out of curiosity than intention. coup ear ago, an’ since then whisky’s | got so firm a hold upon me thet thar’s no sech a | ‘““Ye don’t mean to say thet ye believe it, young | drunkard has no true friends, but a temperate man | end in the direction where he had found the tramp | z. Nellie and "Rastus Racket waited impatiently, and | e of sealed envelopes rolled out as the bun- . coins, several gold rings, and one set with onds of great size and brilliancy. “Oh! how gt Nellie could not help saying, enthusiasticaNy, while Jack gazed silently on, not a little Se uae ot ‘em all honestly!’ "Rastus Racket as- sured. oS Pye for gold sixteen years, cee andI salted downa fewsech things. Here, leetle give ye the diamond ring to keep ’til Icom out o’ ther Home as ye callit. An’ Jack, heer, keep the rest for me. Now, then, I’m allready to go and try dle came untied, and then a handful of large golden | | to make a man of myself.” \ ‘But you should not trust us!’ Jack expostulated. | “Ere you come out, something might happen that I | would lose it.’’ | “Well, then you may deposit in the Bank of North America in the name of Eurastas Racket, and send the receipt to me at the place where you are going to take me. Come! now, let’s go at once, while the fit is on me, or I shall back out.” : Jack Sphinx knew that it would be policy to obey, and so, after pocketing the tramp’s money, they both bade adieu to Nellie, and descended to the street. It was not yet daylight, but Jack was aware that the Home was ever open, and so he led the way through the dark streets. Several times they were stopped by policemen but the star under the lapel of Jack’s coat was equal to a written pass through the lines. | Half an hour later Jack Sphinx emerged from the Reform Home, but ’Rastus Racket was not with him. The tramp was now where he could not get intoxi- cating liquors. And he had a year to stay before he could again be set at liberty. CHAPTER IV. | ONE YEAR LATER—MIKE KEENE’S CLUB—THE STRANGER | WITH A GLASS EYE. | One year later, in the month of May, on Chestnut | street, Philadelphia, stood a large, imposing struc- | ture of brick, the ground floor being occupied as a | store, and the basement by a fruit-stand. The sec- | ond floor was taken up for offices by prominent busi- | ness men, while the whole of the third story was occupied by what was familiarly known to those who were aware of its existence as “* Mike Keene’s Club.” Gaming establishments are plentiful in the Quaker City, but there are perhaps none run upon as large a scale or conducted on as ** high-toned”’ principles as this Mike Keene’s Club. Unlike other places of the kind, there are not a mixture of games to attract the visitor, butthe gam- bling is confined to one species of game, and that one a ‘* wheel of fortune.” To be sure, there are dice-cups to shake for cigars, but this fact is scarcely noticed for the buzz about the great wheel of destiny. The wheel in question was a beauty, being large, with a gold-plate hub and axle, upon which it re- volved, the spokes being handsomely inlaid with pear and eat and the numbers upon the rim be- ng of solid go d and crested with a diamond to each number, Those said who knew, that the wheel, with its magnificent mountings, had cost Mike five or six bers upon the wheel, and ten cards were usually sold, each card bearing ten numbers. If by chance the suap-finger stopped upon any number upon your card, you were the winner of ninety dollars, | while ten dollars went into the coffers of the banker, who was the inevitable Mike Keene himself, the ten cards having all been disposed of at ten dollars a card. Half-cards were sometimes sold to accom- modate those who were “ broke,” or such as were too modest to venture a largersum. In case some number on the half-card won, forty-five dollars went to the holder of the card, and forty-five to the man who held the other half, and ten into the banker's ocket. ® In case the second half of the card was not sold, the banker retained it, and won or lost as the case might be. In every case each turn of the wheel would net to the banker ten dollars, and when sometimes of a day or evenirg the wheel would go around many hundred times profits were enor- mous. Mike Keene is no fictitious character, as many & aed fool can testify, who has gambled at his club. opular among the business men, and rich as Croesus he rejoiced in_ his calling, claiming that he did good for all the evil resulting from his “little GANG It is but justice in behalf of the people of Phila- delphia to ey that only a certain few of all the | great population knew or ever heard particularly of Hike eene and his Club. And, as for the city au- thorities, if they were aware of the existence of such a personage or of such a club-room, they were quiet and close-mouthed about it. At least the police never “pulled” Mike Keene’s place, and the Club | and its votaries continued to prosper and grow more notorious among business men. The room in question was furnished with a taste and magnificence rarely ever seen in a qeoting hall. The floor was carpeted with rich Brussels, and furnished with luxurious upholstered furniture, while the ceiling was a marvel of the fresco art, and the walls were hung with pictures and paintings, such as one will not often meet with outside of an art gallery. On one side of the room near the middle, was the standard with an axle upon which revolved the wheel of fortune. ape One man stood upon a bench to whirl it, at the clang of the banker’s call-bc!l, while four men, ele- gantly dressed, stood within the low railing inclosure hak encircled the wheel, to sell tickets to the spec- tors. thousand dollars. There were one hundred num-— a ta
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» i ete B.D Wk BD ae Eel) . >. cre at eS Ss ne i ed BQrweevoi a» x =e Cc oe SVR eos wey eS SY eS... Fae a we ws acl hie 2) Watch-Eye. A little office in one corner of the inclosure con- tained the ample proportions of Mike Keene, who was his own banker and treasurer. He was a thick-set individual, with iron-gray hair and mustache, and wore a pairof gold-rim glasses, when engaged at his work. Tho evening of the 8th of May saw quite a crowd in ‘Mike Keene’s establishment, composed of merchants, speculators, gamblers by profession, bankers, and oc- easionally a theatrical manager or actor. Men were there, whe | »se families waited their coming home; | men were there who had no homes or families; men | were there who professed religion, and in one or two instances were deacons of prominent churches, This | j | the way the strange pair behav may seem incredible, but was nevertheless a fact. Many names of patrons we might mention that = d be a thunderbolt in social and religious cir- cles. Among the votaries about the wheel, was Judge Vermillye. : : He was faultlessly attired, in the hight of fashion, and was as much engaged as though he were not esteemed a “model society man,’ an upright and good parent, and an bonorable citizen. The scene was one that was peculiarly exciting. From overhead the gas she | down a soft radiance; the voices of the criers who sold the tickets, the hum of the wheel, the cries of Sepa nent or joy, as the case might be, all mingled through the room creating an excitement easy to acquire, but hard to dispel. Many dropped in, just to look on, but be- fore they left were by the luck of others tempted to iy their own fortune. udge Vermillye had been the lucky man of the evening, having won, continuously. It was usually the custom of Mike Keene to limit a pact to a dozen winnings of an evening, but Jadge ermillye was a friend of the establishment, and could not be offended of course. At last there entered the club-room a man who had never been seen there before; consequently all eyes were directed upon him for a moment, He was a good-sized personage, attired in blue broadcloth, witn a white shirt and vest that were immaculate, and a silk hat upon his head, which was closely barbered of hair. Patent-leathers were upon his feet, and diamonds on his fingers, and shirt front; also a massive gold chain was strung across his vest, and adelicé.ce rose- bud on his coat lapel, added to the ivory-headed epee he carried, gave to him the appearance of a dandy. His face was one that once seen, could not soo be forgotten. It wasa pale, intellectual face belong- ing to a man of some forty eight or fifty years. The features were all perfect and attractive, but in places wore an expression of past suffering. The eyes were dark and sharp, and the mouth firm, be- ing shaded by a heavy iron gray mustache; the hair upon his head was peppered with silver, which was oe ana the cause of his having had it sheared in e so-styled “ fighting cut.”’ In looking at him one moment, a person would not perceive any difference in his eyes, but a second glance revealed that the left eye was artificial, or in other words a “‘ watch-eye.’”’ In some accident this natty stranger evidently had lost his own eye, and had been obliged to fill the socket with an artificial ne. None were there in the club-room, who knew this flashy stranger, for they made no advances to him, nor did he seem to be anxious to cultivate acquaint- ance. He was accompanied by a young negro attendant, who was attired in livery, and carried a small leath- er valise. The two stood near the counter, and watched the game, the master puffing leisurely at a cigar, the while, and noting the changes of luck, in ifferently. He seemed to be proof against the excitement of the game. “One more card! one more card!” cried the clerks. ** Who will have it—who will have the lucky numbers —90 to 100, and sure to win.” The stranger nodded in answer to a glance from his brown attendant, and taking a roll of bills from his pocket purchased the card. en right merrily clanged the starter’s bell, and he gave the wheel aswift whirl. Around and around it spun, the snap-finger clattering swiftly until the wheel began to slow down, and finally stopped. The finger pointed to 95! , Not a smile appeared upon either the face of Watch-Eye, or his attendant in consequence of their success, but the latter coolly raked in the ninety dollars and pocketed it, allowing the clerk to take up his card, and sell it to some one else. And that some one chanced to be Judge Ver- millye, who eagerly received and payed for the card, confident that the next “pot” belonged to him. The cards sold rapidly and a nod from Watch- Bye caused the mulatto to porchase one numbering in the fifties. The remainder sold swiftly, and at last the bell clanged, and the starter gave the wheel a whirl. “Tifty-five wins!” cried the starter, as the wheel stoned: and the words were scarcely out of his mouth ere ninety dollars w.re placed in the mu- latto’s hands and the cards were selling again, Still not a trace of excitement or enthusiasm ap- eared upon the faces of the stranger and _his at- dendant, They might have been supposed stone images, so expressionless were they over their luck. Judge Vermillye was secretly chagrined; but he did not allow the fact to come to the notice of the others. For there were others who had lost many times, when he had won. . The next round Watch-Eye did not take a hand, nor the next, nor the next, and the winning was among men who had lost all the evening. | But the fourth round thereafter, a nod of his head caused his servant to purchase a card, it being num- bered in the seventies. Clang went the bell, and around spun the wheel, stopping at seventy-one. Watch-Eye had won again! That seemed but the starting-point, for he won the next seven times in succession, to the astonish- ment of all, the mulatto in each instance purchasing cards at his master’s nod, and pocketing the win- nings, pausing occasionally to strike a match, and hold it to the fore of a fresh imported cigar in his master’s mouth. Altogether there was something entirely novel in , heither of them speaking a word. Mike Eye sharply, seeming in some way suspicious of im, Judge Vermillye, unable to win since the stranger’s advent, grew rather “ tonguey,”’ venturing hard hints freely, and by numerous innuendos tried to arouse Watch-Kye’s temper, But this was futile, for Watch-Eye—as the crowd seemed unanimous in mcknaming the fellow—was evidently not easy to provoke, nor did he seem to care to speak. Determined at last to ‘aby 8 matters to a crisis, Judge Vermillye a yceeelied im, and gave him a slap upon the shoulder in a way he would not have thought of doing had he not been imbibing frequent- ly from a * quiet bottle,’ usually kept in Mike Keene’s private closet. Watch-Eye wheeled around instantly, a look of cold ee upon his face, “Well?” he interrogated, haughtily. “Well!” Judge Vermillye retorted, with a sneer. “You seem to be somewhat on your muscle at gam- ing. You esteem yourself a sharp ‘un, I calculate?” “T didn’t remark anything of the kind, did I?” the other demanded, “Well, n—no, but one would judge by the style you put on that youimagine yourself a person of some importance.”’ es Suppose that I do; what business is that of yours?” the glass-eyed stranger again demanded. “Well, ’'ll show you, if you give me any of your insolence!”’ the judge cried, hotly. ‘‘ Maybe you don’t know who I am.” A strange expression shot over the face of Watch- Eye, as he gazed sternly at the insolent banker. “Yes, I believe I do know you!” he replied, a great depth of meaning in his tone. “If Silas Pry were hanged by the neck until dead, for all-his crimes, you would not be insulting your superiors at this minute, Remember! You may know me as Watch- Eye, the Shadow!”’ And so saying, the stranger turned and sauntered from the room, accompanied by his servant, leavin the bystanders in a maze of vague wonderment, anc Judge Vermillye suddenly grown white with—shall we call it terror? Evident it was that the two had some time met, in a dark eventful past. CHAPTER V. VERMILLYE’S VILLAINY. Neue Moron was a bound girl. She had no parents, to her enowiedge to care for her except the man who he dt her master, and Jack Sphinx, who had friend for several years. Jared Ogglesby, her guardian, as it were, was a cruel, grasping, avaricious old wretch, who hoarded his pennies with the closeness of a miser, except when he wanted to satisfy his own unnatural crav- ings for liquor, when he was free with his cash toa certain extent. He was agent for the row of tenement buildings for a block upon the street on which he lived, and was said to have money buried in some of the cellars beneath the rookeries, or hidden in the decaying walls. Concernin for certain, and none himself as en her no one knew the truth of this report, had enough to ut certain it was that he vot his system soaked in bad liquor all of the time, rendering him ugly, and a dangerous person to be abroad. For he was malicious in his hates and dis- likes, and as deep a schemer as ever hatched a vi- cious plot. Everybody who had eyes, was well satisfied that Nellie was in no way related to him, but he had doc- uments, all legally drawn up, witnessed and signed, binding Nellie Morton in his service from infancy until per rae years of age. So that the law supported him in claiming the girl, one might say, as his slave. Nellie worked in a great factory during the day- time, and often into the night, but her earnings al- ways were eagerly demanded by Jared Ogglesby, and stored away with his other hoards. Then he abused and ill-treated her, and altogether her life was one of constant dread, devoid every ra: of sunshine, except when a secret interview with Jack <2 hag to cheer her out of the gloomy life she was living. Many little presents of money and other trinkets found their way to her, through the kindness of Jack, but as she had little use for them she put them away out of the sight of Jared Ogglesby. For when she was in need of money for clothing she always kept it out of her earnings even at the risk of his wrath, although her dress was never more than the plainest. On the night subsequent to the events related in the previous chapter, Nellie sat alone in the main room of the suite occupied by herself and Jared ceene, a veteran in gambling, eyed Watch- | 5 The hour was late, but this was not uncomm for she often was obliged to sit up half of the nigh’ to wait for Jared Ogglesby’s return, as she was afraid to retire before he came, not knowing in what condition he might return. “T wish Juck were here!’’ she murmure’, wearily laying aside her work, and going to the window which looked out into the narrow street. ‘* When he is near, I am not afraid. And, then, he has not been to visit me in over a week.” As she finished speaking a rap upon the door caused her to start and tremble, with fear and ap- prehension, Who could it be? Surely not Jack, or Jared Ogglesby, for while the former had a peculiar knock, the latte never paused to knock, or if the door was closed, he generally manifested his presence by giving it a kick. Who then could it be, unless some stranger who , was at the wrong door? ‘“ Who is there?” she asked, approaching the door, without opening it. “Open, please; I am a friend. I have come to await the return of Jared Ogglesby.”’ Scarcely knowing what to do, under the ciretm- stances, Nellie opened the door, and a man envel- oped in a heavy oil-cloth coat and cap, entered the room. The moment he threw off his wrappings she saw who it was. It was Judge Felix Vermillye! He smiled complacently, as he saw her look of surprise, and accepted an unoffered chair. “Ha! ha! you really seem surprised, my dear Miss Morton,” he said, in his most affable tone. “No doubt you were not expecting me, but you see Thad a little business with old Jared, and thought I might as well drop in and wait his return. Feeling well, this eve, I trust?” “Yes, Mr. Vermillye!” Nellie replied, closing the door, and dropping upon a chair near by. Her tones were cold and unfriendly, and Vermillye, as sverp as pointed steel, could but be aware of the act. “Tam glad to hear it. I thought you were look- ing ale as I passed through the factory, to-day.” Pate from overwork, perhaps,” Nellie replied, coldly. ‘One cannot always drudge and assume a@ cheerful presence.”’ “Very true, It often causes my heart to ache, Miss Morton, for the slender girls who have to toil so faithfully in our great factories. You, my dear, more than the rest, have I noticed, together with the fact that you are too well-bred and lady-like to be a factory girl. Miss Morton, how would you like to live in the country—that is, as far out as Ardmore, on the Pennsylvania railroad?” “Sir? Ido not understand you!” “Then let me explain. A few miles back from Ardmore station I have a dairy farm, superintended by an aged couple, who are not blessed with chick nor child, and who want some city young lady to come and stop with them. You, I think, would suit them, and the work for you to do would be but tri- fling. I will keep you liberally supplied with money, and—and—”’ Here the judge suddenly paused. Nellie had arisen to her feet, her face pale, and her eyes flashing brightly. “Stop! stop, Judge Vermillye!” she cried, her voice trembling, despite her efforts to be calm, “You have gone far enough. Once before you in- sulted me, sir, because you thought that, being in your employ at the factory I would not dare resent it, You found out your mistake, and now, sir, I command you to leave the room, before I call for help and have you thrown out!” ““You—you have me thrown out? Ha! ha! hal gece joke, (ll swear!” and the judge laughed, mock- rly. ‘Why, Miss Morton, do you know that I own this place and everything in ity I should smile to see anybody put me out of my own house. Come! come! now, there is no_use of you and I being at swords’ points, at all. I admire you, and I am will- ing to do what is fair, You give me your heart and hand, and I’ll make you Honorable Mrs. Judge Felix Vermillye. Now, what better offer do you want, than that?” Nellie shrunk back with a shudder, ” go, Teo bape ew Boe pointing toward the door; ‘And I positively refuse. If I cannot prevail upon yor to accept a good offer, I will bargain with old ared Ogglesby. He’ll sell you, I'll bet!” “Sell me!”’ Nellie gasped, in horror. He dare not!” “He can, and dare. You were a nameless brat when he took you from an old sea-captain; you were legally bound over to him, and he has the power to bind you over to me!” & in Heaven help me, then!’’ Nellie moaned, staggering back. ‘‘ Beastly as Jared Ogglesby is, he is not so t a villain as you Felix Vermillye.’ “Thanks for your compli the way, how fares your Pay. lover, nx? A year ago I had the pleasure of discharging him from my factory, for undue familiarity with—” “Liar! base liar!” Nellie cried, her temper now thoroughly aroused, ‘ You caused Jack’s discharge because you knew he was my friend. But it wasa lucky day he left your employ, for he is now on the detective force, where he can confront villainy with a strong hand.”’ ‘ “Oho! he is, eh? Well, I wish him success, But, now, as Jared does not return, I must bid you adieu, I will call and renew our pleasant visit at another time. A kiss, now, my dear, and then I will be “ He cannot! Ogglesby, engaged at sewing upon a plain calico | gone.” ‘ He arose quickly from the chair, and sprung fo- | ward her, catching her by the right arm. dress which she wished to wear to the factory, on the morrow. With a ‘ ent, ge miss. By j i
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a low scream csebiibbiheokcumans-ta-tapsen dite ea aie affright ghe struggled tc get away, and iu so doing, her sleeve tore open, baring her ay shapely arm to the shoulder. The accident revealed upon the arm, just above the elbow, a livid scar upon the white flesh, in the she +} o£ astar. It was evidently a birth- mark. Jud*e Ver i be saw it, and suddenly released her ar» aul stepped back with a gasp, his breath com- in;a... going heavily, his eyes fastened upon the scar in 4 sort of horrible fascination. *©Curse you!" he gasped, perspiration starting out upon his forehead—* curse youl! I thought you were dead!"’ Nellie shrunk back, not knowing what to make of his strange words. ‘She was aware that her birth and inf a y were shrouded in mystery, but she knew no ni Why did the birth-mark visibly affect Judge Ver millye? What did he know of her past— of her childhood—of the mystery obscuring her babs hood? bus could not conceive, and trembled as she saw the strange, horrible passion that was creeping over t e banker. “TPuries seize you!” he said, in a hoarse voice. “I supposed you dead, but here you are, a stumbling- block in my path. No! no! Pll tolerate no inter- ference or usurpation after all these years—no! a thousand times no. It is a fortunate chance that threw tliis scar before my eyes. You are al ne with me. No one knows me in this locality. Swear that you will marry me, and keep your mouth forever closed, and that scar forever hidden—swear it, or by the Gol who hears me speak, I will murder you on the spot. Swear! swear by all you hold sacred in this lfe and the next. It is your only salva- tion!” He sprung toward her as he spoke, a long dagger in his hand, poised to strike. She tried to elude him but her limbs refused to move, and with a low cry she staggered against the wall and leaned there, with face as pale as death, and eyes wild and diste nded, “Swear!” he cried, hoarsely, seizing her arm with a vise-like gripe, and raising the knife higher. “ Swear to marry me, or I will plunge this dagger into your heart!” ‘‘No! no! never!” she gasped, shuddering, ex- pectin ; to feel the cold steel piercing her flesh— never , But the knife struck not the promised blow. It ‘was sudd enly torn from the infuriated would-be murderer’s grasp, and he was hurled to the floor with acrash that caused the floor and windows of the old tenement to clatter noisily. Not stunned by the fall, Vermillye staggered to his feet, but the strong arms of Jack Sphinx again hurled him to the floor, and this time he lay where | he fell, in an insensible condition. “Ou! Jac the, Vice-Pr esident?”’ is Nothing. Wh Paty thought I’d ask. Who are the tellers?’ “ ** Jackson Way is the receiving teller, and Philip Rossmere, the paying clerk.’ “None others have the handling of money—none of the book-keepers?” ‘Not toour knowledge. Judge Vermillye has the whole supervision of the books under his eye.’ “You look them over, too, I dare say?” “Certainly, sir.” “ Ever find anything wrong?” “No, sir. Books all O. K.!” “Do you ever entertain visitors in the bank, admit others than employees behind the grates?’ “Miss Vermillye occasionally favors us with a call; also my wife and daughter,” “ Call in this Way and Rossmere, please. I can tell you if they are the men.’ President Fowler touched a call-bell, and the two tellers were ushered in at his request. ‘*Messrs. Way and Rossmere,” he said, “allow me to make you acquainted with Miss Car son, detective —ditto, Mr. Jack Sphinx,” The two men acknowledged the introduction with bows, and were seated. Jack Sphinx gazed at them in a peculiar scrutiniz. ing way, then turned to the Pr esident. ‘You may dismiss thé gentlemen,” he said, calm- ly. “I have done with them.” Which Mr, Fowler did, with a bow, and they quitted the room. ** Well?” he demanded, after they had gone, “‘ what is your decision?” “It is reserved, at present. 1 should like you to show me through the bank, and the safes and vaults to_see if they’ve been tampered with, yet, The rest, Miss Carson and I will work out, ourselves.” Their request was eranted, and they were shown or
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* + we i i> : ' Watch-Hye. ‘through the entire building from basement to gar- ret, by the President, in person. Jack and Clipper Kate each used their a sharp- , and at last every portion and apartment had been own them, and they passed out onto the street, through the bank. Judge Vermillye was engaged at writing on one ef the desks, and pret nded not to notice them, but Jack Sphinx knew that he was aware of their presence. ; Out in the street, once more, Jack turned to Clip- per Kate, inquiringly: “You may upon me, at your leisure, and we vill compare notes and opinions. better than one, they Say, and strike a lead, I live at —, stairs.” “Very well. Look for me at almost any hour dur- “ the evening.”’ : hey parted then, Kate going into Market street and Jack into Chestnut, where he sauntered idly along, his thoughts busied with other matters than the gay whirl of life around him. “Te me see,” he mused. ‘To-day is the release- day o! Earastus Racket from the Inebriates’ Home, I wonder what effect the year has had pe him, poor fellow? I promised Nellie I'd look after him occasionally, and here I’ve not been near the place, ‘since the mornings procured his admission. I be- Heve I’)! go and find him now.” To think was action with Jack Sphinx, and he ac- cordingly set out for the Inebriates’ Home, On his arrival, he was shown into the superin- tendent’s reception room, and directly waited upon by the doctor in person—a gray-bearded, ikindll faced elderly gentleman, neatly but not richly dressed. “Dr. Mason, I believe?” Jack said. “The same, sir. Your name is—?”’ ‘ “ Jack Sphinx, detective, at your service. A lit- tie over a year ago I brought a poor fellow here for treatment and it occurred to me to-day, that I'd better call around and inquire after welfare and condition.” “A year ago—Ict me see,” the doctor said, mus- ly. ‘* Why, it must have been the man, Racket?” ‘ho same—Eurastus Racket.” “Ha! ha! he was a strange fellow, pon my soul, At first he was quite sick, what with a running eye and craving for strong drink. feye,out and a new one in its place, and in six erhaps we may Two heads are | ) Spring Garden street, up- | | me, But we soon had the | months the taste or smell of liquor was nauseating | | appropriated fifty thousand dollars of the bank’s our drunken vagabond turned out to be a gentle- | man of culture and intelligence, who evidently had | and disgusting to him.. He improved rapidly, and seen better days ina past of which he was careful not to speak. The last two months of his stay, he -delivered some excellent lectures on Temperance to the inmates of our asylum, and made a deep im- pression upon them. I tried to prevail upon him to remain longer, but he would net claening. that he had u great wrong which must righted, I ex- ‘ pect he has been greatly sinned against, in the past, sr is now about to fight to the bitter end, for his rights.”’ “Then he is not here?” Jack asked, disappointed- VuNo; he took leave of us, several days ago. He often spoke of you and a young lady called Nellie, .and wished he could see you.” So Jack was obliged to take his departure, with- out finding out any more concerning the tramp. Judge Vermillye dined at three, as a usual thing, but to-day a pressure of business detained him later, 80 that it was nearly dark ere he left the carriage in front of his own mansion, and ran up the steps. Miss Beatrice and Marquis De Haven were amusing themselves at the piano, in the grand parlor, but, in- stead of stopping, the banker ran up-stairs to his suite of rooms, making his toilet in his elegantly-ap- ointed doudoir, and then entering his grand ir rary. He started back with an oath as he did so, for a man was seated in one of the judge’s own luxurious- ly-upholstered arm-chairs, with his feet perched u against the book-case, engaged in smoking a ci- ar. : : . He condescended to lower his feet upon the judge’s entrance, and arise from the chair, with a bow, after which he resumed his seat. Vermillye uttered another oath. The man was Watch-Eye, the Shadow! “* You here /” the banker cried, a spice of threat in his tones. “ What fetches you here, sir—in my pri- vate office, at that?” ‘**My limbs assisted me here, if I remember cor- rectly,” Watch-Eye replied, coolly. ‘‘Be seated, Judge Vermillye, instead of working yourself into needless passion. I want to have a little private talk | with you, you see.”’ The banker dropped into a chair, his face grown a shade white, and a strange glitter in his eyes. “* Well?” he said, interrogatively, ‘I am listening to what you may have to say. Go ahead,” improves @ man’s memory, and I desire that yours shall be very good, upon this occasion, you see. What! don’t smoke? ; “Not with you, sir. Goon with what you have to *'Very well. To open matters in a business-like way, just cast your mind and memory back for a eriod of nineteen years, to a certain 10th day of ay. Where were you apes this day and date?” “In Philadelphia, sir, doubtless, as I have never been beyond a radius of a few miles from the city!” udge Vermillye replied, calmly. : ; You are sure you were in Philadelphia, nineteen | years ego to-day?’ Watch-Eye demanded, watching | is honor, keenly. ‘Quite sure!’’ the banker replied, “You have no recollection, then, whatever, of a little transaction which occurred in Baltimore, on said day, in the office of one Silas Pry, money-len- der—a case wherein said Pry, in consideration of a | mortgage given upon a Southern plantation known as Riverdale, by the heir and owner, Gerald es / paid into said Tracy’s hands the sum of fifty thousan | dollars?” “You speak in riddles, sir,” Judge Vermillye re- plied, haughtily. ‘I know nothing concerning the transaction of which you speak, neither was I ever in , the city of Baltimore!” ‘You lie, sir!’? Watch-Eye hissed, turning fiercely upon the banker. “What! what!” and the judge, springing to his | feet, reached for the bell-handle. ‘ You give me the lie, sir. house!” But Watch-Eye sprung and hurled him back, “You lie, Silas Pry!’’ he repeated, I know it—know you, for Tam Gerald Tracy |” CHAPTER VII. VERMILLYE HOLDS THE STRONGEST HAND. ‘*GeraLp Tracy!” the banker repeated, his face assuming a grayish pallor—‘ you, Gerald Tracy?” The same, alive and well, thank God,” the Shadow- detective said, triumphantly. “Sit down, Silas Pry, alae Judge Vermillye, and hear me out. I know you, even under your high sounding exchange of. cognomen. You also know 16, but not so much of me as you will directly. Sit down, while I rehearse you a little story. It is very beautiful and pathetic in its everyday occur- rences—almost like you will read of in Sunday- school books!” The sarcasm in the man’s tones so affected Ver- | millye, that he dropped into a chair, his teeth closing with a click, and bis hand involuntarily nearing a hip pocket. ‘Oh! you needn’t mind the weapon,” the Shadow said, coolly; “it is not necessary, for ere you could draw it, I can put half a dozen bullets through you. llong ago learned the art of quick trigger for such occasions as this, ‘But to return to my little romance in real life. | Nineteen years ago to-day, I applied to you for a loan of money. I had been living high, and not only You villain, [ll have you kicked from my | “You lie, and | used up my own ready cash, but, in a blind moment | cash, where I was employed. Discovery followed, | can, and I will have you arrested and cast in and I was offered a chance to redeem myself and | | save disgrace and imprisonment, by returning the | money I had appropriated. “In this desperate strait I came to you, whom I knew to be a money-lender, and tried to borrow the | sum. You were willing to lend me the fifty thou- sand, providing I would give you a mortgage ou my southern estate, Riverdale, for the amount of seven- ty-five thousand dollars. I was forced to accept your hoggish terms; I gave the mortgage, received the money, paid it over to a detective in your pre- sence, and took my departure, “T had been ordered by m the country for five years, anc far-western gold fields, to dig out of the earth riches enough to redeem Riverdale. ‘And according to my resolution, I immediately took my departure from Baltimore, for the West. employers to leave In bidding adieu to the East, I left behind me a little | | babe, and a wife, in Washington, dependent upon my wife’s needle-labor for support. Ihad written to them, explaining all, and promising a speedy re- turn, On reaching the West, I wrote them several letters, but got no answer. Again and again I wrote, but still no answer came from my loved ones. * At last I despaired of hearing from them—God forgive me, but t believed that my wife had turned from me, because of the social downfall I had caused her, and had returned to her people. “So, Silas Pry, I slaved on in the mines, More than a score of times did I face death, and narrowly escaped it, I learned at last that my enemies were but tools in your hands—that you were plotting away my life, that I might never return to pay off the mortgage. For ten years I battled with and baffied your bull-dogs; then they disappeared, and I was troubled no more. “Over a year ago,!I returned to Baltimore and Washington, in search of you and my family. In I resolved to seek the | o afford to forgive you—oh! yes. As I was saying, I was picked up and cared for—waz even induced to enter an inebriate asylum, to get cured of m ‘fe tite for strong drink. I went and was cured. You see me here before you, to-day, Silas Pry, ready te redeem that mortgage on Riverdale—you see me here before you, a free man, able and willing to fight you to the bitter end!” There was edcad silence in the room as Gerald Tracy finished speaking, and both men “a: glaring at? each other in a way that was evidence tit they had no love for each other—that they were destined to’ be deadly foes, from now on to the end. Judge Vermillye spoke at last, a cool, devilisi smile upon his face. “T have heard you through, Gerald Tracy, and, now, tell me, if you please, how are you going ty prove my identity with Silas Pry, of nu eteen years 0? “Easily. But that has nothing to do with my pre sent business here. Be you Silas Pry, Judge Ver- millye, or the Devil, you havea mortgage against Riverdale, and J have come to pay it oft." “Have you ever thought how much you owe me, then?” the banker demanded. “Yes, I have been figuring it over gnc over. (or nineteen years—I ought to know, certiwwuly. Oi hundred and sixty thousand five hundred dollars, us every cent I owe you.” , , ‘“ And are you ready to settle this claim, now?” = * “Tam. My nineteen years of banisiiment havo’ not been spent idly, and I can no doubt pay off ser-* eral such mortgages.” > Judge Vermillye arose and paced to snd fro, bis eyes fixed upon the carpet, a terrible glitter in thens.s He was struggling with an evi] and a good spirit. Should he yield up Riverdale, with all its wealth \ and beauties, or should he turn and smite down tuls claimant as he had the power to do? : No! he would not yield, after all these years oi triumph—he would not not yield and silow Gereid Tracy the satisfaction of a single triumph. He wov d fight with the aid of the Evil One—itight as man never fought before—and win! He felt sure that he would win. “Gerald Tracy!” he said, pausing before the re- turned wanderer—“ Gerald Tracy, you are reckou- ing without your host, in coming back here to claim that which was once yours, You araconfident tha by shrewd perception you have turned the table. upon me, but let me dispel this idea, The mortgage shall be foreclosed, and Riverdale is mine, I defy you to get it away from me. Try it if you think you rison before the sun sets to-morrow. Ifa! hat youl find that Silas Pry still holds the winning hand!” Tracy’s turn it was now to be surprised, “ You have me arrested!” he gasped. ‘* You have me arrested? Explain yourself—what have I ever done to you?” “Nothing particularly to me, ry dear Tracy, but you see, there is a little charge against you up in Vashington, which remains unscttled from nineteen years ago—a mere trifling matter, but sufficiently criminal to cause your arrest and imprisonment for a number of ha to come, Cause?—oh! a sma)) theft from the bank, I believe, of some fifty thousand dollars!"’ And the villain laughed, satirically. As for Gerald Tracy he staggered tohis fect, th» whole damnable plot bursting upon his mina wr | the closings words of his enemy. Baltimore I learned that you had years before left | , that place, and returned to Philadelphia, which, if I remeinber right, is the city of your birth, On inquir- ing after Riverdale, I learned that it had trebled in value in the last eighteen years, and was worth at least a couple of hundred thousand dollars, being in close proximity to the city. ‘**T then set out for Washington, and there receiv- ed the worst blow of all. Judge Vermillye only a few years after my depart- ure and had since her marriage suddenly died. my child I could find no trace—no worc —nothing! | She was dead or lost—research disclosed no facts “Yes, Allow me to offer you a cigar, first, as it concerning her after my departure for the West. “These discoveries disheartened me, for what had I to live for?—and I took excessively to strong drink: I became a drunkard, a sot, a tramp, on the face of God’s footstool. No one knew me, no one eared for | me—and I was happy only in my cups. “A year ago, Silas Pry, [ entered this mansion when it was a scene of festivity upon the occasion of a party. You had me unceremoniously thrown out, and even seni a tool of yours after me, to end my miserable career. -Somehow he failed to complete his task, and I was picked up and cared for, . You see my left eye isa game eye. I owe the loss of the | optic to you, but Ilove you so much that I can well My wife had married one | Of | | thief, to-day | you shall suffer the full penalty for v-~. “What! what is this you would say?” he rasped, his face deadly white, his one eye se: ming to blaze, his whole brain seemir on fire—‘‘was 10t the | money I gave the detective paid the bank, i: Wash ington?” * Tt was not! Judge Vermillye said, with triumpl: ant emphasis—‘it never saw the inside of Lt Washington bank, I dare say—-certainly nce! *o pax off your indebtedness. It of course was all owing to my shrewdness. If you had been a mouse, in my office, nineteen years ugo to-day, after you had taker | your departure, you might have overheard or wi - nessed a bargain between myself ani! the de ective. McQuaver, wherein we were to eq)\.'!y share th fifty thousand dollars, and he was to idke pretens” of continuing the search for you ii sohatt of the bank, but wasin reality to find and jv you forever’ out of the way, whereupon I \ as to pay him an ad- ditional ten thousand dollars!” ; “My God, man, I never deomed you such @ vi lain!’’ the Shadow gasped, in righteous horror, **No one else did,” the banker repucd, coolly. “2 smooth face, a smoother tougue, and scrupuloy honesty in all my dealings, has won, ine the repute tion of being a square man,” Gerald Tracy groaned aloud, as he sat with bower: head, his eye riveted upon the carpet. He was 1 fool not to see that he was completely in the powe, of one of the most devilish of allschemers. He kne\ that Silas Pry had matters ali in his own hands if it were aS he had said, “Well?” he demanded, interrogatively, what d . you intend to do?” “‘T intend to use my power over you to the fulla: * extent, providing you make any stir, You are ; the same, as you were hineteen year ago, Inthe hands of the chief of police at Washin; ton lies a warrant for your arrest on the charge * bank robbery. Dare but to annoy me again, ar I crime.” * And you—you mean to hold Riverdale?” “Yes. I shall foreclose the morigage at on and sell the place to get back my money and t! interest thereon, If It goes for over two hundred thousand dollars, let it go. Tf for less, I shall bid “ in, and pay whatever it sells tor, above my claim.” “But you cannot keep over the a1 .o. iu: due yeu on the mortgage?”’
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& ‘*‘ No, probably not, for the bank stands ready to claim any amount it may bring above my claims.” * Then, I have no claim whatever?” ‘None, whatever. Your only plan of safety is to lay low, as every thief does. If you come forward to oppose the foreclosure of the mortgage, your fate is sealed. Off to prison you go, as fast as jus- tice can carry you.” ‘*But you are counting it all against me. afew | gine against you. sion of all your villainy, which would lower your high head, somewhat, when taken into court. Be- sides, there’s a charge against you, in court, now for attempted murder.” Felix Vermillye smiled, villainously, and snapped Ihave I have your own confes- his fingers. ‘A fig for the latter case, while of the former you have no proof. We are alone. No one has over- heard us. My word in law would stand better than yours, for you are a thief /” The next minute the banker regretted his hasty ntege for Gorald Tracy leaped suddenly from his air upon hi ay and grasped him by the throat. “Curse you!” he gritted, his face livid with pas- sion, “you have said that thing once too many times. Do your worst! I defy you—doubly defy you. Beware! With God’s aid I will fight you, Silas y, and if {| am beaten, I'll break every bone in your body, if I hang for it the next minute. Be- ware, lsay! A desperate man has no mercy upon a foe, andI shall have none upon you. I will live yet to crush you—to baffle and disgrace you to that extent that you will gladly seek death in preference to a misera!Je existence. I go no., but you have not seen the last of me. A very fiend in my pur- suit a aida a I will hunt you down to a pauper’s grave During his wild, excited speech the returned wan- derer had tightened his grip about Vermillye’s throat until his eyes protruded from their sockets, and his tongue hung from his mouth, * And as he finished, he raised the pony banker from the floor, bodily, by the powerful strength of his arms, and hurled bim half-way across the room. He struck the floor with a crash, and lay there, 8 c quivering, his senses pr i. deserted him. ‘* Lie there, you accursed villain, and taste the be- ginning bitterness of my battle with you!” Tracy ritted, as he seized his hat, and stole from the ouse, It was some time before the stricken banker could be called back to consciousness by the servants who had seen him through the open door, lying prone on the floor, soon after the Shadow’s departure. When he finaiiy Jid recover his senses, he per- emptorily dismissed them all, and remained in his library for some time before going out for his usual evening in town. He was very sore from this fall, but was more sore in temper thaw in body. “Curses take the fellow,” he growled, as he paced to and fro through his elegant. library, ‘‘ he was as savage as a tier. He said he was desperate, and I am of the opinion that he was. He bade me beware. Yes, Gerald Tracy, I will beware. I'll cage you where you can do 10 harm, and that, ere long. You are too dangerous a stumbling-block to lie in m ath. I'll see that you are removed. And then, I'll oreclose the mor‘gage on the southern plantation, and pocket the cash. “A snug little investment, that was, after all. Twenty-five thousand for the use of fifty a matter of nineteen years, and then the interest amounts to a hundred and sixty, and five hundred more. Ha! ha! ha! I could not have done better, hadI leased the money by pieces. For Riverdale is surely mine, now, and that is worth two hundred thousand, at least, though at auction sale I will chance its running above a hundred and fifty thousand. So much for your scheming, Silas Pry. But, another bit of dev- iltry remains for you, and that is to get possession of Gerald Tracy’s wealth, Get it I must, or he will beat meat my own game, And gambling, instead of outright theft must be my way of reaching him. There aman here, who they say can beat the best, and if he is not possessed of too conscientious scruplés, he is my huckleberry. I will go and sound his depths.” CHAPTER VIII. A SURPRISE—TWO ROGUES MEET—CAGED. Tat evening Jack Sphinx called upon Miss Kate Carson, at her residence in Spring Garden Street. It was a cosey little two-story brick cottage, in the _ heart of the city, surrounded by many others great- €> in size and more imposing. ‘ A little yard in front was inclosed by an iron fence, and under cultivation as a flower garden. Upon ringing at the door, Jack was shown in through a hall to 2 little reception parlor, by a neat, retty servant girl, where he was informed Miss Kate would presently join him. The parlor was furnished after a neat but ins xpos ive fashion, with a bright crimson carpet, upholster- ed furniture, an upright piano,and a few modest pictures and paintings upon the walls. Then, there were numerous little nicknacks which served to adorn, all of which betrayed the skill of a woman’s band. Jack Sphinx had not been seated long, whena door opened, and * C“pper Kate”’ entered, She was at- red in a loose toilet wrapper, prettily set off with ribbon bows; spotless linen cuffs and collar, and a handsome gold chai. about her neck reaching to her watch-pocket. Hier hair was arranged becomingly, and altogeth- er she appeared to great advantage, despite the fact that no one col have called her handsome, W atch-Eye. ing herself, at once opened up on the subject of the interview. ‘Well, Mr. Sphinx, who do you think is the bank robber?” “T haven’t made any direct decision, yet, Miss Carson. I have been waiting to catch your ideas, before allowing my crude experience to form into thought.” “Well, I can soon tell you my judgment in the matter. There are two buildings built against the bank—one upon the east and one upon the west side. The first named is occupied as a clothing store, and the latt r as a pawnbroker’s establish- ment. The latter is kept by one of that much-abus- ed race known as Jews. Now, in my estimation, this robbery is done either by parties who have ac- cess to the interior of the bank through one of these side buildings, or by some one in the employ of the bank, who has charge of or access to the vaults of the company in that direction.” “Well, which do you think most probable?” “The latter.” ** And who the person or persons?” “T don’t know. That is for you and I to determine between ourselves. You questioned President Fow- ler concerning this man Vermillye, rather sharply, I took note.” “Yes, I did. My opinion of the man is not favor- able, to say the most, albeit he may be innocent of complicity in this robbery.” “He may and may not. Did you discover any- ple particular, while being shown through the ank. ‘** No, nothing. My eyes failed to see anything out of order.” ““My eyes, then, are a trifle sharper than yours, See here, what I picked up, will you,’’ and she held up a watch-key, with a low laugh. Jack Sphinx took it, and glanced it over sharply. It was a patented key, bearing the patent mark, and the name of Jay Walterbrooke, Jeweler. “Where did you find this, Miss Carson?” “Upon the basement bottom, when we were visit- ing the vaults.” “ Whom does it belong to?” “T know that nomore than you. I picked it up, thinking it might be useful.” wert **And so it may, But, now, we must dig in at the root of this matter. I have my suspicions firmly fixed upon Judge Vermillye, as being the depredator, but of course have no definite proof—no clew on which to cause his arrest. What course do you ad- vise? “T have been thinking of one, which may pan out as important results as any other, and that is for us to conceal ourselves in the bank, at night, and learn what we can.” “* Will the President allow this?” “Tf Task him, yes. If you will kindly wait here a few moments, I will go to his residence, half a block above, and ascertain.” Jack assented, and during her absence whiled away the time in looking over some books which lay upon the center-table. She was not gone long, he thought, when he heard her re-enter the house, and she came tripping into the parlor. “T have triumphed, my dear Sphinx,’ she said holding up a bunch of keys. “TI have got a set of duplicates to every lock in the bank building. Now we will go and make a night of watching of it. Are you ah gta armed? You know itis ever well to be prepared.” “Yes, Iam ‘heeled,’ Jack replied, with a smile. “But in case we can get into the bank, will not the watchman along that beat raise a racket, and arrest us fo the genuine bank robbers?” . ‘*T guess not, when we show our badges. Do you know, the policeman on that beat, may be the very chap who knows all about this robbery?” “ Buch a thing might be, and in that case, he, even, must not know of our presence in the bank,” “Right. We must watch our chance, and get in on the sly, or else we’ll see norobbers to-night. Ten to one we shall not, anyhow.” Kate Carson wrapped herself in a heavy water- proof and hat; then they took their departure to- ward the bank. On arrival there they had no trouble in gaining = oo entrance, without being disturbed or no- ced. Passing through the banking-room, Kate unlocked a door and they stepped into—the presence of half a dozen of armed, masked men, who instantly “* cov- ered” the two detectives with gleaming revolvers that were cocked with an ominous click! click! Judge Vermillye left his own mansion, after re- ceiving the harsh treatment at the hands of Watch- Eye, and hurried into town. Nor did he pause until he reached Nash’s restaurant, where he partook of a goodly-sized meal of choice viands, the whole wash- ed down with a bottle of champagne. Then came a choice cigar, when the banker arose to leave the place. As he did so, he saw a portly, pursy individual, who, from his dress and manners, might have been mistaken for a statesman, or the resident of a corporation, just entering the door. is com seemed to affect the banker strangely, for hes back upon his chair, and gazed at the new-comer, speechless with surprise. A smooth, fat face had this fellow, and he was dressed in the hight of fashion—black eyes gleamed from his head, however, and Judge Vermillye re- membered the face. e touched As the stranger was passing, the ju him upon the arm, and then made room for him up- on an adjoining chair. ‘*Sit down here,” he said, in answer to the fel- low’s look of surprise; “sit down here, I know you. Ghe bowed «ith asmile, as she saw Jack, and seat- | 1 want to speak with you,” | | em “Know me? Well, I guess you’ve mistaken your man!” the other replied, looking the judge over, with a criticising glance. I am but recently in these parts.’ ** Some foreign — I dare say, then!” Ver- millye replied, sarcasm in his to. es. ‘* An emperor, embassador, or mayhap a nobleman.” The man uttered a growl, and then turned squarely upon the judge. ‘** Who are you?”’ he demanded, surlily. The judge smiled, craftily. “Ts it possible that you have forgotten your old friends so soon?’ he said. ‘‘I should have known you had I seen you sitting upon a king’s throne. My name is Vermillye, sir, alias Silas Pry. Yours is Bill McQuaver, alias what?” The fat gentleman started angrily. You lie! Tam not McQuaver!” he replied. “You are,” the judge declared. ‘‘ Come! come} no more denial now, but go on and tell me where you have been, since eighteen years ago.” “Well, since ae won't take no for an answer, let’s step into the theater below here, and secure a a box, where we can talk unmolested and unheard. What do you say?”’ “Lead ahead. Just as yousay!” Inside of ten minutes ar occupied a proscenium box at the Chestnut Street Theater. ‘‘As Iwas saying,’ the judge remarked, by way of opening the conversation, ‘I should like to know where you have been during the last nineteen beets Here you come back dressing and looking like the president of some great corporation, and putting on as much style as though you were worth half a million instead of being Bill McQuaver, a runaway detective.” ‘*My name is Right Honorable David Thurston, at your service!” the ex-detective replied, grimly. “I ave been around the world since I saw you last. and, as you suggested, am worth half a million o dollars.”’ ‘How did you summon up sufficient courage to come back into the States, when such a reward is set upon your head?”’ ‘*A reward upon my head?” “ Certainly—for feloniously epee lang. the mon- ey paid you by Gerald Tracy and lea for parts unknown.” “The devil, you say!” : “Yes, The charge stands against you, and I saw a policeman eying you, a bit ago, or I shouldn’t haya called you here.’ ‘* But you took the largershare of themoney. Be- sides, you owe me ten thousand dollars, for that job against Tracy.” ““ Who is alive and well, to-day!” “Not bya long sight. I shot him four times through the heart, and saw his body covered over with six feet of ground.” ** Are you lying to me?” “*Upon honor, it is as I’ve told you.” “Then he has the nine lives of a cat, for certain it is that he has returned, and threatens to make trou- ble incamp. You must silence him, forever !” * T must?” * You must. If you refuse, I'll hand you ‘over to the law as the thief who ran off with the bank money.” / . The ex-detective uttered an inaudible curse, and glanced nervously around. He evidently had a dread of arrest, “Curse you. What do you want me todo with him?” he demanded, *‘and what will ye do after I do get rid of him?” y “You can take your own remedy,” the judge said, coolly. ‘Tam not particular as to the method, so long as itis effective. After the job’s done, my lips shall be sealed as to your past, and you shall ve the money.” ‘You promise this?” “ Ay, I swear to it, if necessary,” “Where is this Gerald Tracy?’ “You must find him. Some call him Watch-Eye, because one of his eyes is a glass eye.” “J will find him. AndT’ll use a remedy that won't fail, this time.” Shortly after this the two py ere McQuaver pa i the upper part of the city, and Judge ermillye in the direction of the wharves. * Gerald Tracy’s doom is sealed,” he muttered, a horrible glitter in his eyes, as he moved along. “TI shall be rid of him; MeQuaver fairly upon his track he is a dead man—sure. Then, ord a few remnants of a dark past lie in my way, and they can easily be removed. McQuaver, himself, for one} Jared Oggles- by for another. The girl, Nellie Morton, and the fellow Sphinx may give me trouble, unless I can uiet them, somehow. I think I can fix all these things to suit me.” It was an unexpected situation that Kate and Jack found themselves placed in, for they had not calcu- lated upon being surprised in highway robbery fashion within the very walls of the bank, where they had come to lie in wait for stealthy criminals. Instead, they were now confronted by a half-dozen masked fellows, all enveloped in hooded oil-cloth coats, and armed with the revolvers which they leveled so suddenly upon the detectives, that neither had an 6 tae A to draw a weapon, ere they were ** covered.” “You may as well surrender, and take matters rationally,” one man said, stepping forward appa- rently. to distinguish h’'mself as leader. ‘ You've fallen into the trap you had prepared for us, and we shall see that you don’t trouble us.” ‘“What do you mean?” Jack demanded. “It is you who had better surrender, as you can never es- cape from this place alive. It is surrounded.” *A clever lie, but it avails you little,” the leader {
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— replied, with a sarcastic chuckle. “ Were there ten thousand men on the outside, they could not prevent | our leaving this bank. Come! hand over your weapons. It’s your only choice.” Jack turned to Miss Carson, inquiringly, and she nodded her head. “Tt is no use to resist. So let them do as they will, and we will work, afterward.” . “You will, will you?” the leader said, craftily, “Oh! yes, no doubt. Seize them, boys; and bind their , hands behind their backs, and blindfold them, This was done, and as resistance seemed useless, under the circumstances, the detectives submit- rant without knowing what fate was in store for them. When they were secured according to the captain’s orders, they were forced to walk forward through a number of rooms, and finally down-stairs, into the vault, Here they paused. ‘“You are in the basement of the bank, where all the money is stored, You seldom visit the place, while we visit it often. I shall now extract a thou- sand dollars from the fund. Then you shall be taken away and confined, and the bank will lay this rob- bery, and pee those heretofore, to you, and your names will be heralded abroad; you will be outcasts and outlaws upon the public. When you are thoroughly branded, and your names are in the mouths of everybody, we will turn you out upon the streets, to be gobbled up by the law.”’ “Curse you, do ad worst, Judge Vermillye!”’ Jack ped replied. ‘‘ Though you wore a mask when I looked at you, I now recognize ron by your voice. Ha!I fancy you start, aaa trem dle, because you. dread the open revelation to the world.” “You err, young man,”’ the leader replied, in a dis- uised voice. ‘*lam not the man you believe me to e. So, in accusing Judge Vermillye, you will be doing an innocent man a great injus ice—that is, if you ever escape. My name is Captain Jim Sta- vers, and my gang, here, are all professionals. “Oh! that will do very well to feed the sparrows on, but sparrowhawks do not digest that order of grub!” Jack replied, sarcastically. Then there was asilence, for a few moments, dur- ing which time the prisoners heard two of the gang move away along the aisle in which they seemed to be standing, * Olipper ’’ Kate Carson said nothing. All that passed seemed to be received by her, but she gave expression to no sentiment whatever, elther of despondency or regret that they had come and gotten entangled in such a difficulty. } Jack Sphinx was a little dubious of the ultimate results of their adventure, for he believed Judge Vermillye to be a person who would hesitate at no crime which would cover previous guilt, or add to his welfare and safety. But he resolved to take matters as they came, without grumbling, and await the issues before drawing conclusions. Something might turn up. The parties who had left the ranks soon returned and then the whole gang moved off, taking Jack and his female pard with them, For a mile, it seemed, they moved along a hard bottom; then three of the gang went off with Jack and Kate Carson, while the rest stopped. On through another series of passages; then there was a clanging as of iron gates, and the two detectives found themselves locked in a sort of dungeon, but separated by an iron grating. They were caged! CHAPTER IX. A HEINOUS SCHEME—MCQUAVER’S RESOLVE. On the following day there was a great excitement at the —— Bank, upon the discovery that it had again been robbed. Suspicions naturally turned upon Jack Sphinx and te Carson as the perpetrators of the theft, since they had been given conurate keys to the bank, on the previous night, and were now nowhere to be en. seen, Nor were they to be found, as a fruitle s search roved. They had suddenly disappeared, as had a housand dollars of the bank’s money. Several of the directors, together with President Fowler and Vice-President Vermillye, had assembled in the President’s private office to discuss the mat- ter. ; : ” “T think the case is clearly explained, now,” Ver- millye said. ‘* These two detectives whom we em- loyed, are the very ones who are robbing us, or, at east, are in league with a gang of rofessional thieves whom they are aiding and abetting. “So it would seem,” President Fowler confessed, petting sh “and yet these robberies took place lo fore I sought detective aid.” “That may all be, but you stumbled on the very pextieg who were bleeding us, and employed them. “What proof have you of this?” “Why, the precious pair have escaped, and a thousand dollars are missing—isn’t that sufficient proof of their guilt?” “By no means. I do not believe in convicting ople on circumstantial evidence. These detec- Pied may be laying low in order to work up their vip ee Perha gs. But I shouldn’t be afraid to wager that they’d never turn up again. “Ah! Well, maybe they have been pat out of the way by some one interested in the wholesale robbery business?’ President Fowler suggested. Judge Vermillye flushed, and sprung from this seat, angrily. yo) “Did understand that to be an insinuation?” he demanded, hotly, . Ae : ** Just as you choose to accept it, my dear Vermill- W atch-Kye. 9 ye,” the President replied, coolly. clear conscience, I have heard said, will not notice an insinuation.”’ The judge flushed again at the cut, but subdued his wrath. “Perhaps you are right, and I should not have thought of such athing. But I am naturally quick- tempered, to that extent that I am often ashamed of myself. i hope and trust these detectives may turn out all right, but I have my doubts I know of a detective who can be relied upon, but 1 don’t know as he could be engaged at present.” *No hurry,” President Fowler replied. ‘I shall give the matter my personal supervision, and see what kind of a detective I will make. ing?” “Yes. My daughter was indisposed when I left, this morning, and I must drop in upon her while the physician is there.” ’ his was an outright lie, but the judge regarded it as an exceedingly good way to obtain leave of ab- sence, but, instead of going to his home, the banker made his way to East Callowhill street, and in one of the numerous grog-shops there to be found, hunt- ed up Jared Ogelesby, the man to whom Nellie Mor- ton was bound. He at last found him in a saloon, notoriously bad in the character of its patrons, and a dirty, filthy den at the best. Jared Ogglesby was the ideal of a thoroughbred miser. He was lank and lean, with pinched fea- tures, partly covered with a grizzly stubble of hair, a pair of little black eyes peered evilly from in un- der a pair of overhanging brows; his nose was hook- ed and the color of a cherry upon the point, and his attire was ragged and filthy. He was rather “full,” but recognized Vermillye, with a tipsy nod. **’Mornin’, jedge. Have a smile o’ gin?” “No, I thank you, Jared. Ido not drink the vile poison with which you saturate yourself,’ the judge replied. ** Come, I want you.” ‘What d’ye want?”’ “You shall know directly. Barkeeper, have you a private room, handy?” Yis, yer honor!’ replied the Irishman, who dealt out the beverage for the establishment. ‘ Here be the kay, sur, an’ yez’ll find the room noomber twenthy-siven, on the right av the hall. Five dol- lars, av yez might please.” “Go to the dogs!” Vermillye replied, taking the key, and throwing down a dollar.‘ There’s enough for your old coop. Come along, Jared.” Vermillye then led the way through a dark, dismal, | looking hall, until room 27 was found, He unlocked the door, and pushed Ogglesby inside, entering him- self and closing and fastening the door behind him. He then took a seat in front of the miser, who had dropped into a chair, “T have wanted to see you,” the banker said, in a low tone, “forI have made an important discov- ery.”’ Mi What?” Ogglesby demanded. ** You know all about the Gerald Tracy affair, for, believing you could be trusted, I have from time to time made you my confidant. found th» girl whom I have all along believed to be hving—Tracy’s daughter.” “Wound her? Who is she?” ** Guess?” “Tam no hand at guessing.” “Well, you’ve heard of the row I had at the tene- | ment, an der?” “Yes. Why did you try your hand on the gal?” ** Because, the girl whom you have bound to you how I was arrested for attempted mur- | ning grin. | “A man with a | What, go- | Well, I have at last | | pectin | dual, with an immense allowance of | of asleuth. under the name of Nellie Morton, is in reality Gerald | Tracy's own and lawful child and heir,”’ “The devil, you say!” “It is true. a birth-mark upon her arm, which I remembered having seen upon the arm of the infant that land | Whack Butler stole from Mrs. Tracy’s house, before | my marriage to her.” ‘You are sure of this?” “Positive. And, then, come to think, the girl re- sec ap Tracy. I marvel that I never noticed it be- ore.”’ 7 What became of Whack Butler?” Satan only knows. He went to sea, and never returned.”’ “TI got the girl from a man in West Virginia. Don’t remember his name now. It was over fifteen years 0 “She is undoubtedly the original. And, to make matters still more interesting, her father isin this Le and knows me!” ** Well, how does all this concern me, I should like thoug. alert. “Tt concerns nificantly. wen The I decline bef. ti 24 . en I decline ore you mention it. Iam not partial to labor." — * But, you are a great miser, and I’ll allow that you like to turn an honest or a dishonest penny, as well as ne aye aap b “Well, state your business. I’ll argue with you after I’ve heard what you want done. You icee that I despise money, and only avery liberal sum can affect me.” “You are an old hypocrite!” Vermillye retorted as ifin disgust. ‘‘ But to business. How much rent has the old tenement brought in, during the past year?’ Ogglesby shrugged his shoulders, * Buta mighty little. Only a matter of a hundred dollars, what with dishonest tenants, and big taxes.” he was soaked with liquor, he was keenly ou greatly,’’ Vermillye replied, sig- « here’ is work for you toes In a tussle with the girl I discovered | | of the transe " ceding. to inquire?” Ogglesby demanded, sharply, for, al- | 40 anseps, and appeared. 36 Pe rots | Sprung out gee him, ‘What became of my money? You as agent had a right to keep but ten dollars on a hundred.” “All down, here,” the miser replied, with a cun- ‘** All went for rum,’’ and he laid his hand upon his stomach, “You area fine rascal to act as one’s agent, ain’t you? But, passing that aside, the old building is not paying me, and I’ve resolved to get my money out of it. Do you understand how I mean?’ “By fire?” ‘*Pxactly! by fire,’ the banker replied, lowering his tone and ; lancing around, lest he should be over- heard. ‘And I want you todo the job. The build- ing is insured for two thousand dollars, and that is more than I should ever realize out of it, if it were tostand. Therefore, I want you to fire it. When it stands in ruins, and I get the insurance upon it, you callupon me and I will place five naencired dollars in yourhands. And, hark you, Jared Ogglesby,” and the banker lowered his voice to a whisper, “ if such a thing should happen that Heed bound girl, who is Gerald Tracy’s daughter, should by accident—un- derstand me, now—should by pure accident burn with the building, you would be richer by five hun- 2a eam more, making in all a thousand dol- ars.”’ . “T think I understand you,” the miser replied, a horrible smile coming upon his face, ‘In saying to you that you may depend upon me, I believe I have said enough.” * Quite,’’ Judge Vermillye replied, rising triumph- antly, to depart. ‘I will depend upon you.” A man was loitering about the docks at the foot of Walnut street that same night, not apparent having any object in so doing, more than to cate the refreshing breeze that blew off from the restless Delaware, for the night was sultry for May, and ae, sky was hooded in inky clouds, foreshadowing a storm. Business had pretty much suspended, with the exception of a few oyster-venders who were closing out their stock in trade to an occasional late pur- chaser, or an occasional policeman who paced to oe fro along Front street, which overlooks the ver. The man referred to was ordinarily dressed; a personage with long brown beard, whch almost covered his face, and the bearing of a gentleman of leisure, He carried a stout walking-stick, and a pair of — were perched upon his nose, screening is eyes. Ever and anon, he would stop to listen, as if ex- some sound or signal. Finally he left the doek at the foot of Walnut. street, and walked briskly along, until he arrived at the Market street ferry-house, The boat from Camden had just arrived, and the passengers were disembarking in swarms. Standing near the entrance to the ferry-house, the stranger watched the passengers as they came out, with a keen scrutiny that evidenced the fact that he was interested. At last he seemed to fasten upon a man as being” the one he Wanted—a tall, powerfully-built indive. pre mad and the possessor of a pair of brown whiskers that. rivaled the stranger’s own. The man with the big stomach, was in reality the ex-detective, McQuaver, in disguise. McQuaver started away up Market, at as rapid a stride as this corporosity would allow, and the stranger dogged his footsteps with the Perea sty f the ex-detective stopped into a store: or a saloon, the stranger either stopped also, or loitered near, until his game came out and went om again, n this way he continued to shadow the man with the great girth, If McQuaver was aware that he was followed, he did not betray his knowledge of the fact, but kept on up Market street, going west. Still the stranger followed, not many paces behind. At last they came to the square of unfinished Pub- lic Buildings at Broad and Market streets, and by” some error in usual customs, found the gate to the: | public transept left open, Seeing this, McQuaver quickened his pace, and’ entered the gloomy portals of the massive pile of! a eg A E This lost him temporarily from the sight of the: strange pursuer, who still held his own, and shortly’ afterward left the street and entered the gloomy’ transept, himself, I striding forward for a little ways, he pausedi sten. Footsteps were distinguishable at the further =e O- lieving them to be the tootsteps of McQuaver, the stranger hastened cautiously forward, until a figure from one of the dark alcoves, and a triumphant voice cried in a low, evil tone: ‘Ha! ha! my gay copper, you're after me, el, We'll see whether you git yer wants satisfied or not, Take that, cuss ye!” & And in the air above the stranger’s head a long- bladed knife flashed threateningly. But the murderous blow did no particular harm for the stranger struck aside McQuaver’s hand, and the knife but grazed his shoulder. The next instant the tables were fairly turned, for the stranger had er by the throat. “No! no! Jack McQuaver, I am not satisfied,” he gritted, savagely, while his gripe fastened tighter around the ex-detective’s throat. “Instead of my falling into your hands, you have fallen into mine!”’ A powerful man was the stranger, and withal a cool man. For, keeping one hand about the ex-d>- tective’s wind-pipe, he actually raised him, big as he /
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nen ee ee A 10 was, from the ground, and carried him up one of the gloomy aisles of the massive structure, until they were out of the way of chance passers-by. Here he laid him upon the ground, and placed one knee upon his breast, while a revolver silenced his would-be cries. ** Silence, now!’’ the stranger ordered, pressing the muzzle of his weapon to the ex-detective’s cheek. “Tf vou but give a squawk, I'll blow your brains out. Don’t imagine I’m fooling, for I was never more in earnest.” “Let me up!’’ McQuaver growled. hold of the wrong man,” “No, I’ve got the right man. You are Bill Mc- Quaver, and I know it. Lheard you admit the same to Vermillye—alias Silas Pry!” “Well, what ifI am MeQuaver? What business or right have you to assault me in this manner?”’ “The right of an injured victim of your thievish treachery—the right of aman whois seeking ven- geance, through the aid of the law. Do you know me, sir?” ‘*“No!”? McQuade grunted, sullenly. or I'll whistle for the police!” “Dare to try such a move, and I'll give you a dose of leaden electricity, such as you never experienced. So you don’t know me, eh?—don’t know the man you were seeking out, to murder. I am Gerald Tracy, or Watch-Eye, the Shadow!” McQuaver started, his florid face paling, a trifle. . * You ?” he gasped—“ you?” “Yos, I! You may well tremble, you accursed rascal, for into preen you go, in less than an hour, unless you make a confession of your crimes, and place it in my hands.” FP penny oy self?’ “Yes, and a Silas Pry. Also, you must pay me fifty thousand dollars. Refuse, and into jail you go, for a straight ten years of your life.” ; McQuaver remained silent a few moments, as if turning over the situation in his mind. “You promise to let me go, if, out of the money I have honestly made, Igo and pay the bank, and clear you?” he demanded. ‘You shall go free.” “Then, [ll do the fair thing by you. I've allus been haunted by that cussed bit o’ villainy, and I’ve made up my mind to clear my skirts of villainy, and even though it beggars me, I'Jl square up, and turn over a new leaf. I scarcely believe I was ever cut out for a villain anyhow. en shall we start for Baltimore and Washington?” ** At once!’ Watch-Eye said. CHAPTER X. BREAKING LOOSE—-OLD PHILLIS. We must now return to Jack Sphinx and Kate Carson, whom we left incarcerated, underground, in a dungeon, although they were ignorant as to the style of prison they were in, or its /ocule. ‘After locking them within the dungeons, the bank robbers took their departure and the two detectives were alone, separated ‘by an iron barred partition. The robbers had neglected to release them of th bonds, and so they were left blindfolded and witu their hands tied behind their backs. Kate Carson was the first to speak. ‘Ave you there, Jack?” she called. “Yes, I’m on hand,”’ Spinx replied, grimly. ‘“* How “You've got “Let me up, do you like your new faba over there?” **T don’t know, for I haven’t been able to inspect them yet. My eyes are covered with a strong cloth.’ “Ditto mine. And my arms are bound, too. But if I can find a sharp stone, I can cut the ropes, and then release you. Then we can better inspect our new quarters, I guess.” The search for the sharp stone was fruitless, for the walls were all laid of smooth granite. The next best thing was the iron bars, and Sphinx set to work, determined to free himself, somehow. But the sawing of his bonds across the edges of the iron was slow and monotonous work, and weary- ing, to that extent that he finally gave it up as a bad ob. He next tried to remove the bandage from be- fore his eyes, in which he was successful, and was soon able to survey his surroundings. He found that they were in an old disused cellar, half filled with old barrels and boxes, behind which the double dungeon had been built at some rem: te riod, for what use was a mystery. A kerosene mp swung ina bracket, just outside the dungeon door, and furnished the only light upon the sub- ect. It enabled Jack to see that there were no ways in which he could cut and free himself of his bonds. Kate, he could see, was working to liberate her hands, but with poor success. The act of wearing outa strong rope by drawing it across a stone or iron bar, is not the most rapid work. : After reflection, an idea struck him which he re- solved to put into execution. : He had a clasp-knife in his jacket-pocket, and if he could but get at this, he could perhaps manage to cut his bonds. Bu. with his arms tied behind his back, how was he to free himself—how was he to get at the knife? There was but one way, and he resolved to try it. That was by lying down upon the floor, and at- tempting to stand upon his head, and in this manner spilling out his knife. : To try the plan was easy, and he put the idea into execution. Lying upon his back, he turned a half- summerset, balancing himself for a second or two upon his head, with his heels in the air. Clink! the knife dropped from his pocket upon the hard bottom of the dungeon, and he had won! Dropping back Bpop his back, he wriggled along, unti his vinioned hands came into contact with the -Watch-Eye. knife. He then arose to his feet, and it was not lon ere he had the blade opened, and the cords severed, after which his arms were free! ‘* Loose, at last!’’ he cried, with a chuckle. ‘‘ And, now, Miss Carson, if you will come to the grating, I will endeavor to reach through and free you.” Kate obeyed, and the detective managed to re- lease her hands, after which she tore the covering from her eyes herself. “Well, we’re partly free at last,’’ Jack said, ‘‘ but there’s no telling when we shall get out of this place. Iron bars are not as easily cut as a rope.” “True, but I do not intend to stay here, if I can | Do you think we could make anybody hear | help it. by yelling. “Tt is doubtful, This old basement seems to be very large, and a fellow might halloo till doomsday, without attracting attention, except from the rats, I can’t imagine where we are.”’ ‘Nor I, but we are not far from the wharves, and possibly under some vacant storehouse. These cages have probably been used some time to cage wild animals for some menagerie.”’ ” “Yes, but not belonging to that race of creatures, | I don’t like the situation. We shall have to put our heads together, and form some plan by which we can secure our liberty?” When Wate -Eye spoke as last recorded, he re- leased his hold upon McQuaver, and allowed him to arise. He still retained his revolver in readiness, for he knew not but what the ex-detective might be playing the villain, despite his seeming earnestness. “You can put up your weapon,”’ McQuaver said. ““T’ve nothing against you, and if you treat me half human, you can depend upon me,’ “Tf you_choose to carry out your proposition, that’s all I care about you,” Gerald Tracy said. “Faithfulness never goes unrewarded, and if through your means I become re-established in the world, you shall not lose by it. First come with me to my quarters, and we will arrange a confession,” eee did not hesitate to obey, and accompa- nied the Shadow-detective to his lodgings which were in North 18th street. A large, pleasantly lighted room, tastily furnished, was what the Shadow called his quarters, and into which he conducted McQuaver, and handed him a seat at a desk, supplied with writing materials, while he himself took a chair close at hand. ** There are pens, ink, and a he said. “You may make out a confession, I like it, all right; if not, I will destroy it and give you the trouble of writing the whole thing over.” Without demur the ex-detective set about his task. He was a good penman, and wrote rapidly, so that it was not many minutes ere he handed Gerald Tra- cy the document, of which the subjoined is a correct copy: 7 “Philadelphia, May 12, 18—. “To President of —— Bank, Washington, D. C.: ‘*Dear Sir: You will probably be astonished on the reception of this, to learn that the warrant you hold | for the arrest of Gerald Tracy, nineteen years ago an employee in your bank, prevents an honest man from coming forward to claim the rights of a citi- zen under his true name. For, understand you, Gerald Tracy is not indebted to you one farthing, he having on the tenth day of May, nineteen years ago, paid into my hands, according to your direction, the sum of fifty thou and dollars, which he had pre- viously taken from the bank. “This clears Gerald Tracy, and I recommend that you receive him back as an honest, law-abiding citi- zen, which I believe him to be. He has been absent from the Hast nineteen years, supposing all the time that his debt to you was canceled; but on returning* | and finding that it was not, has sought me out, and I have decided to make a clean breast of it. The money was paid by Tracy into my hands; then a devil came to me in the shape of one Silas Pry, and proposed that I keep a portion of it, and surrender the rest to him. I did so, and I fled to other parts of the world. But I have become tired of a roving life, and the thought that Iam a thief; and hence I have resolved to clear Tracy and pay you one hundred and sixty thousand and vs hundred dollars, which is the full amount, principal and interest of the debt I owe you; upon condition that you will sign a clear- ance paper, and return it tome by Mr. Gerald Tracy, promising never to take action against me or him. “We. McQuaver.”’ This was what the document said, and what Gerald Tracy read, over and over several times, “Ts that all right, or is there something more you | would have?” McQuaver asked, anxiously. “Tt is enough,’ Watch-Kye replied, ‘‘ and I thank you forit. Ibelieve you mean to do better, and as ong as I see that such is your intention you: can count on me as a friend: There have been black spots in both of our lives, but I have confidence we can yet do enough good in the future, to atone for | You intend that I shall pre- | the wrong of the past. sent this to the President of the bank?” “Yes. I will accompany you to Washington, tg they accept my terms, I will pay them the e S. “No. You shall not do that, alone,’’ Watch-Eye replied. ‘‘You pay what you took, with interest and I will give you the rest. Silas Pry, yet, or fam mistaken. And now, hazing arranged this, you can meev me at the depot, Bro and Washington Avenue, to-morrow morning, and we will catch the first train to the Capital.” After a few more words, McQuaver took his de- parture. Bright and early on the following morning, Watch- Eye was at the Baltimore depot, and found the ex- detective there in advance of him. 7 I shall get it out of Going aboard the first train, they were whirled away over the steel track, toward their destination. “There are a few things I woul ask you about?” Gerald Tracy said, as the train glided along, “and that is concerning the death of my wife, who, I un- ders‘ and, married Silas Pry, after I left for the ‘West. Have you information to give?” “Very little bearing directly on the case, I am sorry to say,’’ McQuaver replied. ‘‘I was hired by Silas Pry, as you may know, to follow you and put you out of the way, in order that he, Pry, might in the course of time, foreclose the mortgage upon Riverdale. Once or twice I received letters from Pry; in one of them he stated rhat he had married Mrs. Tracy; in another, that his wife had suddonly died. That’s all I ever heard about it.” Gerald Tracy groaned in spirit. a “I wish I could find out how she died!” he said his brows knitted in perplexity of thought. “I should be better satisfied.’ “Why do you not hunt up old Phillis, the nurse woman, It occurs to me that she was in attendance upon your wife during her last sickness.” ‘*‘Ha! if I could but find her. But is she alive, after all these years? Inquiry in Washington m ght or might not find her.” ““We can try, at least,’ McQuaver said, ‘ Al- though not much acquainted in Washington, I know where the old wench used to live, and it will do no harm for us to visit the locality.” ‘*God bless you: You are indeed a friend in an hour of need,” Watch-Eye replied, warmly grasping the ex-detective’s hand, ‘We will go and per ohn find the negress. If I could but find my child, the happiness of my future would drive away the dark clouds of my past.” Arrived in Washington, the two men set faith- a to work, to discover the abode of the negro, iillis. A visit to the spot where McQuaver had once known her to live, resulted in finding no trace of her. She had long since moved to other quarters. In their disguises both McQuaver and Gerald Tracy pened through the streets of Washington, without detection, for after nineteen years nobody knew them, nor did they see many that they knew. Turning away from several places where the ne- gress had once lived, they sought out the city direc- tory, and together scanned its pages, eagerly. There were Phillises of every name, seemingly, but only two whose occupation corresponded with the previous business of the Phillis they wanted. One of these was Phillis Bohee, dry nurse, and the other Phillis Washtoe, wet nurse. They lived in the same section of the city, and our two friends decided to pay them each a visit, before trying the other Phillises. A visit to Phillis Washtoe, who came first on the route, resulted in finding a negress with half a dozen little negroes tied to her skirts. ee ae if she had ever nursed one Mrs. Judge Vermillye, or Mrs. Silas Pry, McQuaver and Watch-Eye were informed in the negative. So bidding Mrs. Washtoe good-day, they set out in search of Mrs. Bohee, whom Mrs. Washtoe believed to be the right emf “T have almost d spaired of finding any clew,” Watch-Eye said, as they walked along. ‘‘'Ten to one the next one will not be the one we seek.” ‘‘T have faith that she will be the one,’’ McQuaver replied. Tod so they went on until they came to the re- sidence of Phillis Bohee. It was a dirty-looking — in which she lived, but there were no children abou McQuaver’s rap was answered by a trim mulatto girl of seventeen, who politely invited him to en- er. Inside everything was neat and clean, but showed that poverty was not a stranger there, An old negress sat croning before the stove, clad in rags. She was as black as a coal, and well pre- served, but was evidently in her second child- hood. The girl handed the visitors chairs, and then await- ed in respectful silence for them to state their er- rands. ‘Which one of you is Phillis Bohee?” McQuaver eee first at the old woman, and then at the girl. “s fim Phillis Bohee—who wants me?” the old wo- wan said, looking up from the fire, abruptly. ‘ Who wants me?” . “T want you to answer me a few questions, my good woman,” the ex-detective replied. “One of them is: were you ever employed as nurse to Mrs, Judge Vermillye, of this city?” “ Vermillye—Vermillye?’ The negress muttered, | thoughtfully. ‘‘Let me see: was it many years | a 0? | Oe Yes—a matter of sixteen, or so. wife died very suddenly, you know. name was Mrs. Tracy.” “Oh! yes—yes, I remember now. Mrs. Tracy seberil times,” “Did you ever hear her speak about her former husband?” “Oh! golly, yes. She tell me all about him. She tell me how he run away an’ leab her, and den she hear of his deafth, an’ den somebody stole her baby; yes, an’ she mourn an’ grieve her pretty eyes out for her poor first husband an’ child.” ’ ‘Did she ever say how she came to live with Ver- millye? how she came to marry him?” “No! she nebber say much about him. He treat her wuss’n a slave master used to treat his niggers, wae pound and abuse her drefful, and threaten to kill her.” “Curse him!’? Watch-Eye fairly hissed, in terrible anger as he listened to the simple story of the | wench. ‘ He shall yet suffer, even as she suffered.” Vermillye’s Her previous Yes, I nussed
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“'Thisis Mr. Tracy, who was the first husband of Mrs. Vermillye,” McQuaver explained. ‘‘ We came to find you, and learn if possible of what Mrs. Ver- millye died. Wehave both had suspicions that foul play might have caused her death.”’ "Yes, yes, I allus sed she did not die natural-like, but I hadn’t any proof on it. Bress you, dough, missus dropped away orful quick, she did. She com- menced ailin’ on Monday, an’ Saturday she was laid out in her coffin. Sez I to her: *“*Missus, be all goin’ right? Be you satisfied?’ Den she smile an’ she sez: “*Took in under my pillow, after I’m gone, and you'll find a sealed package. Take it, an’ if ever my child is found, give it to her.’”’ ‘“And this paper—have you it yet?’ Watch-EKye demanded, exci y: “Yos, ’se gotit. Dolly, gal, jes’ you go up in de arret and fotch down dat bandbox. De dockyment Bo in dat, onless de rats hab done gone an’ eat it to pieces!” CHAPTER XI. FIRE AT OGGLESBY PLACE—JACK SPHINX’S BRAVERY. ‘*Fire! Fare! Frre!” The cry rent the night in a piercing yell, from some stentorian voice. “Fire!” the electric signa] ran like chain-lightning to the many fire stations in the Quaker city; the Dis- trict Telegraph flashed the news over their many wires; t..» one word ‘‘fire’? made many a heart beat fast, for it meant destruction and desolation. Only along the routes taken by the fire engines and trucks was the populace aroused, except in the locality of the fire; elsewhere the people slept on unaware of the conflagration, perhaps, until they shou!d read of it in the morning papers. we The scene of the disaster was in no other building than that known as Ogglesby’s tenement. The whole place seemed ablaze. From every door and window the smoke poured in dense volumes, and occasionally a sharp tongue of flame would leap out into the a Tm as if reaching for a hold upon the op- posite buildings. The street in front of the old building was throng- ed with people, who surged to and fro behind the ‘ropes that barred them out from reaching the burn- ing building or touching such household effects as were being rescued from the doomed tenement. Men, women and children, many of them in their bare feet and night robes, as they had escaped from the fire; brawny policemen; yelling draymen, and the trumpet voice of brave firemen—all united ina series of howls and cries, that made the scenea pandemonium. Still the fire waged on, within the building, and the smoke and flame poured out into the night. Streams of water were turned upon and into the building, without apparent effect; several daring ‘“Jaddies”’ ventured into the builuing, but all to no avail. The dense volumes of smoke drove them | back, nearly suffocated. All that could be done was to nee the streams of water upon the structure until it was flooded, but it might take hours ere such flames yielded to the power of wator. Among the most excited upon the spot, was old Jared Ogglesby. He rushed frantically about, urg- ing on the firemen, and acting more like a crazy per- son than aught else,’ ‘* Put out the fire! put out the fire!’ he shouted. * Oh! my property is all gone and I am a ruined man! ‘ive hundred dollars reward! five hundred dollars reward for the arrest and conviction of the person or persons who set fire to my tenement.” But, none seemed to know any thing about the fire; the average spectator was pleased to see it burn, for it would give room for a better block. But Oggles M apparently bemoaned his ill-luck, in the bitterest terms, and swore bitter vengeance | upon the incendiary who had fired his tenement. The fire waged on. Stream after stream of water was being thrown into the building by the panting engines; still the smoke poured densely out. “Are all out of the building?” the chief of the fire-department asked, as he wiped the black and | perspiration from his face. ‘‘Count noses, and re- port at once,” , This was done, according to orders; then up went | a ery, from those who had been tenants of the lock: : Nellie Morton! Where's Nellie Morton?’ ‘Nellie! my Nellie! Is she not here?’ screeched Jared Ogglesby, rushing to and fro, ‘“‘ Somebody | find her—look for her! Oh! God grant she is not in the burning building. It would killme!” | f A hurried search was made for the missing girl, | and her name was shouted aloud, without eliciting | a response, In passing through thé crowd in an apparent | se search, a voice exclaimed in Jared Og- glesby’s ear, in alow tone: , “What a cunning old hypocrite youare. I wish | you success!” The miser glanced around to catch a glimpse of | Vermillye’s exultant face, but a few feet away. ‘**Curse you,’ he muttered, and then went on. At last it was decided that Nellie Morton was yet | in the burning building, and word went from mouth | to mouth. = Horror was upon everybody, seemingly, as they | thought of pure, innocent Nellie being consumed in | the flames. But among all the firemen noted for their bravery none were there who dared to enter that furnace of fire, even to save a human life. And, then, many argued that the poor girl had been suffocated with smoke Jong ere this. How could it be otherwise? It was at this juncture, when all were in a state of i t Judge Vermillye stepped orrified anxiciy, that Watch-Eye. Merk where all could see him, and raising his voice, said: ‘Tt seems useless for man to buffet with fire, but if there is any person present who will bring ‘Miss Morton out of the fire, alive, I will willingly give him a thousand dollars out of my own pocket, as a re- ward of merit.” A breathless silence ensued for a moment, except for the cracking of the flames and rush of water. Each person present was waiting for some other person to yes forward and accept the judge’s phi- anthropic offer. Hark! a yell came faintly from down the street —then a man came rushing up, and forced his way through the crowd, to where the judge stood, and this man was none other than the young detective, Jack Sphinx. “Qurse youl”? he cried, seizing the banker, and hurling him to the ground, ‘This is your hellish work! Nellie Morton!—where is she? Somebody tell me!” “In the burning building,” the fire chief replied. “It’s useless to try to save her, for she is dead, long ere this!” ‘No! ’tis not useless!’ Jack Sphinx cried, as he seized a blanket and wrapped it about his head. = Now order your men to turn a stream of water on me.’ The order was given and obeyed, and in an instant Sphinx was soaked with water. He then seized an ax from a fireman's hand, and with a strange cry, dashed up the staircase lead- ing pee the street into the upper part of the tene- ment. As he darted away, Judge Vermillye staggered to his feet, excitedly. ‘*Stop him! stop him! Arrest him, for he is Jack Sphinx, accused of bank robbery. A hundred dollars for his arrest, Will no one stop him?” No one, evidently, for Jack Sphinx was lost to view in the burning building ere the banker had ceased speaking. No one would have followed him for love or money. It was with breathless suspense that the excited spectators watched and waited. Would the gallant hinx ever come back from the fiery furnace into which he had ventured to save a human life? And, if so, would he bring Nellie Morton out alive? These were the questions that ran from mouth to mouth—the all-important questions for the solution of which all were waiting. Jared Ogglesby was suddenly missing. Perhaps the fact was unnoticed, but the miser had slunk away as if guilty of some awful crime. Steadily did the streams of water pour through the now panéless windows of the old tenement; eagerly the crowd surged forward, until the fire-patrol had to use their clubs to keep them back, Judge Vermillye stood watching the a shjemm'y stair- case, with horrible fascination, expecting, yet hoping against hope that Jack Sphinx would not make his reappearance with the form of Nellie Tracy—the daughter of the man the banker had so bitterly wronged. Doomed, however, was he to bitter disappoint- ment. For, evenas the burning floors within the brick walls fell with a crash, the form of Jack Sphinx came into view at the foot of the staircase, followed by a dense volume of smoke, and in his arms he car- ried the form of Nellie! Then there went up a wild, tumultuous hurrah—a mad cheer of enthusiasm, such as never escaped from so many throats, probably, before. And the crowds surged forward, still making the night ring with their plaudits. ; Jack Sphinx laid the inanimate form of Nellie up- on a mattress which had been hastily spread and then turned—to find himself in the hands of several stalwart policemen, : “Mr, Sphinx, we arrest you in the name of the law!” one of them said, laying a hand upon the brave detective’s shoulder, “You are accused of robbery, and we shall have to take you with us.” “Yes! away with him to prison!” Judge Vermillye cried, sivanciny. “He is the very man the —— Bank is looking for!’ “Hold! release that man!” cried a stern voice, and the Chief of Police, accompanied by President Rowlet and Kate Carson, detective, stepped for- ward. “Jack Sphinx has been proven guiltless of the crime charged against him, and I declare him a free man.’ The officers obeyed, respectfully, and Judge Ver- millye uttered a horrible oath, under his breath, at being thus foiled in the very hour of his supposed triumph. Another cheer then went up for brave Jack Sphinx, and it was a rouser, Seeing that he was expected to say something, the hero of the hour modestly stepped forward, where all could see him, and bowing, sai@ “My friends, you do me unnecessary homage. I have simply done an act, of duty which deserves no cheers. ‘or yoursympathy, let me, however, tender my thanks, and add a few words. That there has been foul play here, to-night, there can be no doubt. After penetrating tothe apartments of Jared Oggles- by, whose bound girl Miss Morton is, I found her lying in an old closet, bound hand and foot, and gagged. Who is the author of this meditated crime? T leaye it to you and the law to discover. I can only say that suspicion points to Jared Ogglesby.” A murmur of indignation ran rife among the crowd, and s-arch was hastily instituted for the miser, but he had taken his deparnne: ere the knowledge of his attempted crime transpired. Jack Sphinx turned to President Fowler and shook him by the hand, a Sr ee) ee eS ee ee Se ee ee ee 11 “You arrived just in time to save me a trip to Moyamensing. ow have you found out my inno- cence?’ “ Through Miss Carson, here, who took myself and the chief, here, to the old storehouse cellar where you were concealed. We found that the wall of each cellar between the storehouse and the bank was provided with a sliding wall, and we also found some other things which throw the suspicion else- where. You had better look after your fire-waif, now, and then call on me as soon as possible.” Jack bowed, and turned his attention to Nellie. | Ready hands had participated in an effort to restore her to consciousness, and had been successful, for she soon opened her eyes. Kate Carso then called a cab, and with rescued Nellie, she and Jack left the scene of the fire. The cab too’: them to Kate’s own residence on Spring Garden street, and they were soon installed in the female detective’s own pretty little parlor. Nellie was very weak after passing through her terrible ordeal, and it was some time ere she could relate anything concerning the fire. But she finally felt able to talk, and in answer to questions from Jack and K te she said: ‘Ag to the origin of the fire, I know only that Jared Ogglesby came home, carrying with him a gallon can of coal oil. He was in liquor, and when I asked him what he was going to do with the oil, he replied that ‘‘ he was going to set hell on fire.” Be- ing used to his brutal talk, I paid no attention to him, and after I had finished my work, I went and threw myself down upon my bed, for my head ached terribly. I must have cope’ asleep, for the next I was conscious of, was of being drawn rudely off the bed to the floor, and avagged along by the hair of my head, I then awakened to the realization that 1 was bound hand anu foot, and agged. I was drag- ged to the closet, and left, and then my guardian disappeared, und I saw no more of him. But I pres- ently smelt the fire, and the horror of burning alive was so great to me that I lost consciousness.”” pi believe that Jared Ogglesby fired the tene- ment?” “Yes, I am well satisfied that he did. Moreover, I believe that he was hired to do it by a certain person who seems desirous that I should not live.” “You mean Judge Vermillye?” “Yes. He bees, fn to take my life once, and would he not be likely to do so again?” “Very likely. For the present, Miss Nellie, I shall assume your protection, and I guess I can induce Miss Carson to allow you to remain here, for the present,” * Certainly,” Clipper Kate replied, cegenty, “She can assume control of my house while I’m out scouting, for you know, Mr, Sphinx, we've yet ta discover the robbers of the bank. I am of the be lief that we shall not have to search far.” The mulatto girl hastened to obey the command of Old Philli , and in the course of five minutes re- turned with the bandbox, which was well worn, and covered with cobwebs. Phillis received the box, and began to overhaul its contents, which consisted of some rags, ribbons, pa- pers and etcetera. She finally rescued a large red Srey from the mass, and handed it to Watch- tye. “Dar be the dockyment, Mars’r Tracy, jes’ as dis old nuss received it.” “Thank God!” Watch-Bye ejaculated, as he tore open the envelope. “This may be the key to the mystery of my wife’s death, ere, McQuaver, you may read it aloud.” The ex-detective received the document, which was old and faded, and read, aloud: *‘ WASHINGTON, December 8th, 186—, “My Dear Husnanp on Cup: Should this ever fall into ego hands, you will know that I am dying Oh! Gerald, my busband, come to me, and bring our child! I shall have but a few days to live, at the longest, and I want to see you ere I die, Oh! Lord, spare me till then! “T know not what ails me, tut I have suspicions— oh! horrible suspicions, that I am being poisoned, The doctors shake their heads, and call it a eal case—beyond their comprehension. But, when the savage-looking Italian Chemist comes, my soul is filled with horror. I can hear him and Vermillye chuckling together, as over some diabolical plot, “ LATER, “ Vermillye has just been to see me and has confessed to me that IT am doomed. No one has been admitted to see me to-day, and I am impressed that, after to-night, I shall be out of a misery. Vermillye is my murderer Gerald—and the chil look for it, far and wide. It was stolen from me at Vermillye’s instigation. It is marked, so that when you find it, if, indeed, you are alive, you will know it. It has a crimson star upon either of its arms, above the elbow. One is very faint, and may disa year, There, some one is coming, and I must hide his. Iam dying—dying in torture. God bless you, my first husband and child. “Marion TRACY VERMILLYE.” “That is all,” MeQuaver said, laying down the tell-tale document. CHAPTER XII. CLEARED—A DAUGHTER’S ACT. “Tr is enough!” Gerald Tracy said. ‘ It is enough to hang Silas Pry, and he shall certainly pay the penalty. Come! we have learned enough, to satisfy me. My good woman, here are fifty dollars for your faithfulness, and more reward shall follow, by and by. Now, McQuaver, we shall have to go, for ! another matter awaits our attention.”
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| Accordingly they left the miserable dwelling of ne negress, and hurried back into the heart of the t the Ebbitt House they stopped, and took rooms or the day; then leaving McQuaver at the hotel, jerald Tracy started for the bank, where, years efore,he had in a dark hour yielded to the influences temptation, | Upon entering the bank he saw only strange aces, and upon inquiring of the cashier for Presi- lent ——, a look of surprise overspread the official's allow face. “Mr. ——, did you say?’’ he demanded, stroking tis side-whiskers. ‘‘My dear sir, you must be a tranger in these parts. President died ten fears ago.”’ | “Ts not the bank in the same stockholders’ hands, en, as eighteen years ago?’ Watch-Eye demand- “With a few exceptions, yes.” | “Who is Presiden , here, now?” | “Mr, M—, sir.” | “He was formerly vice-president?” | * Fle was.” | “Then, he is the man I want to see. Please hand im my card.”’ | And drawing a card from his pocket, Gerald Trac janded the cashier a card, upon which was printed: ‘““Wartou-Eyr, SHapow-DErecTive.”’ The clerk started ashe saw the inscription, and owed as he took himself off, wonderingly. Watch-Eye had not long to wait, ere he was shown nto the private office of the President. _ That gentleman bowed courteously, and motioned he Shadow to a seat. | He was a portly, smooth-faced man, with kindly aring, and Gerald Tracy remembered him, even ough nineteen years had passed since they last ad met, for in feature she had experienced little or o perceptible change. “You do not know me,I dare say, and wonder hat brings me here,” he said, accepting the prof- red chair. “Well, really, no; I cannot account for a visit om one of yourstamp. You come on business, I pete 2 X es, strictly on business. The case which I have p. hand is one somewhat peculiar in its nature. ome nineteen years ago, an employee of this bank tole asum of money amounting to fifty thousand ollars, and absconded, did he not?” “Exactly! What do you know about the matter? ou have any valuable evidence, you shall be paid rell for it,” “T have to offer you a confession recently written iy one William McQuaver, a detective,” erty eplied, and taking from his pocket the paper, he anded it to the President, who bridging his glasses on his nose, carefully perused the confession. en he laid it down, there was an expression of lurprise upon his face, “This is a strange case,” he said, drumming houghtfully upon the table. ‘It seems that Tracy laid his debt, after all, and that this McQuaver was ihe ‘ nigger in the bush.’ | “You see, the money appropriated by Gerald Tra- ly, was taken from certificate deposits, and from irivate vaults. It belonged to petrons of the bank, nd rather than they should be the losers, President i—, my predecessor, made good the sums taken, ut of his own purse, so that, in reality, the bank has o claim on the money. We have kept the warrant eady, in behalf of the President's wife, in case ither Lebhns’f was captured or should return, of his wn accord.” | “*Then, you believe Tracy exonerated?” “Certainly. The confession proves that, clear n h, and I shall withdraw the warrant to-day, yhich can be done by explaining the situation.” ‘How about McQuaver? Cannot he have exemp- on from prosecution upon restoration of the honey? “That is Just as the government and Mrs, ——, the ormer President's wife, see fit. I will lay the case efore the proper authorities, and let you know, this ternoon or evening. Where shall I find you?” * At the Ebbitt House. You may inquire for Ger- d ed and I shall be pleased to wait on you,” 1a 1 am I to understand that you are Gerald ‘acy? | ‘J am the same,” “Then let me shake hands with you. You have passed through a life-cloud, and I believe have pro- ted by the singular experience you have had.” “Thank you. 1 am a better man, I trust, than neteen years ago, and shall try to live a life in the ture that shall be without reproach.” Gerald Tracy then left the bank, and returned to feQuaver, who, upon hearing the news, looked ra- her grim. “ They can do as they please,” he said. “If they’d ather arrest me and put me in jail, than to promise me immunity and have a full restoration of the money, they can do so. I will go to prison ten years, nd aca, when I come out, the money is mine. ere,” and the ex-detective laid a number of papers pon the table—‘‘ here are papers making you pos- or of all my wealth. You can hunt it up, and eep it for me, providing I have to go to _prison. mong them are two checks upon the —— Bank of hiladelphia, for one hundred and sixty-one thousand ollars, drawn payable to you. This leaves you to ettle wlth the bank, in case there is to be no prose- ution, Surveying the situation from all stand- points, r thought it advisable not to bring along any oney. That evening President M—— payed them a visit, nd brought with him Mr . ——, wife of the former resident of the Bank, and also the nelle pros, for | Watch-Eye. McQuaver, making him a free man upon the restora- tion of the money, principal and _ interest, that ae had stolen after it was paid to him by Gerald racy. Whereupon Watch-Eye gave Mrs. ——a check upon his bank for the fullamount, and matters were satisfactorily settled, so that when Gerald Tracy and McQuaver were once more alone together, they were free men. Remaining in Washington over night, they the next day started on their return to Philadelphia, for Watch-Eye was now free, and fearless—free to brave Silas Pry with the powerful document he held against the banker. He would have matters righted, though years had passed and gone. After his defeat and rebuff at the fire, Judge Ver- millye returned to his mansion, and locked himself in his library, in company with the great cases of books, a bottle of wine, and a box of cigars. “*I am beaten, there,’”’ he mused, staring savagely at availed statue that was gazing down ‘anaee hin from a pedestal. ‘‘ Curse that detective, Sphinx! He and the returned devil, Gerald Tracy, seem leagued in an attempt to ruin me, and drive me out, But they have a tiger to fight. Tracy dare not show himself, fearing arrest, and I care not for what ill he can do me, so long as he keeps out of sight. But, he must not live to triumph, He must not, Ihave not lived all my life without sinning, and, by heaven, I shall not hesitate to sin again, to gain the consumma- tion of my plans. Ha! ha! what dol care for the worst he can do? I have not yet to beg of any person. To be sure, I own but one piece of property, and that is where the old tenement stood, for this house, my factory and steamship, are deeded to Beatrice, m daughter. But, I have five hundred thousand do)- lars in greenbacks, in my immediate possession. In sear safe the money reposes, and I carry the key. hen, there is the mortgage upon Riverdale, now in the hands of the attorney for foreclosure, That will ae me in ready cash, unless I bid in the estate. Ha! ha! you are yet triumphant, Silas Pry, and can laugh at your enemies. Ha! a ring at the door. Who can want me?” The question was soon solved, for a servant brought up a slip of paper in lieu of a card, and respectfully awaited an answer. Vermillye took the paper, and glanced at the writ- ing upon it. In poor chirography was penciled the name— “JARED OGGLESBY.” “Show him PR the banker ordered. And he and the miser were soon locked in the li- brary, together. Igelesby had been imbibing freely, and there was a sullen, bull-dog look upon his face. “T have come to make terms,’ he said, sullenly, “and I haven't long to wait. I want money—the more, the better it will suit ne. I did that job, and now I’m going to clear out and live a better life.” Silas Pry laughed, sarcastically. ‘* You lead a better life?’”’ he said, with a grimace. “When that happens, I shall be willing to pay you. But not till then.” “What do you mean?” Ogglesby demanded, a greenish glitter coming into his eyes. ‘ You jrom- ised to pay me for burning the tenement.” “Perhaps. But promises are cheap. Why, you old rascal, you’ve stolen enough out of me to make a poor man rich.” , ‘Then you don’t intend to pay me?” “ Not a red cent.” “Very well. Inside of an hour, every secret I ssess of yours shall be heralded to the four winds.” “Bah! what can you tell, that will materially af- fect me?” “You shall see that. Supposing the world was to know how Mrs. Vermillye died? S’posing the world was to know who were the robbers of the —— Bank? Supposing the world was to know who ab- ducted Gerald Tracy’s child, years ago, and, only to-night hired me to burn that same c ild alive, in the old tenement? Supposing the world at large was to know all this, and much more, Judge Ver- millye, alias Silas Pry? Do you not realize how in- significant a person you would be, and what danger your neck would be in, of getting entangled in he meshes of the sheriff's noose?” Vermillye bad grown white, at the words of the miser, but a glass of wine somewhat restored his bravado. wa “You dare not make all these exposes,” he growled, ‘The law would not let you off no more than me.” “TI don’t know about that. I would stand one chance in a hundred of escaping, by turning State’s evidence. Besides, if I cannot get money I cannot leave the city, and my capture, with a dozen detec- tives at my heels, is only a matter of a few hours, anyhow. So, if Tam captured, I shall make a clean breast of it!” : “You devil, I've a mind never to let you leave this room alive,” Vermillye hissed, ina passion. | “Try to kill me, if you choose, and see which will get the most of the bargain!’ Ogglesby replied, pulling a revolver suddenly down out of his coat- sleeve. ‘'I came prepared for this interview, you no doubt perceive!” “Curse you again. How much money do you want?” * Ten thousand dollars, exactly. T will not accept of nine thousand, nine hundred dollars, and ninety- nine and apes puerier cents. It must be exactly ten thousand dollars.” “ Good Heavens, man, are you mad? I have not so much money in the world!” “ Bah! don’t lie to me. You have often bragred of how much you had stored away in yonder safe, Come! I will brook no delay. Either ten thousand dollars it is, or you go to prison.”’ With a sigh as if of despair, Judge Vermillye arose, and advanced toward his safe. ‘Do you promise to take your everlasting depart- ure, upon receipt of the money, and never trouble me again?’ he demanded, turning upon Ogglesby, half-suspiciously, ‘**T give my word of honor, as a gentleman,” the miser reole , With a smirk. “You know I’m a thoroughbred gentleman, and value my integrity next to my life.” “You are a fine gentleman,” Vermillye sneered. Savagely. ‘‘ But you shall have the money, and if you ever show up within my sight again, you shall die, if I have to kill you myself.’ “Very well. Ill take your money for it, you can bet, instead of your word. I shall immediately hie myself to some Western city, and become the pastor of some Bethel church.” _Vermillye did not reply, but kneeling in front of his safe, began to turn the knob communicating with the combination lock. _ “Devils!” he gasped, “ somebody has been tamper- ing with this lock. Beatrice, I'll wager, if she has had need of money, But there's one satisfaction, She might try a lifetime, without getting the safe open, Ah!” And the judge opened the door, which swung back on its ponderous hinges. Then he uttered a snarl like some infuriated wild beast. ‘“‘T’ve been robbed! I’ve been robbed!” he gasped, sinking back upon the floor, his face deathly white. ‘“‘Here—Ogglesby—read this paper, and see what it says; and he picked up a document which had fallen. upon the carpet. The miser seized the paper, and glanced it over, before speaking. “Tt is from your daughter, and here is what it says,” he said. - ‘ PHILADELPHIA, May —, 187-. “DEAR Papa: Ere this reaches you I Shall be far away from you, where a lifetime’s search could not find me. By the time you get this paper, you will have discovered that your safe is rob of eve cent of money, and you will of course lay the theft to me, which is correct in you. Iam the thief—I and my beloved Marquis. We have been spending a week at opening the safe, and have just succeeded. The fat pr was an adept in the business, or else we should not have succeeded. Of course you can- not blame me. I have always been a kind, indulgent daughter, and I did want some money so bad, that L could not resist the temptation to bor70w yours. course I borrow it—I would not stoop so low as to steal it! I leave you this note of explanation as se- curity. It was so good of you to place the money at my disposal—so extremely good of you, dear pa. Of course you can easily again make the amount appro- priated, and in addition, learn a valuable lesson never to leave your ill-gotten cash where a child can reach it. As for my dear Marquis, and myself, we shall go» tosome remote corner of the earth, get married, and livein wealth and honor all the rest of our natu- ral lives, at your expense. ‘ Believe me still, dear papa, “Your dutiful and lov ng daughter, “BEATRICE VERMILLYR.” “That is all,” Jared Ogglesby said, turning upon the judge, who was crouching on the carpet before his empty safe, white and speechless, ‘It's enough I reckon, eh?” ‘ ‘“*My God! This is the bitterest blow of all,”’ Ver- millye groaned. ‘I never b lieved Beatrice, with all her faults, so utterly heartless and unnatural I am a ruined man!” “Yet, despite this fact,’ Ogglesby sald, a spice of triumph in his tones, ‘‘ you must somehow contrive to raise me ten thousand dollars, or—go lo prison, branded as a murderer |” CHAPTER XII, CONCLUSION, “ What! would you press me to pay you that ex- orbitant sum when I am already a beggar?” Ver- a gasped, almost in a frenzy of rage. “Even so,’’ Ogglesby assented, stolidly. “‘ I mus# have money, and you must furnish it—I care now how you get it. ou have the bank at your dis- “Sh!” the Judge cautioned, giving a terrified glance around. ‘ Not soloud. Ido not want to be overheard. The bank business is out of the ques- tion. I fear suspicions are fastened upon me now, " God's name, man, release your hold upon me, and eave. “ Never, while I love you so dearly,” Ogglesby re- lied, with a devilish chuckle. You are mine, ilas Pry. Tell me * bie have no money? Why, the mortgage against cy’s estate amounts to one hundred and sixty thousand dollars, or over.” ‘** But, Ihave it not byme. The mortgage is in the hands of my attorney, who will foreclose it and sell he estate at Thomas & Son’s auction-rooms to-mor- row.” “Then, some other means must be adopted. I must have the money or youmust go to Moyamen- sing, at once. I will, however, suggest a plan, to help you out, seeing as you have always been a friend to me. This man, Tracy, has seh of money, and perhaps by breaking into his room, we might be able to discover this money, and appropriate it together. I will be on hand to share it with you, and after you have got the mortgage-money, W rich I will also share with you, we will flee from this city, to parts unknown. How like you the idea?” | “T like it not, but will acquiesce,” Judge Ver-
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millye returned, sullenly. ‘‘ Where are the lodgings of Gerald Tracy?” ; . “In North 13th street. If we go, to-night, we will not find him at home, which will be all the bette: .or our purpose.” “Tf not at home, where is he?” “In be tae, pay Hn he went to-day, in com- any with the man, McQuaver. ics Perdition! What are they doing together, and in Washington?” “That I cannot say. But stay; before we can play burglar, we must have ee. “Which I have on hand, ina great plenty. You know it never pays &@ man of my stamp to be without them?” 2 And the judge laughed ooag ; At Ogglesby’s suggestion they set to work imme- diately, in making up for their expedition, From a trunk in an adjoining room, valle, or Silas Pry, as we shall in future call him, brought forth numer- ous suits of clothing, wigs and false beards, and he and Ogglesby adorned_ themselves, woe to their particular fancy. The judge cut off his long Board with a Pog of shears, and donned a false beard of a reddish tinge, with hair to match, which gave him altogether a very much changed appear- ance, Securing an assortment of keys and house-break- er’s tools, which the judge had on hand, they sal- lied forth into the night. The Shadow’s rooms were in a tenement-block similar to that which Ogglesby had fired, but the building was a better structure, the tenants a better class of people, and the neighborhood more aristo- cratic. On arriving at the scene of their proposed opera- tions, Ogglesby led the way up a broad staircase from the street, into a dimly lighted hall. This they followed back until its intersection with another hall which they traversed for a considerable distance, finally pausing in front of a door, over which was the number 37. ; j “This is the place,” the miser announced, in a low tone. “Give me your keys, and I willsee if I can unlock the door.” Silas Pry surrendered the keys, and kept a watch around them, lest they should be surprised in their burglarious act, while his confederate in crime soft- ly tried to unlock the door. After trying several keys, he at last found one that turned in the lock! r **Gome!” he said, in a low tone—‘‘the door is un- locked, and now is our time.” Softly opening the door, they entered the room, then reclosed the door behind them. All was dark and silent, bit Ogglesby soon struck a light with a match, which enabled him to find and light a lamp. ; * Now be lively,”’ he ordered, setting the light upon atable. ‘Help me to examine every article in the room wh ch may contain one They went to work as rapidly and noiselessly as practical burglars, overturning and examining each article of furniture, but all to no avail. No money was to be found, and their expedition was a fruitless one. So all that was left for them to do was to take a cautious departure. : “You see—I cannot get any money!” Silas Pry said, as they hurried away from the tenement, *“] shall wait and share the results of the mort- age foreclosure,” the miser replied, coolly. ‘There fs no use of arguing the point—you must share all of your remaining wealth with me, or go to prison. Tllleave you now, but will meet you again at Thomas & Son’s salesrooms, to-morrow afternoon at three, the hour appointed for the sale of Riverdale.” At the auction-rooms, on the afternoon of the next day, the estate of Riverdale was to be sold, and having been but little advertised there were few in attendance. Silas Pry was present, and Jared Ogglesby was not - far away. When it was seen that there were no more bid- ders likely to come, the auctioneer arose from his seat, and said: ‘Gentlemen, we are about to sell a piece of Vir- ginia property, known as Riverdale, upon fore- closure of mortgage. The estate s one of the finest in the South; has been for many years a plantation. It was mortgage to Silas Pry, nineteen years ago, since when the mortgage has been handed over to Judge Felix Vermillye. The first mortgagee, Ger- ald Tracy, having not put in appearance, and the day of payment having passed the customary three days’ grace, Judge Vermillye has ordered me to sell the property for what it will bring, spot cash. It was originally mortgaged for seventy-five thousand dollars, but is now valued at two hundred thousand, Now, then, here is a rare strike for capitalists— who'll give a bid to start it?—where’s the man? “'Twinty dollars!” shouted a personage in the vicinity of the door, whose accent savored strongly of the ‘ould sod.” Whereupon there was a roar of laughter. “Put that man out,” roared the auctioneer, bring- ing down his mallet, fiercely. “No man with twenty dollars’ worth of cash or brains will be allowed to bid on this property.” “T’]] start it at ten thousand dollars,” announced a prominent Third street speculator. “Ten thousan’! ten thousan’! ten thousan’ I have _who’ll make it twenty? ten thousan’—who’ll make it twenty?” =e auctioneer cried, starting off in his ing-song style. ae Hold! ? forbid the sale!” cried a deep, strong voice, and there entered the salesroom Gerald Tra- ey, accompanied by McQuaver, and Jack Sphinx. Watch-Eye. “ By what right do you interfere?” demanded the auctioneer. ** Allow me to explain,” Tracy said, calmly. “That mortgage is not legal, although Isupposed it to be when it was given. I am Gerald Tracy, who gave it to Silas Pry, in consideration of a loan of fifty thou- sand dollars. The mortgage specifies seventy-five thousand dollars, but one-third of that was usury— which alone disbars the claim. At the time, my wife was living, but I did not get her consent to the mortgage, and therefore in the State of Virginia, the mortgage was not legal, as there, as well as in Balti- more, where it was given, or in Washington, a wife must give her consent before a piece of property can be mortgaged! This man Vermillye, is the same Si- las to whom the mortgage was originally given, and I have a confession from my dead wife which implicates him in her murder.” * And [ arrest him, in the name of the law!” Jack Sphinx cried, turning toward where the judge had stood upon their entrance, ‘‘on the charges of mur- der and robbery.” But that time Jack had literally “counted his chickens before they were hatched,” for taking ad- vantage of the crowd which had collected, the ex- posed Silas Pry had slipped from the salesroom, and was gone. Whither, no one could say, for instant search resulted in discovering no trace of him. f course the sale was stopped, and the illegal mortgage was canceled, afterward. Knowing the crimes and villainy of Silas Pry, Gerald Tracy felt that he was doing justice to himself, in not paying on portion of the original loan. _ McQuaver it was who had informed him concern- ing the mortgage’s illegality. Therefore, upon their arrival from Washington, and seeing notices posted of the sale, they had come direct to the salesroom. Meeting Jack Sphinx on the way, Gerald Tracy had hailed him, and explained that he was the ’Rastus Racket whom Jack and Nellie had induced to enter the Reformatory Home, over a year before. This was a joyful discovery to Jack, and matters were arranged so that he should take Marion Vermillye’s death confession, and arrest Silas Pry upon the strength of it. How the matter terminated, the reader has already seen. After the scene at the salesroom, the three men adjourned to a restaurant for dinner, which neither Tracy nor McQuaver had yet been able to obtain, in their hurried operations. be he they were eating, the following conversation took place: *T doubt if anything of Silas Pry, alias Judge Ver- millye, is ever seen again, in this city,’’ Jack ob- served, ‘I hear that his daughter has absconded with all his ready money, and I guess that about closes up his career.” “Let him go,” Watch-Eye said. ‘If he will go and never return, I shall not offer to follow him, for I realize that there will yet be a day of reckoning, when every man shall have his sins held "F before his eyes. Tad those who have sinned most, I believe shall suffer most. But one cloud lies between me yet, and a peaceful future—that is, the mystery of the whereabouts of my child,” ‘Your child? Did you ever lose one?” “ Yes—years ago, my girl-baby was stolen away, 4 this selfsame Silas Pry, and Ihave never known of it, until a year ago, since when I have been unable to find a trace of it.” “Then, by Jove, I believe I know where your daughter is!” Jack cried, jumping excitedly to his feet. ‘‘Do you remember. my sweetheart, Nellie, whom you promised you would enter the Home?”’ “Yes! yes!” ; “ Well, there is some mystery concerning her life. She has, so long as she canremember, been bound to Jared Ogglesby, one of this Vermillye’s tools. Who were her parents,she never has known. But this Vermillye has been her enemy of late, to that ex- tent, that he has attempted to kill her. His hatred for her has seemed to date back to the moment he discovered a birth-mark upon her arm.” ‘**God be praised! I believe ‘tis my child—my ag lost child, Tell me—this birthmark — what is i wes “It is a crimson star, upon the arm above the elbow!” “ Ha! the same—the same! But, has she not one upon either arm?” “Yes, but the one upon the left arm is very faint —almost colorless.”’ “Then, show me to her at once, for circumstances clearly indicate that this is my child. The confession describes those identical birthmarks, and the fact that Vermillye recognized the marks goes to show that he knew her to be my daughter, and wished to ~ a out of the way, so that I might never find er Of course the dinner was interrupted, and our friends hastily adjourned to the residence of Kate Carson, where a happy reunion took place be- tween the long separated father and daughter; for Gerald Tracy was perfectly satisfied that Nellie was his daughter, and he thanked God fervently for the happy restoration. Jared Ogglesby and Silas Pry were heard of, later, in the Far West, but Gerald Tracy made no effort to i hg the man who had been the bane of his sr life. With Nellie, he removed to Riverdale, in Virginia, but Jack Sphinx soon came to claim her, so that the returned father was left alone. Not long, however, for he soon brought home a bride in the person 0 Kate Carson, for whom he had formed an attach- ment. And both he and Jack are happy in the - session of true and loving wives, and are prospering, as the world wags on. 1 MeQuaver is occasionally with them, and is ne sorry for *‘ turning over a new leaf,” for he finds a good life, happiness. THE END, ANOTHER GREAT ROMANCE ! THE AMERICAN FAVORITE AG&4 REVIVAL OF DEADWOOD DICK! Look Cut for No. 100 of Beadle’s Hs Dime Library! Deadwood Dick Redivivus. A Story of Leadville. THE Half-Dime Singer’s Libra 1 Wuoa, Emma! and 59 other Songs. 2 Caprain Curr and 57 other Songs. 8 Tae Garnsporo’ Hat and 62 other Songs. 4 Jounny Morcaan and 60 other Songs. 5 uu Strike You Wire A Frearuer and 62 oth Songs. 6 Grorce THE CHARMER and 56 other Songs. 7 Tae Bette or Rockaway and 52 other Songs. 8 Youne Friuan, You're Too Frese and 60 oth Songs. 9 Suy Youne Grav and 65 other Songs. 10 I'm tHE GovERNOR’s ONLY Son and 58 other Song 11 My Fan and 65 other Songs. 12 Comin’ 'Txro’ THe Rye and 55 other Songs. 13 Tae Rotiickine Irishman and 59 other Songs, 14 Op Doa Tray and 62 other Songs, 15 WHoa, Cari and 59 other Songs, 16 IN THIs WaEatT By Aanp By and 62 other Songs 17 Nancy Lex and 58 other Songs. 18 I’m THe Boy THAT's Bounpd To Buaze and 57 oth Songs. 19 Tae Two OrpHans and 59 other Songs. 20 WHar ARE THE ‘WiLp Waves Sayina, Siste and 59 other Songs. 21 Inpianant Potty Woe and 59 other Songs. 22 Turn Otp Arm-CHare and 58 other Songs. 23 On Contry IsLanp Bracu and 58 other Songs. 24 OLD Simon, THE Hor-Corn MAN and 60 others, 25 I’m ry Love and 56 other Songs. 26 PARADE OF THE GuARDs and 56 other Songs, 27 Yo, Heave, Ho! and 60 other Songs. 28 °Twitt Never po Tro Gisirvur So and 60 oti Songs. 20 BLuE Bonnets OvER THE BorpDER and & o' Songs. 30 Tae Merry LAvGHING Man and 56 other Songs, 81 Sweer ForG@et-mMe-Nor and 55 other Songs. 82 LereTLe Baby Mine and 53 other Songs. 33 Dr BANJO AM DE INSTRUMENT FoR Mz and 53 o Songs. 84 Tarry and 50 other Songs. 85 Just TO PLease THE Boys and 52 other Songs. 386 SKATING ON ONE IN THE GurTER and 52 o Songs. 87 KoLornep Kranxs and 59 other Songs. 88 Nu DespeRaNDuM and 53 other Songs. 389 Tar Grau I Lerr Beninp Me and 50 other Song 40 "Tis Bor A Lirrte Fapep Fvower and 50 ot Songs, 41 Prerry Waiter, and 60 other Songs. 42 DaNncinG IN THE BARN and 68 other Songs. 43 H, M.S. Poxarore, compete, and 17 other Sor Sold everywhere by Newsdealers, at five ce per copy, or sent post-paid, to any address, on ceipt of Sia cents per number, BEADLE AND. ADAMS, Pus.isuers. 98 WILLIAM STREET, New Yor The Sunnyside Library 1 Latua Rooxn. By Thomas Moore.... 2 Don Juan. By Lord Byron... .. her | 8 Parapise Lost. By John Milton ........ a wh 4 Toe Lapy or THe Lake. Sir Walter Scott... 5 Lucie. By Owen Meredith fii 6 UNDINE, OR THE Warer-Sprrir. From the German of Friederich De La Motte Fouque,.. For sale by all newsdealers, or sent, tage p on receipt of twelve cents for single. nummy double numbers twenty-four cents. ADAMS, VICTOR & CO., Publishe 98 William street, N,
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Unapproachable in Price. te" Be very careful not to confound these books with those of other publishers, sold at the same The vast success of the Dime Novels called into existence ‘*Ten Cent Novels,” which the is sometimes deceived in buying as Dime ublic ovels, The only Dime Novels are those published by BrapLE AND ADAMS, whose copyright trade-mark and signet the word ‘‘ Dime’ Novel is, Ask always for BEADLE’s Dime Novels, and you will then get what you wish. The following comprises a complete list as far as published. Numbers omitted are out of print . Lhe Privateer’sCruise . Myra. 293, . The Rival Rovers. . The Hussar Captain. . Mossfoot, the . Mustang Sam, »¥. The Slave Sculptor. | 298 0. The Backwoods Bride | 299 11, Prisoner LaVintresse | 801 14. Emerald Necklace. 308, 16. Uncle Ezekiel. 810 17. Madge Wilde. 812. 22, The Maid of Esopus. | 313 23. Winifred Winthrop, | 314 24 316, 24, The Trail Hunters. : 25. The Peon Prince. 80. Put. Pomfret’s Ward. |‘ . Dowdle Hero, #2, Irona, . Maum Guinea. 20c. . Ruth Margerie. . East and . The Vest. tiflemen of the Miami. . The Wrong Man, 89. The Land Claim. . Union’s Daughter.20c . The King’s Man, . Agnes Falkland. . Wreck of the Albion. . Tim Bumble’s Charge . The Two Guards. . Hates and Loves. y areas. Ah mo’s Plot. . JO Daviess’ Client. . Laughing Eyes. 2. The 3. The Indian Princess, . Rangers of Mohawk. . The . The Brigantine. . Black Hollow. nknown, recker’s Prize, The Indian Queen. . The Moose Hunter, . The Silver Bugle. uindaro, he Seminole Chief, The Fugitives. . On the Deep. . Captain Molly. . Cast Away. The Creole Sisters, 96, Little Moccasin. 289. The 202, . Ruth Harland. . Maid of Wyoming. . Hearts Forever. . Guilty or Not Guilty . Simple Phil. . The Hidden Home . Rattlepate. . Ned Starling. . The Sons of Liberty. . Port at Last. . The Mohegan Maiden . The Water Waif. . The Five cir) eoteng . Vailed Benefac . The Missing Bride. . Sumter’s Scouts. . The Hunted Life. . Bald Eagle, . The Gulch Miners, . Blackeyes. 2, Old Honesty. . The Cherokee Chief. . The Border Foes. . The Sagamore af |: ress. Saco, . Rob Ruskin. . Snowbird. . The Unseen Hand. . The Trader Spy. . The Buffalo Trapper. . The White Hermit. . The Scioto Scouts. . The Mohave Captive. . The Forest Princess, . The Mute Chief. . The Prairie Queen. ? oe Forest Specter. d Zip. 2. Graybeard. 3, The Black Princess, Keetsea. 3. The White Apache. . The Border Renegade . Antelo . The . The Border Huntress . Mountain Kate. Abe. ite Brave. Ruby Roland. . The Lone Chief, The Young Spy. Balloon Scouts, Black John. 405, 406. 407, 408, The Tonkawa £py. rave. Glass Eye. . Foghorn Phil. Dick Darling. 3. The Red Brotherhooi . Rival Lieutenants. . Hurricane Bill. . Tippy, the Texan, . Old Grizzly. . The Dashing Dra: sroOns., . Will-o’-the-Wisp. . Dashing Dick. . Old Crossfire. . Ben Bramble. . The Brigand Captain . Old Strategy. . Gray Hair, the Chief, . The Prairie Tigers, . The Rival Hunters, 3. The Texan Scout, . Zebra Zack, . The Masked Messen- ger. 3. Morgan, the Pirate. . The Boy Spy. . Tahle, the Trailer. . The Boy Chief. . Tim, the Trailer, ’ Rolla. th s . Ste e é The White Ave . The Indian King. . The Long Trail, . Kirk, the Guide. . The Phantom Trail. . The Apache Guide. . The Mad Miner. . Keen Kye, the Ranger . Blue Belt, Guide, . On the Trail. . The Specter Spy. . Old Bald Head, . Red Kaife, Chief. . Sib Cone, . The Bear Hunter. . Bashful Bill, Spy. . The White Chief. arate eyed et . The Squaw Spy. ' Scout of 76. oy . Spanish Jack. . Masked Spy. . Kirke, Renegade. . Dingle, the . The Green Ranger. . Montbars, Scourge. . Metamora. . Thornpath, Trailer. . Foul-weather Jack. . The Black Rider, . The Helpless Hand. . The Lake Rangers. . Alone on the Plains, 3. Phantom Horseman. . Winona, ‘8. Silent Shot, Slayer. . The Phantom Ship. . The Red Rider. . The Grizzly-Hunters. . The Mad per. . The Specter Sk . The Red Coyote. . The Hunchback, 3. The Black Wizard. . The Mad Horseman . The Privateer’s Bride . The Jaguar Queen, . Shadow Jack. . Eagle Plume. . The Ocean Outlaw. . Red Slayer. . The Phantom Foe, . The Blue Anchor. 3. Red-Skin’s Pledge. ’. The . The Black Ro . Red-Belt, the Tusca- venger. Trapper. utlaw. ipper. 1adroon Spy. ver. rora, . The Two Trails. . The Ice Fiend, . The Red Prince, 3. The First Trail. . Sheet-Anchor Tom. Old Avoirdupois, ye, ar ue r. Red Dan . The Fire-Eater. . Blackhawk. . The Lost Ship. . Black Arrow. 3. White Se . The Lost Captain. 5. The Twin Trailers. 3. Death’s-head Ran- ent. ger. . Captain of Captains, . Warrior Princess. 9, The Blue Band, . The Squaw Chief, . The Flying Scout, 2, Sonora Ben. 8. The Sea King. . Mountain Gid. . Death Trailer. i. The Crested Ser- pent, . Arkansas Kit. 428. The Corsair Prince. =_— SCeOBNIOurnwre BraDLe’s Dime Sone Books, Nos. 1 to the only popular collection of copyrig: Beadle & Adams’ Standard Dime Publications. Ethan Allen’s Rifles, . Little Thunderbolt, . The Falcon Rover.4 2. Honest Hand, . The Stone Chief. . The Gold Demon. " . Eutawan, the Slayer 3, Masked Guide. . The Conspirators, ‘ pees §. Caribou Zip, . The Privateer, . The Black S NG The Doomed Hunter, . Barden, the Ranger. . The Gray Scalp. . The Peddler Spy. . The White Canoe. . Eph Peters. . The Two Hunters. . The Traitor Spy. Others in Press, THE ILLUMINATED DIME POCKET NOVELS. Comprising the best works only of the most popular living writers in the field of American romance, Each issue a complete novel, with illuminated cover, rivaling in effect the popular chromo. . Hawkeye Harry. . Dead Shot. . Blue Dick. . Nat Wolfe. . The White Tracker. . The Outlaw’s Wife. . The Tall Trapper. . Lightning Jo. . The Island Pirate, . The Boy Ranger. . Bess, the Trapper, . The French Spy. . Long Shot. . Gunmaker of Border, . Red Hand. . Ben, the Trapper. a Wild Raven, Ranger. . The Specter Chief, . The . Wild Nat. . Indian Jo, the Guide, . Old Kent, the Ranger. . The One-Eyed Trap- per. . Godbold, the Spy. . The Black Ship. . Single Kye. . Indian Jim. . The Scout. . Kagle Kye, The Mystie Canoe, . The Golden Harpoon, ar-Killer, . The Scalp King. . Old Lute, . Rainbolt, the Ranger. 36, . Carson, the Guide. . The Heart-EKater. . Wetzel, the Scout. . The Huge Hunter, . Wild Nat, the Trapper Agi 6 nX-Cap. . The White Outlaw. . The Dog Trailer. . The Elk xe, . Adrian, the Pilot. . The Man-hunter. . Moccasin Bill. . The Wolf Queen. . Tom Hawk, the Trail- er. . The Mad Chief. 3. The Black Wolf. . Arkansas Jack, 5. Blackbeard. 3. The River Rifles. . Hunter Ham. . Cloudwood. 9. The Texas Hawks. . Merciless Mat. . Mad Anthony’s Scouts . The Luckless his | . The Florida Scout. i . The Island Trapper. , bby | . Rattling Dick. ; poet, Apt . Lron- . The Yellow Hunter. . The Phantom Rider, . Delaware Tora, . Silver Rifle. The Boy Pioneer. and. 73. The Skeleton Scout, . Little Rifle. 4 fet Pa gpa te . Old Ruff, the Tra r. iders 7. The Searlet Shou . The Border Rifleman, . Outlaw Jack. 80. Tiger Tail, the Semi- nole, Death Dealer, the Shawnee Scourge, . Kenton, the Ranger. 83. The Specter - Horse- man, . The Three SUARRSrS, . Kaleolah, the itch Queen, The Hunter Hercules, 87. Phil Hunter, the Bop Slayer. The Indian Scout . The Girl Avenger, . The Red Hermitess. . Star-Face, the Slayer, . The Antelope Boy. . The Phantom Hunter 94, Tom Pintle, the Pilot. . The Squaw Spy. y DuskyD The Red Wizard, . The Rival Trappers. ick. Colonel Crockett. . Old Bear Paw. . Redlaw. . Wild Rube. . The Indian Hunters 4. Scarred Eagle, 5. Nick Doyle. . The Indian Spy. o Job Dean. . The Wood King. . The Scalped . Nick, the Scout. . The Texas Tiger. . The Crossed 3. Tiger Heart, Tracker . The Masked Avenger . The Pear! Pirates. }. Black Panther. . Abdiel, the Avenger . Cato, the er 5 . Two-Handed t. . Mad Trail Hunter, . Black Nick. 2. Kit Bird. ; . The Specter Riders, . Giant . The Girl Captain, . Yankee Eph. . Silverspur. . Squatter Dick. . The Child Spy. . Mink Coat, © . Red Plume. . Clyde, the Trailer, unter, Cnives, ete. The Lost Cache. . The Cannibal Chief. . Karaibo. . Scarlet Moccasin. . Kidna d. . The Maia of ther Mountain, SONG BOOKS. found in the market. MISCELLANEOUS DIME BOOKS, Robinson Cruse3., Poeket Joke Book. ; con songs to Ke Jim Crow J_ke Book. Paddy Whack Joke Beek,
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EADLE 32 Large Three-Column Pages, 1.A Hard Crowd: OR, GENTLEMAN | Sam’s Sister. By Philip S. Warne. 2. The Dare-Devil: or, THE Wincrep Wircn or THe Sra. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 8. Kit Carson, dr., THE CRACK SHOT or THE West, By Buckskin Sam. 4. The Kidnapper: or, Tae Grear SHANGHAI OF THE NortTHWEST. By Philip S. Warne. 5. The Fire-Fiends: or, HeRcULEs, THE Huncupack. By A. P. Morris. 6. Wildcat Bob, Tue Boss Bruiser: or, Tox BorDER BLoopHounps. By Edward L. Whee- ler, author of “‘ Deadwood Dick,” “ Double Daggers.” 7. Death-Notch, THE Destroyer: or Tue Spirit Lake AvenGeRS. By Oll Coomes. 8. The Headless Horseman. A strange story of Texas, By Capt. Mayne Reid. 9. Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover. ? 10. Vidocq, THz Frencn Pouice Spy. Written by himself, 11. Midshipman Easy. ryat. 12. The Death-Shot: or, TRACKED TO DeatH. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 13. Pathaway? or, Nick WHIFFLES, THE Op TRAPPER OF THE NorTHWEST. By Dr. J. H. Rob- inson. By Capt. Mar- 14, Thayendanegea, THE Scource; | or, Toe War-EAGLE oF THE Monawks, By Ned Bunt- ine, author of ‘The White Wizard.” 15. The Tiger-Slayer: or, EAGLz- HEAD TO THE Rescur. By Gustave Aimard, 16. The White Wizard: or, THz Great PROPHET OF THE SEMINOLES. By Ned Buntline. 17. Nightshade, Tux Rosser PRINCE or HounsLow Heats. By Dr. J. H. Robingon. 18. The Sea Bandit: or, THz QueENn or THE IsLE, By Ned Buntline. 19. Red Cedar, Tur Pramm OvtTiaw. By Gustave Aimard. 20. The Bandit at Bay: or, Tux Pr- RATES OF THE Prarries, By Gustave Aimard, 21. The Trapper’s Daughter : OR, THE OvtLAw’s Farr. By Gustave Aimard, 22. Whitelaw: or, NaTTIm OF THE LAKE Sore. By Dr. J. H. Robinson, 23. The Red Warrior: OR, STELLA DeLorMe’s ComaNncHe Lover. By Ned Buntline, 24. Prairie Flower. By Gustave Ai- mard, author of ‘‘ Tiger-Slayer,”’ etc. 25. The Gold-Guide: or, STEEL Arm, THE Reavtator. By Francis Johnson, 26. The Death-Track: or, THE Ovrt- LAWs oF THE MounTAIN. By Francis Johnson, 27. The Spotter-Detective: or, TE Grrus or New York. By Albert W. Aiken. 28. Three-Fingered Jack, Tue Roap- AGENT oF THE ROCKIES; OR, THE me MINER OF Harp Luck. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 29. Tiger Dick, Tue Faro Kine; or, Tae CasHier’s Carre. By Philip 8. Warne, author of “A Hard Crowd,” etc. 30. Gospel George; or, Fiery FRED, THE OvuTLAw. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 31. The New York ‘Sharp’ or, THE FLasH OF LIGHTNING. By Albert W. Aiken, 32. B’hoys of Yale; or, Tur ScRAPES or A Harp Ser or CoLuEaians. By John D. Vose. 338. Overland Kit. By Albert W. Aiken. 34. Rocky Mountain Rob. bert W. Aiken. 35. Kentuck, the Sport. By Albert Aiken, 36. Injun Dick. By Albert W. Aiken. By Al- Each Number Complete. KIT CARSON, JR.—No. 3. 37. Hirl, the Hunchback; or, Tur SWORDMAKER OF THE SANTEE. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 38. Velvet Hand; or, Tux [Ron Grip or Invun Dick. By Albert W. Aiken. 39. The Russian Spy: or, Tur Brotu- ERS OF THE STARRY Cross. By Frederick Whittaker, 40. The Long Haired ‘ Pards;’ or, Tue TARTARS OF THE PLarns. By Jos, E. Badger, Jr, | 41. Gold Dan: or, Tar Waiter Savacr OF THE GREAT SALT LAKE, By Albert W. Aiken. 42. The California Detective: or, Tae Wircues of New York. By Albert W. Aiken. 43. Dakota Dan, Tue ReckiEss RANGER; or, THe Bre-Hunters Excursion. By Oll Coomes. 44, Old Dan Rackback, Tur Great EXTARMINATOR; or, THE TrIANGLE’s Last TRAIL, By Olli Coomes. 45. Old Bull’s Eye, Tae Licnurnina Ssor or THE Piams. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr., 46. Bowie-Knife Ben, Tur Litre HonvTer or THE Nor’-west. By Oll Coomes. 47. Pacific Pete, THE PRINCE oF THE | Revotver. By Jos. E. Badger. 48. Idaho Tom, THE Younea OvuTLAW | By O Coomes. OF SILVERLAND, MIDSHIPMAN EASY.—No, 11. | Price 10 cts, 49. The Wolf Demon, or, Tat QvEEn ov THE KANAWHA. By Albert W. Aiken. 50. Jack Rabbit, Tur Pram Srorr, or, THE CHILDREN OF THE LLANO Estacapo, By Jud E. Badger, Jr. 51. Red Rob, Tur Boy Roap-Acrert By Oll Coomes. 52. Death Trailer, Toe Cnurmr ox Scouts; or, Life and Love in a Frontier Fort. By Hon, Wm. ¥. Cody, (Buffalo Bill.) 53. Silver Sam; or, Toe Mystery or Deadwoop Crry, By Col. Delle Sara. 54. Always on Hand; or, Tux Sportive Sport or THe Foor Hnis. By Phillip 8. Warne author of “‘A Hard Crowd,” “‘ Patent Leather Joe’ 55. The Scalp Hunters. A Romancr or THE Pains. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 56. The Indian Masep a: or, THE Map Man oF THE PLaIns. By ert’ W. Aiken, 57. The Silent Hunter ; or, Taz Scown HAL Mystery. By Percy B. St. John. 58. Silver Knife: or, WICKLIFFE, THF Rocky Mountary Ranerr. By Dr, J. H. Robinson, 59. The Man From Texas; or, THE OvTLAw oF ARKANSAS. By Albert W. Aiken. 60. Wide Awake; or, THE Ipror or THE Buack Hints. By Frank Dumont, 61. Captain Seawaif, THe Privateer. By Ned Buntline, 62. Loyal Heart; or, Tax Traprrrs or ARKANSAS. By Gustave Aimard, 63. The Winged Whale. W. Aiken, 64. Double - Sight, the Death Shot. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 65. The Red Rajah: or, Tax Scourcr OF THE INDIES. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 66. The Specter Barque. A Tar oF THE Paciric. By Captain Mayne Reid. 67. The Boy Jockey: or, Honesty verRsSUS CROOKEDNESS. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 68. The Fighting Trapper: or, Kir CARSON TO THE Rescue. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 69. The Irish Captain’ A TALE oF Fontrenoy. By Captain Frederick Whittaker, 70. Hydrabad, THe Srraneurr; or, ALETHE, THE CHILD OF THE CorD. By Dr, J. H. Robinson, 71. Captain Cool-Blade, or, Tar Man- SHARK OF THE Mississippi. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 72. The Phantom Hand, A Srory or our York Hearts aND Homes, By Albert W. iken, 73. The Knight of the Red Cross; or, THE MAGICIAN oF GRANADA. A Tale of the Al- hambra. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 74. Captain of the Rifles. A Romance oF THE Mexican Vautury. By Captain Mayne Reid. By Albert 75. Gentleman George, or, PARLor, Prison, StaGE AND STREET. By Albert W. Aiken, 76. The Queen’s Musketeer, or, TuIsBE, THE Princess Pataist. By George Albony. 77. The Fresh of Frisco, or, Tux HeErrREsS OF BUENAVENTURA. By Albert W. Aiken. 78. The Mysterious Spy: or, GoLpEn FreaTuer, THE BuccaNrer’s DAUGHTER. By A. M. Grainger. Ready October 8th. 79. Joe Phenix, THE Potice Spy. By Albert W. Aiken. Ready October 22d. A new issue every two weeks. Beadle’s Dime Library is for sale by all Newsdealers, ten cents per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of twelve cents each, BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.
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= ——_—s— =o ——— ee ee _ as Deadwood Dick, Tar Prince or THE Roap. By Edward L. Wheeler. Yellowstone Jack; or, Tok TRAPPER OF THE ENCHANTED GrounD., By J. E. Badger, Jr. 3 Kansas King; or, THe Rep RIGHT Hanp. By Buffalo Bill (Hon. Wm. F. Cody). The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Capt. Mayne Reid and Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 5 Vagabond Joe; Tur Youna WANDER- ING JEw. By Oll Coomes, 6 Bill Biddon, Trapper: or, Lirz mw THe Norruwest. By Edward §. Ellis. 7 The Flying Yankee; or, Tux Oczan Outcast, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Seth Jones; or, THE CAPTIVES OF THE Frontier. By Edward S. Ellis. 9 The Adventures of Baron Mun- chausen. 7 Nat Todd; or, THe Fate or THE Sioux Captive. By Edward §, Ellis. 1 1 The Two Detectives; or, THE Fortunes or A Bowery Grau, A.W. Aiken. 12 Gulliver’s Travels. A Voyage to Lilliput, anda Voyage to Brobdingnag. 13 The Dumb Spy. By Ol] Coomes, author of ** Vagabond Joe,” ete. 1 4 Aladdin; or, THe WonpdERFUL Lamp. 15 The Sea-Cat; or, THe Wircn or Darren. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 16 Robinson Crusoe. His Life and Surprising Adventures, (27 illustrations.) Ba 6 Ralph Roy, The Boy Bucca- neer. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 1 by Sindbad the Sailor. His seven voy- ages, From the Arabian Nights. 19 The Phantom Spy ; or, THE PrLor or THE Praraiz. By Buffalo Bill. 20 The Double Daggers; or, Drap- woop Dickx’s Deriance. By E. L. Wheeler, 2Q1 Frontier Angel. A Romance of Kentucky Rangers’ Life. By E. 8. Ellis. 22 The Sea Serpent: or, THz Boy Rosrnson Crusoz. By Col, Juan Lewis. 23 Nick o’ the i Cag or, THE Boy Spy or 76. By T. C. Harbaugh. Diamond Dirk: or, Taz Mystery OF THE YELLOWSTONE. By Col. Ingraham. 2 5 The Boy Captain: or, THe Prratr’s Davueuter. By Roger Starbuck. 26 Cloven Hoof, the Demon. By Edward L, Wheeler, 1 Ay | Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide. By Ol] Coome.s 28 Buffalo Ben; or, Deapwoop Dick tN Discuise. By Edward L, Wheeler, 29 The Dumb Pages or, THE Doar’s Daventer. By Capt. F. Whittaker. 30 Roaring Ralph Rockwood, THE Recxiess Raneger. By Harry St. George. 31 Keen-Knife, THe PRINCE OF THE Prairies. By Oll Coomes. 32 Bob Woolf, the Border Ruffian: or, THe Girt Deap-SHor. E, L, Wheeler. 33 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, THE Rep PrRaTES OF THE CaRiBBeEEs, S. W. Pierce. 3 4. Oregon Sol; or, Nick WuHtrries’ Boy Spy. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 3 5 ‘Wild Ivan, THE Boy CLaupE Duvat; By Edward L. Wheeler. 36 The Boy Clown; or, THE QUEEN oF THE ARENA. By Frank §. Finn. 3 4" The Hidden Lodge; or, Tne LittLe HunTEeR or THE AprRoNDACKS. Harbaugh. 38 Ned Wylde, Tue Boy Scour. By Texas Jack. 39 Death-Face, the Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler. 40 Roving Ben. A story of a Young American. By John J. Marshall, Al Lasso Jack, THE YouNG MusTAnG- ER. By Ol] Coomes. 42 The Phantom Miner: or, Drap- woop Dick’s Bonanza. By Ed, L. Wheeler. 43 Dick Darling, the Pony Express Rider. By Capt. F. Whittaker. Rattling Rube: or, Tar NicuHr- HAWES OF TUCKY. By Harry St. George. 4 5 Old Avalanche, the Great An- nihilator. By Edward L. Wheeler. 4A.G Glass Eye, the Great Shot of the West. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 47 Nightingale Nat: on, THe Forest APTAINS. By T. OC. Harbaugh. 48 Black John, the Road-Agent. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 49 Omaha Oll; or, Deapwoon Dick in Dancer. By Edward L. Wheeler. 50 Burt Bunker, THe TrarrerR. A Tale of the Northwest. By C. E. Lasalle. 51 The Boy Rifles, or, THe UNDER- Grounp Camp. By Archie C. Iron. 5 The White Buffalo. A Tale of Strange Adventure. Charles E. Lasalle. 53 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., Tue Boy PHENix; or, THROUGH TO THE Deatu, E. L. Wheeler. 5 4. Ned Hazel, Tue Boy Trapper; or, THE PHANTOM Princess. By J. F. C. Adams. 5 5 Deadly-Eye, Tue Unknown Scour; By Buffalo Bill. 56 Nick Whiffles’ Pet, or, IN THE VaLuey or Deats. Capt. J. F.C. Adams. 5 4 Deadwood Dick’s Eagles; or, Tae Parps or Ftoop Bar. E, L. Wheeler. 5 he The Border King; or, Tuk SECRET For. By Oli Coomes. 59 Old Hickory, or, Panpy ELLIs’s Scautp. By Harry St. George. 6 The White Indian; or, Tar Scout oF THE YELLOWSTONE. By J. F.C. Adams, 61 Buckhorn Bill, or, Tok Rep Ririe Team. By Edward L. Wheeler. 62 The Shadow Ship, or, Tur Rrvau LizuTenants. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 63 The Red Brotherhood, or, Tur TWELVE AvENGERS, By W. J. Hamilton. 64. Pandy. Jack, or, THz OuTLAW oF THE OREGON TRAIL. By T. C. Harbaugh. 6 5 Hurricane Bill, or, Mustane Sam AND HIs “Parp.”’ By Jos. E, Badger, Jr. 66 Single Hand, or, A Lire ror A Lire. By W. J. Hamilton, 67 Patent-Leather Joe: or, OLD Rat- TLESNAKE, THE CHARMER. By P.8.Warne. 6 The Border Robin Hood; or, Tur Pramriz Rover. By Buffalo Bill. 69 Gold Rifle: or, Taz Boy Detective oF THE Buiack Rancu. By E. L. Wheeler. qV O Old Zip’s Cabin; or, THe GreEen- HORN IN THE Woops. By J. F.C. Adams, y | 1 Delaware Dick; THr Youne Ran- ager Spy. By Oll Coomes., 12 Mad Tom Western, Tak TrExan RaneerR. By W. J. Hamilton. "13 Deadwood Dick on Deck. By Edward L. Wheeler. = 4 Hawk-eye Harry, THE Youne TRAPPER RANGER. By Oll Coomes, 3 5 The Boy Duelist; or, THE Cruise or THE Sra Wour. By Col. P. Ingraham. 16 Abe Colt, the Crow-Killer. By Albert W. Aiken. 77 Corduroy Charlie; or, Taz Last Act or DEAapwoop Dick. By E. L. Wheeler. 7 & Blue Dick; or, Tur YELLOW CHIEF’s VENGEANCE. By Captain Mayne Reid. yd 9g Sol Gincer, THE GIANT TRAPPER. By Albert W. Aiken, &} Rosebud Rob; or, Nuacet NED, THE . Kyranr or THE Guicw. By E. L. Wheeler. oS a oe ny & Kit Harefoot, THE Woop-Hawk; or, Qup PowvER-Face, By T. C. Harbaugh. BEADLE’'S HALF-DIME LIBRARY. Every one of them ‘** Live” Stories by ** Live®? Authors. a Complete Novel, at the extraordinary price of a HALF-DIME. Each number & Rollo, the Boy Ranger; or, THE HEIRESS OF THE GOLDEN Horn. Oll Coomes. §4. Tdyl, the Girl Miner; or, Rosrnup B ON Hand. By Edward L. Wheeler. Buck Buckram: on, Bess, rue Fr- MALE TRAPPER. By Capt. J. I’. C. Adams, 6 Dandy Rock, ‘T1#k-MAN-FRoM-TEx- 4s. By G. Waldo Browne. & - The Land Pirates: on, THe Leacur oF Dervit’s Isuanp, By Capt. Mayne Reid. & Photograph Phil; or, Rosesus Ros’s REAPPEARANCE. By Ed. L. Wheeler 89 Island Jim: or, tHe PET or THR Famiiy. By author of “Jack Harkaway.” 90 The Dread Rider: on, tire Texan Duruist. By George W. Browne. The Captain of the Club. By Bracebridge Hemyng, (Jack Harkaway.) 9 Canada Chet; or, OLD ANACONDA IN Sirrine BULL’s Camp, By E. L. Wheeler. 93 The Boy Miners; or, Tar EncHantED I stand. By Edward 8. Ellis, 94 Midnight Jack, Ture Roap-AGeEnt. By T. C. Harbaugh. 9 5 The Rival Rovers. Col. Hazeltine. 96 Watch - Eye, tHe Derscrivr. By THE Edward L. Wheeler. 97 The Outlaw Brothers: or, CAPTIvE OF THE Harpes. By J. J. Marshall. 9 Robin Hood, tue OuTLAWED Earn. By Prof. Stewart Gildersleeve. Qg The r of Taos. Waldo Browne. 100 Deadwood Dick in Leadville. By Edward L. Wheeler. LOL *eeyneraray New York. 10 By Lieutenant By George Diek Dead-Eye, Tre Boy Smuc- GLER. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 10 The Lion of the Sea. By Col. Delle Sara. 104 Deadwood Dick’s Device. By Edward L. Wheeler. 105 Old Rube, THe Hunter; or, THE Crow Captive. By Capt. H. Holmes. 106 Old Frosty, the Guide. By T. C. Harbaugh. 107 One-Eyed Sim; or, THe Apan- DONED Forrest Homer. By J. L. Bowen. 108 Daring Davy, THE Youne Brar Kiuter. By Harry St. George, 109 Deadwood Dick as Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler. 1 1 The Black Steed of the Prai- ries. By James L. Bowen. 1 1 1 The Sea-Devil; or, THz Mipsnip- , mAN’s LeGacy. By Col. P. Ingraham, 1 12 The Mad Hunter: or, Tur Cavg tor DeatH. By Burton Saxe, 1 13 Jack Hoyle, THE Youne Sprcu- taror. By Edward L. Wheeler. 1 1 4. The Black Schooner. By Rocrr STARBUCK, Ready September 80th. 1 1 5 The Mad Miner. By Grorcr WaLpo Browne. Ready October 7th. 1 16 The Hussar Captain. By Cou. Prentiss INGRAHAM, Ready October 14th. 1 1 wf Gilt-Edged Dick, THz Srort-Dr- TECTIVE. By Edward L. Wheeler, Ready October 2ist, A new issue every week, The Half-Dime Library 1s for sale by all Newsdealers, five cents per copy, Or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each, BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York,