Beadle's New York Dime Library (no. 1015) (1898 08)
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22: CopyricuT, 1883, By BrapLe & ADAMS. ENTERED AS SEconD CLASS MATTER AT THE New York, N. Y., Post Orricr. No, 1015. La Nsivsh | MM. J. IVERS & CO., Publishers, wiles eh nas viv Speers evens, (JAMES SULLIVAN, Prorgieton), ‘ Ten Cents a Copy: Vol LXXIK Month. 379 Pearl Street; New York. $1.00 a Year. a > | JULE, THE JEWESS: Ov, The Miser Millionaire, BY DR. NOEL DUNBAR, - ° | AvuTHOR or ‘‘Rurn’s Rrvau,” ‘‘ Tar Broken Link,” Etc., ETC. Whiter Eins wir cion ne a > — (in GAEL biAe AM —= Sea | i | a “*] AM KNOWN AS JULE, THE JEWESS.” rad gle }
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ote 2 Jule, the Jewess; OB, THE MISER MILLIONAIRE, A Story of Ill-Omened Lives, BY DR. NOEL DUNBAR, AUTHOR OF “‘RUTH’S RIVAL,” ‘THE BROKEN | LINK,” ETOC., ETC, 4 PROLOGUE IN TWO SCENES. SCENE FIRST. THE INSULT. ** Our of the way, Jew!” The words of the speaker were stern, the tone was insolent, and the manner haughty in the axtreme, as he stood, gazing with burning eyes | into the face of the one he addressed, a young | man of gentlemanly bearing-and dress, darkly- bronzed, handsome features, and the unmis- takable stamp of the Israelite resting upon them, The two stood upon a narrow foot-bridge that spanned a deep and she sy Bop stream, and to pass, without both falling into the dark waters beneath, would bea difficult feat to ac- complish. command was dent of his ath- er upon his comrades whom Fortune had “Mr, he yeu I was first on the bridge, sir, and called to you,” said the Jew, calmly. ** And did you expect me to heed your call, rcs Hugo?” bated the haf pa hang vot ed, ‘Yes, as a gentleman, e Jew remar with firmness, “Well, sir, whether you was first on the bridge or not, you must now retrace your steps,” came the haughty demand. “T do not fear you, Harold Lynde, and I will not yield, unless your brute stren forces me to do so,” and there was not the ow of fear in the face of Adolph Hugo, although he must have known the power and agility of his in- sulter. “Then, by the Lucifer of Hades, into the stream you go.” With the words came an unexpected and stun- ning blow, and the Jew fell heavily into the dar waters that closed over his form, shutting = sight, for he made no effort to save him- A cry of horror broke from the students upon dither bonk, and one sprung to his feet, from the velvety upon which he was reclining, boox in hand, and pluaged into the stream, an wick bold stroke swam to the spot where Adolph Hugo had gone down, And, with white, but scornful, stern face Harold Lynde stood upon the bridge, his arms folded across his broad breast, and his eyes laring down into the waters rushing so swit tly Feely Celik Miincehlices tho aiid tood, agerly upon ores the students s watching the brave young man who had gone to the rescue, and breathless silence they Tt as they saw him dive beneath the sur- ce. It seemed ages to these watchers ere he arose and then, froma score of throats broke a glad Sry; Be ho Beam esd, DEMting in his arms the form of Adolph Hugo, A superb swimmer, though borne down by the heavy weight, he soon reached the shore, and laid the unconscious Jew upon the grass, taking various means to resuscitate him. A dark bruise on the temple, and a cuton the brow, told that the telling blow of the young aristocrat had stunned him, and that his life ‘would have ended there, but for the noble act of the student who had so bravely gone to his aid; but at lastashiver went through the ere the heart heaved violently, and the eyes open wearily. ok I remember; Harold Lynde struck me, an — “ And Merton Wilbursaved you,” interrupted one of the students who stood near. © | and he held forth his hand and | Harold L JULE, THE JEWESS. “T did but ashumanity prompted,” remarked Merton Wilbur, a slenderly-formed, fine-look- ne Re of twenty. dolph Hugo uttered no reply, but a smile ressive of a world of thanks crossed his face rasped that of the one to whom he owed his life. “Ha! hal a pretty scene truly; you are not dead then, Jew, as I -feared, but if you cross my path again as you did, there will be no doubt about it,” and the dark, angry face of de peered upon the scene, while Adolph Hugo said, with strange calmness: ‘*No, Harold Lynde, Iam not dead; but to Merton ‘Wilbur I owe my life.” ‘A precious pair, pon honor; a Jew and a eng student a bonds of lasting friend- ship.’ * Harold Lynde, no gentleman sould ridicule the poverty of the unfortunate,” and Merton Wilbur faced the University tyrant, as the young aristocrat was called, with fearless mien and flashing eyes, ; “What! do you, too, wish to feel the weight of my hand?” and the tyrant turned quickly upon the one he had termed a charity student, who answered, quietly: **T do not fear you, sir.” rai So the Jew said, and I left my mark on ; 7 ‘*‘T warn you not to attempt to mark me,” was the cool response, to the surprise, almost consternation of the assembled students, who knew well the great strength and ungovernable temper of Harold Lynde. The words of the charity student at once proved like a match to a magazine, for, witha ery of rage, Harold Lynde sprung upon Merton ilbur, but instantly measured His length upon the ground, for a stunning blow had met him full fr the face, Maddened, he arose, and again rushed upon the calm, smiling youth, who had so skillfully sent him to earth, and his attack was a second time parried, and once more he went down. But again he arose, and a third time felt the weight of Merton Wilbur’s hand, and with an effort staggered to his feet, “When you tire of the sport, Lynde, say so, and I will cease punishing you,” said Merton Wilbur, in a tone that made him a hero in the eyes of the lookers-on, “T will have your life for this,” shouted the maddened tyrant, and he drew a knife from his breast, and, wiping his bleeding face, again sprung to the attack, while a cry of horror broke from the lips of the assembled students, and Adolph od started forward, asif to in- or Fag tween Lynde and the charity en “ Stand back, all!” The ringing words cut the air in a tone that checked the forward advance of the a and the one who uttered then was upon gs oor with the spring of a tiger. tantly the knife was wrenched from the hand that held it and cast aside, and then hot and fast the blows rained upon the handsome face and haughty head of Harold Lynde, until, bleeding and senseless, he sunk om the grass, while, turning to the Jew, with the same coo. aap yer shown throughout, Merton Wil- ur said, iy: “Come, Hu ou are yet weak, so I will give you 'm sri to your room, and Lynde’s satellites look after him. And from that day the paths of those three, the Jew, his insulter and his defender, went dif- ferent ways through life, for Merton Wilbur, the poor hat student, was oaeed, Ado! bh Hugo left the University of his own aba} an Bea oY remained to brave o shame an ‘ea But not one of the trio, 80 strangely brought together forgot the day or the eel SCENE SECOND. THE WRECK. Pee It wasastormy night on the New Englan coast, and a sm eepinds was struggling with wind and wave, on her voyage from port to aed 4 = eae to her machinery having de- er greatly. uddenly, as Ticunti to prove that troubles never com ¢singly, there was heard a loud rier and once more the machinery was wrecked, an the steamer received a wave on that swept its deck resistlessly. At once all was confusion, for all knew that they were at the mercy of the storm, and the wild waters and fierce winds made the craft tremble and creak in every timber, while know- ing ones shook their heads ominously, for they knew that they were rapidly upon a — lee shore, and if they did not soon strike upos the rocks, the steamer must go to : In the midst of the excitement in the ladies’ cabin, one person seemed to havea coo! head and keep his nerves in perfect command, for he went from one to the other of the frightened women and children, fastening around them life-preservers and bidding them not give up sass t length he stopped in front of a young girl who had sunk down in an Sah clave. aba paid in her hand asmall sachel of valuables she had hastily taken from her trunks, The eyes of the two met, and the young man, for he looked scarcely more than twenty, seemed to feel some strange thrill in his heart ashe gazed down into the youthful, beautiful face, and heard her low words; Oh, sir! you are so kind to us all, for I have watched you; but, is there no hope?? “Oh ye for the steamer seems quite stanch hie and if we strike we can take to the boats; ep up courage and hope for the best,” he said, with an assuring smile, as he fastened a life- preserver around her slender, graceful form, and, with another look into her glorious eyes, and a sigh, turned away to cheer others near. After him her eyes also followed, and there was something in his manly, noble, though beardless face that seemed to fascinate her, and he @ something she read there that brought her lips too a sigh. N And still on the steamer drifted with wave and wind, rolling, pitching, creaking so loud that it sounded like dhrieks of despair, and now and then struggling so hard that it seemed as though she would never rise from beneath the weight of waters hurled upon her. All that men could do, her crew did, aided by a few ngers; the anchors were let go, but the cables parted, and nearer and nearer the dark coast, upon which the sea beat with terri- fic roar, the vessel drifted, and soon the end must come, for either the waters would break her in pieces, or she must strike. The boats were gotten ready and manned and then in awe and breathless silence all awaited the end. It soon came; first a sudden shock that threw all down, then a 8 sone one, and a fearful crash, and the end had come. The boats were useless, for they were torn away by the washing, eed ie, By asi with only a few strong men beter ns them, and a mass of humanity were struggling for life in the relentless sea. Just as the shock came, the maiden before spoken of felt a strong arm encircle her and heard in a calm voice: **Come, I will save you, if there isa chance for life.” - She yielded herself to him, and out upon the lee he led her, where a small made of doors and blinds, securely lashed together, — a hastily constructed and made ready to unc But upon it were two burly seamen, getting ready to launch it, and thereby save them- selves. ‘* Hold! men, I made that raft and it will hold but two; would to Heaven it would save more,” cried the young man. “We cares nob who made it; ther two it saves will be us; cut her loose, Jack,” answered one. ‘‘Hold! leave that raft, and take your chances with the others, but this lady shall be saved if in my power to do so,” said the young man, sternly, while the maiden pe to gn trembling, wondering how it would all end, au hoging. a e will not give it up,” said the other sea- n. “Oh, sir, let me meet my fate, and you go with them, for it will hold Rites. * she pe bey Pe a y two; leave that raft or you e The last order rung out threateningly and a pistol was thrust forward in the hand of the speaker, The two seamen saw their danger, and Like maddened beasts, driven from what they be- lieved might made their own, they sprung for- ward to grapple with the daring 1.2 who con- fronted them. . Then came, mingling with the howling winds and washing waters, two sharp reports, and the seamen fell heavily to the deck, and a vicious wave washed them into the sea. “Come, the steamer is repidly going to pieees,” cried the man who had taken life to save life, and he pisors the maiden on the perm secured her there by passing « rope around her waist, and the next instant, the fastenings that held it to the guard being severed, they were ce A i ol
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ae te ~~ — stich ‘THE JEWESS. efioat om the wild waters, which were dotted f his easy-chair, apparently ‘asleep, but only ne with human forms and the @ébris of the wreck, and from which arose shrieks for help; and crias to God for mercy, appalling to the ears that beard them, . Welt made, though constructed amid such danger, and in baste, the little raft swept on untit it was pitched upon the beach; but the man was prepared for this, and having freed the coaiden from the rope that held her, seized her in his arms, and, after a hard struggle, reached a place of safety, where they were met by brave dhecuea of e coast, who were do- ing all in their power to save life. “tip to a humble fisher-cot he ted ‘ther, and Jeeving her im charge of a kind-hoarted woman, went back te aid in the rescue, and, with others. teiled through the Jong hours of the night, until the death-list, which at first seemed to swell so large, was greatly decreased, he next day the two, the brave young man end the maiden, stood together at a:small way station, awaiting the train that was to bear them homeward, ‘You telegraphed your father, you say, that you would be on immediately?” he.asked. ‘*Yes, I thought it best, and telegraphed while you returned for my sachel.” ‘“*A telegram for Miss Isabel Liynde; is she here?” called out the station agent. ‘* Yes, that is my name,” and the maiden took the dispatch and read it quickly, while she said aloud in a joyous tone: Pig father will meet me at ‘the Junction, But she gazed into a face that was livid, and asked anxiously: ** Are you ill, sir?” “No; a momentary faintness, Miss Lynde; but may Laskif you are the daughter of Mr, Andrew Lynde, the millionaire?’ he said in a tone that was suppressed. eV OR, Gin « And the sister of Harold Lynde?” “Yes; he is at the University, andIam just returning home from ool; do you know my brother, sir?” ** Yes, Miss Lynde; but here comes the train, and I must leave you.” “*Leave me! w ay I thought that you were going on to New York with me?” she asked, in disappointed surprise. ' ‘No, I shall remain here yet awhile.” “‘ But I have been so remiss, for I know not even your name, and I owe to you my life; and oh! you have been so brave, so noble, and so kind to me, and we must be the best of friends.” She gra his hand, and the tears came in her beautiful eyes; but his answer sent a chill to her heart: “No, Fhe and I can never be friends, Miss Lynde, for you are a Christian, Iam a Jew,” She strove to reply, but the train had stopped, the wrecked passengers and crew of the steamer were hurrying aboard, and press- ing her hand, he turned away, muttering: She, a Christian, I, a Jew.” ‘CHAPTER L THE MILLIONAIRE. SLOWLY the Swiss clock on the mantle tolled the hour of twelve at night, and out of their sentinel-boxes came the two toy buglers, and blew their clear ringing notes, startling the only occupant of the room, who sprung to his feet with an impatient exclamation, though days and nights for several years he had heard the fanciful timepiece strike the bour. It was a sumptuous room that he sat in, Andrew Lynde, the millionaire, and though he called it his“ den,” it was a gilded one, for vel- vet chairs lured to repose, innumerable books filled the carved shelves, a soft carpet, of some rare pattern, silenced tho tread of the feet, and all around was evidence of a fat purse to supply « luxurious and refined taste. And from basement to attic in the million- aire’s grand mansion there could be seen the same air of lux and elegance, while his grounds were an en of Isabel, his beautiful daughter of eighteen, was the belle of her set, and sought by scores of ad- wide awake, and gazed ipto his white, face, it would not have'envied him, At the stroke of twelve he sprung to his feet, and mechanically glancing at his gold watch, he muttered: “Tt is the time Harold said he would be back of his wheels now,” and going to the window he drew aside the silken curtains and glanced without, while he continued: ‘Yes, it is the boy, and Ezra Quilpis with him; hut they come in a hack, and not in Harold’s buggy.” Going to the front door he opened it, and in walked a person whom the reader will remem- ber as a University student, that was a partici- | pant in a scene that was certainly not an en- viable one. * Ah! Quilp, Iam glad to see you; come in, and excuse my sending for you, but it is im- portant; give us a glass of wine, Harold,” and the millionaire motioned the visitor to a seat. ‘*Mr. Quilp can help himself; I do not wear livery yet, father,” was the haughty response of the young man, who bad improved in ap- pearance, if notin manners, since his meeting with Adolph Hugo, the Jew, two years before at the University. **Oh, certainly; Iam accustomed to wait on myself,” said Ezra Quilp, a small, wiry man, in deep black, and wearing a white cravat that gave him a clerical look. His face was strongly marked, but the ruling sion of greed was the strongest stamp upon t, and a reader of human nature who diagnosed his features would have pronounced him a miser, and a man who made Gold his God, and held no other aim in life but to hoard it up. Soul he had none; at least it did not shine out from his face, which is the mirror of the soul; heart he certainly knew of only as a function to keep life’s pendulum swinging, and mercy toa debtor he never been known to ow. With no family ties he lived alone in an old brick house in the edge of the city, and which was said to be haunted until he moved there, “Well, Quilp, as Harold will not help us, step up to the sideboard and help yourself; there is sherry, and this is port, and if you need liquors they are in those decanters.” uilp always drank a good glass of wine, at the expense of any one else, and helped himself generously, while the millionaire settled him- self back in his chair, and Harold Lynde, with a stern face, yet scornful smile, leaned against = mantle with his arms folded across his reast. It was a strange trio, and strange thoughts were flitting in the brain of each, CHAPTER II. THE SACRIFICE, **Now, Mr. Lynde, may I ask if you sent for me to pay me the money due on your notes I hold?” asked Ezra Quilp, as he took a seat on — opposite side of the table from the million- “On the contrary, Quilp, I need more money from you,” said Andrew Lynde, bluntly. “On what security?’ was the quiet question. “Look here, Quilp, I have been fighting off misfortune for three Phin? and ay, when Harold, the wild spendtbrift that he is— “Spare comments on Harold Lynde, please,” broke in the youth. ‘Weil, when ho came to me for fifteen thou- sand dollars, to pay gambling debts, 1 frankly told him that I had lost heavily some time ago, but had saved my credit before the world, b tting from you secretly, on my no acini y certain properties mentioned in them, the money I needed to carry me along. ** Now those notes, as you know are due, and I wish to renew them for six months, and geta larger advance.” ‘On what security?” ‘Why, man, you hold my notes for a million and a half dollars, and the Property securing them is worth tréble that, and I could have got- ten from the bank nearly the value of it.” “ Why did you not?” “T did not wish it known that I needed money, ene you pledged yourself never to speak of it, ** Nor have I.” ‘Well, renew the notes and give me more money.” “T have given you just fourteen hundred thousand dollars; you owe me that sum and the interest on it; what did you do with all that money, Mr. Lynde?’ **Lost the greater part of it in those accursed railroad speculations, and Harold can account , ff P o 7, 3 it 6 Tait ls thd hfe lS Er again with old Quitp— Ha! there is the sound’ é hi 3 for one-tenth of it in the past two years, while you know I am not economical.” “You are all very extravagant,and—" “Hold on, Ezra Quilp; if you value that little body of yours, you will make no comments upon my father or his family,” and stepping quickly forward, Harold Lynde dropped_ his hand upon the miser’s shoulder with a force that made him ery out: ‘*Oh, pardon me, sir, but I meant no wrong.” ‘Guard your tongue then in future,” and Harold returned to his place by the mantle, while his father said: **Don’t be hasty, my son; Mr. Quilp spends so little money himself that he cannot under- stand how we can live as we do; now, Quilp, renew those notes for me,” ‘‘-You can pay the interest due?” coe for Ihave not ten thousand dollars in nk.’ . ‘Then I cannot renew them.” “Hal you are then plotting to destroy me” Yes.’ **You frankly confess it?” said the astounded millionaire, while Harold again stepped for- ward witb menacing gesture. “Do you remember, Andrew Lynde, when we were boys together?” “ Yes. ” **I was poor, you rich, and you won from me the woman I loved.” “T did not; she preferred me to you, or, if I remember, you became engaged to her, and then mysteriously left home,” said the million- aire, nervously. “Yes, I left home; but your money bought hirelings to kidnap me one day, and carry ine on board of a vessel bound to China. ‘It was more than a year before I returned, pe - found Grace Talbot your wife, Andrew yude. ‘But I smiled sweetly, to hide my heart's bitterness; I made no sign that one of your hirelings had told me of your treachery, and in secret nursed my hatred and my revenge, and I haveit now, for your notes go to protest to-mor- row In a quiet, sinister way Ezra Quilp, the miser, had spoken, and both the millionaire and his son had glared upon him, the one in horror, the other in dumb amazement at the story he told. The millionaire knew that the miser told the truth; the son suspected that he did so, and both felt that he held them in his power, and, emg upon the face of the man before them, y knew to hope for mercy was useless, A proud, overbearing man had Andrew Lynde ever and his son was strangely like him. Money had been his power, and without it he knew that he must grovel in the dust. Speculation had trebled the fortune he had inherited, and speculation, which he indulged in with the same fascination that Harold Lynde Played cards, had led him to his ruin. eath almost would be preferable to ruin and poverty, and yet the latter seemed to be the only alternative, for the millionaire, in giy- ing his notes for ready money, feeling confident . Of redeeming them, and that no other eye than Ezra Quilp’s would ever see them, had so worded them, that if protested, they would give the miser full claini to all of his property. ‘“Well, Andrew, what have you to say?” asked the smiling Quilp, as the ionaire, livid, silent and trembling sat before him, avoiding the angry. eyes of his son, who regarded him as the destroyer of his future inheritance and nepoe. ** Before God! Quilp, I know not what tosay,” groaned the millionaire. “If I push you to the wall you are fuined,” sugges the miser, ‘Alas! too true.” “But you will have mercy; you will not go to extremes; see, my father is a gray-haired man,” and the tone of Harold Lynde, for the first time in his life, was pleading. **Much you have cared for your father’s gray hairs, Harold Lynde,” was the sharp retort, > Oh, yes, hit hard, for you have the power now. ‘“‘ As your father and yourself have ever done when you had the power; but, come, the night wanes, what are you going to do about it, Lynde, senior and junior?” “T have half @ mind to end the matter by—” “What?” asked Quilp, as Harold made a step ony tak life, and castin pody ng your life, an g your rob the prowling dogs,” was the Phe on joinder.
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Me ek Re ee oe ey ee — ——————— But Ezra Quilp showed no sign of fear, but Ezra Quilp turned away and left the room, f@nilingly replied: : and a moment after the hack in waiting at the “As you ree Harold Lynde; your fortune | door was heard to roll rapidly away. would go, all the same.” |. Then Isabel Lynde tottered to a seat, and sink- ‘*Ha! you have let the notes go out of your ) ing into it cried: ends?” cried the millionaire, in alarm. | __**Father, mine is the sacrifice yours and ‘* No, I haye them safe; but, in case of my Harold’s the gain, for gold is not my god as it —— “ Again ¥ ask, who are you” almost gasped Harold Lynde, seemingly more impressed at her presence, than that he had been thwarted in his fell purpose. In the same rich tones came the answer: * Tam known as Jule, the Jewess.” death, there is one who will knowwhat to do.” | is yours; but the die is cast, and so let it be.” CHAPTER IV. ‘*Great God! Lam utterly undone, and ruin | JULE, THE JEWESS. has come upon me,” groaned the millionaire, CHAPTER IIL For full a moment after the maiden had told burying his face in his hands, while his son, the miser and Harold Lynde wko she was, the with white face and moody brow, paced to and THE ASSASSIN. two men stood gazing upon her. tro. t 80 anxious had Harold Lynde been, not to be With an exultant smile, Ezra Quilp gazed | seenin company with Ezra Quilp, that he had upon them, enjoying their misery for awhile; | sent his own vehicle home, and seeking the home Beautiful she certainly was; though scarcely more than seventeen her form was rounded . into perfect womanhood, and the seal of her then he said, calmly: of fis miser had taken him to Lynde Manor in | Trace a ens but lightly’ poser ad nplogt her-ex- ‘orb j t of troub] . | a public hack, uisite features, so slightly, in fact, that few acters thee ocr atta would ‘have believed that’ the’ blood of the drew.” n this the miser had returned to a point ‘In God’s name, tell mé what it ts,” cried the | near his home, and there dismissing it, for the millionaire, while his son stopped in his walk | first time in many years paying the fare with- and gazed eagerly at the miser. out trying to get it reduced, and grumbling “You, Andrew Lynde, ridiculed me as a boy, | about it, had walked with rapid step through beat me, wronged me cruelly, and stole my in- | the weed-overgrown grounds surrounding the ; tended bride from me. old brick mansion where he lived. ly up, ber right hand, which had grasped Har- “Grace is in her grave and I say no word All was darkness in and around it, notevena | Old Lynde’s upraised arm, still extended, her against her, but you, I will make feel that I am | friendly light glimmering in the window to | S20wy-white dress clinging around her, and her now your master—” welcome him home, for he was saving of oil; but | hair, unbound and hanging in jetty masses to . “Villain, how dare—” ne let himself in with a key he carried, crossed | ber ankles, she was indeed a super prema “Hold on, Harold Lynde, I was not fool | she large hall, that gave back a hollow echo | ne to leve and one to fear, and the intend : enough to come into the lion’s den unarmed.” even to his cat-like tread, and ascended to the | #Ssassin cowered before her gaze, for he felt i The young man stepped back with a muttered | floor above. that she seemed to read his thoughts. / oath, for there was that in the miser’s face that | A second key let him into his rooms on the At last the miser, who, whatever might be H ; children of Israel coursed through her veins. Her eyes seemed to possess the power of fas- cination, for they held both the miser and the young aristocrat as though under a spell, and, as she stood with her superb form drawn proud- told him he would use a weapon if need be. left of the upper hall, and a lamp was soon | his greed for gold and revenge-warped nature, “T was poor then, Andrew, you rich,” con- | fighted, revea as the miser’s aparion. certainly possessed nerve, broke the silence. tinued the miser; ‘I am rich now, and you eager in furniture they certainly were, for You say that you are known as Jule, the or. 3 a table with papers upon it, a chair and an iron | Yewess?” Your son has pointed me out as a miser, | safe were all the articles visible, while through és Yes. when he was a mere boy, and since he has grown | the door, dividing the front and back rooms, Ah! it had escaped my memory; you are to manhood, he drove overme in the street, and | were an iron cot, a table, and a few cooking never stopped to see what harm was done. utensils upon the hearth. ‘For months I lay up with a broken leg, and | Placing the lamp spon the table, Ezra Quilp in all that time I nursed my revenge, and now | unlocked his safe, took out a roll of papers, and Thave it, for, Andrew Lynde, Ezra Quilp will | seated himself in his uncomfortable chair, and ruin you, and drive you into the streets, unless | began to glance them over, while he mut- you do as he requests,” tered: = ” my house to-day? ““In God’s name tell me what that is?” “It seems a large sum to pay for her; but I | willout; but I thank you, my beautiful child, for byt” eimply ask to make your daughter, Isabel, | love her as I hate them, for she was kind to me | the life you saved, and remember that Ezra my wife.” when a little girl; and I will get! all back, for | Quilp, miser and usurer, is your friend.’ The millionaire sprung to his feet with a cry | tho old man speculates recklessly now, and the of rage, and Harold Lynde again threateningly young one gambles nightly, and they will come advanced upon the miser, buf halted suddenly | to me for money, and again be beggars, and I as Ezra Quilp leveled a pistol at his heart. have Isabel and all, while I predict that Andrew Thus the three, for one instant, formed a | will kill himself, when his riches have fled, and striking tableau, which then was broken by the | Harold will commit some crime that will make muser saying: if him fly the country, or go to prison, ‘Well, you khow my terms; give me your| ‘Ha! ha! ba! Ezra Quilp, you have played daughter, and you receive back ‘your notes, for | your cards well, and now hold a hand full of I give that large sum for her; refuse, and into | revengeful trumps. the streets you all go.” “Hal ha! who suspects the old beggarly miser ‘* Never, so help me God! m tongue would | to be worth millions, and the millionaire of blister did I ask the sacrifice of her,” cried the | being a beggar?” -doting millionaire. And thus the gold loving Seay het Day those notes to-morrow, or you are | man mused on aloud to himse i, little dreaming beggars of you! Good-evening, gentlemen.” | that there was one on his track, than whom a old on, please, Mr. Quilp.” bloodhound was more merciful, All started, and turned to behold Isabel|. Up the vine-clad balcony that one had Lynde standing before them, her opera-cloak | climbed, and along the roof he had crept silently around her shoulders, and in full evening dress, | as a cat would have done. for her escort had left her at the door but a Then through the windows of the back room short while before, he had peered, and the door. between being vente a But I was wakeful and sat by the open win- “T had heard rand A kept gold here, and I . suspected the one who dogged your steps to be a robber, not a murderer; but impulse made me open my blind and step out on the roof and fol- low him, and then I saw that his_hund was raised to kill, and I grasped it, but I expected not to findin an intended assassin Mr, Harold Lynde.” The young girl had told her story frankly, in her full, musical voice, but in her tone, and upon her lip, as she spoke the name of Harold ; Lynde, was an expression of scorn at the act he had intended to perpetrate, and seeing it, he Transcendently beautiful she looked, though | open he had seen the miser seated at his table. . | said » rrp 4 : ata her face was ashen pale, and her Jips quivered; | With the skill of an expert cracksman, and “What! you know me, then?” . yet ber voice was firm, as she said: as noiselessly, he had slowly raised the window “Yes.” “By Heaven! I knew that we had met be- fore, but when or where I cannot now recall.” “tt matters not when or where, sir; we part now, and forever,” she said, haughtily, and turning to the miser she continued: “Do you wish me to further serve you by go- iug for an officer to deliver your intended mur- derer and robber over to?” Harold Lynde, crushed by the discovery of his act, stood like one dazed at her words, and, as the miser still held h 3 pistol for use, and at beart he had a cowardly fear of death, he turned a piteous, pleading glance upon him to await his ply Ina calm, thoughtful way it came: “No, thank you, I will not trouble you, and more, I will beg that you let this affair remain a secret between us, for I will relieve Mr, Lynde of one charge you make against him— that of robbery, though I may be wrong in de ing 50, \ ‘To kill me he came here, and, for fear af “ Father, I meant not to listen, but I over- | and then stepped within, and crept nearer an heard, asI passed the door, that which forced | nearer his victim, for the wind moaned with- nue to do so, and I know all. c ; out, and rustling branches and vines against Mr. Quilp, you honor me, sir, by mereising the balcony, drowned any icious sound that ‘me so highly, and in return I can but say that 1 | might have reached the ear of Ezra Quilp, even wo 14 terms and will be bsp wife.” had he not been deaf to everything while gloat- i Isabel!” cried Harold Lynde, — ing over his triumph, au My child!” groaned the millionaire. Rearal and nearer crept the assassin, until _ “No remonstrance, father; I‘know that you, | he crossed the threshold of the open door, and and my brother Harold, love gold as much as | then his hand was raised above his head for the does this man whom men call Quilp the Miser. fatal stroke, and in it gleamed a naked blade. _ . “He has you in his power, your fortune in But suddenly, instead of dealing the fatal his grasp, and I sell myself to him for the notes | blow he uttered a startled cry and turned,as holds, ; the knife dropped to the floor, for a hand had “You are a nice young lady, Miss Isabel, and | grasped his arm from behind. : T thank you. Sprin ing to his feet, Ezra Quilp turned, a : The notes I return to you to-morrow at two | pistol hastily drawn from his breast, and seeing o'clock, when I shall call with a clergyman to bis midnight visitor, cried: secretly unite us. “ Harold Lynde I you an assassin ?” “*Toen I take my leave, and in three months But Harold Lynde made no reply, for his shal! return to claim my bride, and the world | eyes were fixed upon a form that stood in the need not know of our former marriage, and | open door between the two rooms, and, unheed- canal thereby be avoided” ig the remark of the miser, he cried: accidents, I will tell you why, young lady.” ae ‘You are kind, sir,” said Isabel, with a sneer, ‘In Satan’s name! who are you?” “No! no! no! I beg of you, Quilp”—began but eT em The answer came‘in a rich, musical voice, yet ga Lynde, but the miser broke in sternly * shal y: decided: with: _\ “Why not wait the three months, if it must ‘‘[ am one who has saved you from becoming ‘Silence! You haveno right to ask mercy pe. wel” stacy cried the millionaire, : an assassin, for I followed you here.” of me,” and again turning to Jule, the Jewess, “No, the notes are due to-morrow, and the And upon the speaker the miser’s eyes also | a3 she had called herself, be continued: * ; y Pp 5p ¥' ¥ - gointo Miss Lynde’s er with the end of the | turned, and he, too, cried: Ceremony; re ber, to- w 1 wi “ r’ ferns “Gin ; mem re oghe morrow | will ‘ 00,8 woman, saved my life '“Thold the property of Andrew Lynde, the ‘millionaire, to a te Be but to eo ine *t re any
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JULE, THE JEWESS. 5 lease him of his indebtedness to me by secretly marrying his daugbter Isabel, ig Kow. young lady, I beg that you will keep this secret too, unless harm befall me before two o’clock to-morrow, and then you will know wh Ezra met with his death, and that this man, Haro d Lynde, whom I now set free, was wa, Se 3 nestly the Yb od man turned his gaze upon the beautiful Jewess; but she said coldly: “Not being interested in Mr. Lynde and his affairs, the secret may remain a secret if so you wish it; good-night.” Without another word she turned and swept into the back room, and gazing after her, they beheld her gather her sweeping skirts around her, Py: through the low window out upon the roof of the balcony and snag. £ tog Then the eyes of the two men met, and, with his sinister smile, the miser said: ‘Mr. Lynde, it is nearly dawn, and I seldom keep late hours.” “Show me out of your accursed old rookery, and I will gladly leave it,” was the savage re- ly. Pt Doubtless; but Iam no liveried servant. to show you out, sir; you found your way. in, leave as you came, like a thief in the night.” as Quilp, you shall one day rue this night. “Those who are threatened, my dear Harold, are long-lived; but go, and tell your father how your murderous little plot to kill me, and, as I now believe, to get hold of the notes, and there- by save yqur riches and your sister from be- coming my wife, was thwarted by a young girl, who calls herself J ule, the Jewess.” “Oh, if I but dared,” hissed the young man, clinching his fist. “But you don’t for I am a dead shot, my only extravagance being the waste of powder in pis- tol practice; and besides, there is a man within call, for one sei to the Jewish family across the hallway, and, if the Jewess possesses such courage as you to-night saw, the Jew might prove more than a match for you if my aim ‘Curse you, Ezra Quilp! but I swear to you that one day we will stand on an even footing, and then you will sue in vain to me for mercy.” “You do not act with Christian spirit, Harold, for I spare you, when I could send you to prison; but go, for I wish to be alone.” ‘* et me leave by the door.” ‘*T will not; go as you came, and before the or comes to show passers-by the elegant Mr. anol Luce, clambering down from the balcony of Quilp’s rookery.” “One word: do you think that that Jewess “Instinct teaches me to place trust in her; if she does, I can swear that it is not true, that you came to my room by invitation, on a busi- hess matter, and that will settle it, for I care not to have my intended brother-in-law sent to prison; now go!” — . With a muttered oath, and words, the pur- rt of which the miser did not catch, Harold ynde turned and crossed the room to the open window. Stepping out upon the roof, he beheld a white form not ten feet distant at another window, and knew that the eye of Jule the Jewess was upon him. $ . : “You andI shall meet again, fair Jule,” be said, aloud, and swinging himself over the roof he to the ground, and crossin the weed-grown yard sprung upon his saddle-horse n waiting, and fashed away like the wind, his brain and heart on fire with the emotions that overwhelmed him at the thwarting and discov- ery of his heinous plot to kill the miser and save the honor and riches of his family. CHAPTER Vv. THE MISER’S TENANTS. “THe Jewish family,” as Ezra Quilp had called them, had moved into their new quar- ters, fortunately, as it proved for their land- lord, the very morning previous to the eventful night described in the foregoing chapters. "y Bees man had called the day before and asked if he would rent the upper half of bis bh which, with the wing on that side, con- sisted of four rooms, and, as a fair price was , the miser readily consented, for, ie fore had he found any one willing to ‘a 'in the place, the dread of its being * haunt- ea ” having deterred many a tenant from going ere. ; . uietl Jew had had the rooms ( teak un Gohectranoved fs7 and 406 sneer: beled "a absent, and engrossed with the day being the eve of the maturity of Andrew Lynde’s notes, and his revenge, be had even forgotten the ex- istence of others than himself in the old man- sion, that night. Into that other part of the “*haunted house,” as the superstitious dwellers in the neighbor- hood called it, I would have my reader accom- pany me atan early hour the morning following arold Lynde’s attack upon the miser, and the saving of his life by Jule, the Jewess. Although but new-comers, the five rooms, consisti of three bed-chambers, a dining- room and kitchen combined, and a parlor or sitting-room, were already comfortable in ap- pearance, and the scent of a savory breakfast pervaded the apartment, In the kitchen at astove, an elderly woman, to judge from her face, although her hair was yet jet black and her eyes as bright as dia- monds, was cooking*breakfast, while the heroine of the night before, Jule, the Jewess, was set- ting a table for three persons, and, in her canary-colored morning wrapper looked as fresh as a rose, In the adjoining room, seated at the window, and idly gazing over the housetops of the city in the distance, for the mansion stood alone on the river’s bank, sat a man whose exact age it would be hard to tell, as a full beard, falling upon his breast, concealed the greater part of his face. A handsome man he certainly was, ayd with acertain noble dignity resting upon his brow that gave him a look that was stern, and caused him to appear some ten years older than he really was. Compactly built, and well formed, dressed in the hight of fashion, and yet with simple ele- gance, so to express it, he presented the ap- pearance ofa gentleman of refinement, which did not belie him, as Jule, the Jewess, entered and he arose and greeted her procera A Jew he certainly was, and one to command respect and win confidence, “Well, fair Jule, how did you rest in your new quarters last night?’ he asked, pleasantly, speaking in the Hebrew tongue. “Not well, I fear, for I was disturbed,” she answered, in her frank way. i urely the ghosts they told us dwelt here did not disturb you,” he said, with a smile. ‘Oh no; but I prevented a ghost from being made; but now I cannot say more, as mamma will be in. After breakfast I will speak with you, if you will ask me to join'you in a walk to the river bank.” Impressed by her manner, for he saw that she had something to communicate, he returned: ad ly, and with pleasure, for we have a fine view of the river from pres ol? opal and he again bent his gaze out of the window, as the elderly woman, also a Jewess, called to the maiden to set the breakfast upon the table. It was a pleasant little repast, and Ezra Quilp’s tenants seemed to enjoy it in their new home, for the old woman remarked: As Victor, L like this place.” “T am glad of it, Mother Naomi, though I wish you would let me place you in the elegant home you deserve, and have servants to wait upon you.” © “No, Victor; I care not for the splendor of the past; I gave up wealth to marry a poor man, and when he died he left me and my child” in poverty, and I care not to receive better at our hands, though I know your willing heart; ut when I am gone, then you and Jule can enjoy your riches.” t the reference to herself the maiden col- ored, but the man never changed countenance, as he responded, calmly: _ ‘As you please. If you prefer this humble life to one more fitting you and Jule so be it; on our Sabbath I will run up to see you, but the rest of the week my duties will keep me in the city. Come, Jule, let me show you a pretty river scene, for ere long I must away.” The maiden glanced toward her mother for sanction which was given, and the man and the maiden descended the creaking stairs and left the mansion together, wending their way through the weed-overgrown grounds toward the river-bank, ‘‘Vietor, do you know the Lyndes?” | The two had halted beneath a tree upon the bank of the river, and almost abruptly the maiden had asked the question, for the man mt eg I know who they are,” he replied, quietly. . ’ ’ “Well, T have a secret to tell you, and I doso for your good, only do not act in the matter un- | less it orfll he for’ Sane benefit, and if not, prom- . ise me rou will not betray what IF tell “you,” we oe ¥ perder ask of Jule, gladl y requ ou me e, gla will I grant.” Meter 2 ony | “Tt is said, you know, that our race act only from motives of gain, Victor, but that alone does not prompt me to tell you the secret I in- tend to, though I know ge can greatly enrich Aer thereby, should the Lyndes go to the wa : “ Ah! it is of them you would speak, then?” he asked, with interest. “Yes; I know that Mr. Lynde, though a mil- lionaire on paper, is really bankrupt, for he has mortgaged his property in toto,” ‘‘What! can this be true, Jule?’ asked her ara in surprise. ‘Tt is true, Victor, and to-day is the last day of e to pay his indebtedness.” he man started, for the news seemed to in- terest him strangely; but he said with a calm- ness that was evidently forced; ‘*T am listening, Jule.” ‘*His property is valued, I know, at between three and four millions, and yet the one who has a claim upon it all holds it on but a million and a half paid out, and I thought that you could perhaps buy that indebtedness from the . holder, and then, if the Lyndes could not pay in a given reasonable time, you would make the rofit.” . “Why, Jule, what a Lusiness woman you are! But, is this your only motive in seekin to get me to aid the Lyndes?” and he look her squarely in the face. Bo The look caused her to flush, but she answered. ly: 5 “It is not!” ‘*-You have another motive, then? Will you tell it me?” * Certainly !” she answered, in a low voice. **T am listening,” and_ he bent his dark, searching eyes, in which dwelt a world of fas- cination, full upon her. “T went to Madam Cardoza’s boarding-school bere you may remember?” ‘I do. “There I met Isabel Lynde, the daughter of the millionaire.” ‘* Ah! and she snubbed you for being one of a proscribed race, and insulted you,” he said, bit- terly. “Bho did not,” warmly nded the maidens. **Oh!” he ejaculated, but it meant much. ‘*On the contrary, she sought me out because others shunned me, and nobly acted as my staunch friend.” , ‘*She was a braye girl.” “Indeed she was, Victor, and a true friend te me through all, and she is as beautiful as she is noble. ‘‘ And wherein is your motive in wishing me to possess her wealth?” ro “Tf her father, by speculation, and her bro- ther by his fast life, swamp their fortune, then, ou possessing it, can keep Isabel from ever owing want.” “True, I could do so; but is this your only — motive, Jule?” “ No.” **‘You have another?” “Yes,” she answered, with a blush, ** Can I know it?” PES “Yes, Youremember when my father died we were in great poverty?” — “Yes, I remember it,” he said, quietly. “Well, Victor, | had now and then met a young man in my walks, who sought my ac- quaintance, but Ire his advances.” “When father lay ill, innumerable little deli- cacies were sent hi shown menage panes that I afterward learned came from the gentleman I speak of, and whom I now know to have been Harold Lynde.” “Jule, that man is a villain, and e sought to insnare you as a hunter would a bird,’ Victor Moloch, with sudden fierceness of man- ner tant surprised the maiden, for she answered _ i ickly: Rae va carmot believe him so vile as that, Vie r. . “He is so vile, Jule; but, for that trap-set- — 8 ne Ge an innocent girl, which you called when his fortune has been squandered?” | “There we differ, for I would see Lynde want, Jule—ay, grovel in the , and never stretch forth hand to giv hima cranlyto stop the gnaw of hunger, a drop of water to bia thirst.” Le He suddenly ch his violent manner. ; a feet wet atric ' 7 un lis & . m, and many kindnesses ~ said ess, you would have me care for him, oe aa again the bitterness of tone and manner re — ed.to the man. — tx Suzy = Ste “} would not see him want, Victor.” Harel
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‘§ A : pas e it ay >, Ve + fan la < ae. Keri : bps = - a+ Hy »¥/ pe 7 . ptruck a severe Isabel - mained silent, while, his _ more by her confusion he . but she met his sh): “ gaze unflinchingly é he saw that it had startled the maiden creatly, and quickly continued in a changed tone: “Sule, if I could serve you in this matter I would act, but it will take a large sum to get command of the mo es you speak of as being due to-day, and I fear I could not get it in so short a time.” tad ne , 1 thought you were worth millions?” “And sol am; but to raise a million and a ai ~ rp in -. eeu 7 Sp needs the wealth of a Cr e said, a smile, “You would double your advance should the Lyndes fail to pay?” she asked. eS ‘+ Yes, in all probability I should.” ~*’ ‘‘ And gain a large interest if they did pay?’ ** Assuredly.” Then why not yo take the mortgages?” “T cannot, for I would have to make large sacrifices to get the money required.” ‘“T am so sorry.” “I pledge you Miss Lynde shall not suffer, for you can aid her,” he said, seeing that she seemed deeply distressed. ‘But she will suffer, Victor.” ** How?” “*T have another motive.” ‘Ah! @ woman always keeps her hottest shot for a reserve fire,” he said, with a smile, and yet with considerable interest. “The man who-holds the mortgages will give them up, upon conditions,” “ Ah? ** Yes: if Isabel Lynde will sacrifice herself to become his wife!” Victor Moloch turned suddenly pale, and said in a hoarse whisper: ‘** And she refuses “To save her father and brother, for I know she cares not for she offers herself for the sacrifice!” ‘* And the man turns over the mortgages to her father?’ ‘*So I understand it.” ** A case of barter and sale,” he said, with a eer ‘* Yes, nothing more.” ‘*Then why should there be any trouble or posits - your part, Jule?’ he asked, almost ently: You remember the man of whom you rented our rooms?” eee et apo ets the man ) claim Indes,” she said, im prying Are as though ‘ blow, ictor Moloch staggered back, crying flercely: ‘* Jule, this must not, shall not be,” CHAPTER VI. THE JEWESS PLAYS ANOTHER ROLE. Tux sudden excited manner of Victor Mo- loch, at her words, seemed to almost frighten Jule, the Jewess, and she stood, pale and trem- bling, paring at him for an explanation, for what 1 said to so move him, she was at a loss to discover. Au) At last the man, with a violent effort of self- - eontrol, subdued his emotion, and said as calmly ‘ashe could: *‘ And that is the man that holds Lynde the millionaire in his power?” “Yes, Victor; just to think of beautiful and noble Isabel Lynde, sacrificing herself to that man. “Tt is fearful to think of, Jule; he is treble her age, and his god is so snoeceaniy gold, men say, that he is dead to any other t ought and feeling than accumulating it; but it is strange ae me to pay so a price even for tT, (3 « ‘* Well she is willing, as I know.” “ And how do you know, Jule?” _ The maiden colored, and remaining silent the man asked with sudden suspicion: “Jule, have you seen Harold Lynde lately?” Her face now turned crimson, and still she re suspicions aroused the said sternly: “ Answer me!” 4'You;” “ “Last night.” r oar Gell ’s house.” 's house. ~ Tell beng Meds ha to varicate. ictor Moloch still looked her in the eyes; and she con- U “You r r I that I was dis- ay npr [ told you was Yes.” ; || “Well. my window is but & Yow foot from the ' “He came there to visit the miser, and I verheard what was said,” she replied, annoyed -JULE, THE JEWES / window in the miser’s room, and sleepless, I sat | up late looking out upon the starlit river, and | then it was that Harold Lynde visited ‘Ezra Quilp, and I overheard all that passed.” «The God of Abraham forgive me, Jule; but, fora moment, one single little moment, I held | doubt of you.” | She drew herself proudly up, her eyes flam- | ing, and answered pa He y: | You forget, Victor Moloch, that I am Jule | Naomi, a Jewess.” | “I did forget, Jule, and I crave forgiveness; but tell me, do those mortgages mature to-day? ‘Yes, and to-day Quilp is to secretly marry Isabel Lynde, as security for the mortgag until their engagement can be made known an a public ceremony follow; so I understand it.” ‘By the God of Israel! but I will take his worthless life ere such sacrilege shall be done,” came the fierce words of the man, now deadly 2. ‘‘ No, Victor; his death would but bring ruin upon the Lyndes, and an ignominious death to Let : pod must be the weapon used, not steel or * True, Jule, I was momentarily crazed by the thought; now I am calm and will act,” ‘You will buy up the mortgages then?” she sai in joyous tones, ‘Alas! I fear he may refuse to sell, for I overheard enough to krfow that he acts from re- venge against the Lyndes,” ‘* But he must sell them,” was the impatient rejoinder, ; ** His greed of gold must make him do so.” “Tt shall, if I bave to double the amount,” was the vehement reply: ‘*But you then risk losing, Victor, if the Pepeerty should not bring that much,” “*T care not; Isabel Lynde must be saved; now Jule, a ee flashes upon me.” “ Well, Victor?’ : ¥ “You are good at disguises, as I have reaso to know from your pranks upon many of your friends.” “ Yes,” s “Do you object to playing banker’s clerk for a while?” “ A bo ?’ “Ves” “* Not if I can serve you and Isabel Lynde.” “Well, youcan; go to the house, while I start at once mahahactope orye ask bond mgtecel to let you go shop get some things for me. fe Must I aaata her, Victor?” “Not exactly, for you can purchase some ar- ticles for me; and then come at once to the Ci Hotel and I will meet you there with a ba messenger’s disguise, you can return and see old Quilp in it.” “ We ?” ‘*Make an offer to buy for cash all claims he holds against Mr. Lynde.” ** If he refuses to sell, Victor?’ **Go up in your offer until he accepts.” “De bl mvs if bad ouble the amount, if necessary, “1 will do as you wish, Victor,” “And I will, while you are interviewing Quilp raise the money in gold checks, at any Sac fice, and have it ready to pay him.” Sort at the sudden earnestness of Victor Moloch, Jule, the Jewess, hastened homeward, while he went to hire a hack to drive him at once into the heart of the city. Successful in his search for a vehicle, he sprung into it, drove to the shop of one of his own race, a dealer in second-hand clothing, made the requisite purchases, and an hour after while he was hastening about the town, getting securities turned into cash, Jule, in her disguise, which, with wig and false mustache, was most complete, was approaching the miser’s home. Her mother sat at the window sewing, and lanced at the posed messenger, little dream- g who it was the clothes concealed, and seeing him comin Quilp opened the door for him, and , hastily: “Oh! you have come to redeem that note of Hasbrouck & Bailey’s?” “No, Mr. Quilp, I have come to see you —_ an important matter, sir, involving consider- ey the re ly, ina yoy ened oy come my Office,” re Qiilp, his office being the room in which no are hours before he had so nearly lost his “Now, sir, business?” and although it was his wedalng-day Ezra Quilp was keen on the scent to make a few dollars if possible. “You hold claims upon the Lynde estate, I beliovet” «Who the devil said-s0, sir?” cried the miser. completely thrown off his guard by the sudden- ness of the question. ‘“‘Tam not at liberty to divulge names, Mr, Quilp, only to offer to you cash for all aims you have . Andrew Lynde and his estate.” “¢ Ah! suppose then I tell you that it is a hun- dred thousand dollars?” and the miser spoke with a sneer, “‘T will take it up, sir.” **-You will, will you; and if it is half a milk lion, young man?” «Twill take the claims up, sir.” ‘¢'The devil you will!” “Yes, sir.” Ezra Quilp was nonplused; how the secret got out he did not know, nor could he think, unless Andrew Lynde had suddenly found some a willing to advance the money to save bel. If such was the case the messenger would know the amount certainly, and this he made an effort to find out, and asked: ih Are you ready to pay @ million dollars, r ‘a ‘Tam, Mr. Quilp,” was the confident reply. “Ah! Whatamount are you ready to pay, sir?” tried the miser again “The amount of the claims you hold with all ; interests due.” ‘« Even a million and a half, young man?” Piven that sum, Mr, Quilp. **-You have the money?” “Tt shall be in your hands within the hour.” ‘Suppose I say two millions, sir?” Tt is the same, sir.” “Well, the claims I hold against Andrew Lynde and his estate, young man, amount with interest to about a million and a half, but I swear to you.that two million dollars in gold will not take them up,” and a wicked a rested on the miser’s face. “IT have heard that you pinched hard when you got a chance, Miser Quilp,” was the blunt remark, for the supposed messenger was dis- gusted at the meanness of the man, “Yes, I do pinch hard on a cent, or a dollar, or a million; the eagle frequently shrieks be neath my gripe,” was the sinister remark, ‘* Yes, and hutnan kind, too, Pll wager; but Tl give you two millions for the claims.” Tou will not.” “That means you refuse the large sum fot what amounts to far less?” “ Yes. » ‘¢T will add a hundred thousand more,” * And I refuse.” *¢ Call it a quarter of a million, sir.” ‘‘Why this anxiety to get this claim, young man?” “The roperty of Mr. Lynde is worth more er. I offer. “That I well know; but why are you, or the or: you represent, so desirous of getting the ms?” ** Sell them to me at two million and a quar- ter and I will tell you.” **T will not.” ‘Call it a quarter more” ‘*No, young man.” “Then name your price,” impatiently said the messenger. ‘<T have no price,” was the cool reply. ‘* J’]] double the amount of the claims,” “Ttismouse.” 2 + you mean you will not sell?” es. “You expect Mr. Lynde to pay you more?” Yes,” and a gleam so devilish came into miser’s eyes, that the messenger said quickly, remembering what Victor Moloch had re- marked: ‘Buy them, Jule, at any price :” ‘‘ Namo your price, miser Quilp. , ‘I decline to sell, sir; go back and tell those you represent that Ezra we claim a se is, me ee © prefers to keep aper to sellin any sum. J Hiseod-day. ontg rend Disappointed beyond expression, and bitterly hating the miser in her heart, for she now saw that his hatred was greater than his gain, Jule, the Jewess, epee from the old mansion, and ie got sought the spot where she had left the back that bad driven her there. ‘Drive your best, driver, and you shall have double fare,” she said, as sho leaned back upon the seat, so disappointed that great tears we up in her eyes. the 5 the coachman oottled. alon, A oyteny Benge eB oon until he was brought toa sudden halt, d a stern voico said: ; ee ““sT hold your man for reckless and rapid ving, sur. oy was a blue-coated guardian of the c'tv’s is satisfied with |
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JULE, THE JEWESS. 7 ea a ad ‘peace that looked in at the window, and his fice was hot with anger, for the Griver had attem pt- ed to dash by. “Officer,” promptly said Jule, “you will not . detain me, I beg, when I say it is a case of life - and death.” The policeman would have detained the vshicle, and the driver, too, had he not seen a double X on the crisp bank-note thrust into his palm; but, seeing this, his heart was moved with compassion, and he said in sympathetic tones that became well an American citizen: ‘Oh, sur, it’s a case 0’ life an’ dith, is it? Then Barney O'Toole is not ther man ter stop ez from going ter see yer poor mither die. Drive on. Fi ohnny, and don’t be afther sparing - ther cracker.” ‘‘ Johnny,” as he called the Jehu, waited for ‘no second command, but, with a muttered oath —for his knowledge of human nature discov- _ ered to his mind’s eye the true inwardness of the release—laid the whip on, and dashed off at still greater speed than before, and soon halted at the hotel where Jule was to meet Vic- tor Moloch. : mala he advanced to the carriage, and Bal « ‘*T have three million; is it more?” ‘*He refuses to sell at any sum.” ‘* God of Israel! did you tempt him wel?” “Yes, Victor, but I do not believe ten mil- “lion would tempt him, and oor Isabel is lost, for it is now eleven o’clock,” answered Jule, the Jewess, sadly. ’ Impatiently Victor Moloch looked at his watch, and replied: ‘You said the secret marriage was to be at two a I believe?” es ‘Three hours in which to save her from that man, and, by the God of Abraham and the blood of our race, I will do it.” “What would you do, Victor?” asked the maiden, alarmed by his livid face and stern manner, “Nothing rash, Jule; what I do, I shall do with my eyes on and with perfect calmness, . but I will save her from Quilp the miser.” “You would not.kill him, Victor?” she asked, a hoarse whisper. **Oh no! I shall not touch him,” he responded, with a strange smile; then he added, quietly: *“*Now you go up to your room in the hotel, change your clothes, and go out the ladies’ en- trance, leaving this suit in the sachel for me to look after. “Then get a cab and drive on the avenue -_ make some purchases for me, and return ome, é When will I eve you, Victor” A will try and see you to-morrow, a to-night, Jule.” oe ther “Very well; do nothing rash, Victor, for ina moment one often does that which ages of re- gret cannot repair, and the tears of angels will not blot out.” _ “Why, Jule, how serious you are ; I will do “nothing rash, I pledge you; good-by,” and those . two parted. , ‘Yes, I will save her, I will save her from Ezra Quilp the miser,” came sternly from the lips of Victor Moloch as he walked along, his face bent downward, and his whole bearing that of a man who had resolved upon the exe- -cution of some daring, perhaps desperate deed, , CHAPTER VIL. AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR AT LYNDE MANOR, . Tue same elegant clock, which had startled Andrew Lynde, the millionaire, from his moody _reveries at midnight, just twelve hours before, again chimed forth its clear strokes as the hands | gamanun to twelve; and out of their sentry- oxes came the mimic buglers to blow their bugle b! The millionaire was in the room, and upon his face rested a look of joy and pain commingled, _ if such an antithesis is Bosaitale, . He felt joy to know that he was safe; selfish _joy to feel that he would not go before the world branded asa bankrupt; but he held for his beautiful daughter a most devoted attach- ment, and he was ed to feel that hers was bs ——— or his gain, and the gain of ‘ast brother. “Oh! if it were any one else, any one else!” “Then would I feel at least content; but to sacrifice her to that man, Ezra ‘and to bee that he acts only with a Seiingotrerees and accom- cor eee tagger ber ne hest in the land; _ "but then she seems to care for no one. and it “4 mey therefore be easier for her to make fhe sac- c 3. “She understands too, that if she does not marry Quilp I am ruined, and of course she loves luxury and ease as well as I do, and pre- fers to bind herself to that wretch, rather than give e/ riches.” And thus he excused his act, his own selfish- ness ina measure by throwing the deed partl upon Isabel, though in his inmost heart he felt that she was the one who acted unselfishly. “A gentleman to see you, sir,” said a servant, entering, and breaking in upon his m: “Ah! is it Mr. Quilp?” he asked, anxiously. **T do not know li[r. Quilp, sir.” “True, true; what is his name?” ‘‘He gave none, sir; only said he wished to see you 7 a matter of greatimportanee, and he seemed hurried, sir.” F ** Show him in, Richard,” said the millionaire, and the servant disappeared, to return in a mo- ment and usher into the room # man of dis- tinguished appearance, but—a Jew, “Mr, Lynde, I believe I have the honor of ad- dressing?” he said, with the courteous ease of the perfect gentleman. : ‘My name is Lynde, sir, and you are—” ‘Mr, Victor Moloch, sir, and I have called on you upon a& matter of importance.” “T am glad to meet you, sir; be seated, lease,” said the millionaire, politely, for he ad heard the name of Victor Moloch before, and knew him to be a man reputed to possess great wealth, though a late comer to the city. ‘* Now, sir, how can I serve you?” asked the millionaire, as Victor Moloch into a seat, and looked upon Andrew Lynde with an anxi- ous expression upon his fine face. “T have come to serve you, sir, for J need no aid,” was the abrupt reply of the visitor. Andrew Lynde’s haughty manner, under or- dinary circumstences, wo have broken out violently at this proffer of;services; but the last few hours had greatly humbled him, and he said in response: ‘‘May IL ask, sir, how you can serve me?” “T believe that at two o’clock to-day there is to be a most interesting ceremony ‘ormed in your house?” Andrew Lynde started, and his face grew a shade paler, while he said: “I know not how any ceremonies in my house, sir, interest you.” ‘* Deeply, as Miss Lynde is to sacrifice herself to one who is even older than her own father, oad a gold-greedy miser every way unworthy of er ** Hal where did you learn this?” “Tt matters not, sir, I know the fact.” “Has that accursed miser already broken faith and spread the rumor over the city?” ‘‘No, he has not betrayed you, sir; but I know the circumstance, the sale that is to take lace, for you intend to sell Miss Lynde to Ezra ilo for a million and a half dollars.” “*\"ou are insolent, sir, to dare say I would sell my daughter,” said the millionaire, with anger. Call it sacrifice, then, Mr, Lynde, if you prefer the term,” was the cool reply. “Well, sir, if my daughter desires to marry Mr. Quilp, with whom I am interested in busi- ness, how are you concerned?” ee Deeply, for I would save her from such a sacrifice,’ **'You! do you know my child?” _ “Thave seen her, sir, and that is sufficient to interest one in her,” was the evasive reply. “T would feel obliged if you would state clearly, sir, why = have come here?” Q fy re Miss Lynde from being sacrificed to uilp, ‘‘ Hal and you can save her?” eagerly asked the millioriaire. aD ‘“Yes, from Quilp.” ‘Ah! here comes my son; are you alone?” and Mr. Lynde turned to Harold, who just then entered the room, his face pale, his eyes sunken, and his brow cloudy. ‘“-You are alone, then? I feared that accursed miser had already come— Ah!” The last ejaculation was at beholding the long-bearded, handsome Jew seated in the chair the other side of the table. “This is Mr, Vietor Moloch, my son,” said the millionaire, by way of introduction. Harold Lynde bowed haughtily, but there was oe in the dark, piercing eyes turned m him that made bim feel uneasy, in spite his sang froid manner that he at once as- sumed, and he said impatiently almost: “Have we not met somew before, Mr, Moloch, for your face has a familiar look’ “We Jews are all you know, Mr, Harold Lynde, as you may have observed if you have studied the Jewish physiognomy closely,” was the calm response. ‘“‘T have never given the subject thought, ss I have had no dealings with your race, Mr. Moloch, and knew not that my father was forced to do so, until I found you here,” was the insolent r mse. ‘Well, Mr. Lynde, if your father is willing for you to know it, you may as well under- stand that I am here to aid him out of the Slough of Despond which his foolish speculations and your reckless g have led him into.” Both the millionaire and his son were dum- founded by this cool assertion of their faults from an utter stranger; but the father knew that the visitor was already in ion of his compact with Ezra Quilp, and quickly checked the anery retort that was arising to the lips of ynde, “Hold, my son; Mr. Moloch is right, for it has been the fault of both youand me that I am now on the verge of ruin, or rather wholly am I to blame for allowing you to squander money as you haye.” “ Ah! you consider then this Jew the proper person to tell you of your faults?’ sneered Harold, his violent passion held in check by the entreating look of his father. “TT consider this gentleman right, Harold, and, as ho has come to serve me, and to save our sister from that villain, Quilp, | now beg hat he make known fully his intentions, as we have but little time.” ‘‘Hal the Jew knows all?” cried Harold. **T do, sir,” was the smiling reply. “Who told you, sir?’ was the insolent ques- tion. ‘“‘That I decline to make known; but I will say that if you wish the disgraceful bargain you were to enter into—” “ Sir hd ‘LT repeat, Mr, Harold Lynde, the disgraceful bargain yourself and father were to enter into, to save yourselves at the sacrifice of Misa Lynde, to remain a secret, you had better bar- ter with me, and thus relieve yourself of the miser; otherwise, good-afternoon, gentlemen,” and Victor Moloch turned as though to depart; but quickly both Harold and his father de tained him, while the former cried: “ Wait, and we will hear Ppa terms, Jew.” Victor Moloch bowed, and resuming his seat with a smiling face u the two men whom he knew he held wholly at his mercy. CHAPTER VIII. THE HIGHEST BIDDER. ‘““Mr. Harotp Lynpe, let me say to you now, sir, that in calling me Jew to insult me ou hit wide of the mark, for I am a Jew, and am as proud of the title as you are of that of Christian, and have far better right to it than you to that you bear so illy before the world.” Harold Lynde fretted under this little piece of advice, with which Victor Moloch reopened the conversation, but another pleading look from his father kept him silent, and the latter said: ‘“Now, Mr. Moloch, we will talk business, if you please.” ‘““That is what I came for, sir; you e Ezra Quilp at two o’clock, as 1 understand i een etn by secret ceremony, your daughter? ‘I do. He ee notes of yours, g0 ragt Be ed serve as mortgages upon our prope ‘In the devil's name how learned you this?!” cried Harold Lynde, with pale face. “Tf I err, sir, please set me right; these notes, Mr, Lynde, with interest, amount to @ million and a half?” : “They do.” ‘Your estate is far more valuable?” “ Yes. ” ** At what figure do you set it?” ‘Five million, sir.” . ‘Ah! then we will say it is really worth three millions, and yet the Jew gets it to-day, if you k your bargain with him, for half that sum “ ” ‘He is not the man you would desire for a son-in-law?’ : ‘Great God! have you seen him?” ms | have; there is nothing against acter. “ He is a miser, sir.” his aw sir. Saati “And y ator, Mr. ” was the a Jes Ceo de Kombat one oe Dek papas ayy ce And so are you, . ynde. We will net atune, sit, Dana tm medias ibs ceil tee Eeliiiceatte: fuanediaualy. re tat IO ST ie
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fash ** Very well; Mr. Quilp, when bound by mar- Yiage ro your daughter, Is to give to you your notes?” : “Yes,” ‘ Suppose I offer to take up those notes for ou?” Both father and son started with delightful anticipation, and the former said, eagerly: “<Tf@ you would only do so, I will pay yeu, on give you at six months, fifteen per cent. interest.” ‘*T ask no interest, sir.” ** Indeed! you are then mest generous.” ‘““Wait ere you praise my generosity; with your notes in your hand again you are free to mortgage what property you desire, to get any money you may need?” The millionaire’s tace flushed, and after an instant of hesitation he asked: ‘‘ Will you lend me money on a secret mort- gage, sir?” ‘Why secret?” ‘‘T have my reasons, Mr. Moloch.” “No, I can lend you no money on a secret mcr tpn Se: is ‘“‘Then I may as well tell you that [ can only secure you by my note, with specified proper- ties named therein.” ‘* Why not. by regular athe gp aif “The truth is, Mr. Moloch, I am so bound by my partnership in business that I forfeit to my rtner, as he does to me; every dollar I own, either gives a mortgage. “Thave drawn from the firm all the read cash I dared, and then gave my notes to Quilp.” “ And they are worthless?” ‘‘ How mean you, sir?’ indignantly asked the millionaire. “Your prior contract with your partner first holds good, for your personal property is all forfeited to him, so that you can save Miss Lynde from this miser.” 2 “No, no, no! I would then be liable, as you know, and my partner would take every- thin ” Me fs it not better to even be poor than to have or Lynde s0 sacrificed?” asked the Jew, scorn- ly. 5 “Bhe consents, sir,” said Harold. ‘Yes, tosave your father and yourself, Mr. Harold Lynde; but then, Mr. Lynde, you pre- fer to take these notes up?” ‘By all means, sir.” “ And are willing to pay?” “You a ‘said you asked no interest, sir,” faltered the millionaire, ‘“True, but I make a claim upon you for what I do,” smiled Victor Moloch. Ms ban ae Quilp ad i oes vance you any money over he wuneech Gainied by the notes?” ‘He does not.” _ “But you need money?” “Indeed, I do need ready cash.” ‘ And your son cannot lend you any?” ‘Bah! he is now begging for a few thousands ~ pay gambling debts of honor, as he calls em. ! ‘To what amount?” and the Jew turned to ' Harold, who hesitatingly answered, with an avoidance of his father’s eye: ‘Twenty-five thousand,” The handsome brows of the Jew were arched in surprise, but he said nag ‘You are a heavy player, Mr. Harold Lynde, and, I may add, a heavy loser, too. Now, Mr. dyads, senior, how much ready cash do you “Upon what terms, sir?” “First name the sum.” ‘Well, I have some debts I wish paid, and some little speculations 1 wish to enter upon, ea He handsome present to my daughter Isa- ‘‘ And I must give Isabel a wedding present, too,” quickly said Harold, ““You forget, my son, that Isabel is not to marry, if we arrange with Mr. Moloch,” sug- gested the millionaire, blandly. ‘True, father, and it seemed to have escaped “no ah too, for your words caused me to -“ Well, Mr. Lynde, I will pay into your hands, say, the amount of the notes, fifty thou- sand dollars for Mr. Harold Lynde, and how ‘much did you say you wished?” | “ A quarter,” said the millionaire, indiffer- ently. : m ee Fis quarter < what sir? uarter of a on. “ To" be squandered in speculation,” said yours will be in gambling,” retorted his See ae i a ea aie et eae =O ake o) 2) Cah eat ee ie at ada dads oe kee Sos RE ee Bcc See Lee: Bee. as JULE. THE JEWESS. | A quarter of a million to you, fifty thousand more to Mr. Harold Lynde—” | ‘*Qall it a hundred thousand to me, for I | wish to get my yacht fitted out for a cruise.” Without any change of countenance, the Jew id: ‘** Your father is the one to say, sir.” “Very well, let the boy have the sum, but. it shall bé the last he gets from me for two | ears.” ‘* This will bring it so near two million, gen- | tlemen, suppose I say that sum ior you to re- deem the notes with, and have a balance for yourselves?” A The eyes of the millionaire and his son glit- tered with delight; but almost simultaneously their faces clouded, for through their brains flashed one thought: ‘‘What is the reward for all this munifi- cence?” ‘Very well, make it two million, and I will draw 7 the notes to you for that sum,” said the millionaire. “*T ask no notes, sir.” ‘* What! do you advance this sum to me without security?’ asked the surprised mer- chant. ** No, I ask security.” ** Name it.” “€ The same that you were to give to Quilp, the miser.” CHAPTER IX. THE DECISION. At the calm, unimpassioned face of Victor Moloch both the millionaire and his son gazed with almost consternation in their own, when they heard his daring proposition. ‘“Great God! do: you mean this?’ cried the millionaire, first gaining speech, as he saw that the face of his son was growing black with anger. “Why not?” was the cool reply. “ But you are a Jew,” cried Andrew Lynde. “And you a Christian,” sneered Victor rome with an emphasis upon the word Chris- n. ‘* The difference is great.” ‘ * I admit it, my Christian friend, but I waive t. “ = do what?” burst from the lips of Harold 2, Waive your being a Christian.” “By the Lord above! but I’ve a mind to break every bone in your Israelite body,” and the young man made a threatening step toward the Jew, whose calm words checked him, as he said in distinct tones: i the devil, whom you have better right to call upon, I advise you not to make the at- tempt, Harold Lynde.” ‘* My son, this quarreling is silly, and not to the point; surely you cannot be in earnest, sir,” said the elder Lynde, turning to the Jew. “Surely I am, sir.” ‘** But Jews and Christians never wed.” “Oh yes, it has been done.” **T cannot consent to it, sir.” ‘Yet you are willing to sacrifice her upon Quilp, the miser.” ‘He is a Christian at least.” ‘‘He is built in the form of his Creator, or at pe after the mold of mankind,” sneered the ew. “But my child would never consent.” __ “ Ask her; if she refuse I have nothing more *‘ Harold, call your sister.” ‘No, Pll not lend hand to such a sacrifice. It was bad enough with old Quilp,” he said, bitterly. ‘ ** But you forget the generous terme of Mr. Moloch.’ Harold seemed to have forgotten them for an instant, for he said quickly: “Tf the sacrifice must be made, the amount is not enough.” ‘You forget, Mr. Harold Lynde, that your sister is the object of barter in this case; I have made my offer, and it rests with her to say whether she shall be sold for that sum. Will me call her, or shall I retire and leave the field Quilp?”’ , ‘He will pay more.” ‘* Not when he holds your father in his power — pots from a feeling of revenge against ‘im, “True, Harold, Mr. Moloch speaks truly,” put in the father, “May I ask what motive prompts you?” sneered Harold Lynde. One motive, sir, I will tell you; I love Miss —— ** You Jove my sister™ was the contemptuoum reply. **] do, sir,” came the manly and frank re- mse. PeeAn! I would not be the one to break up & love-match,” retorted Harold, with a bitter laugh, as he moved toward the door. ‘*Nor to break off a moneyed transaction,” ‘sneered the Jew, and the young man closed the door behind him with a bang, to drown the sax casm he had begun to fear. Entering bis sister’s room, Harold Lynde found her pacing the room with nervous tread, | and her face, he noticed, was very pale, and her lips firm set. She looked up nervously at his entrance, and said quickly: ** Has he come, Harold?” * Not old Quilp, but another; we have miade better terms for you, Bel, so come to the altar of sacrifice,” he said, bitterly. ‘¢What mean you, Harold?” she asked, be- coming white as a open. ** Oh, don’t get frightened; it is but a case of six of one and half a dozen of the other, with more generosity and nose, and less age against the miser.” ‘Harold, Iask you again what you mean?” she said, peremptorily. ‘*Come and see, Bel, for there is a higher bid- der for your hand in the library, and I guess we'll have to knock you down to him,” and with a bitter laugh he turned away, while she slowly followed him. As she swept into the library, looking grandly beautiful in her black silk, and wearing no color or ornament, not even a ring, Victor Mo- loch and her father arose, and the tormer bent low before her, as the millionaire said; ‘*Tsabel, my daughter, this is Mr. Victor Mo- loch, a Jewish gentieman.” The maiden cast a searching glance into the handsome face and at the distingué appearance of the man and bowed, while her lips gave a sigh of relief. : : “I thought you had met my sister before,” said Harold, who had followed her closely into the room. ‘*T believe that Miss Lynde fails to remember ever meeting with me before,” was the evasive reply of Victcr Moloch. ‘*] think we have never met before, sir,” she answered, with a quick glance at the visitor. “Oh, it’s a case of amt on your part, the love you spoke of, Moloch,” sneered Harol while the Jew, unnoticing the words, an really pitying the trembling old father, who seemed unable to find words to break to his daughter what he had to say, turned to the maiden, and said in his clear, pleasant tones: - ‘*Miss Lynde, learning that your father and brother were to sacrifice you, thcugh I believe with your consent, to save them from the pit of ruin, into which the reckless speculations of tha One and the dissipation and bling of the other had Jed them, I came and made a higher offer for your hand than Quilp would give, hcping, in time, to win the heart that went with the hand.” ‘Am I to understand that you offer, Mr. Moloc.1, if I caught the name aright—” ** Yes, Isabel, Mr. Victor Moloch, the wealthy Jewish banker, of whom you have heard,” in- terposed Mr. Lynde, eagerly. : ‘* Mr. Moloch, Iam to understand, then, that ou make the s-me offer for my hand th t Mr. zra Quilp does?’ and Isabel Lynde spoke in a& low, but distinct tone. “offer yvur father, Miss Lynde, the sum to redeem his notes and about half a million dol- jars over in ready money.” _ * Yes, sis, the Jew is the highest bidder,” sug- gested old, “T believe it is the highest bidder that gets the ear. asked Isabel, calmly. **'Yes, Miss Lynde.” “Then, Mr, Moioch, if it is my consent that is wanted in this little busines transaction, I freely give it, to save my father from ruin,” was the frank reply. ‘* You are to marry the Jew, you know, Del,” said Harold. : ‘In doing so I escape an alliance with Ezra er ‘Yes, but he is a Christian; this person a Jew,” said Harold, hoping that the maiden would decide in favor of Ezra Quilp, for he knew he could force what money he needed out of his father, by masing him again borrow from the miser, he cared not to see his sis- WaT here de. {ded, Harold hen does Mr. M ave deci old; when . Mo- loch ask for the-ectutinnanation of my pledge?” she said, coldly. ace dy ty ‘* Miss Lynde can set her time’ within the : j next month,” was the reply.
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JULE, THE JEWESS, 9 “ And the guaranteo that you ask, sir?” ** Your word only, Miss Lynde.” “You are generous, sir one month from to-day I will be ready to be your bride,” and the tone was firm and the eyes raised unflinchingly to his face. “This being ‘settle’, Mr. Lynde, ailow me to pey into your hands the money; here, sir, are old drafts for the amount’ specified, two mil- ion dollars; please receipt for:them,” and Vic- tor Moloch laid the checks upon the table, while the millionaire, with eager, trembling fingers, wrote a receipt in full. **Now, Miss Lynde, I leave you until to-day one month, when I shall call to make you my wife, bringing with me a rabbi of my syna- gogue, while your father can ask to be present . the clergyman 2 me church, so that the cere- mony may be ormed by both rites; as it is near the time for the arrival of Mr, Ezra Quilp 1 will say adieu.” He bowed low, turned and left the room. A moment after the vehicle that brought him there rolled away, just as a second carriage drew up before the marble stairs, and out of it sprung Ezra Quilp with the agility of a youn man, and an expression of fiendish triump apon his face, CHAPTER X. A PLOT THAT WAS THWARTED. Wuen Ezra Quilp entered the residence of the millionaire, he was not alone, for he wasac- companied by a clergyman, whom he had en- gaged to perform the ceremony, asking him to keep the affair a secret for the present, and pressing his request with a bank-note of denomi- nation sufficiently large to.insure silence on the part of the minister. The two were ushered into the library, by the servant in attendance, and there they were met by Mr. Lynde, who was seated at his desk, writ- ing, and his son, who lolled in an easy-chair. _* Ab! Mr. Ezra Quilp, I believe; sit down, sir.” said the millionaire, without rising. ‘Yes, sir, and I am on time ycu see: just half-past ono, sir; and this is my friend, the Reverend Silas Sloan, whose chapel is in the outskirts of our city, sir; Mr. Sloan, Mr. Lynde, and his son, Mr. Harold Lynde.” The millionaire bowed to the minister, with- out seeing his proffered hand, and Harold met the introduction with an impertinent stare. “You have the notes with you, Mr. Quilp?’ said the elder Lynde, abruptly. “T have, sir. ; ‘May I ask your clerical friend to retire to the parlor while we transact our little business to sieny ii Lia ra Quilp looked surprised, but said quickly: “As Mr Eioan's services are sentgueeien i the transaction, I cannot understand why he should leave-the room, Mir. Lynde; he knows why I have brought him with me.” “Very well, sir, doas you please; hecan serve as a witness in the transaction,” , “And as the. officiating clergyman, Mr. Lynde.” ; ‘‘T am glad to know that Mr. Sloan bas a charge in the vineyard of the Lord,’ sneered Harold, from his luxurious éasy-chair; but, un- heeding his remark, his father asked: ‘* Have you those notes?” _“*T have, sir.” ‘ Be good enough to let mesee them. Ezra Quilp took out bis pocket-book, and care- fully laid a dozen different notes upon the table before the millionaire, who took a pencil and paper and began to carefully add up the siding i So toto th riser eagerly watch adding the e miser eagerly watch- ing him the while. 4 tting his right hand rest on the notes, he mera drew from his pocket an envelope and handed it vo the miser, saying calmly: ‘Mr. Quilp, will you see if these are correct?” While Ezra Quilp eagerly opened the envelope ‘ the millionaire calmly took up the notes an held them in his hand firmly. 3 These are certified gold checks, Mr. Lynde.” “Well, sir?’ asked the miser, in surprise. ‘For what amount do they call, Mr, Quilp?” tily the miser ran his eyes over the amounts, and said: ‘* For one million and a half dollars.” ** Correct, and I owe you just fourteen hund- _ red and ninety-seven thousand dollars and sixty- weven cents,” ‘Yes, sir,” faltered the miser. . “Then be good enough to hand me the two thousand, nine hundred and ninety-uine dollars, cents. : Y *4 and I freely give it; “That is the amount due me, I believe, Mr. Ezra Quilp, as you hold one million and a half in your hands; bere are the figures,” and ths millionaire shoved the paper toward him. ‘Curse your figures, Andrew Lynce; that is not our agreement,” shrieked the miser, turn- ing as white az his parched skin csuld become. ‘It seems to me, sir,” was the cool reply, ‘that when a man holds my notes for a certain amount, and I pay him that sum on the da they become due, that that cancels the matter.” “Not with me, Andrew Lynde, and I demand my notes back again,” almost shrieked Ezra Ip. - Purdon me, they are my notes, sir.” | “But they were given to me, sir.” “To a certain time, yes; but I have paid you their facoin money.” ° ‘‘T yefuse to take your accursed money.” “You must.” “But you must give me gold.” You have it there.” “Checks; they may be worthless.” ‘They are certified by the banks upon which ney ys f i d forged certifi “They may orgeries, and for, certifi- cations, Andrew Bynde” V4 The millionaire turned le, and Harold Lynde started, at this new phase put on the af- fair, and the miser noticed both the changing of color of the one and the start of the other, and followed up his vantage with: “Yes, and I believe they are forgeries, sir, so give me back my notes.” “Mr. Quilp, my business honor is too well known, sir, for me to be suspected of passing forged paper,” sternly said the millionaire. ‘* But you may not know them as such,” cried Quilp, endeavoring to discover from whence the merchant had gotten them, for they read simply, ‘‘ Pay to bearer,” etc... ‘* You have the right to send me to prison, sir, if the checks are forged.” ** And Pll do it, by Heaven!” **T don’t doubt it, Ezra Quilp, if you have the power; but you have mot, for the checks were given to me from reliable parties.” ‘* Ah! been round using your name among a dozen men to borrow enough to pay me, when you are not worth a dollar, and that brings it under the head of getting money under false pretenses,” sneered the miser. “T was not worth a dollar, while you held these notes, Quilp; but they are in my pos- session, sir, and shall remain so,” said the mil- -lionaire, witb great composur e. “But you owe the money borrowed to re- deem them.” “Oh no, for that was made in a speculation, Ezra Quilp; afar better investment than you would have been; I hope you understand my allusion, miser Quilp.” “T understand, sir, that you took those notes from me without my will, and I shall—” “Hold on, Ezra Quilp! I gave you more than their value, and [ now ask for the due me,” was the stern reply. “ And Ft refuse to keep our agreement re- garding Miss Lynde?” ‘*My dear sir, there is no ment between us; you held my notes, and you have the money for them. Good-afternoon, Mr, ip?’ “Andrew Lynde, you are thwarting the wrong man in the ehe had formed, and I swear to you that you shall rue it,” hissed the now livid miser. \ *‘ What wrong have I done you, sir, that you make this threat?” ‘Why, you have broken your compact with me “*T have redeemed my notes, sir, and that re- lieved me from your hateful clutch.” ‘*By Heaven! this very day, Andrew Lynde, I a have sold your notes for double their vaine, Pda and the millionaire grew a shade er, F “Tt is true.” “You joke, man.” “T do not.” ) **You could have sold these notes for double their value?” asked the surprised merchant. “Yes, for three million dollars cash.” ** Great God! what does this\mean?” and the millionaire looked anxiously toward bis son, ‘Tt means that your credit is above par one hundred per cent., father,” was the quiet reply of the young hopeful. “JT cannot understand it,” said his father. ‘* Perhaps I can explain,” sneered the miser, his hope of triumph returning at the perplexity of be Lynde. ~* eae sel sa may be some enemy who loves re even more than I do.” u: a 7 have no other foe than yourself, that I am aware of.” “Then why such a munificent offer for your autographs?” was the scornful question. “7 am at ea loss to know. Who made the offer?” ** A bank clerk, for other parties; I believed you sent him, wishing to release my hold upon ou. ‘* No, would to God I could have done so; and you refused the offer?’ ‘*'You then love revenge?” **You know that I do.” “What would you give now to have the agreement kept?’ and Harold Lynde stepped forward and confronted the miser. ‘“How mean you?” **You refused double the amount of the aa you say?’ E S. ‘*You thereby lost, by my father redeeming them, a million and a half?’ i ‘ en you must be willing to pay largel for the fulfillment of the former agreement, A you refused that immense sum to carry out your plot.” “T am willing to pay.” “‘ Name the sum, sir,” and Harold Lynde fixed his eyes upon the face of the miser, while his fa- ther sat in dumb astonishment looking on, and the Rey. Silas Sloan seemed a most interested listener. : “Well, to consummate the ceremony that I brought my friend here to perform I will give me pera thousand dollars,” said the muser, owly. A scornful laugh from Harold Lynde an- swered him, while, now understanding him, his father said, eagerly: ‘My son, 1 need no money, for you know there is half a million to our credit.” Unheeding him, Harold again addressed the iser: ‘* Place those checks just given you by my fa- ther in his hands, and the marriage will be con- surmmated,” “No, no, my son, you remember that—” ‘*¥ remember there was no agreement other than verbal, sir; if the miser refused a million and a half to consummate his plot he must pay that sum to carry it out now.” ‘* By Heaven! and so I will,” cried the miser, with a devilish giter in his eyes. “You will hand my father back those checks?” “ Yes.” “Then Isabel will consent,” eagerly said Harold Lynde. ; “ “No, Harold » IT will not consent to break my pledged word,” and Isabel Lynde swept into the room, her eyes flashing, and her face flushed with just anger, for she had heard all from the adjoining room into which she had retired at the arrival] of the miser. CHAPTER XI, THE MISER’S THREAT. WueEn Isabel Lynde entered the library, and confronted the revengeful miser, her selfish and yielding father, her deeply scheming brother, and the amazed minister, all started, for there was that in her look and manner that showed she would not be party to any other contracts » made by those who should be her protectors. Her i or uttered words, as she entered: ‘*No, Harold Lynde, I will not consent to break my pledged word,” at once were misun- derstood by the miser, and he cried, eagerly, while he sapped his fingers LS cy “Hal! ha! foiled, are you, Harold Lynde, and hte too, Andrew Lynde, in your effort to de- ud me of what is my just due; ay, foiled by the honor of this noble Le ed wu Sy sey! Biren wh him, her act and look checking the words t sprung to the lips of her father and brother. “Do I understand, sir, that there is any in- debtedness due you from any one in this house?” “T have given your father his notes, ard I await to the fulfillment of the compact,” faltered the miser, not half liking the maideu’s look of contempt. “Tf I heard aright, for I did not withdraw upon your coming to the adjoining room, yen were not only paid for these notes, but owe a small sum in change?” “Yes, which I will pay, if the checks are: “Do you dare assert —, ed father would — deal in worthless peper, sir?” she asked, with scorn and anger in look and voice. “T have known him to do worse.” was the A, & ta Tae ryet r Be iS =
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nn i quick response of the miser, stung by her man- ner. “What meam you?” and she glanced first to her father and then back at the miser. “Oh! a little matter of long ago, of which it is not necessary to speak now, when you know y that he sold you to me to save himself; is not that worse than passing bad checks?” The shot struck home and Isabel winced un- der it; but recovering herself she said: ‘As you are not a friend to my father, my brother or myself, I beg, Mr p, that you leave this house.” * But, ad, Mr. Quilp has just told us that the notes he held of my father he was offered two dollars for one on their face for,” and Harold came forward. ‘“‘He belies his name of Miser Quilp to have refused,” was the scornful retort. ‘* But I did refuse, Miss Isabel.” ‘Then, sir, allow me to say, that instead of being the sharp business man you are called you are a fool.’ “You shall. change that opinion of Ezra Quilp, my beauty, before long.’ “I do not fear your threats, sir, and Iam surprised that my father and brother permit your presence beneath this roof.” ‘* But, Bel, you y E yesterday to enter into a compact with Mr. Quilp, to save my fa- ther, and now I must beg that you keep it, when he can make that sum in cash, which the miser is willing to give,” said Harold, selfishly. “Brother!” and she turned her gaze upon him in a look that made him drop his eyes; and “Te its effect Ezra Quilp said, eagerly: Yes, if you keep | ha compact I will pay into your father’s hands a million and a half in money. ‘* Not for the riches of the world, sir miser; I tell you I am free from my compact with you, and never again will you hold claim on me.” “Ah! my beauty, you do not know Ezra Quilp, if you believe his words are idle, when - tells you he will yet lower that haughty ead, Go, sir!” and she pointed toward the door, toward which the ister was already mov- ng. Fin fo: Isabel ke but you are not yet free of Ezra Quilp,” he said, his face black with passion. ‘*One moment, Quilp; there is a little balance due, you know,” and H arold Lynde stepped forward. ‘‘Let Mr. Quilp hand that to the parson, as soon as he has found the checks are good,” spoke up the millionaire, with a meaning look at his son, while he muttered, sotto voce ; “Tt’ll keep the parson’s tongue still.” **Yes, yes; Parson Sloan, Mr. Quilp will hand you the balance due, asa donation from my father; it is just two thousand, nine hun- dred and ninety-nine dollars, and thirty-three nen, Brie which to clothe and feed the needy members of your flock.” The eyes of the minister glistened with de- light, and he replied: ‘I thank you, my generous friends, and may God bless you and your household forever.” “* Ma curse you forever is my prayer,” hissed forth the miser. : “One minute, Mr, Quilp,” cried Isabel, Sullenly he turned toward her. “‘Can you tell me who it was that made you that enerous offer for the notes?’ 0. “You do not suspect?’ persisted the mai- en. , ‘I did suspect it was your father, through friends.” “A bank miessenger made the offer for Others?” ‘ ‘ e Yes.” ‘* Deseribe him, please.” “A youth of seventeen perhaps: a Jew, I think, though I did not notice him closely.” “Ah! a Jew,” and a peculiar light came into the eyes of the maiden as she turned away, while Quilp said in fierce tones: ‘Remember, Andrew Lynde, I neither for- ald nor forget the past, and this day’s work makes me still ter your debtor, and I swear to you the debt of revenge shell be paid to the u ost,” The next moment he had , and behind him he left an uncomfortak’w feeling in the breasts of the milli his son and daughter, for they felt that the miser was a man to keep his word, CHAPTER XT. THE MISER’S FIRS? STROKE FOR REVENGE. THOUGH the threat of the miser left an un- Pleasant and really uncorafortable feeling, at | especially at him had Ezra Quilp loo first, in the minds of the millionaire’s family, it soon wore off with the father and daughter, who had not the same cause for dread that Harold had, as the reader will remember his criminal attempt of the night ap and more ed ere he de from the room. ut, remembering the half-million in cash in the ion of father, and of which he was to have his share, Harold Lynde threw off his moody humor when the three assembled around the dinner-table at six o’clock that day, jovi “aiar} a glass of wine or two, became quite ovial. As for the millionaire, though relieved in mind from his business troubles, he yet had an aching of the heart when he remembered whom he owed it to, and the sacrifice his noble daugh- ter had mada, and his manner toward her was more respectful than ever. With quiet mien, in strange contrast with her usual brilliant conversation and bright face, Isabel Lynde sat at the table, giving her orders to the servants, and her manner and pale face alone showing that she had that day passed through a severe ordeal. Common consent had dropped the events of the day out of the conversation, and the dinner was progressing quietly, when a servant entered and said: “* An express messenger is at the door, with a package which he will deliver only into your hands,” Isabel was about to rise and go to the door, when her father said: ‘* Bid him come in here, Richards.” c Resuming her seat Isabel waited in surprise for she was expecting no package, and the next moment a confidential agent of the express Spee | entered, bearing a small package in his han : **T am authorized to deliver to Miss Lynde, only, this package, for it is marked most valu- able,” he said, politely. “fT am Miss ynde,” said Isabel. ““Then please receipt here,” and he handed her a book and pen. In her bold, graceful hand she signed her name, and the expressman departing she care- lessly, though of course with a woman’s curi- osity, opened the neatly folded and sealed bun- dle, and discovered a morocco case beneath. Opening this with a spring-latch, she gave an dichamattos, of surprise. And no wonder, for before her eyes’ was a necklace of diamonds and rubies, a pendant of an anchor, and a pair of bracelets of the same superb pattern, and the gems ir all of vast size and beauty. ‘Worth a hundred thousand if they are a dollar,” cried Harold. “Far more elegant and costly than anything lever gave you, Bel,” said her father, ** Who can have sent these beautiful gems?” was the meditative remark of the maiden. ‘Perhaps that card will tell, sis,” and Harold pointed to a small curd half-hidden in the velvet case. Taking it up she read aloud: “Will Miss Lynde honor me by accepting the ac- companying as a souvenir of IcToR Movoc#.” Isabel’s face flushed, and then turned deadly pale for an instant; but, recq@ring herself, she said: . oh, Papa! what = I to a cece em, means; he’s a prince he isa Jew,” broke in Harold.’ } “Under the circumstances, I hope you will accept them, Bel,” said the millionaire. **} will do 0; he certainly is generous, and—” “You were lucky to Te old Quilp, the ie! i Icio if t. be ren eeps up as he has n a pew in his ogue. EDS moe I be reverent, Tate a what is it, ohn leg this to the butler, who again en- red, “ A letter of importance, sir, and the messen- ger waits.” ‘“ Ab! Pll see what it means,” and the million- aire broke the seal, and his son and daughter noticed his face change color as he read the contents. Motioning to the servants to retire, Andrew Lynde said, with yehemence: “Well, for the sublimity of brass, this letter is perfection; listen: “Tre PARSONAGE, Saturday. “My Very Dear Mr. Lynpe: “Pardon me for writing you, instead of calling, as Iam quite occupied just’ now in preparing a to- morrow’s sermon for the blessed lambs of my ock, du. objectin writing is, to say that it is ay titan church, and not ha’ sufficient funds son and lovely daughter a private donation—there need be no rea- <a, ae our affaires to be made public, 1 know you “T would request merely ten thousand dollars, and feel confident, under existing circumstances, that you witwithe deep regard I dear Mr. Lynd ee) , lam,m 5 e, Px ours 0 catip, **Srias SLOAN.” “ He js an accursed blackmailer!” broke from Harold’s lips, indignantly. “‘He knows his power, father, and already be- gins to make you feel that he is your master,” quietly said Isabel. “I shall put this in the hands of the police, az a blackmailing letter to extort money,” re- marked the millionaire. “‘ And the reasons will all then come out; no, no, better pay him his ten thousand, and then see if we cannot stop the matter there,” sug- gested Harold, and, as if having decided that it was the best course, the merchant called out: ** Richards!” “Yes, sir.” “Bring me my check-book, pen and ink,” ber articles were brought, and Isabel said, etly: Kh ake it payable to bearer, sir.” f “* Ah, yes; a good suggestion,” and the million- aire wrote his check, and then inclosed it in an envelope, addressed simply to “Sr1uas SLOAN, Esq.” ‘That will show him that I consider him un- worthy the clerical title he bears,” he said, as Richards departed with the letter to hand to the messenger, “Well, we need another interruption to our dinner, to bring us luck, according to the old adage,” said Harold, resuming his interrupted meal, ‘Troubles never come singly, Harold,” was Isabel’s remark. **True; old Quilp should put in an appear- ' ance now— Well, Richards?” ‘“*A man who says Mr. Ezra Quilp sent him tosee you personally, replied the servant. ‘*'Phe—— No, no, beg pardon, sis; but truly is it said, ‘ kof the devil and his imps ap- pear,’” and with a pale face Harold Liste went to the door, and the instant after loud and angry voices were heard, then a shot, and a heavy fall, and into the dining-room sprung the oung aristocrat, a cam in his band, be his ace livid, as he cried: ‘Father, I have killed him,” ** Killed whom? for the love of God! speak!” cried the millionaire, mable to, rise from his chair, while with staring eyes and white face Isabel arose and started toward her brother. “I have killed an officer of the law, sent by Quilp to arrest me,” was the strangely calm re- ply. Vereat God! oh, this is terrible, and greater than I can bear,” and the old man’s head sunk upon the table. ‘Harold, you must not stay here, for, if you have done this, all father’s influence and wealth pexnot save you from the gallows; fly!” cried sabel. ‘*Where shall I go?” he asked, in a dazed manner. ‘“‘ Anywhere, so you leave here; come, I have @ few hundreds in money, and father has more in the house, and can send you a check, when we know where you are: come!” ‘* Yes, my son, fly while you can,” cried the millionaire, tottering to his feet. Out of the rvvm Isabel led him, past the dead form lying in the hallway, and into the library. and there he remained with his father, who had followed them, while the brave maiden went to her room, “‘Here, Harold, it is all I have,” and she gave him a roll of bills. “And here is more; now, my son, for the love of God, fly— Hal” j All for a loud and impatient ring came at the door. But controlling herself, Isabel glanced out of the window, and in the gathering twilight saw a female form on the piazza. ~ “Tt is a woman,” she said. The next moment the door opened, and the. three heard in clear tones: : “*T must see Mr. Harold Lynde at once.” Richards, a most faithful old family servant had just dragged the ae of the officer out of” sight, and answered calmly: : I will see if he is in; who shall I say wishes to see him?” “Say @ woman; no, no, tell him Jule; the Jewess,” was the impatient response, “Bid her come in bere Richards,” called out Harold, and the next instant, Jule. the Jewess,
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JULE, THE JEWESS. 14 nnn nena en the room, just as Isabel lefé by another r, CHAPTER XIII. AN UNFORTUNATE DISGUISE. It was evident that Jule, the Jewess, when she entered the library, had expected to find the young aristocrat me, for she drew back in some confusion, at the sight of the million- aire, but said firmly: ‘*T came to see you, Mr. Lynde, upon a mat- ter of importance,” The millionaire gazed upon the beautiful face and form of the young girl, and saw that she wore a troubled look, and misunderstanding her presence there, he said sternly: “What, Harold, are we to learn of another heinous crime to be laid at your door?” _ Jule quickly understood the words pf the mil- lionaire, and drawing herself proudly up, she said “ea flashing eyes, while her face crim- soned: ** Whatever crimes, Mr. Lynde, your son may have been guilty of, be good enough not to con- sider me an accomplice, ‘*Then why, may I ask, have you come to his nome in this unceremonious manner?’ _ “To warn him of danger: to tell him that one whom he knows to be a bitter foe, intends 40 arrest him to-night,” ’ “Ha! you are too late; but still your words prove that you hold deep interest in ny son.” ‘‘Pather, this maiden is hardly known to me; 1 know her only as Jule, the Jewess; last night { attempted to break the contract we had formed with old Quilp, and she prevented me from doing what to-night I have just done— taken life. . “God of Abraham! I am then too late,” cried the Jewess. «Yes, Quilp sent an officer to arrest me, and —I killed him,” said Harold Lynde, with forced calmness, ‘Then fly, or the law will have its justice,” she cried. ‘ Justice?” said the young man, indignantly. “Yes, justice; if. you have willfully taken human life you deserve punishment; but still I would not see you die an ignominious death and I bid you fly; here, to aid your escape, i brought you this disguise,” and she handed him a bundle she had brought with her. ‘‘Tt is an officer’s cloak, naval cap, and false whiskers; put them on, for you have little time,” she said, peremptorily, and unheeding the presence of the father of the young man, she quickly and skillfully placed the beard upon his face, and threw the cloak around his shoul- os while he placed the naval cap upon his ead. “There, no one would know you now; go, and may this act of mine repay your kindness to my parents in the past, whether it was prompted by good or evil motives; farewell.” As she spoke she turned to go, but Harold sprung forward and seized her hand, while he said, ferventhy: , “Farewell, sweet J ewess; but remember. youshall never be forgotten by Harold Lynde. 4 She made no reply, but passed quickly from the room, and out of the house, and, after a sad parting with his father and sister, who again returned to the room, the young man followed her, his in in a whirl, his heart on fire. As he descended the marble steps a carriage drove up, and from it alighted two men. One of these he saw was an officer in uniform; the other he as Ezra Quilp. With slow step, for he saw that he was not recognized, he walked away from the mansion; but once out of sight, he darted along ata rapid _ run in the direction of the stables, and a few roinutes after was mounted upon his own ridin horse, and flying like the wind along the leading up the river, The ence of Andrew Lynde was situated not far from the bank of River, for the millionaire was one of New York's merchant princes, and at a point whiah, at the time I write, was dotted with handsome coun -seats, but. which now, from the btn of the metro- polis, is covered with blocks of brick residences with only one or two of the old-time mansions remaining, and those rapidly going to ruin, and their once elegant grounds turned over to wa cy children, goats and chickens, p what is now the Eastern Boulevard Harold Lynde dashed, until he came in sight of the old home of Ezra Quilp, and here he sud- denly drew re Pahioes he gazed ata light in a window, which his experience the night before told him was the room of Jule, the Jewess. ‘ “Ah, my pretty Jewess. if you had not stayed my hand last night, F would not now be j a fugitive from justice. ‘*7] did not kill the miser, but I have taken the life of the man he sent to arrest me, so you kept not my hand from becoming blood-stained, and, if lam taken, you may yet see old Quilp rejoice in my death on the gallows. ‘But, from my heart I thank you for your kindness this night.” Thus saying he once more rode rapidly on, and soon after drew his panting horse up at the Astoria ferry. “Open your gate quickly, my man, for I wish to catch that boat, and keep the change for a glass of grog,” he said, hastily, to the gate- keeper, who caught the dollar thrown to him with one hand, while he’ took firm hold of the bridle rein with the other, at the same time call- ing out to some one in the ferry-house: ‘Cap’n, I guesses this is yer man,” Then out of the ferry-house stepped a man in uniform, followed by two others, and the former said slowly: * Are you Lieutenant Dorcas, sir?’ ‘‘T am not,” was the impatient reply. ** You are a naval officer I see.” “That is evident,” was the evasive response. ‘*Well, sir, I am so to detain you, but Lieutenant Dorcas of the navy shot a man, ina dispute over cards, this afternoon, and I was sent here to guard the ferry against his es- ca: 2? Barold Lynde’s heart grew cold, to feel that an accident was going to keep bim in durance vile until his own deed and flight would become known; but he said with all the calmness he could command: ‘*My man, I am not the officer you speak of, and I warn you not to detain me, as I am in haste to cross over into Long Island.” **T may be wrong, sir, but I hopes not for my own sake; yet I have to hold you, as suck are my orders; you must dismount and wait until I telegraph to the station and report.” It was a desperate moment for Harold Lynde, and he acted with desperate recklessness, for mrt hes the spurs into his horse he caused the animal to bound forward, striking the officer and ferryman on each side of him with such force as to knock them down, and then away darted the splendid animal. But one of the other officers quickly drew a pistol and fired, and, with almost a human shriek, the noble horse went down, throwing his rider over his head, Half-stunned as he was, Harold Lynde en- deavored to rise and draw his pistol; but strong arms seized him and the next instant he was heavily ironed, while his cap, cloak and false beard having come off in the struggle, one of the officers remarked, with triumph: “In disguise as I live! yes, boys, we has our game, but he were a terror.” “Yes, his horse nearly broke my shoulder; but come, sir, you must go to jail with us,” and Harold Lynde, his heart almost crushed with shame and despair, was marched off to the city prison. CHAPTER XIV. THE OATH OF A JEWESS. THE persevering, tireless, sleepless and fer- ret-like reporters had gleaned the full tidings of startling news for the readers of the papers they represented, and ere twelve o'clock at night, following the reckless deed of Harold Lynde, the whole affair was in type. After a-restiess night, Jule, the Jewess, arose with a contented heart, for she felt that she had done her duty toward the man, whosome time before had bestowed kindness upon her dying father in his need, and she could not believe that the handsome young aristocrat had acted wholly from an evil motive, for she was too pure in heart herself to believe one who bore the semblance of a gentleman could be so vile as to plot her ruin through gaining her gratitude. “Well, be his motive what it may, I have re- paid the debt by saving him from the gallows,” she murmured, as she stepped out on the upper front piazza to look after her plants, which she kept there. “‘T did not mean to eavesdrop,” she con- tinued, ‘‘ but I saw old Quilp come in'with the officer, and knew he meant harm, so listened, and Iam jen I did, for I was just in time to save Mr. Lynde, and the disguise I fortunately thought of and purchased, alone protected him from recognition, as 1 caught sight of the miser in the i that drove into the gate as I passed out. “Oh, why did he takeylife, for otherwise the charge would not have been half so severe? a now, if he is taken, nothing can save him, “ Good-morning, Miss Moloch; you look as bright and beautiful as the day.” : e voice breaking in upon her musings’ sounded harsh and sinister to her, and she said, coldly, as she turned and beheld Ezra Quilp at his window gazing at her: “My name is not Moloch, Mr. ei “Ah! you are not then Miss Moloch?” ‘No, sir.” “Perhaps then it is Mrs. Moloch?” he sug- gested, with an attempt at a smile, but which on his face was a grin. ‘*No, Iam not Mrs. Moloch.” “‘ Ah! I thought you must be the wife, or the sister, of the gentleman who rented my rooms.” ‘No, Iam neither, Mr. Quilp.” ‘*The lady, I hope, is your mother,” he said, with an emphasis on the third and fourth words, ‘*She is, sir.” ‘““Then I trust all is well, for I would not like an ming that looked off-color to be—” ‘Sir! He paused quickly as he caught the dark, flashing eyes, and stammered forth: ‘My dear child, do nof misunderstand me. for I assure you I meant nothing; who could have an evil thought where you are concerned!” **Only one, sir, who had no honor, and whose heart bad become so warped by evil deeds, would suspect an innocent girl of wrong-do- ing,” she said, in her rich voice, and with a tone of contempt in it, “True, true, my dear Miss—Miss—” “T am called Jule, the Jewess, Mr, Quilp,” she said, coldly. “True, Miss Jule; but have a read the news this morning?” he asked, glad to change the subject. ‘No, sir, I have not seen the papers.” ‘*T have, for I have one left for,me every morning; it’s the Herald and I get it for three cents, when you know the price is four; but then I take the outside one of the bundle, which is always soiled or a little torn, but if does me just as well, and I save a cent; there’s great news in it this morning.” The miserly disposition of the man di ted her; but, most anxious to see the report of Har- old Lynde’s deed the night before, she conquered her aversion, and said: : ‘‘T would like to see it, sir, if you please.” “Certainly, my dear miss, certainly; but re- turn it, please; no, no, you can keep it; for you did mea good turn last night, and I will give you the Herald, though I always keep them, as you know papers advertise for back numbers sometimes, and offer a dollar or two for them.” He handed her the paper, pointing to some large headlines, and her eyes fell upon the fol- lowing: “THE RED DEED OF AN ARISTOCRAT! ‘“‘ His FLIGHT AND CAPTURE IN DISGUISE! “ From a Palatial Mansion to Prison! “A DISGUISE THAT PLayeD Him Fase!” She read no more, but clutching the paper in her hands, without a word to the miser, turned and entered her own rooms, through the full- length window, and then, like a marble statue, she stood for an instant, while from her lips came the words: Yi) Pang God of Abraham! if the disguise I — gave him caused his capture, then will I save him; yes, 1 swear it by the hope of Israel!” CHAPTER XV. THE ‘STARTLING SENSATION” AS READ BY JULE, THE JEWESS. WaHen Jule, the Jewess, after receiving the Herald from the miser, and reading the head- ings of the sensation Parnes by the reporters, took oath to save Harold Lynde from the gallows, her manner was impressive and de- termined, and her face was of daring de- ats ae the disguise I him got hi seems the ve him got him into trouble and prevented his escape, and he and his father and beautiful sister may think it was given him to entrap him, so I must free him, if in the power of man or woman. “‘ Now to see what is said here that made that old miser gloat over his triumph,” and she en- tered her room and closed the door, though her mother had gone to market and would not re- turn for an hour or more. Throwing herself in an easy-chair, in the cosey little room she had fitted up for herself with such taste, she scanned over the numer- ous Ja announeements of the ‘‘ pte | deniattan in high life,” and then aloud, and as
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4:2 — > her mind and heart were bent in taking in each word she slowly read as follows: “Tt is seldom that our city is so startled by two wuch events in high lifeas we give below, and those ofa gossiping turn of mind will find food for talk that will amount to more than a nine days’ wonder. ** Nearly all of New York knows the handsome and dashing young millionaire, Harold Lynde, by sight, for his coach-and-four has often whirled along our avenues, crowded with distinguished guests, his ele- gant form has been the cynosure of all eyes, as he galloped through the Park, his flirtations at the sperm and theater have created general comment, his fast horses have won purses, his yacht has taken prizes, and his dissipation and extravagances have been the town gossip for a year or more, * But now an end has come, for, from his palatial home, the mangion of his father on the East river, he has gone to the Tombs, charged with a deliberate murder of an officer, and even worse than that prior to his killing Detective Dade, and which was the cause of that officer’s death. “It seems, from the reports gleaned by our re- porters, that one Ezra Quilp, better known as old miser Quilp, dwells in a one-time elegant brick man- sion in the upper part of the city, and ths grounds of which, consisting of half a dozen acres, run to the water’s edge. “This property, bought for a mere song, from its dissolute young heir, the miser owns, and expects to realize large ly from; when the city’s advance en- croaches upon it; and here he dwells alone, or did dwell alone, until several days ago, when a small Jewish family rented part of his domicile, and, if the stories are correct, it was fortunate for him that they went there, * cing interviewed last night by our reporter, Mr. Ezra Quilp was rather non-committal, but admitted that he had advanced large sums of money to Mr. Harold Lynde, on his simple note, and that the day before maturity the young man attempted to get them renewed, but failing in doing so, that night entered his house, by means of the roof of the back piazza, and son ay i to get possession of the paper against him by taking the holder’s life. “ This effort, however, failed by the sudden coming and interference of one who seized the young man with his knife in hand, and prevented the deliberate assassination, “From what was said by Mr. Quilp, the reporter surmised that the one.who saved his life was some one of the Jewish family; but whoever it may be, he will appear as witness in the case, ‘Mr. Lynde, not paying the notes the next day, Mr. Quilp would have had them protested, but in some way misplaced the key of his safe, and was unable to do so, and at once he determined to have the young aristocrat arrested upon a charge of as- sault with intent to assassinate, and had the papers made out accordingly, and, after a long Gomdurahes with Detective Dade at his home, dispatched him to make the arrest, he, Quilp, and another officer awaiting him ina carriage a few squares from the nde mansion. “The long stay of the detective caused Mr. Quilp to grow anxious, and driving to the mansion they discovered the millionaire merchant and his daugh- ter pacing the room in t distress, and the dead body of the officer lying in the hallway. “ All that could be ascertained regarding the tra- gedy was that Mr. Harold Lynde had been called into the hallway, from the dining-room, and that a shot and fall soon after followed and the young man returned to his father and sister and said he had killed a man, and in disguise he soon after left the mansion, and even met uilp and the associate of officer Dade at the door, but passed by them un- recognized, ‘*Mr. Andrew Lynde, his daughter, and the ser- vants refuse to ak upon the matter before the trial; but it is strange, if Harold he acted in self-defense, or for what reason he killed the detec- tive, that or Aare t puit by fi ed await trial, and not bring suspicion o t by flight. “Now ptt the strangest part of the affair, for it seems that Harold Lynde used as his disguise a naval officer’s cloak and cap, and a false beard, and yesterday afternoon Lieutenant Dudley Dorcas of tue navy dropped into a fashionable gambling- galoon on Broadway to risk a few dollars at faro. “The dealer, so itis said, had been drinking, and twice hay poet out the eee pasa | gpa Be a dent or design remains to be seen, an e officer boldly charged him with trying to swindle mt, * At this the dealer, Fancy Nick Fellows, and who will be remembered as a dangerous man, thrust his hand into his pocket and attempted to rise, while he gaid, it is reported: ‘. ** Those are your last words, sir. “Instantly, acting in self-defense, the lieutenant drew a pistol and fired, and Nick Fellows fell in his tracks. “In the confusion that followed, Lieutenant Dor- cas, unperceived, left the gambling-hell and went at once on board his vessel down in the lower bay, while the police spread the city over in pursuit 0 him, it being believed that the gambler was dead. “Shortly afterward, however, it was found tha the ball glanced on the skull of Mr. Fellows, making @ slight wound, but stunning him, and soon after dark a letter was received by the chief of police from Lieutenant Dorcas, telling him that he had surrendered to his captain on board ship and await- ed orders, “In the meantime Harold Lynde, who had unfor- tunately for himself assumed a naval disg , rode up to the Astoria ferry on horseback, was believed to be Lieutenant Dorcas pacgping, ont when or- dered by the police officers in wai to dismount JULE, THE rhe acza ane surrender, daringly attempted to ride them own, “The sergeant and ferryman went down before the bound of the spirited mare ridden by Mr, Lynde, but, ere he could escape, a well-aimed shot from officer Bent brought the animal down, and the fugi- tive was captured, ironed, and taken to the Tombs, where he now lies awaiting his preliminary trial, which will be held to-day, and which must of course result in his committal to be tried by a higher court, when we fear Mr. Lynde will find it hard to escape, as his flight has already condemned him, even in the eyes of many of his intimates.” Such was the report of the scenes of the day and night before, which Jule, the Jewess, read so carefully through. staan as she closed the paper, she said, slowly: ‘It was a mistake to urge him to fly, and J made the mistake. ‘* Had ho wemained, for none saw the act, he could have told his own story of the murder, as I fear it was; alas! and there would have been no one 4,0 contradict it, ‘* Now his flight will prove him lty, and 1 know that the miser will do aliin his power to bring him to the gallows. ‘«The Tombs is a strong prison, but as strong doors and walls have been opened before, and can be, ay, shall be again,” and Jule, the Jew- ess, banished all care from her beautiful face, and arose to meet ber mother, whom she heard coming up-stairs. CHAPTER XVI. A CLOUD WITH A SILVER LINING. Two preliminary examinations of great in- terest to the public, it seemed, were held in New York on the same day and before the same justice, The first called was Fellows vs, Dorcas. In this case Lieutenant Dudley Doreas, of the United States navy, a handsome young man, who was present in full uniform, was accused of firing upon one Nick Fellows, a gambler, with intent to kill, and wounding him in the head. The young officer was accompanied by his lawyer, but the gambler, although fully able to appear, failed to do s0, or to = even repre- sented by an attorney, and the lieutenant was dismissed, and the suspicion became a fact that Fancy Nick Fellows knew that he had given the sailor cause to believe that he intended to kill bim, and consequently made no charge against him. Then Harold Lynde, aceompanied by his fa- ther and two distinguished lawyers, appeared before the bar, and half an hour after the young millionaire returned to his cell in the Tombs committed for trial on two charges; first, of secretly and with murderous intent enterin the house of Ezra Quilp between midnight an gay Gain making an attempt upon the life of gai ilp. Second, of having killed Detective Dade, who was sent to arrest him at his home, and then sought to escape by flight, in which he had bolaly resisted arrest. No bail was allowed to be taken in either case, and the elegant Howard Lynde went back to his cell feeling that the world, its joys and its beauties were forever shut out from him, for, if the riches of his father, and the efforts of his attorneys, failed to make the judge accept bail for She, his trial would go hard indeed with bim he knew; and so also knew the gray-~ haired millionaire, who returned to his elegant home with a bleeding heart. “My child, poor Harold is doomed, alas, doomed!” groaned the millionaire, as he sunk down ina chair in Isabel’s room, upon his re- turn from the trial. ‘*Father, be brave, be strong, for certainly this horrible charge cannot be proven against him, and, as no one saw him kill the officer, his own story must be taken of it,” said the maiden, hopefully. “No, a ie will be sentenced to the gal- lows.” ‘Why should he? The charge of this miser is ridiculous, for Harold owed him not a dol- lar,” returned Isabel, who little dreamed that there was any truth in the charge that her brother had become a midnight assassin. The millionaire made no reply, but groaned bitterly, for though Harold had said nothing to him of his attack on the miser, knowing the na- ture of his son, and from certain_ words the oung man had said to Jule, the Jewess, and fooke that passed between him and the miser which he now remembered, he feared that he had really made the attempt to get possession of the notes by taking Ezra Quilp’s life, ‘ “It was wrong for us to w Harolu to fly, for he may have had cause to kill the of- | Hi mean acting in self-defense,” suggested The millionaire looked up quickly, glan cautiously around the room, and said, in a hoarse whisper: “Would to God, my child, it were true; but you know Harold’s nature as I do. ‘*He was armed, which I did not know, and which in itself, taking Quilp’s charge into con- sideration, was a suspicious circumstance, and, when the officer arrested him he shot him. ‘*Knowing how guilty he was, Harold at once determined upon escape, for, had it been otherwise, he would haye remained to brave it out. “It seems that you reason truly, father, but Harold must not die far it; every bit of evidence in his behalf must be ferreted out, and every particle against him must be suppressed all ig our power Ee are the lawyers you have en , sir ** Judge Graham—” ** Ah! none better, sir: any one else?” **Yes, he has a crane associate, whom he speaks of most highly.” ‘* Young associates must not be trusted in this ease, father, for the present District Attorney is a fearful adversary to pit a fledgling lawyer against,” said Isabel, firmly. “The judge has perfect confidence in him, and what young Wilbur said at the trial to-day was sharp and to the point.” ‘* Wilbur is his name?” “Yes, Martin Wilbur; he is the son of a poor Episcopal minister in Virginia.” ‘““Where have I heard that name before, fa- ther?’ asked Isabel, meditatively. ‘*T know not, Bel, unless in the law reports.” ‘*Which I never read, sir; no, I have heard the name, and it seems to me, as I dimly recall it from the past, under no pleasant circumstan- ces; but I will not borrow trouble, for if Judge Graham is satisfied with Mr. Wilbur, I shoul be certainly; yet, father, the life of your son and my brother is at stake, and be his faults «nd his follies in the past what they may, he is in prison, charged with a double crime, and every effort, every sacrifice shall be made to save him,” said the brave girl, earnestly. ‘** And it shall be, my child; he shall escape an ignomihious death if I sacrifice my last dol- lay; yes, dearly as I love gold, it shall flow like water to the last drop to save my boy.” ; “God bless you, my dear, good papa; let us hope, and if the skill and eloquence of lawyers fail, we will try something else.” ‘* What else?” and the millionaire Jooked up cag into the beautiful face bending over im. **Oh, gold weighs down iron, sir, and if both are put in the balance, the latter will go up, and the prisoner pass from under the bars,” she said gear merceny “f understand you; yes, if Judge Graham and Wilbur fail us, then I shall pit gold against stone and iron,” and, with this new hope in his heart, the millionaire’s face grew brighter. CHAPTER XVIL. ALLIES IN THE SAME CAUSE. * JoLE, I see Victor coming up the walk,” The cry came in the voice of Mother Na- omi, and startled Jule, the Jewess, fron: a deep reverie, as she sat in her room, her eyes bent on the sun going down beyond the Hoboken Heights, but her thoughts busy plotting and planning, for not yet had she been able to de- vise any plan of action in her determination to save Harold Lynde, and she longed for night to come, that, in the quiet and darkness of her own room, she could decide what course to pur- sue. A blush swept over her marble like face, as her mother told her who was approaching, and she went into the sitting-room just as Victor Moloch entered, his handsome face more serious than was usual with him. ‘You are back sooner than you expected Victor; but I am so glad you have come,” said the maiden, taking hand. ‘* Yes, Jule, I have come to have a talk with you; where is your mother?” he said, quietly. “Preparing dinner, and consequently in cooks ing attire, so you will not see her until] she haa rimped up. Pr am glad to have a moment witb you, Jule; but first let me thank you for your service ren- dered me yesterday,” and be threw himself lan- guidly into a seat, “Th the messenger garb, you mean?” shesaid, win ae ted part, admirably.” es; you ac our mirably. “And made ch handsome, ahem! boy.
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that when I looked at myself in the glass at the hotel, I fell desperately in love with myself; how is that for conceit, Victor?” and she laughed merrily, but it was assumed laughter. “T do not blame you, Jule, for as @ woman none can see you and not love you, as your face is the mirror of a noble soul and a pure He spoke fervently, and it was the first time had seen him so moved, and, wishing to @hange the subject, she said, quickly: “Thank you, kindly, Victor, for the very eoraety photograph you give of my virtues; but, ell me, what was the secret of your movement regarding the Lynde notes?” “ They were paid,” he answered, abruptly. “Paid! then Miss Lynde was sacrificed to that miser Quilp?” she said, sorrowfully, - “No, Mr. Lynde paid the money, when Quilp called, took up his notes, and thereby caused the miser to attempt another way to avenge him- self, and bitterly he has done so; here is the pa- ‘per with the account, and I wish to read it to you,” and he drew the Herald trom his pocket. “First, let me ask-you, Victor, and do not be- lieve me inquisitive, but how did Mr. Lynde manage to get his notes from the miser, when he refused to take from me double their value?” “He could' not refuse, when money, calling for their face and interest, was tendered by the drawer of the notes.” L “Ah aud did you advance this money to Mr. de ST did,” he said, and his face colored slightly. “On what plea could youdoso” = He gave me security,” he said, hesitatingly. “Then 1 have to thank you for doing this for me, as I know, at my bei te you acted, and I hope you will get a good interest for ,your out- lay, Victor; but Iam so glad dear Isabe] Lynde not have to know sorrow.” ; “And her brother, Harold Lynde?” quickly asked Victor Moloch. | “T would d him from harm too, Victor, for though you think he acted with evil purpose toward me, I cannot believe it, and am glad to repay lim for what he did do.” “‘It am happy to hear you say this, Jule, for I may call upon you to aid me; now let me read this paper to you, and, if you have not already heard of the misfortune and sorrow that have fallen upon the Lyndes, prepare to feel for them most deeply.” “I know all, Victor, for Mr. Quilp gave me a paper this morning.” * You do not know though, that bail was re- fused, for both charges against him, and that he isin the Tombs, and the public judgment is that he will hang for his crimes.” Jule turned a shade paler, and Victor Moloch went on to tell her ot the result of the prelim- in trial, and ended by saying: ‘The Christians have it that Providence di- rected that he should assume the disguise of an officer of the navy, for whom the police were searching, and thus be cau ht; but you and I with the religion of our fathers, know that it was accident. She looked up quickly from beneath her long- fringed lids. ** Did he suspect her?’ was the thought that flashed through her mind, Then came another: ‘* Had she been found out in any way?” But his face showed no sign of distrusting her, and, after a moment, Victor Moloch continued: “Jule, what may be, in your heart, your feel- ings for this young profligate—” ‘Victor Moloch, you forget that. Harold Lynde is a Christian, and I a Jewess,” she said, haughtily, and ber words caused him to wince, for the reader knows how well the random shot hit the center in Victor Moloch’s case. Seeing his pained look, she continued quickly: “Forgive me, Victor, but it was hard to feel that you would believe for an instant that I would forget the creed of my people and turn me et upon the God of Israel, to love one of & ta ce who had persecuted us for long centuries. No, no, there is a wall between the Christian and the Israelite never so high, and only a renegade to our creed can scale it,” The keyg baie a ied and his lips were firm ra er Wor i i knife into his inmost heart ds sink like a You are right, Jule,” he said, at last, “from the standpoint of our race; but? rag Re Le strange leveler of castes and creeds,” “Love would elevate my thonghts, not lower them to a level beneath me anid coned me to for- gray peo e@and the God of Abraham,” was ® promp —e and the brows of the man contracted, as though with pain, while he said in a low tone, in which his voice sounded a _ ‘Strangely soft and musical: Pao "“ JULE, THE JEWESS. “Jule, let us not discuss this subject more. for I but spoke of your feeling, perhaps, a secret regard for Harold Lynde, that might prompt you to act for his behalf.” “Ah! you wish to serve him then? she said, oxre: : ‘IT do not wish to see him die on the gallows,” was the somewhat evasive reply. “Do you think he will be hanged?” she asked, with deep interest. **T know it.” ** Can his lawyers not save him?” ** No, for the case seems too clear against him regarding his killing of the officer, and his fool- ish attempt to escape brands him with having done it pu ely.’ ** And this charge against him of having at- eres to assassinate the miser?’ quietly asked ule. ‘Jule, what of that charge?” b She started, for the question came so direct, and his eyes were fastened intently upon her. “* How do you mean, Victor?” “The paper says the miser was saved by some one coming in?” “Yes, I read it,” ‘Tt presumes it to have been one of a Jewish family, who had just moved into this house,” and he still eyed her closely. “So I noticed,” was the calm reply. “*T did not awaken that night.” ** No?” in a way of inquiry. *“‘No, and your mother certainly did not, or she would have spoken of it,” ‘*'Yes?” in the same tone. “You were awake, Jule?” Yes. ** And told me you overheard what d between the miser and his visitor, old Lynde.” “I told you truly; I heard what passed, and I heard the meditations aloud of Ezra Quilp.” ‘*And the miser says his life was saved by one who cntered suddenly, and yet you told me of hearing no strange voice.” ‘*Nor did I, Victor; if the miser has made some false statements, why may he not make others?” ‘*In what respect?” “‘Hesaid that Harold Lynde owed him money, and gave the notes, and you and I know it was his father.” “Ah! I had not thought of that; I see now that Ezra Quilp will do anything to hang Har- old Lynde; but I wish to have you aid me in plotting against the carrying out of his pur- ose ” ““You wish meto help you, Victor?” she asked, with surprise, **'Yes, *<How can If” *Do you object?” “ No. ? ** And you will do so?” "How can I?” “You aided me splendidly in the note business, and can again.” ed his narrow cell from morn till nigh’ ‘** Tell me how and I will.” with the same leonine tread, the same nervous “That is the question. I do not know how, ic and untiring gait of the caged brute. and I have come to you to aid me in devising hus pacing to and fro between his stone some plan, for your woman’s wit will be of the | walls, the third day of his stay in the Tombs, greatest sevice,” Harold Lynde was startled by the words from “Victor, tell me why you have so suddenly | the keeper.on duty: developed this deep interest in the Lyndes,” and ‘‘ A gentleman to see you, sir.” she looked him squarely in the face. “Who is he, and what does he want with Again his face flushed, but he answered, | me?’ wasthe fretful uery. evasively ; | ‘** Your lawyer I believe he is.” ‘Jule, did you not ask me to aid them yester- “All right; show him into my dismal den, day?” though why he comes to bother me I know not “Yes, and you do this wholly for me, Victor? | as the public have already tried and convicted It is indeed most kind of you.” me,” he said, bitterly. He saw that she believed him, and, his noble The keeper beckoned to some one, and a tall, nature revolting against implying a falsehood | slender person, very elegant in appearance, very to her, he answered, frankly: courteous in manner, and with a dark, intellec- - “Jule, I would do anything I could to serve | tual and exceedingly handsome face, advgnced you, or to give you pleasure, for, as you know, | and was admitted. you are very dear to me; but will honestly an- “‘T have permission to see Mr. Lynde wholl¥ swer you that I have another motive for my | alone, officer,” he said, with a pleasant manner, actions in this matter.” i to the keeper. Her beautifully arched brows were rais “T know it, sir; such orders was sent, and and her eyes, not her lips, asked the question: ‘‘ What is that motive, Victor?” He understood her look, and answered: Jule, I cannot now tell you my reasons for wishing to save Harold Lynde from an igno- minious death; but trust me wholly in this mat- ter, and in good time you shall know all, and more, for there isa secret I have to tell you.” ‘*A secret, Victor, and between you and the Lyndes?” she asked, with git me “Yes, the foundation of which was laid long ago; butask me no more now, forI pledge you to tell you before et long, and should have told you to-day, it not been for this tragedy. : 18 L ee “44 we must work together to save Harold ynde, ’ “Victor, all that I can do, I will gladly do: command me,” she said, earnestly, “Listen: Harold Lynde isin the Tombs, and you know its 6 e4 from the escape of a pris- oner; and yet, Jule, he must escape from thera, for that is the only way to help him, “The guards are true, or believed so, the walls are thick, the iron bars are strong, and je be will be vn aig | watching him; but for all that we must get him out, and your little brain can doit, while I plan his flight after he ets out.” “Give me to-night to think of it,” she said, with no desire to make known to Victor Moloch that she had intended spending the nightin that very way. “Very wdil, and I will think of it too, and to- morrow we will compare notes, for I am deter- mined that the brother of—I mean the son of Mr, Andrew Lynde shall not die,” and Victor Moloch glanced quickly into the face of the Jewess, to see if she had noticed his slip of the tongue. But she appeared not to have done so, and re- peated his last words: **And J am determined that Harold Lynde sball not die.” CHAPTER XVIII. 4 LEGAL INQUISITION. In one of the strongest and most dismal cells of the New York prison, so appropriately named ‘‘The Tombs,” sat a man upon whom even the eyes of his fellow-unfortunates were turned with a certain curiosity amounting to awe, for why such a man had committed crime to bring him to that wretched place was more than hardened criminals could understand. A hungry man rae | bread they could ap- preciate, for they too had felt the gnawings of starvation; a man cornered in some burglary taking life to save his freedom, they could un- derstand, as they could also the act of the sneak- thief to keep body and soul together; but aman born in luxury, reared in extravagance, and with everything heart could desire at his beck and call, to become the midnight assassin, to strike to death the officer of the law sent to ar- rest him, and not make his money ony him off at the trial], they could not comprehend. And such was their curiosity regarding Har- en Lynde, who had invaded their prison re- eat. ¢ The cornforts, in the way of a i hy on his cell, an easy-chair, soft bedding, books and e¢i- gars, with which his father’s wealth had su plied lim, seemed to the other less fortunate criminals like bedecking a corpse with dia- monds and fine silks: for if the heart was cursed with bitter memories, if the hand was reddened with innocent blood, if the shadow of the gal- lows already fell across his open grave, what hollow mockery were luxuries to the white- faced, haggard, ayy st man who silentl lawyers is always permitted to see clients; how long, sir?” ‘Half an hour, officer, please.” “Very well, sir; but I must Jock you in.” “TI do not mind it,” was the smiing re sponse, and the key turned and the keeper dis- "Sve ak 60 ob Yo te dle ‘Mr. Lynde, I am see you pirited than I feared, gro ‘**'You are my jupior counsel, I believe?” and Harold Lynde eyed the attorney closely. “Yes, sir; the judge, my senior, asked me to , and I will int you do not seem to remember me.’ **T do remember you now; you are Merton roduce myself, as I see
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-amount needed end eign 14 a — Wilbur,” and the prisoner’s face changed color. “JT am Merton Wilbur, sir, the charity stu- dent of the University—but now a practitioner *f law in this city,” was the smiling response. “ And you are to defend me in this case?” “Yes, why not?” “We were not friends in those days.” . “Tt was your fault, not mine; I went to the University a poor charity student, for my fa- ther was not able to give me the advantages I desired, and we had an unpleasant misunder- ¢anding.” : “Yes, about a Jew; one Adolph Hugo.” ‘Yes, sir; but that is passed; I punished yvu, and I was punished by expulsion; but I got my diploma from another college, and I sa now let the past bury its dead, an let us tal of the present, for I have determined that_you are at Peart too good a fellow to hang, and in- tend tosave you.” - There was something in the frank, hopeful manner of the young lawyer that won Harold Lynde over at once, and gave him confidence and hope, and he held forth his hand and said in a voice that quivered: ““Wilbur, forgive my insolence to you that day and be my friend.’ “‘ Qladly ; now to business, and pardon me if I seem very inquisitive, but you know it’s a lawyer’s prerogative toward a client.” i First ell me has my father hope of saving me from the gallows?” ‘* Not the slightest, though he told me to use his purse as my own to do so.” “And my sister?” **Ts hopeless, for I received a letter from her, or rather the firm did.” “ And your partner, Judge Graham?” ‘Has the lawyer’s hopo against hope.” **-You draw a dismal picture, sir.” “Day brightens as the sun rises, Mr. Lynde.” ‘Tbe public believe me guilty? ** Why should they not when you ran off?” ** You are plain-spoken at any rate; but does any one believe I can be saved? “There is one who does, but who I know not, as the note and accompanying funds were anonymous,” _* What mean you, Mr. Wilbur?’ asked Har- old, in surprise. “received by express a package of money, amounting to twenty-five thousand dollars; with it was a note, ina hand that was be ond. my knowledge to trace whether written by a mz or woman, and it read simply: “*Ose this tosave Harold Lynde by faff or foul means. \ ““*Tf you need more, ve it double or Foe etely le $his sum, put in the Personals of the erald the ws ey fiw che word Bogs.’ “* And no name was to this strange note?” said the amazed young man. a“ None.” v - “One more question to you, sir?” Well?” “Do you think you can save me?” “That is what I have come to find out by a chat with you.” \ mn pply your inquisitorial screws; I am ready,” was ths resigned remark, and Harold ‘leaned back indolently in his chair; but was brought up with a start at the first question. “Ts miser Quilp a liar, or are you ass. at heart he says you are?” ‘Mr. Wilbur!” and indignation flashed in the eyes of the prisoner. “Mr, Lynde,” was the calm se, “do not forget that you are to be as an opem book %0 me, and I mast read your thoughts as I can my own; there must be no blot. upon the page _ to hide aught from me, for I must work with | fay eyes open, toses beyond thes» walls where you cannot see, my hands free, and not shackled as are yours; in fact, I must know sins on sai gain I ask you, did you attempt to ki Ezra For his very life Harold Lynde could not re- “gist the fascination of the man before him, for . the dark, strong face, the brilli lliant black eyes, and the winning voice held him as under a ee yy he said in response, in a firm voice: ia, “Enough on that score as to what you did; now, again: did you kill Detective Dade with- outa cause?” \ “ Yes.” man, and—/ 7 ; eae ¥ ‘Thank you. Mr. Lynde. now ws will se | . Quilp hanged,” JULE. THE JEWESS. pegs what brought all this about,” and for a long half-hour Harold Lynde underwent a mosi searching ordeal of questioning, and to all gave frank and truthful answers. Then the keeper reappeared, and Merton Wil- bur arose, and said, in his pleasant way: “Cheer up, Lynde, for your case is by no means hopeless, and you may yet live to see old CHAPTER XIX. OUT OF THE DEPTHS. WotuER Naomi was slowly wending her way homeward, a small market-basket upon her arm, when she came upon a man who put out his hand, and, almost rudely, stopped her, while he said in Hebrew: “Do my eyes lie? or are you Rachel Muir?” She looked him weraigys in the face, striving to recall his features, and saic slowly: ‘*T am she that once was Rachel Muir; now I am Rachel Naomi, grown so old that folks call me Mother Naomi; who isit that finds resem- blance in this old face and drooping form to the Rachel of long ago?’ ‘‘Look in my eyes, Rachel, and see if you cannot read the name I bore a quarter of a cen- tury ago,” and he ‘placed both hands upon her shoulder and turned his dark eyes full upon er. She saw before her a man of forty-five, per- haps, of supple form, bronzed face, and clothed in tatters. He was a Hebrew, with a face strongly marked with boldness and determination, but looked as though he were ill. ‘*Ves, IT recall a resemblance to one who was my kin,” she said, slowly. * Hal go on, Rachel, and tell me who he was?” ‘¢ He was one whom our mother bore with me; he was my twin-brofher i ** Have you done, Rachel?’ he asked, eagerly. ‘*You are like Isador, but you cannot be my brother, and yet—” *“Go on, Rachel.” ‘‘And your eyes cannot lie, be the face and form what it may,” she said, earnestly, and he asked in a low tone: ‘““Who am I, Rachel?” ‘** But Isador is dead,” “ Dea 7 “Yes; he left us in the long ago, with a heart bowed down with woe, ax4 he sailed for a far- away land just as he kad crossed the threshold of manhood.” “* Why did he 6xt1, Rachel?” ‘‘A womsa; one with a sweet face, but he helievod uw false heart, drove higm away, and the | #bip went down in the sea, sma we have never beard of him more.” ‘** Ho was lost then?” “ Yes,” “ Rachel, Iam Isador Muir.” _ One glad cry and the trembling hands of the woman rested upon his shoulders, and her head was bowed until her gray hair rested upon his breast, while she said, in geivetio tones: “You wers but a boy then, and in all these years changes have come, my brother, but you are Jsador Muir, and blessed be the God of Israel for bringing thee back to me.”’ ** But I come in rags, Rachel,” he said, sadly. ““Whatcarel? Isnot your heart the same, for did you not recognize Rachel Muir, the beauty of thirty years ago, in old Mother Naomi?” ‘* But you seem not rich, my sister?” “T am not, but I am comfortable, and my home is as thine, for we have a warm friend.” ** Wel who?’ . ‘* My child and I.” f “And thy husband, for thou dost bear the name of Naomi?’ '* Lies in his graye.” a ** Alas! and thy children?’ ‘* But one, Isaid; a daughter, Jule.” “Ts she as beautiful as thou wert, Rachel” | “ More so, Isador.” ** Then she is proud,” “ Only as becomes her blood.” “But will not welcome her vagabond uncle,” ** Ah, lsador, be vot a skeptic regarding thy own blood; Jule is my daughter, I said. Come and see if she welcon:e not thee.” She took him by the hand, and, as in branes roe when they were children, she led him ong. They had stood by the gate leading into the tniser’s weed-grown grounds, and up the narrow Pa Dost Siro rachel?” h asked, looking ost live here che C) critically, at the old homestead. es. “Than inc od have thy riches fled from thea,” | “But withal it is a pleasant home; the rooms are large and comfortable, the air is fresh, the view of the river is beautiful, with its bosom dotted with sail, and the birds sing merrily in the trees; itis like you and me, Isador, old and time-scarred without, but like our he&rts, when ou look within the house you will find it cheer- tu and a warm welcome will be there for you.” She had paused as she spoke, her hand upon the door-knob; but now she threw it open and ushered him in, and then vp to her own rooms. At a harp, idly running her fingers over the strings, sat Jule, the Jowess, and she looked up in some surprise as her mother entered with a stranger. “Jule, hast thou a welcome for one we deemed dead before you were born; one whose wail, as we have often sat by the seaside, we have thought we heard on the winds, and whose groan wecaught in the roar of the surf; one who wentaway in the long ago, not to die, but to return to us broken in health, destitute, and seeking only a corner at her fireside?” : The woman spoke with strange pathos, and, . at her first words Jule had risen. ‘ The man stood like a statue of poverty, his tattered clothes hanging around him, his bronzed face stretched forward, and his eager, burning eyes watching as he waited. Coming over to him Jule took both of his hands in her own, and said frankly; ‘You are uncle Isador I know, though we never met, and I grew up to think of youas dead; as one from the grave you come to us, and our warm hearts will shield thy latter years from the sorrows and distress thy earlier ones seem to have known.” “The God of Abraham bless thee, Jule Naomi, and the blessings of Israel fall upon this household,” said the man, in an impressive tone, raising his hands above his head, Then, with a strange twinkle in his eyes, he said: ‘¢ Rachel, sister, thou hast reared thy child af- ter thy own heart, to have her welcome one like me; but know thou, Racheland Jule, fam not the beggar I seem, for I come to thee rich; ay, there can no more want come to this bousehold, for the wealth of Isador Muir is as thine own,” hice a3 * CHAPTER XX. t, A LEAF FROM THE BYGONE. “You would hear, Jule, why thy uncle so ~ — remained as thou pBagerer: and, oie a for- e, remains in rags like the veries gar, said Isador Naomi, when the two sat together that evening after dinner. : d : ‘‘Yes, for 1 confess to my share of woman’s curiosity, uncle,” answered Jule, the Jewess, with a smile. “Dost know why I left my native land?” he asked, quickly. y ‘Only that thou bhadst a sorrow that drove thee away.” ‘Girl, I will tell thee of that sorrow; I will tell thee that when but one-score years had left | their impress upon me I loved. ‘The one I loved was a girl as beautiful as thou art in face and form, but her heart was hideously deformed.” His eyes flashed as he spoke, though he re- called one to memory who had proven false to bim ished thirty years before, and Jule said, quietly: ; “Don’t tell me the story, uncle, if it gives you pain.” cin _ “Pain! why, child, I have known only pain in all these long years; it bas at last eatena sore in my heart that is killing me, and that is why I came back to my native land, for here are our people at home. ; 4s several attacks that prostrated me in the str@et, and I came back home to be near my kindred when the end shall come.” “Oh, uncle, you will live many long years ‘| yet,” said Jule, hopefully. ‘Not so; the canker-worm is gnawing to the seat of life, and the end must come soon, though perhaps not for months. ‘But I was to tell thee, Jule, why I left my kindred and my liome, “The one I loved, Salome Monica, lured me on to my own destruction, fed me with’ hope, and then became the wife of Marcus Hugo, my best friend.” ; , “How false indeed was her heart,” said Jule, indignantly, and then she added: “‘ Her name was Salome Monica, you say, and she married Marcus Hugo?” “Yes, just a quarter of a century ago they were married. Y ; “She sent me a note, me to forgive ad and to prove my forgivene:s by going to wed 5 “IT did go, Jule; I was a silversmith. then. %
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~ . and what he ' . heiréss to the riches I possess. oo oT ememees ne A ne Sh ce a re NY CE ER Ry ee ee eee SE A cry aeeeey omen emenn tema Alora da skilled worker, and I toiled night and day to give her a wedding gift worthy of the for- giveness of Isador Muir. “Tt was Lee pwn 3 the very evening of the wedding, and it cost me every dollar I had in ‘old, set the world.” ““T have heard of it; a star of solid with opals, rubies and diamonds,” said Jule. “Yes, and with the gold face of it carved beautifully to represent a star and its rays, the rays being of various tints; ah! it was a costly trinket, and a beautiful one, and I was repaid for my work on it, for it accomplished its end,” the man said with sudden fierceness of manner, which caused the maiden to start, and ask: ‘* Accomplished what end, uncle Isador?” “The end I sought, of course; to show her that I forgave her and her husband.” “She is dead now I believe?” “Yes, she died one bel after her marriage, and since then I have heard no word of home and kindred, for the night of the wedding I left, as I believed forever, and the ship in which I sailed went down in mid-ocean, and but two of us survived of all her crew, and we were res- cued, after days of drifting in an open boat, more dead than alive, “From that day I have been a wanderer in foreign lands.” ‘She teft one child,” said Jule, as though her thoughts were of the woman who had driven Isador Muir to become a restless wanderer about the earth. ¥ The man sprung to his feet as Sone an ad- der had stung him, and cried, with vehemence: “Salome Monica left'a child?” **- Yes, uncle, a boy.” “Where is that boy, now?’ *‘ He isa man, now.” ‘ “A man; well, I forget that it was long years ago i did Marcus Hugo also die?” . “Jule, tell me what you know of those two,” he said, pleadingly. ; ‘*My mother, in speaking of you, has spoken of them, and she it was who told me that Sa- lome, who treated you so ill, died one year af- ter her marriage—’ _ “Yes, that was well, that was well,” the man mutteringly said. “That she left one child, a boy, whom they named Adolph Isador Hugo.” “Ha! after me?” } “So it seemed, uncle,” ** And that boy?” ‘Grew to man’s estate, and his father educa- ted him as well as his means would permit,” '- ““Why, Hugo was rich.” “* Was, but he lost his riches in some way, 1 lived on, and educated Adolph with, was the money he got from the gem star, your wedding present.” . ‘Hal he sold it then after his wife’s death?” ‘the man asked, guickly. ‘‘ No, he kept it until forced to. part with it, and then he pawned it, and paid the interest on it up to his death; but Adolph, learning its his- tory, it seems, refused to pay more on it, for he said it would be as a star of ill-omen to him ven as it was by ra man whom his mother had n false in he ‘ } “*The hoy had honor; well, this star of ill- omen was then lost, Jule?” ‘*So I suppose, uncle; that was years ago.” ‘The man was silent tor a@ moment, as though communing with the past, and then said; j “Now, ule, let me tell you why I dress in ‘*T will be glad to know, for, as you are no miser, like the one we rent our rooms from, it is a strange freak for a rich man.” ng Wail, I have been such a tramp that the arr garb suits me well, Jule; but when I left. home ong ago, I wanted to die, but I would not take my life; then, when our ship went down I clung to life, and, in my gnawing hunger and damn- ‘ing thirst, in my fearful danger of death, I “prayed to the God of Israel to spare me, and ( pledged myself to dress as a beggar the remain- | der of my daya. “My life was spared, and in tatters have I - glothed myself ever since; but the.heart, J ae the heart is not deformed, and my blood is stil ‘warm for my kindred, as you, my sweet Jule shall know, for fortune has followed after my ‘footsteps through all, and you shall be the _. Jule gave one quick, surprised glance into his . face, and then. dvercamns with emotion, burst to for her heart was too full for utter- ed ah ‘ R XXII. : “war, “child,, ae, what ails you? asked JULE, .THE JEWESS. Isador Muir, as hoe saw how deeply the maiden was moved when he told her of bis intention to make her his heiress. “Oh, uncle! do you think I have no heart to remain unmoved by your kindness?’ she said, reproachfully. ‘ Well, Jule, it should not bring tears; let me tell you that I knew not of your existence, and there was one I intended to make my heir.” 4 oa not change then, uncle,”’said the maiden, ickly. ett girl, death made it necessary, for he **T will tell you about bim, and strange to say he looked as much like you to pe your brother, though he was not of our people. ‘“No, he was a handsome Christian lad of eighteen when death called him away. ‘“* His father had gone eut to India and pros- pered there, and we were friends, for he was not a man to sneer at our race. ‘The lad, then a little child, was most kind to me, and once, for weeks, nursed me through a long spell of sickness. * Again he saved my life when a man sprung upon me in anger; he turned the knife aside, for i was passing near, and I never forgot the no- le boy. ‘*When his father died, the bo at the business and accumulated quite a sum; but he seemed homesick, and one day, when I told him I was coming home, back to America, he said he would come, too. » ‘* But then it was that death stepped in and revented, for he fell sick of fever; but to me e intrusted his gold and his papers, for I stood by holding bis hand when he died. ‘Well, I came on to America, and some day soon I must go down to the ‘Tombs,,where the boy has a brother of his father an assistant keeper, I believe, and give him up the papers and the gold,” Jule, the Jewess, started suddenly, as though some strange thought had flashed through her mind, and shesaid, quickly: “The uncle of the tad was one of the keepers at the Tombs, you say?” . “Yes, Jule,’ ‘* He does not know of the boy’s death?” ** Ab, no, for he died in India, and there was no one to tell him.” : “Of course he knew that his brother went to ndia? “Yes, and died there, for he wrote the lad, kept on Stanley Grey, to return to him, and be as a son to him, for he had no son, being a bachelor.” ‘** And you have the boy’s papers and gold?” ‘* Yes, a trunk of papers and things he left; it is the one that came with my chest this morn- ing; then I have drafts on a bank here for some five thousand dollars the boy left his uncle, but I have delayed going to, the Tombs, as I have a dread of going there.” ‘Let me do it for you, uncle, for I would be glad to see the interior of that old pile of stone,” said Jule, coaxingly. ‘You go in there, Jule?” ** Yes, uncle, why not?” “Well, if you wish it, for I would be glad to be shut of the duty.” “Then tell me all about the poor boy, his early life and habits, that P bie know.” ‘Pll give you all the information I can, Jule and it is much, for I knew him as well as did his father.” ‘* How old was he when he went to India?” “Buta year or two, and his mother died on the voyage over.” ; With strange persistency and inquisitiveness Jule, the Jewess, questioned her uncle regard- ing the dead youth and his antecedents, and then asked, in an earnest tone: * Does any one know: that Naa have charge of the boy’s money and effects “Oh, no; he died at a bungalow, and I and Several natives were all that were with him.” Jule’s eyes gleamed with a strange light, and her face, was flushed, as though from excite- ment, but suddenly changing the subject she asked: ‘“* When do you and mother i uncle Isador?® 24) °° bal eee “Whenever your mother is willing for I am anxious to see if I can find trace of some little roperty your father had there, and which he ught when I was with him, and that bas es- caped your mother’s memory. ** The town has grown since then, and if your father did not sell it, the property is most valu- able if we can get hold of it; but you accom- a ag) Jule?” _“* No, uncle; you know that I have some little ee taste, tid am vor y ae to complete a work Il am engaged on, an ill do much day or two a00 are gone.” -” 15 “But we may be away for a week, and per- haps two.” ‘So much the better for my work, unels Isador.” ** But you will be lonesome here alone,” ** Not with my work, books and harp.” And to all urging of both her uncle and mo ther Jule remained deaf, and the two started for Baltimore, leaving the maiden alone in the old homestead, for the past few days Quilp the miser had seldom been seen at his home. As her mother and Isador Naomi disap from sight Jule’s face brightened greatly, and with a triumphant flash of her splendid eyes she said: ‘*Now, Harold Lynde, you shall see what a woman’s work shall do, for if you are not free this night week I shall no longer take pride in the name of Jule, the Jewess.’ CHAPTER XXII AN ARRIVAL AT THE TOMBS. ASSISTANT KEEPER STANLEY Garey, of the city prison, was pacing the stone corridors be- tween the cells, having attended to his morning supervision of the prisoners, when one of the guards came to him and told him that a youth wished to see him. In a small ante-room Stan Grey, as he was familiarly called by those who were his associ- ates, found a handsome lad of about seventeen or eighteen awaiting him. The youth’s face was darkly bronzed, as though from long exposure to wind and wave, bis black hair curled about his temples, and he was dressed in a jaunty suit, while he carried a small cane in his hand. ‘“‘Are you Stanley Grey? asked the youth, stepping forward as the keeper came into the room. *‘T am; who, may I ask; are you, and how can I serve you?” ‘*Do you recognize no resemblance in my face to any you have known in the past?” ““By the Lord Harry! aon are my nephew end namesake, Stanley Grey; right’ welcome are you, my boy, right welcome indeed,” and the keeper, with tears in his eyes, for he had a warm heart, in spite of his stern calling as the guard of criminals, drew the boy to him affec- on while he continued, in disjointed sen- neces: “You look like your father—when he was your age—poor Alf, to find a grave ina far- away Jand—and you have come to cheer your old uncle’s heart? Well, I am glad, so glad of it—when did you come—” ‘“‘The steamer from England arrived this morning, uncle Stan.” : ‘‘ Ah, yes; well, you came that way, did youf” “It is the pleasantest route, and the quickest to coms via England.” _ “Why, so it is; and what a@ great traveler you have been, Stanley; but come into m quarters with me, and we'll have a chat until am off duty and then we’ll go and have a good dinner together. y “This is a disms&. place to welcome a long ab- sent nephew to, but then one gets accustomed to stone walls, fron bars and misery, you know, boy, and I have no other place to invite you.” **T do not mind it, uncle Stan; in fact I will take real pleasure in looking about a old pile; that is if it is allowable,” answered the youth. **Oh, yes, as my nephew you will have the run of the place,” said the keeper, with some pride in his own importarze, and he led the bey to his own quarters, all the time asking innumerable questions. At last the two were seated together, in the corridor facing one of the cells in which a man untiringly paced to and fro, and the keeper looked into the face of his nephew sad nebad curiously: ‘ “Stanley, it seems to me you've got just the gr se: look of a Jew about you. “Do you think so, uncle?” “IT do indeed; your mother I never saw bus once; she was a ‘Miss Phillips I believe.” ** Yes, Nace i mother was a Jewess.” “ Ah, eed! now I never knew that before; but then Phillips is a Jew name.” ‘* Yes, uncle, “Phen you come honestly by the little Jew — | look in your face, my boy; but I won’t - “4 plain of that, and, in fact, it’s not en speak of, and rather adds to your good loo! for, 81 ¥, you are a very han youth.’ “Thank you, uncle,” .
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e C8, t homely keeper stroked hisown face caress- | orders to bring you to his rooms: and, as you ee Pe | were put here ta: await your trial, it looks as if that smart young lawyer, Wifbur, had found h in the commitment to get you ingly. "Uncle, who is that prisoner?’ asked the youth, attentively regarding the man who so | persistently paced his cell “That is a young aristocrat who has run his head into the gallows noose,” was the answer. ‘* Ah! what has he done?” “Tried to kil} one man, and killed another, and one of the best officers in the secret ser- vice.” ‘* What is his name, uncle?” * Harold payne, and his father is‘a million- aire, and will spend hundreds of thousands to save his son’s neck; in fact, I have received a hint that I could make a snug little fortune by letting the young aristocrat go free.” “‘Tt’s tempting, isn’t it, uncle?” said the youth. ‘Yes, to some men, but not to me, Stanley; my duty is here, and my honor at stake, an one hundred thousand dollars would not tempt me; in fact, money cannot buy me, be the Lae what it may,” said the honest man, and his face was an indication that he spoke the truth. “T shouldn’t think any one could escape from this place,” remarked the youth from India, glancing curiously around. “Oh, Xe & man with friends and money can escape from any place but the grave; if Mr. Harold was poor he’d hang, for it looks as though he were guilty, and if so he must go un- der tae gallows rich as he is.” The youth sighed, and, some one ty, Hew uncle aside about some matter, he strolled him- self about the passageways, apparently with boyish curiosity, and soon’ stopped and looked in through the daa door of the cell occupied by Harold Lynde. The young man’s face was haggard and pale, and his lips were firmly set, as though he suf- fered, while his eyes were sunken and inflamed. “Iam sorry for you, sir,” said the youth, kindly, beh in a very low tone. Harold Lynde turned an angry look upon the + sorgpe and seemed about to make some inmapa- C) rey, I wo g © have your I would be glad to h to me and chat with me, if you can break that much through prison discipline,” said Harold Lynde. is no harm in it, sir; but, ‘There certain! nner, I will have to lock you in the when you do so; but come, my time is up, 80 let us go and have dinner together,” end, another keeper coming to relieve Stan- ley Grey, he left the prison with his nephew, ut in the afternoon the youth returned to the Tombs, ‘telling the keeper he preferred to re- tain with him to going about the city seeing the ss and Keeper Grey consequently ar- ranged it so as to have his nephew become a pened personage im the gloomy old pile at covered so much of crime, sorrow and arg from the gazs of the busy world with- ou n CHAPTER XXIII, . AN OLD HEAD ON YOUNG SHOULDERS, ‘* STAN“EY, run up to the court-house, where you went with me yesterday, and ask the judge to please send two officers from there down af- ter the prisoner, as the funeral of -Keeper Burns to-day makes us too short just now for. Me to spare any from here, and Keeper Grey oes at an official-looking paper he held in d. “ epee prisoner, uncle?” asked the inquisitive outh, - “Mr. Lynde; and tell them to come in a car- riage, for he is so well-know that he would be reco: d and have a rabble at his heels; go gu , Stanley, for he must be at the court by our o'clock,” The youth departed on his errand, and the keeper turned to Harold Tyne, who, hearing ‘his name mentioned, asked what was the matter. “Oh, I guess your father’s money is going to get you bailed out after all; but, if you were a poor man, it could never be done.” “What makes you think so, keeper?’ asked the ‘pete quickly, while a flush of hope _ swept over his face. iw judge just sent a ‘messenger here with flaw enoug bailed out, for what else can it mean?” “TI certainly cannot tell you; well, do you go with me now?” “T don’t go with you at all, as I cannot leave | here, and being short to-day, on account of the | funeral of one of our men, I have sent for the court officers to take you there, so you’d better get ready,” and the keeper seemed in ill-numor at the prospect that money was going to save the man who killed his friend, Detective Dade, from hanging. Tn less than half an hour the youth returned, and he was accompanied by two court officers, one of whom was known to Keeper Grey. Securely handcuffed, Harold Lynde was led out of his cell to the carriage in waiting, which rapidly roiled off up toward the City Hall. issing his nephew after awhile Keeper Grey upon being relieved of duty, went in search of him, and not finding him about the prison, con- cluded he had gone on to the court-room with the prisoner, 80 he wended his way in that di- rection. But searching there was fruitless, as far as finding the yout was concerned, though to the dismay of the keeper, be learned a fact that alarmed him, for in full haste he returned to the Tombs, ‘“‘Has the prisoner been brought back?” was his breathless question. ‘What prisoner, Grey?” inquired the officer on duty. “Harold Lynde.” “*Didn’t know he was out,” «Yes, @ letter came hera from the judge while you had all gone to the funeral, telling me to send Mr. Lynde up to the court-house, and I thought his lawyers were going, to get him bailed out, so sent him under the charge of two officers.” “Well, what are you anxious about, for he is up there.” “God only knows; the men at the court- house say he did not come there,” ‘* Perhaps he went to the house of the judge,” Bia eg the other keeper. _ Yes, that is it,” said Keeper Grey, with a sigh of relief, hen he quickly asked: “Have you seen my nephew?” ‘No, but he’s around, I guess,” ‘He went off with the prisoner, I think, for he seemed deeply interested in Lynde the three days he has been here with me.” * He’s a handsome boy, Grey; don’t look a bit like his uncle,” and there was a merry twinkle in the speaker’s eye. “Why, he’s very much like me, Ben,” said Keeper Grey, earnestly, and he added: “* He’s a fine boy, Ben, a fine boy, and I would trust him under any circumstances; what is it, Carter?’ and Keeper Grey turned to a prison official who just then entered, a letter in his and, : A letter for you, sir, and a trunk came with “‘ Ah yes, my nephew’s; how much is the ex- pressage, Carter?” “He simply left it at the door for you, and went off; the man brought it on his shoulders: but what is it, sir?” And well he might ask, for Keeper Grey had oe the letter and reeled back against the stone' wall, his face livid. “‘Boys, there has been Satan to pay here, and I'm the victim; read this letter, Ben, for I can’t do it,” and he sunk into a chair, while Ben ene took the letter and read aloud as fol- OWS: “Kemper STanuey Grey: “ Dear Sim: “You are too noble and honest a man to hava been made a tool of, but the life of Harold Lynde was not to be sacrificed if aught could save him, and you have been victimized, and Iregret it deeply, but I would far more regret the death of the pris- oner, for whom there was no hope, did he wait to stand his trial.” The reader paused, and the three men looked £ each other with surprise. “First, to relieve you of all suspicion of wrong in the eyes of those who will be only too ready to charge you with complicity, I will say that it came to knowledge, from the pe of one who knew our brother and his son well in India, that / resem- led greatly your nephew, and a bold plan entered my head to impersonate him, knowing that, his fa- ther hae doa you had written to him to come to Alas! IT grieve to tell you that the one who gave JULE. THE JEWESS. me the information saw your nephew die of fever seven months ago in an Kast-Indian bungalow—” “God have mercy upon me!” groaned the poor keeper, and Ben Curry continued: “Ere your nephew died he gave into the hands of my informant all his papers, and his effects, with five thousand dollars in gold. ‘The trunk I send herewith, and in it you will find all as your nephew left it, the money being there also, and to you, his uncle, for’whom he was named, young Stanley Grey left everything.” . “That’s @ windfall for you at any rate, Grey,” said the reader of the letter. “‘Curse the gold! I would give it all to have Harold Lyndenow in that cell; but read on, Ben, read on!” Resuming, Ben Curry read: “Knowing, asI did, that there was an accidental resemblance between myself and your nephew, and being in possession of all the facts, with his trunk papers, clothing and gold, and aware that you had not seen him since he was an infant, I boldly as- sumed his name and character, and plotted success- fully the escape of Mr. Lynde. ry ‘ough a clerk at the court-house, who was well bribed, I got a letter written as from the judge, and gold ae t another official fe ag J his part in going to the Tombs, in company , for the gp rn “Once out of the prison walls, and the bribed court officer and clerk drove the prisoner to a —- of safety for him and themselves, and pursuit will be useless, as their escape is too well planned. “As for myself, when you eatch me, lam willing to undergo my punishment, but it is ‘catching be- fore hanging,’ you know, ‘* With sorrow for the loss of the noble nephew whom you hoped to have live to cheer your later years, and sincere regret at having had to make you the victim, I am, very sincerely, yours to command, but not Your nephew, “STantey Grey.” ‘i Well, that beats all I ever heard,” said Car- ri “That youth is too sharp for us, that’s\a fact,” remarked Ben Curry. “It isa bitter blow for me, my friends; but Pll face it, come what may; now to spread the alarm of Harold Lynde’s escape, and we'll see if ho is beyond recapture, as this daring boy asserts, \ ‘*By Heaven! I was once calied the best de- tective on the force, ten years ago, and [ll go back t> the old work and ferret out the hiding- place of Haroid Lynde, if it takes a lifetime, and he’ll know who that boy is, and let me get my gripe on him once, is all I ask. ‘Sound the alarm, Ben,” and the next morn- ing the papers were full of the clever escape of Harold Lynde through the daring of a boy who- had played his cards with a master hand, and jo entire detective force were busy working up. e Case, th another hire- CHAPTER XXIV, A SURPRISE. ** WELL, Jule, in spite of all my plotting and planning to aid Harold Lynde to escape, I fail- ed, and some one else has done so,” and Victor Moloch entered the home of the Jewess early on the morning after the escape, all of the morning papers in his hand, ‘Yes, I was startled an hour ago by loud curses, and found that it was Miser Quilp, who had just learned the news, Victor, and he seemed half crazy about it, and swears he will offer twenty-five thousand dollars reward for Mr. Lynde’s recupture.” ** Did you read the account?” “Yes, the miser left me his paper when he Beste of frantically to the Police Depart- ment, ‘‘ Well, whoever that boy is he is a clever one, and a daring one; only it reads like a romance the way accident aided hini, and then his bold plot and s1ecessful carrying of it out after he got into prison.” *€ Do ? be think they will capture Mr. Lynde, Victor?’ asked the girl, anxiously. “T fear so, Sheva: certainly hopenot; but the city is being searched in every crevice and cor- ner, for all the detectives seem confident that he has not gotten out of town, and the hich re- wards offered, for keeper Grey also offers his - five thousand left him by his nephew, wil! do much toward finding his whereabouts; but, Jule, where is your mother?” “In Baltimore.” Did you return alone?” **Oh, no; the truth is, Victor, when I wrote you not to come up, as we were going to Balti- more, I did not go.” “Why Jule! and you remained here all alone?” ; ‘* What time [ was here, I did.” _ i nt you answer in enigmas, — Bhs — istrait ; does anything worry you? ign tor Moloch, kindly. eae Same
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“Yes, and Iam going to make you my eon- JULE, THE JEWESS. accident put such a chance im my way?’ she fidant, Victor; you remember mother often has | said, without looking up. spoken of her brother Isador?”’ ae Yes.” ** Well, he has returned.” “From the grave?’ asked the young man, in amazement. **Oh no, for he was not lost at sea as was sup- posed: but he has’ been in foreign lands, and came home to die, he says, as he has had several attacks of heart disease.” ** Poor man, and where is he now?” ‘In Baltimore with mother: they went there tosee about some property which uncle Isador reminded mother that father once owned.” “fT am surprised that your mother left you here alone, Jule; it was not right.” “Oh! I told her [ wanted to work, and that if I felt lonesome [ would send for Zitelle Cohen, while you would come up every day to see how I was getting along.” “* How should I come, believing you to be in Baltimore, Jule?” ; “I did not tell her that I had led you to be- lieve in my letter that I was going; that was a part of my plot, Victor.” “Your plot? Why, Jule, you are as mys terious this morning as a puzzle.” Then I will tell you all; you remember you were to come up and see what plot 1 had con- cocted to rescue Mr. Lynde?” “Yes,” ‘My letter was to prevent your coming, for knew you would not let me remain here alone, and also that you would refuse to aid me im the plot I had formed.” “T am listening anxiously, Jule, and also, I may rn with some impatience; why do you pause “Tam thinking where to begin to tell you.” “ Begin at the beginning.” ‘* Well, my uncle met mother and, strange to ry recognized her, and he came home with er “He looked like a beggar, in dress, and plead- ing poverty, we gave him a welcome, as was our duty, and then he tells us he is rich, and makes me the heiress to his wealth.” “TI congratulate you, Jule, from my inmost heart, upon your good fortune, for, as you have never allowed me to give you such a home as your mother and yourself deserved, you can now live as you should,” “You have been too kind, Victor, and both mother and myself have known that father died owing you money, and more, we believe the in- come you pay us, and which you have said is from an investment father got you to make for him, is not true.” ** Jule!” and the face of the young man be- came crimson. “We have lately come to that conclusion, Victor,” she said, y: **Do you think I would deceive you, Jule?” he said, reproachfully. ‘* Yes, where you were keeping us from want; truthful, Victor, but your heart would " ou to tell a falsehood any time to aida friend.” ‘* Jule! Jule!” “ Well, I will not talk of that now, but go on with my story; my uncle told me a secret, and, if I divulge it to you, I must have your word not to betray him.” Certainly not, Jule; command and I obey.” “You are ever noble, Victor; but how can I ' tell you all?” she said, in a worried way, “Trust mé, fully, Jule.” “The secret my uncle told me was abouta youth he knew in India, and who died there, and that be had brought his trunk and money on to give to his kindred here. ‘*I was deeply interested in the story of the poor dead boy, and begged my uncle to let me give his effects to bis people, and he turned them over to me to do so, “As my yncle said I was strangely like the youth, I concluded, as his kinsman was in the 0 to ” yy of Israel! Jule, you rescued Harold Lynde! Tou are the supposed boy |” a he maiden made tg re ly, = pe" gue ro upon her hands, and she shut out. her face secant his gaze; but Victor Moloch knew then who the daring youth was that had so cleverly played the part of the dead Hast Indian 0 ta he regarded herin silence, bis face, weaning a troubled look; then he said, quietly, “J ou have proven yourself to possess indomitable rita 9 and nerve, and you plot- ( ll; but you t arp nned, and executed we y' “I know it. Vietor: but what could I do, when **Does your uncle suspect this?” “c Oh, po!” , ** You may get him into trouble.” ‘*No, for he came here just after the deaw of the boy; no one but several native Hindoos knew that the boy died, or that my uncle had his effects, and no letters were sent.” ‘He will see it in the papers, and know that you alone could have played the part.” “T wiil see him, and confess all, as soon as he returns; but, he does not read the papers, neither does mother, and I do not wish her to know anything about it.” ‘Under these circumstances the secret can be kept; but, where did you get the disguise?” “From the trunk; it was% suit of the dead boy.” of And how did you hide your glorious hair?” “ See !? She took off the head-dress she wore, as she —— and there sprung to the lips of Victor oloch something strangely like a Christian oath, while he cried: “* Cut it off! all gone” “Yes; is not short hair becoming to me?” ‘Jule! Jule! you have done this for Harold Lynde, and yet say you do not love him!” ‘* No, he was kind to poor father, Victor, and, —but never mind, I'll say no more,” she said, with a blush, for she had nearly confessed that her disguise, given to Harold Lynde, had gotten him captured at the ferry. “Jule, does Lynde know who you really were?” oc Yes.” “‘ And where is he now!” She answered, in a whispers “* In this house.” CHAPTER XXV. AN UNWELCOME VISITOR, Inthishouse! Harold Lynde in this house?" and Victor Moloch stood gazing at Jule in utter amazement. ‘Victor, I beg of you not to speak so loud, for if one word was heard you would not only undo all I have done, but get me into trouble as well,” said the maiden, earnestly. “True, Jule, I am wrong; but then I. was thoroughly amazed; but in the name of Abra- ham! why brought you that man here?” ‘* Victor, I had but little time to decide what was best, and I knew of no safer place for them to hide until we could get them out of the ity. * Them!” . Yes, the court officer and clerk whom I ribed. ‘*Ah! that reminds me; where did you get the money, Jule?” “Uncle Isador left a large sum with me, and T used that, knowing you would replace it, and that Mr. Andrew Lynde would pay you back.” *“T do not ask it of bim, Jule; but I will send you up the money by messenger to-day; how much is it?” ‘“*T spent but twenty dollars over the bribes.” ** And what. were they?” ‘““Two thousand each to the officer and the clerk, with promise of expenses to another country.” “They sold themselves cheap,” said the He- brew, with a sneer. “‘T saw that they could be bought and made the purchase.” * And they know you as you are?” “No, my two purchases think yet I was a boy. pe And you brought them here last night, e? “Yes; the carriage took them to the river where they took a boat to the other shore; bu they came up along the bank after dark, and I met them at the landing and took them up- stairs to the b gabe 4 “They had better be careful, for the slightest sound will awaken the miser’s suspicions,” “T was careful; there are boards up there across the timbers, and I took up quilts and put on them, to drown all sound.” ry Well, 3s must not remain there long.” Two of them say they will leave to-night, a8 soon as I can secure disguises for them.” I will get them for you and send them up; ean one of them be made to look like a wo- man?” rs Yes, the clerk has a beardless face.” Well, I will send an old woman’s attire for him, and a countryman’s suit for the other, and they can easily escape out of the country, if they have any tact; also, I will send you @ thousand dollars each for their expenses.’ ‘“You are very kind, Victor.” é Am ry oe } | ) ; _ ae ee 17 ** Not at all, for as bi said, the millionaire repay me; now what about Mr. Lynde?” “He thought it best to remain in biding un- til the public felt confident that he had certainly esca from the city.” “Tf discovered, by any unfortunate accident, you will be compromised, Jule,” “No, I think not; it will be looked upon as 2 splendid piece of strategy on his part, coming to the very home of his enemy to bide: the windows in the old cupola on the roof are open, and banging all the time, and the three went up by way of the balconies and got in, so that no one else than Mr. Lynde will be believed to be implicated in his coming here, if he should be discovered, which I doubt.” ‘* Well, I must concert some plan to get him out of the city at once.” ‘My idea is that if Mr. Lynde shaves off nis mustache, cuts his hair close to his head, and uts on a common sailor’s cap and suit, he can boldly walk down Broadway to the wharf and ship on board of some vessel leaving for a foreign port.” ‘Jule, you are a treasure; it is the very plan, for its very boldness would cast off icion; to-night we will get the other two off, and I wi ascertain when a vessel leaves, which it would be well for him to take; but when do you ex~ pect your mother and uncle back?” * At any time they may arrive.” “Then you must be most cautious; now I will leave you, Jule, but I will be back toward evening, and we will get the officer and the clerk off,” and Victor arose to go, when Jule said in a low tone: * Victor, I have a favor to ask CP bing geen “Tt is granted beforehand, Jule,” he said, with a smile. ‘*Thank you, Victor; but you have heard that in the past my uncle Isador loved one who was false—that is who married another?” “Yes; but he forgave her and presented her with a most costly wedding-gift. “True, but he still feels sore at heart toward her, and her son, and I beg of you never to speak of Adolph Hugo before him.” The young Hebrew’s face became clouded, and rising, he paced the room several times be- fore he answered; then he said in a calm tcne: “Tt shall be as ae wish, Jule; if he does not know aught of Adolph Hugo, there is no reason why he should do so from my lips,” “Thank you, Victor; but hark!” A step was heard without; a soft, cat-like tread, and stepping quickly to the door Victor threw it open. It was Ezra Quilp, the miser, who stood with- out. CHAPTER XXXVI. ON THE VERGE. At sight of Quilp every particle of color left the face of Jule, the Jewess, and Victor Moloch turned pale, while he gave a quick glance at the maiden, and caught her eye. There he saw the thoughts that had flashed through his mind. - ¥ nan Ezra Quilp been long without the oor “Had he heard what had passed between them?” ‘Tf so, what was to be done?” Seeing that Jule was not alone, the miser seemed ill at ease, and this, to the quick eye of the young Hebrew was a good omen for them, for his manner gave evidence of his not having known that Victor was there, and his words a ae it out, for, bowing obsequiously, he said: “ Pardon me, Miss Jule, but I did not know you were —— ‘*This is Mr. Victor Moloch, Mr. friend of my mother and myself,” said Jule, coldly. “1 think Mr. Quilp will remeniber me, as I rented these rooms from him for your mother and yourself, Jule,” responded Victor, in no very pleasant tone. - “Tndeed you did, sir, indeed you did, and id for them the price I asked too.” . “Did you expect me to do otherwise, sir?” **Oh, no, no, but then Jews, * bigs know, never pay the price you ask them for anything, for they jew you down, as the saying is, and they always ask a Mig Fee for what they sell, ex- pecting to be j down, know. I know no such thing, Mi ppere. Quile, and I must say your dealings have been with a very strange class of my countrymen to give you the opinion you have of them; is there anything [ can do for you now, uilp, the Q att ” a “Oh, Lo my dear Mr. Shylock— I beg a Dean Mir Mr.—what kind ofa lock rdon, I mean Bir’ a
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18 **My name {s Moloch, sir; Victor Moloch.” ‘* Ah, indeed! I have heard that name down in Wall street, as a very rich broker, sir; any relative of yours?” ‘Tam Victor Moloch, sir, and my office is in ‘Wall street, and I am a broker.’ ‘No, no, now; well, sir, you hayw a sweet sis- ter here indeed, and your mother is a most es- timable lady.” Jule saw that Victor was losing his patience, and shesaid quickly: — “Mr, Quilp, as [ told man is not my brother; husband. han before, this gentle- ut he is my intended “Ah! well, I declare; you will be Replogle: i looking couple, if you are Jews; but, Miss Jule, Icalled in to ask you for the paper I let you have early this morning, as it would cost’ me four cents to get another, and I wish to read that account of the escape of Mr. Lynde once more; you heard, doubtless, Mr. Moloch, of that ‘daring affair?” “Yes, as you doubtless heard, sir, Miss Naomi and myself were discussing it before you came in.” **Tord dear, no, sir, how should I hear it?” “T am sure [ cannot tell, unless you listened,” was the abrupt reply, and Victor turned on his heel impatiently as Jule handed the miser the aper. 3 ‘You could not give mea clew, could you, sir, as to which way Mr. Lynde has gone?” asked Quilp. ‘*T am not on the detective force, Mr. Quilp,” **Well, I am determined to have him, forI have offered twenty-five thousand dollars for his recapture, and there will be as much more in rewards given,” “You must be most desirous of capturing im, sir. “Tam indeed, sir; I have a debt to pay him, and one of long standing with his father, which I wish settled; in fact his sister I also wish to make a payment to, and it shall be all paid in the same coin, and one they won't like either,” and a fiendish look came over the face of the man that made Jule shiver, and seeing that he had, perhaps, let his feelings be too plainly seen, he said, quickly: foe ‘Your mother deve, miss?” ‘*My father is dead, Mr. Quiip.” ; Indeed! then the gentleman with your mo- sher is—” i ; nd brother, and my uncle,” said Jule, soldly, . “‘Ah; by the way, miss, I meant to ask you if the rats in the garret disturb you much?” Jule felt her face grow white again, and see- : mg it, Victor, with a good deal of presence of m d vas Bay a laugh: “Now, r. Quilp, if you wish to lose Miss ‘Naomi as a tenant, don’t speak of rats, for there are so many rumorsthat your old rookery ts haunted, that you will drive her away at once; see how pale she is at the thought of hosts,” ir, but rats; rats cer- z . “TI did not say ghosts, tainly are not dangerous.’ “Indeed they are, Mr. Quilp,” broke in Jule; “T hate rats, but do you not think it may be ghosts that make the noise, and not rats?” ‘*No, no, for these rumors are idle gossip, to prevent my renting my house; but last night it seemed to me the garret was full of rats, and I wished to say if you found them annoy you, I. would send a man up there to-day, and have everything cleared out, for the garret is full of gies gd ‘No, no, not on my account,” cried Jule, while Victor remarked: _ “It might be a zood idea, Jule; suppose we make an advance on the garret now, with Mr. Q {Ip to lead us.” ; Jule looked at Victor Moloch in horror at such a suggestion; but she saw, by his cool, easy manner, that be acted for some good rea- “tates te aos ha a look at the old t, its ‘Yes, let us have a at the old garret, rats and its rubbish, Mr. Quilp.” But the miser seemed in no humor to lead the ' advance, and replied eager ly: ‘*No, no, not if the rats vA not trouble you; ‘but if they do tell me, miss, and I’ll have the garret cleared out if it costs me half a dol Yon" are too generous, Mr. Quilp,” sad mip but unnoticing the irony in her words, he “T would not be otherwise toward you, Miss le; really I must go, for I wish bo ps ‘this article about the escape over again, and see if I cannot gather some clew; Lardy me! but you ave cub your balk off, miss.” “Yes, don you think it becoming?” asked and father are away, I be- | JULE. THE. JEWESS. | Jule, now wholly on her guard; though not | knowing whether it was accident or design on his part to torture her so, or her guilty con- | science, | Yes, but it makes you look a little boyish.” |. “So L- told her, Mr. Quilp; you see some | ladies who have very long and thick hair, such as Jule’s, suffer with headache, and it is best. to | have it cut off; P have not had any trouble ' with your head since you cut off your hair, | have you, Jule?” | miser said ina tone meant to show his great | knowledge of the sex: | “Itis heartaches, my dear young lady, that | do the most harm to womankind,” | You seem to have dissected a woman’s heart | pretty thoroughly, Mr. Quilp,” answered Jule,in a voice in which the miser was certain he detect- | ed sarcasm, and, dreading above all things the | idea of bein ridiculed, though he constantly made himself a subject for it, he responded ails: “ Well, well, I nist take my paper and run ff— Ha!” All three started, for there came from above their heads a distinct sound, that appeared too real to be caused by any creaking of the house, or scampering of rats, “Your ghosts are at it again, Mr. Quilp,” quickly said Victor Moloch. ‘Rats, sir, I said rats; but they are most in- fernal large rats, and T shall send a man up there to-day if it costs me sixty cents.” “Better go yourself; Mr. Quilp,” suggested the Hebrew. T’ll send a man to clear out the rub- “It would be a good idea; but before you go, sir, perhaps you can tell me where I could nego- tiate certain stocks fT have for cash? I will pay liberally for it.” ~ The word pay caught the miser’s ear, and he forgot about the rats, and said eagerly: } “Yes, yes, if they are secure, I can arrange it for you, Mr. Moloch.” “They are all right, sir; so you had better go th | down to my office with me; we will take a car- riage at the nearest livery stable.” **T will go, sir; just wait until I get some money from my safe,” and the miser hastily left the room. ; “‘T will keep him busy making money until night, Jule, and then all must go; but P be shall hear from me soon,” Victor had just time to whisper, when back came the miser, and the two men left the house together, and Jule was in a tremor of dread, for she feared the miser really knew her secret, or suspected her. CHAPTER XXVII, . DISCARDED. | Or the business transactions that Victor Mo- loch interested Ezra Quilp in so thoroughly as to keep him down-town, and almost hap yn for he was sg a ‘‘corner ” in a number of little schemes, I will not speak, but simply state that the young Hebrew found time to write a note to Jule, inclosing her the money he promised, and to send it by special messenger, along with | the disguises for Harold Lynde and his two as- sociates. These latter he purchased from a shop where dramatic costumes were kept, and he was care- ful to get the very best, In his note he urged Jule to get the clerk and the officer off at the earliest moment, and, if her mother had not returned from Baltimore, ‘to have Harold Lynde leave the garret, and in some way conceal him in her own apartments, | Knowing the young aristocrat as he did, and already dreading that Jule knew him better | than she was willing to admit, Victor Moloch | disliked to advise her to take this lust step; but | after her clever rescue of him from prison, and all the risk that had been run, he would not hesitate upon a quibble, while also he had per- ect confidence in the maiden, | The messenger found Jule, the Jewess, ner- | vously pacing the floor, and delivered to her the securely fastened bundle a? disguises, and the | letter containing the money, With perfect, composure she received them, wrote a hasty note to Victor, and, when the messenger had departed, set to work. First, she returned the money she had taken from her uncle’s trust to her, and then, after glancing out of the windows front and rear, went into the hall and ascended the rickety ladder that led to the trap opening into the gar- ret. : ‘Unable to raise it with her strength, she rapped several times; but no answer came. ‘Can they have heard old Quilp’s suspicious i “No, Victor,” was the quiet reply, while the | -act bad gotten conversation, and fled?’ she asked herself, and again she rapped, and louder than before, But no answer came, though her quick ear de- tected a peculiar sound. It was the tick, tick of a watch, and she knew that Harold Lynde must be lying down on the trap, not daring to reply, until assured who it was that wished to gain entrance. ‘“‘Mr. Lynde, it is Jule, the Jewess; come quickly,” she said, as loud as she dared, and ak most instantly the trap was opened and the ee stern face of the young millionaire looked Own upon her. “Come! you and your comrades, and you have no time to lose,” she said, earnestly, and at the-same time descending the ladder, Without hesitation they followed her, closing the trap behind them, and the next moment they stood in her room, the aristocrat pale, but calm, and with a reckless light in his eyes; the clerk trembling, livid, and almost unnerved, pags the officer looked like a hunted stag at RY. a Oh! if I were out of this in safety, I would not do it again,” groaned the young clerk, “You are like the drunkard, you swear off. Johnny, when there is no liquor to be had; bu anothér thousand offered in a like case, would tempt you,” muttered the officer. “But [ am in a worse box than you, Dick Hastings, for 1 forged the name of the judge to the order,” whined the clerk. ** And got paid for it” ‘* Perhaps I’d get: more to—” “ What 19 It was Harold Lynde that uttered the word, and, while one band gras the throat of the oung man, the other held a knife over his eart. “I didn’t mean to, indeed I didn’t, so don’ please,” cried the startled clerk, for the han that held him he knew had already taken hu- man life, and the eyes of the escaped prisoner glared into his own with a menacing: look that boded no good for him, ‘ “You'd do right to knife him, Mr. Lynde, for the thought was in him to turn State’s evidence and give us both up, and enjoy the reward; but, my boy Johnny, you'll not play that game on me,” and the officer also turned upon him. Seeing, as she came from another room, what was going on, Jule came to the rescue of the frightened youth, saying, quickly: **Oh, do not harm him, for he will not be so flespicable as to carry out his half-formed threats; here, sir, isa female costume for you; it is that of an old lady, bonnet, spectacles, and all, and Ican paint your face a little, so as to wholly disguise you, so go into that room and dress, please. “Give me my rig, miss} and I'll 34 with the kid; I don’t like to have him out of my sight, I loves him so,” said the officer. ‘* Your dress is that of an old man, and here’ is a razor to shave off your mustache, and these — gray false side-whiskers will fully disguise you.” “You are right, miss; Pil think Iam my own anddad, when I look in the glass;»come, obnny, dear,” and with a reckless laugh the _ officer departed for the next room, accompanied. by the clerk. “And what are you going to do with fair Jule?” asked Harold Lynde, softly. Instantly she turned upon him, and said ina tone that was decided: “Mr. Lynde, when at school I was called Jule, the Jewess, by my associates, to distin- guish me from another of the same name; to you, sir, Tam Miss Naomi.” bok The face of Harold Lynde flushed at the re- buke, and he said, humbly; . pie I thought our inti- mate relations sufficient excuse for my crossing me, ‘*Pardon me, lady; but the barrier of cold reserve.” , ‘* Again you anger me, sir, for between us there are no intimate relations; in the past you were kind to my father, and tomy mother and myself; what your motives were rests with your own conscience, ‘ ** Accident brought me in contact with you, ‘and I prevented your band taking life, and, to repay those ae kindnesses, I sought to save you when I knew the miser intended to have you arrested. ’ : “The very disguise I gave you entrapped you, it seems, and again I sought to get you out of the danger, into which unwittingly my own you, and I stepped out from the pale of womanhood and fr ‘ou from prison, ‘* Now, Lam going to ranean you here until night when you can goin i) sails to-morrow, I learn, for Rio. -“*Once you leave this roof our paths divide through life, and I am glad that it is so.” _ disguise Lhave f tei et ip el ve for you, and ship on aves- — 1 that
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|e a ‘and the rept a sh punished man turned 8 —— bs. He heard her through without one word, and it was evident that her honest words touched him; buta man of bere fascinations, a favorite among women, and with an inordinate store of self-conceit, he could not believe the Jewess was acting from a motive only to return a kindness he had shown her and hers in the past. From his first seeing her he had been deeply interested in her, and had she been rich, he would have endeavored to win her love; but poor, unprotected, and yet ravishingly beauti- ful in face and form, he sought to win her as a . toy to cast off at will, and this alone prompted — ‘ane act of apparent kindness to her dying ther, Believing, from the standpoint of his selfish nature, and inordinate vanity, that she really loved him, when she risked so much, and did so a for his behalf, he was emboldened to say er: : “Fair Jewess, what I did in the past was done from love of you; what you have done for me, » Si say, is wholly gratitude.” *" You have named the motive, Mr. Lynde; gratitude to you prompts my action, and the remembrance of your sweet sister also encour- aged me, for we were schoolmates.” You a schoolmate of Isabel's?” he asked, in rise, ‘* Yes, we were at school in Boston together, and she ever had a smile and kind word for Jule the Jewess, where others had a sneer, because was not a Christian,” she said, with a con- temptuous curl of her red lip. ** And you, the friend of my sister, the one I love, for I must say so, bid me go from you for- ever?’ he said, earnestly. “IT bid you go your way, and I will go mine.’ ‘*I will seek a homeina foreign land, where I will not be as a hunted beast; I will build there, for I have money, sweet Jule, a bower of love,.a cosey nest, into which to welcome the dove of my heart. ** You have saved me from myself, and more than ever I idolize you, and I bid you come to me there, when you learn from me that I have escaped the bloodhounds on my trail.” He spoke impassionedly, and his handsome face lighted - with fervor, for, as much as his nature and selfish heart was capable of loving, he loved Jule, the Jewess, and all she had done for hini did really awaken gratitude and kind- ness toward her in his bosom. But her words sent a chill upon his heart, as she said firmly: ‘*Mr, Leis. ou have no right to speak thus to me, and I will not listen to you.” ou do love me; your look, your actions 57 i it,” he persisted he drew herself wp to her full bight and faced him, and bitterly, scathing! fell the an- swer from her full, red lips, and in tones he 6° misunderstand, be his vanity what it Lt ou, Harold Lynde? I am pledged to be the bride of another, of one of my own race, for Lam no traitor Jewess, and, were it not SO, could I love one whose hand I withheld from assassination, one who is now a fugitive from the gallows for a cowardly murder committed?” A wail, rather than a cry, broke from his lips, and buried his face in his hands, for the arrow had found its mark, had cut deep into even his selfish, stony heart, and he had been made to feel all that he was in the eyes of a pure wo- " man, She saw his anguish, she felt that she had been intensely bitter and severe, and she turned to him with pity in look and voice, and said quickly; ‘Forgive me!” Ere he could reply, he heard a startled cry from her lips, and turning quickly beheld that they were not alone. a CHAPTER XXVIII. THE PARTING, Tre exclamation from the lips of Jule, the Jewess, and the start given by Harold Lynde, Was at suddenly finding themselves not alone but on the contrary two persons had entered | the room unheard, _ Those two were an old man, whose years had nt his form, and’who carried in his hand a ca oan va Be Shee nt bowed by years, eC ete was their disguise, so thorough] did they look the old couple the: pretended & be, that no wonder was it that both Jule and Harold Lynde, who for the moment had for- Rotten their existence, believed they were sur- rised, and failed pe nrg at the first glance the clerk and the officer, the hunted co i of x “a mpanions me ue young a * yak Heaven! you gave me a start, Hastings, te ‘of you, for you have taken th away JULE, THE JEWESS. I assure you,” said Harold Lynde, recovering his former composure, “Tm glad we did, Mr. Lynde, for, if we can fool our pals, then our disguise is perfect, and I guess Johnny and myself will get along all right; you see, miss, 1 believe Johnny here, my old woman, will think better of reaching against us, and as we hasn’t many kinfolk to tie to, or weep for us, and no wives to leave be- | hind, we can find a home in another country; but it’s Mr. Lynde I pities, as he has to go | alone, and then he has thet on his conscience | which we hasn’t.” An impatient imprecation from’ Harold | Lynde checked the speech of the officer, and Jule, seeing that the man was also cutting deep into an already wounded heart, said, hastily: ‘* Well, I do not wish to detain you, now that you.are so well prepared to go; so here are a thousand dollars apiece for you, for expenses in seeking a new home,” The eyes of both brightened, for gold was an idol with them, as it is with most ay mankind, ‘©We thanks you, miss,” “Yes, I feel better now about going,” put in Johnny Cameron, the clerk, as an echo to the officer’s speech, ‘* Pardon me, Miss Naomi, but permit me to pay this,” said Harold Lynde, * No, it is all attended to, sir, without trou- bling you.” “You are very kind, Miss Naomi, but as I am very flush, my father having sent me a handsome sum to buy my way out of prison, I’ll add a like sum to the fee given these gentlemen for their professional services,” and the young aristocrat took a roll of bills from his pocket, and, in a sudden freak of generosity, banded his two aiders and abettors in his escape two thousand dollars each. “You are more than generous, Mr. Lynde, and I guess the old lady here and myself are fixed for life,” said the officer. ‘‘Then come, and [ will see you to the door,” said Jule, who was quite nervous from dread of the miser’s return. ‘*Good-by, Mr, Lynde; luck to you, sir,” said the officer, Dick Hastings. ' “T wish you good fortune, too, Mr, Lynde,” added the clerk, Cameron. “*Good-by, and let me add, mend your ways, for if you bad not both been precious rascals, you would never have taken a bribe; one ste down-hill leads to the wee so look out bo t step. “ Now, with this little unasked oneiciti from me, I advise you to clear out,” and the haughty young millionaire fugitive from justice turned coolly on his heel, while Jule led the two out and saw them to the lower door. : Returning to the room she had left, she watched them from the window until she saw them disappear in the distance, and then she gave a sigh of relief. 7 ‘‘T would that sigh were for me, Miss Naomi,” said Harold Lynde behind her. ‘*Tt shall be, sir, when I see you depart from this roof in safety.” “Ab! it will be a sigh of relief, then?” 4° Yes,” \ ' ‘ “ And should I not depart in safety; should I go from here in irons back to that dismal, fear- ful etn would you sigh, too?” : a would deeply regret it, sir,” she said, coldly. ‘Ah me! I know how you regard me, and I dare not say more; but, would to God I had been different, tha} I had met you ere false pride warped my nature, and I became a sin- encompassed man, and then—and then—we might haye been more to each other than we are; you might have looked upon me with kind- ness “‘ Never!” ; *Do not say that; let me at least hug to my heart the sweet assurance that it might have been, sweet Jule,” he entreated. : “7 Say never, Mr. Lynde, for between us there rises an impassable barrier for you and me. ‘*No, no, if you refer to your engagement, for men and women often are bound nowadays when no heart-love is felt.” - j “Mr. Lynde, you are a Christian, I ama Jewess; your people are often traitors to your religion, but seldom is it that one of my race ” “There are exceptions to all rules, Miss Naomi.” : “‘T would not make the exception, unless—” “You pause.” **T care not to say more.” 2a) “Pray do.” ; “Tt would not interest wow.” hy i « Were ‘5 td Te Mee ak ah 19 “‘Indeed it would, if you will say what you intended.” ‘¢ It had better remain unsaid,” . “Let me be the judge.” “So be it; I would bave said that I could never bea traitress to my creed and my people, unless I loved a man more than I did my kin- dred and Israel’s God.” He drew nearer to her and bent his impas- sioned, fascinating gaze upon her, and said in pleading tones: “Will you not say that you doso love me, | sweet Jule?” || hands in human “Mr. Lynde, I must respect the man I love, and, knowing you as you are, I cannot even respect you.” Alas! too true, too true!” and with gritted teeth he walked away from her, and for a long time no word was spoken. Then she broke the silence: “Mr. Lynde, twilight is gathering now, and there is your costume; will you permit me to cut your hair?” He had long, silken brown hair, and it was his pride, and his vanity asserted itself in an impatient: ; “Would you, like Sampson’s wife, deprive me of my hair?’ ‘“*As you pledse, sir; the risk of recognition is much less.” “True; it had almost slipped my mind in Vara presenoe that I was an escaped prisoner,” © said, bitterly, and then he added: ‘I come like a lamb to the sacrifice, Miss Naomi.” ‘‘ Would to Abraham that you had the lamb’s innocence,” she retorted, quickly. Getting a pair of scissors, she soon had his hair cut short, and then, taking a razor she handed to him, he soon cut off his long mus- tache. * Why, I would not know myself even, for ‘my bair was never worn short, and I have hud a mustache since I was seventeen,” he said, with evident surprise at his changed appear- ance, “The seaman’s suit and cap will change your appearance still more; yonw will find them in the adjoining room,” said Jule, the Jewess, He silently left her, and in a short time re- turned, a bona fide sailor in appearance. “JT assure you, Mr. Lynde, Keeper Grey would not know you now if he met you face to face; but it is dark now, so I must beg that you hasten away, for lexpect the miser back at any moment.” ** Curse him}! if I met him now, it would: not ” “Hold! would you still deeper dye your ife, and blacken your con- science with crime, wicked man?” she cried, in an angry tone. “T was wrong, as I ever am; forgive me, and forget me; farewell!” he held forth his hand, and she hesitated, when he drew it back and offered his left one, saying pleadingly: . ‘This one you will take?’ “Yes; good-by, Mr. Lynde, and may come a changed man is the prayer I will offer to the God of Israel.” _ “T thank you; I dare not tell you how much; farewell.” His voice trembled, and he turned away, and the door closed upon him. ; ’ The next moment Jule, the Jewess, beheld ‘him hastening away down the weed-grown path, and disappearing in the gathering gloom. Then she sunk down upon her knees, and, | with her face buried in her hands, burst into tears, while she murmured: : **] have done my duty; the debt is repaid, and now his life is in his own hands.” €HAPTER XXTR ‘GLAD TIDINGS. It' was the second day after the escape of Harold Lynde, and the papers had been full of the clever ruse of the unknown youth, that had so daringly taken a prisoner out from under the very eyes of the most trusted officials. Andrew Lynde, the millionaire, had read the startling announcement the day before, and had at once driven to the Tombs, to find that the report was indeed true in every particular, _ ; From there be had returned home to acquaint © _ e, to them, joyful tidings, and: Isabel with they had ed matter over and over again, and hoped that the son and brother had escaped from the city. = The next mornin ewes ea Bi iid in the papers, and then e ¢ : ““Itis strange that Harold has not tried to see safety. as ou be Isabel read her father. us, father, or sent us one word of his x a 4 a : ee
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hall back into the library, and said; 20 ae ees — *“¢Ho dare not do so, my child, for our house is watched day and night, and Richards, bring- ing my mai the letters,” ‘ “Tt is terrible to be watched this way; to be constantly under this fearful espionage,” said Jsabel, peevishly, “Tl stand anything, Bel, if Harold can only escape, for if he is retaken, all the law and law- . yers in the land cannot save him.” ‘And yet, after our talk with Mr. Martin Wilbur I bad strong hopes that he might es- | cape.” ** No, Wilbur is a lawyer, am a good one, and he looks on the winning side always; but they would hang Harold certain, and far better a hunted fugitive in foreign lands than an igno- minious death, for what a disgrace it would “The very —— of it, or fear, has kept our friends aloof, father; they show their hu- man nature in a wicked degree,” said Isabel Lynde, with indignation. ‘*Itis the way of the world, my poor child; in a gs our friends hover about us like moths about a candle’s flame; but believing, as they do, that I have lost my money, as Harold is said to have had to go to that accursed miser, Quilp, for funds, and that my son is going to be hanged, they keep aver from us most severely; but let us not think of friends that have fled, ‘but see if we can think who it was that helped Harold out.” “T have not the slightest idea, think as much peary’ as i ene on the subject. ell, it is remarkable indeed; I took the boy twenty-five thousand in large bills, and told him to hint to the keeper he could make a small fortune by aiding his escape; but this outh reems to have been an outsider ; well, ichards?” ‘““A gentleman to see you, sir,” said the ser- vant, and he handed a card, ** Victor Moloch,” read the millionaire aloud, and he looked toward his daughter. “Ask him in here, father, for his note of sya ' thy to me was so kind, Lowe him thanks or 8 magnificent present, and I believe he | was the one who sent that money anonymously to Mr. Wilbur to aid poor Harold, sol wish to see him,” “So I say, my child; ask Mr. Moloch to eome in here, Richards.” Elegantly attired, courtly in manner, and a face full of unfeigned sympathy, whatever his opinion of the brother and son might be, Victor oloch entered the library of the millionaire, and was received most graciously by his host, and with a kindness he did not seem to have an- ticipated from Isabel. ‘*Mr, Moloch, permit me to verbally thank you for your superb present to me,” said Isabel, after a few words of greeting had been spoken. “T am glad you were fs eomy with them, Miss Lynde, and I:wished you to have some other reminder of me than the fact that I had forced you into a compact through your fa- ther’s misfortunes,” he said, softly. **T needed no such reminder, sir, for though I confess to a certain fretting under compulsory bonds, I cannot but feel that you nobly served my father and my poor brother,” and the tears came into the beautiful eyes of the maiden. “Yes, Mr. Moloch, you know all concerning my, poor boy,” said the millionaire, feelingly. ‘It is tospeak of Mr, Harold Lynde, sir, that brought me to your home, ere the expiration of the thirty days’ grace I gave your daughter before her union with me; of ‘course you heard with pleasure of his fortunate escape?” ‘Yes, and a remarkable one, too.” Pe shaps Mr. Moloch can tell us who the daring B aces was?’ suggested Isabel, in such a suggestive, significant tone, that it brought the tell-tale color into the face of Victor Moloch who glanced cautiously around the room, and then said: . ‘*The Spaniards say that walls have ears, Miss Lynde.” Isabel took the hint, and rising passed out of one door into the music-room thus by the ‘* There is no one near, sir, and Richards, our faithful old butler, would keep watch if he saw any of the servants inclined to too great curi- osity; you do, then, know who the youth was?’ **Yes, he was a friend of mine.” ** Ah! then we bwe to you thanks for Har- old’s escape?’ said Isabel, quickly, and with great earnestness, _ “No, you owe it to the youth,” “A good io to shift the burden off your _ shoulders, Mr, Moloch.” this morning, says an officer | stopped him and examined the postmarks on | | the Hebrew, with a smile. [ JEWESS. ee | J answer you no, Miss Lynde; the boy did | ever thing.” : e was but as a cat’s paw in your hands—” | **Viector Moloch being the monkey,” suggested | ‘* Pardon me, I had forgotten, when I spoke, who it was, in tne old story, that held the cat’s aw to secure the chestnuts; but, seriously, Mr. | oloch, we Owe you more than we can ever | repa a you owe me nothing, Miss Lynde; but al- low me to tell you that your brother is safe,” “ Safe |” “ Yes. ” ‘*He has left the city, then?” eagerly cried both father and daughter in a breath. “He has; he sailed on a vessel last night, bound for Rio; I saw him go on board, and watched the con sail down the bay.” “ But, he will be recognized,” said Mr. Lynde, anxiously. “*Not disguised as he is, for I would never have known him, had I not myself purchased his suit, and been on the watch for him, for he was shorn of his hair and mustache, and shipped as a common seaman.” ** Poor brother Parold!” ‘* He is better away, Miss Lynde.” ** True, for it would have been anignominious death to have remained here; but, thank God, he has gone, and to you, sir, we owe more than words can express,” and, rising, Isabel grasped the hand of Victor Moloch in both her own, and her father silently wrung the other, and their | gratitude deeply touched the heart of the noble ebrew, who said, hastily: ‘Your brother shipped as Nick Buntilin, first- class seaman, on board the clipper ship, Ring- leader, bound from New York to Rio, and a letter to that name, Rio Janeiro, will reach hina, and when he writes to you he will address under cover to me, as a letter directed here, from a foreign land, would assuredly put the law-hounds on his scent. “This I arranged with him the moment I saw him on the dock before he sailed last night; now, I must say good-moxning, as this is a busy day with me.’ “Mr. Moloch, we owe all to you, sir, and, bound as Iam to you, I hope you will not con- sider it unmaidenly’in me to say that only by a lifelong devotion can I repay the debt of grati- tude; come to us whenever you feel inclined,” and turning quickly Isabel fous went to her room, while Victor Moloch, with a heart and brain on fire, caused eg Foy conflicting emotions he felt, sprung into his waiting carriage and was whirled swiftly back into the busy stream of money-making men in the heart of the me- tropolis. CHAPTER XXX, NICK BUNTLIN, SEAMAN ON THE RINGLEADER. THERE were many, of course, who believed that the story of the East Indian nephew of Stanley Grey, assistant keeper at the city rison, was a concocted story made out of whole cloth, so to speak. These same persows hooted at the idea, and set it down in their minds that the keeper had got- ten a comfortable fortane for his little work in the escape of the aristocratic and wealthy pris- oner. But the powers that were, the head officials had sifted the matter Pagers thoroughly, and the trunk of papers and clothes, unmistakably East Indian, the money in it, the absence of the officer, Dick Sasa and the clerk, Johnny Cameron, proved to them conclusively that the keeper was the victim of a most clever and dar- | ing plot, and not a confederate in it, and Stan- ley Grey, at his own request, was relieved from duty at the Tombs, and became a member of the secret service. From the hour of his becoming a detective he set to work to track down those who had vic- timized him and to capture the escaped prisoner. and day and night he was like a tireless hound on the scent, One day he strolled down to the docks, his eyes open for anything of a suspicious nature for not a single clew had all the unraveling of iletective’s skeins revealed. ‘Hullo, Grey, want to have a run down with me to Quarantine, for I’d like a talk with you about the way some sharp kid played you.” The speaker was an old pilot and a friend of Stanley Grey of long standing, He was on a harbor tug that was about to carry a party of gentlemen down the harbor to ‘Meet some big-bug returning from Urup on the steamer just signaled from Sandy Hook,” | as the pilot, Jack Fletcher, explained, “TT go with pleasure, Jack, for the sniff of sea air will do me good, and you are a good fel- low to got points on in my little biz that I am in now.” * They fired you out then from the prison, old fellow, believing you’d made a penny for your ' old age, by saving the aristocrat’s neck?” av serted rather than asked Jack Fletcher. ‘Oh, no; the papers cleared me in full, and only those who don’t know chin about my being bribed and putting up the whole job; but 1 left the dismal den and am now hunting the trail of the prisoner and the youth who mere? me so clevag for a fool, which I believe I am; but it seemed awful real, Jack, and the boy did look so like his dead father, as I believed, and like me, and he was so handsome.” ‘Yes, he must have been, Stan, to have borne resemblance to you; but come, let us go on board,” and leading the way to his pilot-house the comfortable tug, with a gay party on board, was soon steaming down the harbor for the lower bay. ; _ Once through the Narrows the steamship was sighted heading up the harbor, and with a cheer the tug started for her. ) ‘*What in thunder ails her?” suddenly cried the pilot. ‘What is it, Jack?” asked Stanley Grey. “Why, her bow is stove in bad, and she’s got canvas stretched over it to keep out the water; she’s had a bad collision, ’'m thinking, an from her looks I’m thinking the craft she struck has gone down.” Every eye on the tug was now bent with deep interest upon the coming steamer, that plainly showed she had met with a serious ac- cident; But she came steadily on, and the party in the tug recognizing their friend, the ‘‘ big-bug,” as Jack called him, cheers were given, the band played, and the two vessels steamed sido by side back toward the city. At Quarantine Jack Fletcher called to one of the mates of the steamer whom he knew, and who was not on duty, to come on the tug, and tell him about the accident, **Oh, we ran down aclipper ship last night in the fog, and she sunk quickly, with some of her pepngere and crew, while others saved themselves by jumping on board, anda few we threw ropes to and pulled out of the water; but there was one fellow we had to save by sheer force, for he seemed to wish to sink.” “What was the matter with him?” asked Jack Fletcher. “No one knows; and he was a fine-lookin seaman too; but we got him on board, an fearing that all was not right with him the sur- geon took him in hand, and soon after dis- missed him, as he found nothing wrong about him, excepting one thing.” “And may I ask what was that, sir?” said Stanley Grey, in spite of himself interested in the strange seaman. ; ‘‘ Well, he was shipped on the Ringleader, which was the name of the craft we ran down, s a first-class seaman, and under the name of ick Buntlin, so his messmates said, and yet the surgeon let it out that his underclothing was of the finest silk, and had two initials embroi- dered on them.” ~ ‘‘ Guess he stole ’em,” said the pilot, bluntly. “Then if he did, he stole his handkerchief, too, for he had one h and another round his neck, and they were both embroidered in the same way.” “He may be some tony fellow in hard Inck,” suggested the pilot. ** Maybe, or some man who has committed a crime that makes him hide himself under a prea jacket,” responded the steamer’s of- cer, r The remark caused Stanley Grey to start, and he asked quickly: ‘* What did you say was the name of the ves- sel you ran down?” “The Ringleader.” *W here bound?” “To Rio Janeiro,” “When did she leave New Yo7kt” “The night before we run into her; you see we came the southerly passage across, and a gale had driven us off our course to the south- ard, as we had to depend upon our sails for two duys, owing to an accident to our machi- nery. ‘Could you fell me the letters embroidered on the seaman’s underclothing and handker- Sriokg asked Stanley Grey, with renewed in- rest. “This is a hound of the law, mate; in other — words, a detective, and he thinks he’s got a scent of a trail he’s been following, and I hones e wore in his shirt pocket, .
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_ by bye mayor, and Ezra ie of Stanley he has, for he’s been served a dowiiright shabby trick of late, and he’s a pard of mine and square clean through.” , “Do you recall the initials?” repeated Stan- le y Grey. ‘*Oh yes; they were H. L.” The pilot and the detective glanced know- ingly at each other, and the former said with vehemence, preceded by a sailor’s oath: “Tm durned if you hav’n’t got him, Stan.” “Don’t be too sure, Jack; but as the steamer is going on up to the city now, will you kindly permit me to go on with you?” ‘* Certainly.” “Now, sir, will you point out your strange seaman, who did not care to be saved from drowning, and wears silk underclothing?” asked Stanley Grey, quietly, when the two were on the steamer’s deck. 4 ‘Certainly; there he stands, leaning over the bulwark forward.” | BOE ‘Cue detective, keeping in concealment him- self, walked up near to where the strange sea- man stood, and took a long look at him. “‘Well, I am right; that man is the one I want; once ae are to his old quarters Pl et the boy, I’m thinking. ® Thus ring. he put his hand in his breast pocket, a Apes f Pog a Derringer pistol, step uic wu e seaman. ‘ Diecing the’ weapon to his head, he said roly: Ps Nick Buntlin, first-class seaman of the Ringleader, I arrest you.” “Great God! it is as I feared! I have come back to my doom,” cried the man, bitterly, as he beheld who confronted him. “ Yes, Harold Lynde, you have come back to dia.on the gallows. “Tt had been better for you had you gone down in the hull of the Ringleader.” “ Would to God I had.” “JT do not say amen to that; here, Mr. Lynde, bold out your hands for the bracelets,” and the detective drew a pair of steel handcuffs from his pocket. With a shudder, and livid face, but in si- lence, Harold Lynde obeyed, and one hour after he was again an inmate of his cell in the Tombs, while sage pt Grey was receiving the congratulations of all upon having run down prey. CHAPTER XXIX. ONE LAUGHS WHILE ANOTHER WEEPS. Lrxe a bombshell in a bivouac fell the start- ling news upon the city, of the capture of the isoner, who had so cleverly escaped from the ombs, and then, just as cleverly eluded all poses and gotten out of the clutches of the ounds of the law that hunted him down. © papers were full of the strange capture, and gee’ Grey was redeemed in the eyes of even the most skeptical, while the ‘‘ I—told —you—so” busy tongues who had faith in the keeper were triumphant, and vice versa, were correspondingly cast down. The ministers held it up as an act of Provi- dence to prevent the prisoner escaping, not — robe ha eor'y oar as do most of who jay every event happening upon poor Pro- vidence, that several lives mere lost, id a fine vessel sunk, with much injury to trade, by the capturing of one escaped prisoner. ; n the circles more deeply interested in the event, the bringing back of Harold Lynde to his lonely prison cell, a thrill was felt that went to the heart, for, where old Ezra Quilp gloated over the circumstance, it was far different with those who held kindred blood to the prisoner, and bad done so much to aid his escape, In a pleasant room of a restaurant, the after- noon following the recapture of the prisoner, three ons were seated ata table ing with edibles of a substantial kind and luxuries, while “extra dry” was sparking in the glasses. Those three were first, Keeper Stanley Grey, the detective who had run e to earth: second, the pilot of the tug that had invited the keeper to take the run down the harbor with him; and third, the second officer of the steam- ship that had_told the story uf the running down of the Ringleader, and of the stran sailor on board, who proved to be Haro nde. . e keeper had received the reward offered Quilp had promptly his before ten tye bee mo. ning, and e three were enjo emselves a ex- ! ; rey, who had forced upon is companions, as aids to his success, a thou- sand each, and a dinner, at which all were making merry over this misery of a human JULE, THE JEWESS. But what is one’s loss is another’s gain, one’s sorrow another’s joy, one’s food another’s poison, and thus wags the world along. In the palatial home of Lynde, the million- aire, sat in deepest grief the father and sister of the prisoner, for like a stroke of iron the news had fallen upon them, and together they were brooding over their sorrow, and seeing in imagi- nation the hideous gallows rising before them to take the life of him they loved. Presently a card was brought in by Richards, anda \ cee of pleasure shot over the face of the 9 ionaire as he glanced at it, and he said uickly : ‘3 ‘*Show him in, Richards; it is Mr Moloch, my dear.” A faint tinge of color came into the face of the maiden, and rising, she extended her hand to the handsome young Jew as he entered. ‘*T need not ask, Mr. Lynde, if you know the sad tidings, for your sorrow is photographed on your heart,” he said, kindly. ‘“Yes, we know all, Moloch, and we are glad vos have come, for we know not what to say or do. **T have come to have a little chat with you, for I have Wilbur, and all depends now upon the trial.” **So it seems, for money could not buy a keeper now, I suppose?” ‘*No, they have placed a treble force on duty, not for fear of a rescue, but upon the puncip’ that one keeper must watch another; I just left the Tombs with Mr, WiJbur.” ‘*And you have seen my brother?” quickly asked Isabel. “Yes, and he seems despondent, though the lawyer bids him hope; your son, Mr. Lynde, spoke of a clergyman who accompanied the millionaire miser here on his visit, when he bought your notes?” es, a man I am convinced puts on the of the Lord to serve the Devil in.” 7 . Harold Lynde could not recall his name me.’ “Can I keep this letter?’ when he read it, Victor asked, : “You can, sir.” “Thank you; now I must be off, but I frank] tell you the battle is not lost, and I have fait in young Merton,” and Victor Moloch departed, to the door, for his visit had been like a ray of sunshine “Sysyetnag into their gloomy hearts. From the palatial mansion of the millionaire, I will take my reader to the den of the miser millionaire, Ezra Quilp, who made gold his god, and yet would sacrifice it most freely to gain his revenge. He had seen by the morning paper that Har- old Lynde had been taken by keeper Grey, and he had hastened off to the Tombs and promptly paid his reward, From there he had oe to his lawyer, whom be had engaged to aid the District Attorney in the prosecuton, and told him to leave no stone unturned to press his enemy to the gallows. From there he had driven, for the wiser mil- lionaire had become strangely extrav t of rer to the parsonage of the Reverend Silas oan. “* Just dropped in a moment, Sloan, to tell you that the trial comes off next Monday, and you must be on hand; have you received your sub- na me Yi age shall ‘i Ainge at : ie “Right; there is little you can say, you know, othe thank that you dropped in with ae we be- ing together, and heard me ask young Lynde to pay his notes.” Young Lynde! you mean the old man?” *‘No, I mean young Lynde, Harold, who is now in jail.” “ Ah! 7 “ Thatis right, you begin to understand, I see.” “But, have you such notes?” **Oh, yes, they will be produced at the trial; well, you heard me ask Harold to pay his notes. and he refused, and his father refused, and I threatened to protest, and they kept me there until it was too late.’ “Yes, I heard it all; but, I do not well seehow I can be at the trial, as my ministerial duties call me away; you see I am going to the conven- tion, to d at St. Louis next week, and I ae Pee a few thosands to help along my urch, “Curse sia church; here are a couple of thousand for the tapes oe Tas be on hand, and I will give yous written statement of what you are to say. ““I cannot come for two thousand, as I will «et five at the convention.” -e a 4 ‘1 : ¥ es a aa P “ : ; = irs Soh Ad 7 inf = os Pen te : can; it is Silas Sloan; here is his letter to both Mr, Lynde and Isabel accompanying him~ RR ne ee a . _ ~~ 21 **-Your testimony is worthless, only it is best to have you there,” ‘Well, I thank you, Mr. Quilp, for this small donation to my church, and wish I could be at the trial, but I cannot, as I would lose five thou- sand dollars.” “*Curse you, I’ll give you the five thousand Solers, Pagene you the three more when you testify. “The five more.” **-You have two there.” “Why, that was a donation to my dear church, and—” ‘““You are a wolf in sheep’s clothing, Silas Sloan, as I have ever believed you to be.” “The clothes fit too, Quilp, the miser million- aire, and believing me to bea villain, you sought me out as an associate.” The miser uttered a curse, but answered: ** Well, I will give you five thousand dollars the day you testify.” “You might forget it; give it to me, now.” **T will not.” “Then I will not testify.” “T will give you my due-bill for it.” “Very well. The miser millionaire wrote the necessary paper, and departed. “* Where now, sir?’ asked the driver. To my home.” ‘You live at the old Rhineberg homestead me Seventieth street, don’t you, sir?” es. And to his rickety old mansion the miser mil- lionaire was driven, and there, in the following chapter, the reader will kindly follow him. CHAPTER XXX. THE MISER’S§ LITTLE GAME. ° ‘‘He! he!” and the miser milliohaire gave a low chuckle, as he held up several notes and gazed at them. The Govermment bank-note ‘*He! he! he! pe pad couldn’t give notes that looked more real. ‘ “The old man gave his on his own note-book, made for him, with his name printed in one end, and this is a fac-stmile of those he gave me, ex- cepting the name of Harold Lynde, instead of Andrew. “The engraver charged me well for the work, but he did it well, and I’) not complain; ha! ha! ha! now, Andrew Lynde, 1 not only strike you for robbing me of my bride in the past, and having me kidnapped, but I hit your utiful daughter hard, for hex brother dies on a gallows, and J will be on hand to see him'die; ay, I will watch any agony he suffers and it will be joy to me. ( “Now to get possession of the notes of An- drew Lynde, which he paid, and then all will be well; but Pll get them, for it was a lucky idea of mine to advertise for a daring man to do a secret service for high pay, and the one I selected out of the lot who cams I know will do | the work; ah! there he comes up the walk now. Hastily putting his notes away, the miser red-hended, "bissk-ejed, “Secipteoed “vote -hea € i ckle-fa young man, who looked on ey as en eel, and was doubtless, to judge from his appearance, as slip ery in character. zi ell, my man, you have come on time, I “ Allus on time when chuck’s ter be made,” was the laconic response. os 1 now do you scare easily?” “Try me,” * No, no, I don’t wish to do that; but you are willing, as you told me when here morn- ing, to do a little job for me that requires a cool head light fingers, and nerve.” “T has ‘em all.” ‘*'You look it; now about your conscience,” “My what?’ «Dont tale, pal.” “Your cote tions!” “ Never any.” oe Good ” “Tf they’s good, then I'll get some.” “You don’t understand me; I mean do commit a crime and then get sorry about iti ‘*T hain’t such a durned fool; ef I was going ter be sorry I wouldn’t do it.” “You are a fine fellow; now I want you to break into a house.” “ Waal?” ‘And rob a safe.” “That’s nothin’ ter do,” You are a thorough scamp I see,” se we is a good alike, boss.” } “*We'll vot discuss that, for I don’t wish to benefit by your robbery; I only wish
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rr, - trial begins next Thursday, I » aristocrat.” are to testify to. _ Temain at home, went out for a walk, ey ; ay 22 hold of some papers, and all the money you find in the safe you can have for yourself.” , “ Might not find none.” “Oh, yes, you will.” “T must get chuck for ther job; if I finds money, them is my perquisites.” ‘* Til give you one hundred dollars.” ‘“How much money will I find in the safe?” ‘** Several thousand dollars; perhaps more.” ‘* Then he would give more for me not to rob it; guess V1 do the job for him.” ay Who?’ ‘*The man who owns the safe.” The miser millionaire knew that he had been eaught by a villain who was his superior in JULE. THE JEWESS. | man of fascinating address, and certainly a | scholar, he had interested several men of influ- ence who heard him, and then gave him a call to their little chapel, which had from the foundation rock, owing to some dis- agreement among the flock, as to which was | the most direct road to the heavenly kingdom. Asmall furnished cottage and a thousand a ear was what Silas Sloan’s congregation paid im, and they considered him worth the money, and fed him on the hope of a raise of salary, should he bo convinced that it was not right for shrewdness, and he said at once: ‘I'll give you five thousand for the job and what you find there.” : **Good! ll do it; who is he, where does he live, how many in family, what hours do they keep and has they dogs?’ Like a chain made of links these questions | came out, and nearly took the miser’s breath; but after awhile he answered them all, gave a plan of the house and room in which was the safe, and the young man departed, promising to do the work that night, When he had gone Quilp paced to and fro, chuckling to himself, as he air that a few more days only and Harold Lynde would be brought to trial and certainly be hanged, for he bad woven around him a web of guilt that no testimony could break down. _* When that red-headed young scamp brin me the notes of old Andrew Lynde I am ready for the trial, and then, all ye of the name of Lynde, woe be unto you; ha! there comes that beautiful Jewess, whom 1 have not seen for several days; I will meet her at the door, and see what she thinks of the capture of the young Going to the door the miser saluted Jule, the Jewess, who was coming in with a basket of marketing upon her arm, ‘* You are still alone, Miss Jule?’ he said, in- quiringly. Ov eE: sir, but my mother and uncle return to-morrow.” ‘Indeed! they have made quite a stay.” “Yes, longer than they expected; but then they went to Baltimore to trace up some old property of my father’s, that was worthless twenty years ago, and had been forgotten, but which is now quite valuable,” * And they got it, Miss Jule?” ape after va 39 little trouble.” ee congratulate you upon your une. for I have feared eed Sane not a the best of circumstances, and, as you did me a good. turn. Lintend to reduce your rent to twenty instead of twenty-five per month,” ‘You will do no-such thin neither my mother or myse and, besides, we are im no need, maiden, haughtily. © | ‘‘ Indeed! L really hoped you were, so I could serve you; you saved my life, and that woul take off sixty dollars for the year.” ‘ ‘‘You value your life cheaply, Miser Quilp; but then, reading yont nature, as I do, I think ‘you are one to go to any extreme in remember- Gr aninjury, but have a convenient memory to forget a favor done you.” — A's y you are severe, young woman,” said Quilp, 8 arply, ; ; " “1 try to be just.” .. ae ‘*T will not quarrel with you, for I admire you tco much; so let us change the subject; what do you think of the recapture of Mr. / Harold Spat clever piece of detective work, was if not , ATE f ‘No, it was an_accidental ko ws only; his : eve,” ‘es, and you are subpoenaed to appear.” “T received my summons and § there.” “Your testimony will be most valuable to me, and I shall pay you well for it.” \ “Thank you, sir. ; ran _ | My lawyer will outline for you what you accept favors, » said the ae “ ” A» “So that ene will be no mistake.” Jule, the Jewess, made no reply, but went on into her room, while the miser, too nervous to ' CHAPTER XXXT. THE REVEREND SLOAN RECEIVES A CALE, Iv was a neat little pasnshage which the con- regation of the Reverend Sloan rented for thar bachelor pastor, for he, was a great. favor- ite with his flock, for ho was always leading bis Mleaies”™ nS feativals,’ and “excursions ” were frequently prune a6 . Mr. Quilp, for ; - ment, | evil-doing; on the contrary you have man to live alono and take unto himself a wife. Knowing that the vestrymen had held out this bait to the minister, the widows and virgins of the congregation kept their lamps trimmed and burning soas not to be caught unawares by the handsome young divine; but he fought shy of any one bright particular star, though he doated on perhaps two-score collectively, with perhaps a leaning toward the ugliest girl in the church, who had the largest purse. Seated in his sanctum one morning, the Saturday previous to the day set for arold Lynde’s trial, Biddy O’Fidget, the maid-of-all- work and good at none, in the pious parsonage and whom the arguments of the clergyman had tailed to win over from Catholicism, came in with the announcement; ; “A gintlemin ter say your riverince, what is no riverince at all, sayin’ as yeezis not afther bein’ ¢ priest o’ the church, sur,” ** Who is it, Bridget?” ‘© Divil a loikes o’ me knows at all, sur.” ‘One of the dear souls under my keeping, 1 suppose * No, sur, be’s a man.” ‘* Ask him in, please.” Bridget obeyed at once, and a dashing, hand- some man entered the room, and said politely: **Mr, Sloan, I believe?” “Yes, sir, lam the Reverend Bilas Sloan, an humble worker in the great vineyard of my Heavenly Master.” ‘You are the one J have come to see, sir; are we alone?” asked the stranger, ’ “We are, sir” The me go stepped quickly to the door, and opening it, Miss Bridget O’Fidget came sprawl- ing into the room, having been leaning heavily against it, with her ear to the keyhole, ‘Holy Mither, yer riverince, I’m havin’ a fit, Lam, for I was afther comin’ to tell yeez there was no paraties fer dinner, when a dizziness seized me all ter wanst, and I was afther tum- blin’ inter ther room,” and Biddy looked as in- nocent as the most pious member of the pastor's . flock, “Well, try that caper once more and I'll seize you, and the fit would be preferable,” erushed Bridget to the door, and saw her de- scend to the culinary depths below, and, to the surprise of the Reverend Silas, without a word in reply; but the visitor had suddenly shown the servant a badge which she understood, having on several occasions been in the lock- up. from a too great fondness for the cup that doth inebriate. : “Now, my reverend sir, to the little matter for which I called: you are a witness, I believe, in this trial of the State versus Lynde?” “T expect to be, sir, and Mr. Quilp asked me to hold some conversation with his lawyer as a aa my testimony would be valuable to m, ’ - “T am a lawyer, sir, and upon account of your being a eM 1 have celina may I ask what; will be your testimony ?” : ‘Yes; Isaw Quilp tender the notes for pay-: d they were refused.” i “Mr. Andrew Lynde refused them?” “He refused to pay them for his son.” ‘* Ah! they were his son’s notes then?” “Yes,aslunderstandit.” = = = | “And why were you with Mr. Quilp?” — rs Accidentally meeting, he asked me to aco fe-3 7 him. _ “*Aht Reverend Richard Ellis—” Great God!” “Tyepeat the name; Reverend Richard Ellis, I'see you have not improved since you were issed from the Theological Seminar. cod ro- aded, and it becomes me, as an officer of the law, ? fo you to hold out your hands for these acele oad ihe “Heaven have mercy upon me!” groaned the man, and his head sunk upon the table bee ‘Do not call upon that Heaven which your actions have outraged, sir; I have it in my | He had * picked up,” so to speak, talking Gos- | | pel and temperance to the public who tarried | charges, y the wayside, and, an eloquent preacher, a- ep split off | | } | sternly said the visitor, and he escorted the | r) power to send you to Australia under three which will put you in prison until your hair turns gray—” - “Mercy! mercy! “J have itin my power to put you on trial here for being a fraud, and thus taking money under the pretense of being a Christian. ‘*T know your career, Richard Ellis, and that you have deceived your congregation most thoroughly. ‘*Had you been living a true life here you might have escaped; but I know all that you are,’ ‘Who are you?’ groaned the unhappy man. “Tam one who shall insist upon keeping an eye upon you for a short while, sir.” **Lord have mercy, for I am utterly undone,” and the man with livid face began to sob as. though his very chest would burst with the in- tensity of his emotions, The visitor looked at the rénegade minister without one atom of sympathy in his handsome face, and, after awhile said, coldly: Calm yourself, sir, for I wish to havea talk with you. ‘You have then arrested me?” gasped the. man. ‘* Yes, you can consider yourself under arrest, as Lam an officer of the secret service as well ag: a lawyer.” ** And will bring me to trial?” “You certainly deserve it, sir, for you are o most bare-faced villain, although you wear &.- ministerial garb; but, as I said before, I wish to have a talk with you and then we will de- cide what is to be done; now, what does Quilp» give you to testify in his behalf?” “Sir!” said the minister, angrfly. 4 “That is right; get angry at me for suspect- ing you of taking a bribe,” sneered the visitor. “tam notin the habit, sir, of being paid to. give testimony in a case which accident made- me a witness.in,” “T say it was not accident, but design.” The minister dropped his eyes before the- piercing gaze fixed upon him, but said: “Tt was an accidental meeting with Mr, Quilp.” ‘You had met him before, I know, but once, and that was when you knew that one of your parishoners, who owed him largely, was going to fail, and went to him and told him, so that he got his money, while others suffered; for that you were paid by the miser, and this made. him go to you when he wanted some dirty work done,” ** As what, for instance?” , “Performing a secret marriage betwoon him and the daughter of the man he intended to- crush, and whose'son he will hang if it isin his. power to do so.” ; ‘Again the man dropped his eyes; but oftor a. moment said: ; ~ “You led me to beitieve that you were 0 law- yer, sent by the miser, and therefore }! spoke openly to you ” ‘*f{ Jed you to believe nothing of the kind; Quilp had called on you, and I knew you were, to testify for him, and I sought you out.” ‘¢ And who are you?” ; “‘T am a lawyer, I said.” ‘* Have we ever met before?” ‘Yes, . ‘When I was reading law I was sent by the mtleman in whose office I was to England on egal business for him; from there it called me to Australia, and on board were some English criminals sent to prison in the colonies. “You were among the number, and a gentle- man on the vessel, who had known you when. you tock holy orders, and afterward was at your trial for forgery, told me your history, and that you had escaped from tralia, a “T remember now, that when I returned to. this city;in an At é r sent me, read of your escape a second time, and when I saw you on the street yesterday I recognized. ou. : i ey “And you are not then an Australian of- ficer sent after me?” eagerly said the degenerate | minister, ; / “No, I have the honor to be an American, a. member of the New York bar, also one of the sec. st service bureau, and my name is Merton. “Hal you are the lawyer of Harold Lynde in his trial next week?” — ; ; “Yes, Reverend Richard Ellis alias Silas — Sloan, Tam Mr. Harold Lynde’s lawyer in the coming trial, and witness.” ; ~—__ ‘ p - bal in Aus they were taking you back. | you will prove # valuable |
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JULE, THE JEWESS. 23 CHAPTER XXXII. THE TRIAL OPENS, Att New York was agog with excitement, for the trial of Harold Lynde, the young aristo- crat and millionaire, was to begin that.morn- ge At an early hour the court-room was crowded to suffocation, and at ten o’clock the trial began. Upon one side sat the District Attorney, de- fending the State, and aided by a lawyer who stood at the head of the legal profession, and who had been engaged by Quilp, who un- - hesitatingly paid the extravagant fee demanded for his valuable services. Between them sat the. miser millionaire him- self, dressed in a new suit, and with his face full of cunning delight, while he was the cynosure of all eyes until better game appeared in the person of the prisoner. Upon the other side was Judge Graham, the peer and rival in legal lore of Quilp’s lawyer, and next to him sat the prisoner, calm, pale, and with eyes cast down, for well he knew how P was regarded by four-fifths of the people there, ‘ Next to him was Mertom Wilbur, his hand- some, intelligent face full of hope for his client, and attracting considerable attention, for a young lawyer unknown to fame, by his distin- gué appearance, ‘ Behind these were Andrew Lynde, the mil- lionaire, and his beautiful daughter, whose beauty, however, was vailed from sight. Not far distant was the wife of Detective Dade, whom Harold Lynde had killed, and at | her side were her four fatherless children, all in deepest mourning, the said black attire being & present from Quilp, who felt that those five would win useful sympathy from the public, and more especially the jury who were to sit on the case. ‘ ‘At length the case was called; those impan- neled for the jury-box were called one by one, challenged or accepted by the watchful attor- heys, and at last the twelve were made up, and certainly they were ‘‘twelve good men and true,” which is not the usual case in trials, as more ignorance is frequently found among men whom the law calls to try their fellow-beings for crimes they are charged with, than amon § any other work that mankind may be picke out to perform. From the first it seemed a foregone conclusion that Harold Lynde was to hang for his crime, and the gamblers who haunt court-rooms to make wagers on the result, would offer no odds in favor of acquittal, and betting was conse- quently light. The shrewd and able District Attorney, with the lawyer engaged by the millionaire miser called their witnesses, and one by one they tol their story. came Quilp himself, with a manufac tured evidence of his having, at different times od Sei Harold Lynde money on his person no “And where are those notes, Mr. Quilp?” asked Judge Graham; but, before wth pouid be made a telegram called the judge away to ene his wife, who had been suddenly taken very P ere was a contretemps, for what was to be one The judge on the bench, from would bave adjourned the case, but J udge Gra- ham stated that his associate, Mr, Merton Wil- bur, was fully capable of going on with it, and he to soon return, All eyes turned upon the young lawyer; but he seemed as cool as ansicicle, and, bidding Judge Graham farewell, immediately turned and repeated his question: : sympathy, * And where are those notes, Mr. p?” They were at once produced, nine in all, and covering the sum which Quilp had vanced to the millionaire bimself, and not to the son, The young lawyer glanced at them coolly, and then the miser went on to state how they had been refused payment by the drawer, and then by the millionaire, and that that very night Harold Lynde had ridden to his home, climbed to his rooms and gained entrance, and would have taken his life. but for the arrival of one person whom he would produce as witness, to corroborate his words. Several unimportant witnesses were then Called, to. prove that they knew Quilp had notes of Harold Lynde in his possession, and then the Reverend Silas Sloan was told to go to the witness stand. or some moments he could not be found, and n he entered hastily and seemed nervous and Smee et pos whose calling brought him con- Y before the public. “Mr. Sloan, you were with Mr. Ezra Quilp when he visited the Lynde mansion, to request the payment by Mr. Harold Lynde of his notes?” asked the district attorney. “T was, sir, but I was under the impression that Mr. Andrew Lynde, the millionaire, was the drawer of those notes. The answer caused Ezra Quilp to turn livid; what could it mean that his witness should make such a mistake, he asked himself hur- riedly, and then whispered to his lawyer, who inquired; ‘Mr. Sloan, who was in the room at the time?” ““Mr. Quilp, the Messrs. Lynde and myself.” “ And Mr. Harold Lynde refused payment of the notes?” **No, sir, his father nae the notes.” Here was a bombshell, and Quilp was livid with rage, and, after a hasty conversation, Mr, Silas Sloan was withdrawn from the witness stand, the public believing him to be too devoted to Gospel to understand law, and a sad blun- derer for the side that had summoned him. “*T will call on the Reverend Silas Sloan anon,” said Merton Wilbur, with a smile, and then Miss Jule Naomi was called to the stand, She walked forward, accompanied by Victor Moloch, and calmly took her seat. She was dressed in a black silk, trimmed with lace, wore a jaunty bonnet and a vail, which she was re- quested to raise, Already her exquisite form had attracted uni- versal admiration, but, when she calmly raised her vail, and her beautiful face, a little flushed, was revealed, a hum of pleased surprise ran round the room, and Isabel Lynde said ex- citedly to her father: “Why, it is my old schoolmate, Jule, the Jewess.”” In consideration of her known religion, the oath was not administered by the New Testa- ment but upon the Old, and then the district at- torney explained to her that as Mr. Harold Lynde was being tried for the killing of Detec- tive Dade, all circumstances attending to the ease were being brought in, as the case of his alleged attempted assassination of Ezra Quilp hinged on the death of the detective. **T believe, Miss Naomi, that you have rooms in the house of Mr. Ezra Quilp?” asked the dis- trict attorney. “T live with my mother and my uncle, sir, in rooms rented from Mr. Quilp,” was the reply, in a rich voice that reached every ear in the room. “Upon the night of Thursday, the 10th of last month, where were you, may I ask?” * At home, sir.” «You will state to the court what scene you witnessed’ in Quilp’s room, who were there, and what you did. ‘*Sir!” and Jule’s eyes flashed as she turned them upon the attorney. In surprise he repeated the question, and then came the answer: “Mr, Ezra Quilp has made overtures of money to me, sir, to state his case as he wished it; I refused and I now refuse to speak at all.” A wild excitement aded the court-room, for the words of Jule, the Jewess, fell like a thunderbolt upon all, and the livid miser, after another hastily whispered conversation with his lawyers, asked to have the maiden withdrawn from the stand for awhile, and it was done Merton Wilbur waiving a cross-examination of her for the present, It was evident that whatever the ideas of the public might be upon the guiltof Harold Lynde, as far as the killing of Detective Dade went, the case of the millionaire miser, Ezra Quilp was weakening, for, if his’ witnesses showed weakness under the questions of his own at- torneys, what would not they do when turned gver. the dashing lawyer of the young aristo- crat GHAPTER XXXII. UNDER FALSE COLORS. AFTER a recess, in which the starting in of the trial was excitedly discussed, and Ezra Quilp and his satellites rushed frantically around, in a vain endeavor to find Jule, the Jewess, and Parson Sloan, court was again Pyaar and all resumed their seats as before, the millionaire miser pale and nervous, after the une witnesses he had summoned for the prosecu- tion, and anticipating more trouble from them, when Merton Wilbur got them into his sarcastic legal gripe, so to speak. : The first witness called by the defense was Levi Cohen, a bank messenger, and a Hebrew. He appeared to bea youth of nineteen, with a han e face. mustache and curling hair, xpected rebuffs be had met from the | ee ee ee ee _ and he spoke in a quick, terse manner that car ried weight with his words, ‘Mr. Cohen, I believe you were authorized to pay Mr. Ezra Quilp the amount of the notes of Mr. Andrew Lynde, and the interest ac cumulated upon them?” said Merton Wilbur. ‘*T was, sir.” ‘* What was the interest on those notes?’ **Usurious in the ¢ eme; ten per cent. for six months,” was t..- quick reply, and is brought the other side to their feet with objec- tions, but already had the shot hit the target, “Mr. Quilp re to sell, I believe?” “He did,” “Did you offer him the full value of notes and interest?” “T offered him double the amount, and even more.” “You seemed anxious to get the notes, sir,” sneered the lawyer of Quilp. “T was acting for a friend of Mr, Andrew Lynde—” “You mean Mr. Harold Lynde?” ‘No, I mean Mr. Andrew Lynde, the mil- lionaire, for they were jis notes,” The District Attorney and his associate both glanced at Quilp, who was now painfully ner- ‘yous. There was something in all this which they could not understand. ‘“‘Why the anxiety of your friend to serve Mr, Lynde, Mr. Cohen?” “*Because he knew that the miser-millionaire held him and his fairly in his power, and in- tended to bring them to his nefarious terms.” This was evidently a bad witness for Quilp,. and so allin the court-room thought, when, af- ter a few more questions, he was allowed to de- part, and every eye followed him as he went out of the court-room, followed by Victor Mo- och, Next, the Rey. Silas Sloan, whom Quilp had been unable to find at noon, was called, and he se the stand, more self-possessed than be- ore. **Mr. Sloan, may I ask why you accompanied Mr. Ezra Quilp to the home of Mr. Andrew Lynde, the night in question?” asked Merton Wilbur. “IT was requested by Mr. Quilp to accompany him to perform the ceremony of marriage, and, from all I understood after my arrival, it was his intention to force Mr. Lynde to give him his daughter.” “What power held he over Mr. Andrew Lynde?” asked the young lawyer, when the hum following the announcement o: the witness had subsided. ‘* He held notes of Mr. Andrew Lynde, cover- ing every dollar he was worth, and was to sur- render them only upon his, Mr. Quilp’s, mar- riage with Miss Lynde,” __ ere was another shot that struck home, but: the young lawyer quickly asked: ‘What was done about the notes?” “To the fury and surprise of Mr. Quilp, Mr, Andrew Lynde had, in some way, secured the money to pay the notes, and taking them up, drove the miser-millionaire from the hotse.” Alaugh at the name applied to Quilp min- gled with the exclamations of surprise at the’ words of the minister, and every eye turned upon Ezra Quilp, whose face was like marble, “Wes aught said of notes of Mr. Harold Lynde, the prisoner?” Be Meche id Mr, Quilp call upon asking you to agp in this cane?” eae ths ‘*He paid me to testify, sir, and here is the money he paid down, and his due-bill for more, and which I now return to him.” Merton Wilbur simply took the money and pares and handed both to the judge, pies. then said: “ That is all, Mr. Sloan, and I thank you, sir.” With a sigh of relief the minister Jeff the wit- ness-box, and next there was calléd to the stand @ youth whom the reader once saw in conversa- tion with Ezra Quilp in his rooms, and plotting the breaking into a private house and robbing the safe of certain 92 ag Be The appearance of the youth was not pre possessing, for his clothes were by no means of a fashionable cut, his face was freckled, and looked decidedly soiled, his red hair was un- kempt, and his black eyes alone seemed to re- deem him from a picture of arrant deviltry. “You have met Mr. Quilp then, I believe?” asked Merton Wilbur, with a smile, as he re- garded the witness, “T have.” “When and where?” “Some days ago in his shaky old house,” “ What were.you doing there?” ‘*He hired me,”
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24 “For what purpose?” “To break in the house the millionaire, and rob the “Rob it of what?” Pr 3 od for bim; the lucre I was to have,” st age get the papers? “ And the money?” “T got it.” What did you do with all “Gave the papers to Quilpy and kept the cir- gulating medium,” It was evident that this witness was a startling one, even to the judge; but Merton Wilbur, per- mes ore iaricbing to ask: % + at were the papers you gave Quilp? “Notes of Andrew Pyrat to kim.” «i Reta his owe aout he - age eget gl glary,” muttere uilp’s lawyer, bu ha smile, Merton Wilbur saked: Sug So youare a burglar, are you?” “ No. ? **'You broke into the house of Mr. Lynde and according to the newspaper accounts, opened oe As with false keys, robbing it of its con- en “T did nothing of the kind; I went to Miss Isabel Lynde, told her what Quilp had hired me to do, and her father was taken into my plot, for had formed one, and he Yeap the safe, gave me the money, but not the notes, but in their place fac-similes of them with three ex- ceptions, the description of properties named in the genuine one, the date, which was put back skillfully twenty years, by making a 5 resemble a 3, and the signature, which was something in Mr. Lynde’s style of autograph, butread Andrea Lyndsay, instead of Andrew Lynde. ** These I gave to Mr. Quilp, believing, as he did, that he would find them the genuine ones, and Mr. Lynde reported the robbery of his safe tothe papers.” For some moments the excitement caused by this strange testimony was intense, and rising, Merton Wilbur said: **Your honor, it seems that we are trying the wrong man in this case, and that Mr. Quilp seems to be the real criminal; but that my wit- mess may be proven of good character, I beg that he appear in his true character.” A motion was then made to the witness, and off came the red wig, and sandy mustache, and a little rubbing of the face revealed a pure com- plexion, while an outburst was heard on all sides as the beautiful face of Jule, the Jewess, Honea but calm, glanced at the judge on the ne of Andrew Lynde, safe,” CHAPTER XXXIV. THE VERDICT. WHen Ezra Quilp, the miser millionaire, saw ‘who it was that bad so cleverly deceived him, he attempted to leave the court-room; but the quick eye of Merton Wilbur detected the move- ment, and he cried out: “May 1B gy sew the court, I think it is neces- gary that Mr. Quilp remain here,” “Mr. Quilp will remain,” said the judge, sternly, and then Merton Wilbur continued: **T would ask the witness to explain regard- ing the alleged notes of Mr. Harold Lynde in the on of Mr. Ezra Quilp.” “Mr, Quilp,” said Jule, the Jewess, in a far different tone and manner from what she had used under her disguise, ‘“‘loaned me a paper which he said he wished returned. “ After reading it I took it to his room, but no answer coming to my knock, I tried the door and found it unlocked. Pima I pd the pa ; upon entity © an ay if hotore tracted by & quan i) notes lying before me which, upon i- Potent = | was lotta then ag his lot to ruin the Lyndes, proved to be notes with the ature of Mr. Harold Lynde, ‘These I saw had been written over and over again, and were in different stages of com- pletion, while es were filled with the signa- ture copies, until at last it was a perfect imita- on, “Some of these notes, cast aside as not aie enough, and a page of these signatures, I took with me, carrying the paper back, not to let Mr. Quilp know I had been in his room.” ‘And where are they?’ asked the District se aL sternly, for he was in no pleasant m ood, ‘*In the possession of Mr. Merton Wilbur, to whom I gave them,” é The young lawyer handed them over to the other side for examination, and then they were gh dpe ae A ES daggers at the who sat like ane dumfounded. JULE, THE JEWESS. The witness was turned over then to the Dis- | trict Attorne ‘A but only a few unimportant ques- tions were asked her, and she departed from the court-reom, to reappear in half an hour as her natural self, accompanied by Victor Moloch and her mother, who had returned with her brother from Baltimore to be amazed at all that had transpired in her household during her ab- sence, but was too deeply interested in both Jule and Victor Moloch to say or do aught to prevent the carrying out of their plot to thwart the deviltry of the millionaire miser. In the mean time, during the temporary ab- sence of Jule, Merton Wilbur had called upon Mr. Andrew Lynde and Isabel, to corroborate her testimony, and both had done so, acknowl- edging however that they had never suspected her of being other than a shrewd urchin, and had placed confidence in him only, as he brought a letter from Mr. Merton Wilbur. Then, in a brilliant manner, and with telling sarcasm the young lawyer arraigned Ezra Quilp, the miser millionaire, for his plot to re- venge himself upon Andrew Lynde, for a wrong done in the far t, and having carried it so far as to accuse Harold Lynde of attempted assassination. Though knowing the truth on this point, Merton Wilbur spoke of it with the utmost ridicule, for he knew upon that hinged the after deed of the prisoner, and hooted the idea of a man attempting to kill another for a debt he did not owe. To show the plof of the miser millionaire in allits deviltry, he called upon the rich young | Hebrew banker, Mr. Victor Moloch, to show that he had sent Jule, the Jewess, disguised asa Jewish youth, and bank messenger, to pur- chase, at any price, the notes of Andrew Lynde, and which even the miser’s greed of gold al- lowed him to refuse, his greed of revenge being greater, In a clear, logical, ee manner, he laid the whole plot of the millionaire miser before the jury, admitting the temporary embarrass- ment of Andrew Lynde for money, and then showing that his enemy, and boyhood compan- ion, Ezra Quilp, intended his ruin, and to hu- toiliate him by making him give hina kis daugh- ter to save all from wreck, Failing in this, Merton Wilbur showed forci- bly, that the miser milliongire had brought the charge of attempted assassination against Har- old Lynde, and which his own witness had said he had offered her payment to testify to, as had the Reverend Silas Sloan also testified, and pre- sented proofs of being bribed to appear as wit- ness, Then Merton Wilbur turned to the main charge, that of murder, and showed how a war- rant, sworn out by Ezra Quilp, had been placed in the hands of a detective, who was sent at night to serve it, nd here he again called Jule, the Jewess, to rove that she had overheard, when seated at er window, Ezra Quilp tell the detective that he would give him, the day of Harold Lynde’s death by hanging on the gallows, ten thousand dollars, if he would push it to the bitter end. Armed with his warrant and this generous promise of blood-money, said the young law- yer, in withering tones, the detective had gone to the happy home of the millionaire mer- chant, called young Lynde from his dinner, and then what occarred, as but one only could tell the priegaar, he would ask that that one should speak, With a marble-like face, and in a voice that was distinct, Harold Lynde said, while not the rustle of a fan was heard in the crowded room: b I went into the an and found there a man who w hey me, ‘ tl roached, ha seized and said baring DProwebed ms “* You go with me, Harold Lynde.’ ** At the same time he attempted to handcuff me, and placed a pistol to my head. : “I struck aside the irons, grasped his eater hand, and, drawing a weapon, which the threat of Ezra Quilp had caused me to arm myself with that day, shot him, as I believed, to save my own life, for he showed me no papers of ar- rest, and was, I thought, sent to take my life ‘by some foe, or to kidnap me forransom money. ““ He fell dead at my shot and, excited, hardly knowing what I did, for 1 was. urged by my father and sister to fly, I threw on a disguise and sought safety in flight, but should upon thought afterward, have returned and @deliy- ered myself up.” The story was breathlessly listened to, and whatever might have been its truth, it carried weight with it, for the plot of Hzra Quilp against the Lyndes, and the testimony of Jule. the Jewess, that Detective Dade been of- ,at his request to see her fered a bribe to aid to han |g wya was sufficient to gain the sympathies of one and all. Knowing the weakness of the charges against the the aristocratic prisoner, as they had been made to appear by the brilliant handling of the case by the young lawyer, the judge charged in a manner that impressed the jury toward acquit- tal, and, without leaving their seats, the verdict was rendered: Not guilty!” The following morning there were numerous comments upon the trial and the result in the morning paper, and all credit was given to the daring and skillful entrapping of a Quilp, by Jule, the Jewess, and the brilliant and most eloquent defense of the prisoner by Merton Wilbur, who at once sprung into great promi- nence as a lawyer. I conclusion, one of the morning journals re- marked: “We learn that Ezra Quilp, better known as the miser millionaire, was arrested at once upon the charges of forgery, blackmailing, conspiracy to ruin, perjury and false accusation, and knowing the ability of the distinguished young lawyer, Mr. Mer- ton Wilbur, sought to have him as his attorney, an honor the legal light, that has so suddenly soared into popularity and fame, respectfully declined.” Another article read: ‘““Mr, Harold Lynde, just set free after his trial, which all believed would send him to the gallows, and to escape which caused him to make so clever an escape from prison, and the secret of which is still a mystery to the public, sails for Europe in to day's steamer; we wish him don eoyage. Another passenger also sails in the same steamer, and one whom his congregation will regret to part with, as the Reverend Silas Sloan has many friends in our city. “But Mr. Sloan claims ill-health as the cause ot his sudden resignation from the pastorate of his church, and says his determination is to retire from the ministry altogether.” So much for the newspaper comments, whose’ keen-eyed reporters could not see behind the scenes, or discover the wheel within the wheel, which my romancing pen, in the next install- ment of my story, will unfold to the patient reader, who has thus far followed me in my ower true tale of ill-omened lives, CHAPTER XXXV., A DOUBLE SECRET DIVULGED, Wren Harold Lynde left the court-house a free man, he drove rapidly to his home, accom- panied by his father and sister, anxious to avoid the congratulations his friends desired to shower upon him. Calm outwardly, his brain was yet in a whirl, and his heart beat tremulously, for he knew that the skill and eae Be Jule, the Jewess, and Merton Wilbur alone had saved him from the caees, and that in intent he was guilty and eserved punishment. At dinner he barely tasted his food, refused his wine, and ordering his horse saddled, rode rapidly away as soon as it was dark, leaving his father and sister to pack up his traps, as he had made known his determination to sail upon the following day for a Straight to the old home of Ezra Quilp he rode, and dismounting knocked for admittance. The door was opened by Mother Naomi, and aughter, she ushered him up-stairs into her sitting-room, and he found himself face to face with the beautiful Jewess, who seemed surprised at his entrance. “Jule,” he said, earnestly, ‘‘I owe you my life, for you, aided by Merton Wilbur, saved me from the gallows. “Tam an innocent man now, in the eyes of the world; but in_your eyes I am guilty, for you know all that Iam. ** The story of repentance at the last, as the thief on the éross, which with your ereed, you do not believe, shall be true in my case, for, from to-day 1 am a changed man, and I wish to live for you. “T love you with all my heart, and I implore you to return that love, and go with me as my wife far from here, and let me devote my re- maining years to your happiness; will you go, Jule; or must 1 go alone into the world, with your image only in my heart?” She listened to his impassioned language with- out a look, act, or word of interruption until he had finished, and then she said softly, but ly: “ You must go alone, for I can never be your wife. ‘“‘T know that you say another claims you as his promised bride, but I know too al) that you have done for me proves that you love me.” Ere reply could be made a third person en- tered the room and advanced to where they stood.
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1 7 & ruined by iiip, and Z aided in i it from the pat + “i bk saa io ad one | 7 ————mowoeleasasasasaTsSDS_———___-::_:“ oS ere JULE, THE JEWESS. it was Victor Moloch, and he was very pale; but he said quietly: “Jule, from the adjaining room I overheard the avowal of love made by Mr. Lynde, and I have a word to say, and say it now, as I believe I know the secret of your heart, and it gives me joy, for I feared togive you pain by a confes- sion I raust make. ** Mr. Lynde, to explain to you, sir, I must say that my parents lett me comparatively a p»or man; but one, who had received kindness at my fgther’s hands, left me an enormous for- tune, and upon two conditions: “First, I was to take his name, and second, I was to make Jule Naomi my wife. I agreed to these terms for two reasons, first, I needed money, and had a certain duty to poe which it would aid me in, and second, felt, that I could love Jule. ‘“ Since then I have worn the name of the one who left me my fortune, and which I am free to say should have gone to his fair kinswoman here, Jule Naomi; and more, using that wealth skillfully, 1 have trebled the amount I inherited, and can now give to Jule all that was left me, with the full state interest to date, and yet have bc increase, which is.a large fortune, for my- “But I care not for it, Victor; it is yours, and together only will we share it,” said the ewess, “Hear me,” murmured Victor Moloch in the same quiet tones, ‘One night, some time ago, I saved the life of a young and beautiful girl, and from that moment I madly loved her. “But her creed was-not my creed, for she was a Gentile, I a Jew, and between us well I knew ere was & great gulf fixed. ; ‘ Yet I loved her, and only when I knew that she was in distress did I seek her out. “You, Jule, believed that I served her and her kindred from love of you; ah! how bitter was your mistake. “T served her because I loved her, though her — I had had bitter cause to hate in the s ‘Who that maiden is you both well know, and that I saved her from Quilp, the miser mil- lionaire, to make her my wife, you are aware, . Lynde, though Jule is not, “But I speak the truth, Jule, for Isabel Lynde is pledged to be my wife this very day, as her brother will tell you.” “Thanks be to the God of Israel!” broke from the lips of Jule, the Jewess, to the sur- prise of Harold Lynde and Victor Moloch, for the latter had believed that it would fall like a blow of iron upon the heart of the maiden. ‘ Do you mean this, Jule?’ he asked, eagerly. I do, Victor, for a brother only have you en to me, a lover never, and my heart re- belled at having one day to call you husband thongh I love ou, oh, so dearly in the light of such you on ; “And ta y y seem. ham,” fervently said Victor Moloch, while Har- old Lynde eagerly cried: ‘* Then now there is hope for me?” “None, for I do not ire ou, Mr. Lynde, and all I have done for you, f teh you again, was prompted only by gratitude for the past: if sca att of ai deserved such gratitude, ou well know, and now we can part wi claim the fae bp proc * foc gira e saw tha @ meant every word ghe nt- tered, and, in a voice that trembled and with a face that was ashen pale, he : “This then is my punishment for my sins, and I deserve it.” : ‘And, Harold Lynde, you deserve more; Saved you and yours from bein ‘now that Tam t |, ay, avenged for a cruel blowand scorn pd past, Sor am your old college mate, Harold Linde started back with a bitter, preven h cry, and then he groaned forth rather srunged yrnscie baniteléapomect ee tuprn aven elf, an momen a is Sacetnne than did I stand upon the. gal- lows, the hangman’s noose about my neck. — “You have triumphed, and I have lost; you have risen and I have fallen, and now we part aadane-c ott tor trae nd out a r word away, an neither of the other two speaking he left the room and the house. - ; For a moment a silence fell between Victor Moloch and Jule, the Jewess; then the man "oruive toe, Jule.” thanks be to the God of Abra-— **¥ have nothing to forgive, Victor.” **T am glad, for I feared to give you pain, and L loved her so.” “So be it.” ‘* And she shall become my wife this day, and I came hither to tell you so, and to give into our hauds the inheritance I received from Victor Moloch, whose name I took. “Here is the amount he leit, as you see by his will, and here is the check for all interest ac- cumulating to date, and from this day I am once more Adolph Hugo.” “* Accept my congratulations, Adolph, for the name of Moloch I never liked, though a family name of ours; but the money I care not for.” “* And I will not retain it, so,do with it as you wish.” ‘So be it; now we are quits, and gladly will I see you marry Isabel Lynde.’ ; ‘*She is not a Jewess, Jule,” **T know it,” ‘* She is a Christian,” * That I know.” ‘‘And you would see me become a renegade to my creed, my people and the God of Israel?” She turned pale, and then her beautiful face flushed as she replied: v **You can still hold your creed, be true to ‘the God of Israel, and love our people.” ‘‘A strange argument for you, Jule; but I thank you for it, thoughI n:ver expected to hear such words from your lips,” he said, thoughtfully. “T argue from the same stand-point that you do, Adolph.” ‘* Hal” and he started at her words, She turned crimson, but answered firmly : “Yes, from the stand-point of love, for J am pledged to become the wife of a Christian,” CHAPTER XXXVI. ISADOR MUIR MAKES A PROMISE. Arter the startling avowal, made by Jule, the Jewess, of her love for a Christian, Adolph Hugo, as I now once more call my hero, left the home of his friends in deepest meditation, while the maiden paced to and fro, her thoughts evi- dently far away. ‘‘T was insulted when he accused me of lovin Harold Lynde, and yet how differently I feel when I really love one who is not of my creed or people, “He is a renegade, and soam I; but the one he loves and he whom I love, are enough to make one prove recreant to every faith— Oh, uncle Isador, come be Ihave something to oath-bound wanderer entered the room. ‘She has told:me you are to be a renegade to our faith, Jule,” he said, sternly, ‘True, and so is one other,” “Who?” ** Victor Moloch.” “You mean Adolph Hugo?” “ Yes. ” ‘The son of Marcus Hugo and Salome Moni- ca?’ he again asked, in a ok Agen? tone. ‘* Yes ewe did you know hi ‘*T heard all that was said.” *‘ Ah! and you know there are two of us rene- gades?” i i “Yes, but from their son I might expect it; but from you, no.” ‘“‘T have hut one excuse: I love a man more than my creed, and Adolph does the same, and I know we shall both be happy.” ‘‘T hope that you may; love drove me upon the wide earth a wanderer and made me what I m as such?” am; but in proof that I forgive you, and him, ou to make his bride one present I give y let it come as though wholly from o ou, uncle Isador; but, as you heard jiasytee tan Enoas sheaht Hebd weehan: tied patie age all the wealth Victor Moloch, our kinsman, left Adolph H ding pre- sent from “Never nrind, I have a + in-view for bride; you remember, I gave his mother one?” “ Yes, and it took yourdast dollar to buy the gems, and you, being a silversmith, made it yourself.” . I “Yes, and oh, how beautiful it was, niece; | but you said it was pawned by Adolph’s mo- mother to educate him, I believe, and give him a start in the world.” “So it was, I have been told,” I wish you, “ But, the interest not being paid, I suppose trampship buy? was = bho uncle.” ™ d you tell who received it?” me who was the pawnbroker tell you, if mother has not already made it known,” she said, as Isador Muir, the ragged, 25 ** Yes, for I have heard mother say it was Isaac Castleberg, of Boston.” “Thank you, child; now do not speak more of it to any one, and—you shall have that mmed star to give to his bride asa wedding gift, for what more appropriate than for her ta wear what his mother wore?” ‘ You dear old uncle, how can I repay all of your goodness to me?” said Jule, with teara in er eyes, ‘* Never mind, ss child; I have not long to live, { know, but I wish to make you happy while I do linger here. ‘Now tell your mother that I have been called away to Boston to-night, for I go to see Castleberg, and if he has sold the gem, I can readily trace so valuable an article, and will buy _it, cost what it may. ‘It is doubtless in some pawnbroker’s hands, or jeweler’sy now, as few could afford to keep such a present. ““Good-by, Jule, and expect me to return ' with the gem.” CHAPTER XXXVII. THE TRAMP. THE street ae fe of a handsome Eastern ci vere just lighted, and mingling their rays wit the dying twilight, when a man entered the out- skirts, and wended his way down one of the principal thoroughfares, He walked with a tired step, pushed to haste from some cause, and carried a heavy stick, or rather statf, upon which he leant with apparent good will Such a man, in general make-up, one meets daily in our land, both in country towns and highways, and now and then within the limits of our largest cities, and they are called— tramps. Houseless, homeless, even countryless often, they wander north, south, east and west, like the swallows, seeking the genial sunny climes in winter, and wending their way northward in the sultry time of summer, Ragged this man was; almost shoeless, and his hat was drawn down over his fee but not so far but that when a street lamp flashed upon. him, the face of a Jew was revealed, To the honor of the Jewish race be it said, the street beggars, the country tramps, are not rep- resented by their people; but, as all rules have exceptions, in this case, the tramp was a Jew. Other than his dilapidated attire, and bis staff, he seemed to possess nothing else in worldly goods, not even a bundle, and his left hand. was serving no Parnes on his travels, and hung idly at his side, unless I except a nervous clinching and working of the finge walked along, his haste evidently taxing his powers of endurance, - Into the busy mart of the town he took his way, following, apparently from long habit, rather than intention, the center of the street, and now and then raising his eyes and glancing at the signs over the stores. Presently he halted, took from an inner re- cess of his tattered —— a card, and appar- pay A ‘satisfied that he was right, went straight to the doors of a brilliantly-illuminated jewelry store. : : “BRAZIER & COMPANY, ““STLVERSMITHS AND JEWELERS,” Such read the gilded sign over their store; but without hesitation the man in tatters opened. the door and stepped within. “Nothing for, you!” called out a haughty clerk, with his hair parted in the middle, and a diamond stud, loaned by the firm as an adver- tisement, glitverrrg in his shirt-front of im- maculate linen. But the man came further into the gorgeous “Beggars not admitted; begone!” stern! sald the clerk, and the eyes of a t turned eed @ man, F , undismayed, he walked up to the glitter~ mittan rs as he “| A tramp,’ “A tramp, essed; then what the deuce do you want here?” “To make a purchase, mine frint.” A general, vulgar. fue followed this an- nouncement, for what had Brazier & Company in ne store that a beggarly-looking tramp cou u N mh ‘A pure eh? Well, what. will your f Perhaps this set of diamonds; they are cheap at ten thousand,” sneered the “curl "of . bok eich vant star of ru dimints et No ant o 1 , mine A loud laugh followed this announcement: self-conf
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a et hero 26 for the article referred to was the most costly piece of jewelry in the store, being a five-point- ed star with an opal of great size in the center, and a circle of immense rubies, rare and blood- red, around it, and the points being set with diamonds, differing in siz3 from the one next to the ruby circle, to the one in the star point. This magnificent and costly piece of jewelry, with its massive gold setting, the clerk placed his hand upon, and said in the same scornful way: | o Ah! I see, that ie what your trampship wants?” . ‘** Yesh, mine frint.” Well, I guess you can buy it; will you give our check for it now, or shall I send it to your otel for you, C. O, D.?”’ **T vill gg Good! ell, it costs just fifty thousand dollars.” ‘* And here ish te monish, mine frint.” In blank amazement the clerks gathered around, while from an old morocco wallet the gew took out a roll of bank-notes, and counted out the sum demanded. ‘‘Dere ish te monish; fifty t’ousant tollars, mine frint, ant I ish have one tollar left.” So saying he placed the remaining bill back in his wallet, which he returned to his pocket. _ Instantly there was a change in the manner of the clerks. At first they seemed to doubt the genuineness of the bank-bills; but these on examination proved beyond cavil. . “Well, sir, I hope you will pardon me for my little joke; but it is nearly closing hours, and we are so often deceived in people,” said the clerk, politely, to his fifty-thousand-dollar customer. ' “So ish tramps, mine frint; oh, t’ank you, I vill take it mit me now,” and he took the vel- vet case and its treasure, and added, as he left the store: - Pk mine frint.” ‘Perkins, [fear you were wrong to let that Lat bencon @ purchaser; he may be a thief, ana— “*Tll stop him and have him arrested,” shout- ed Perkins, before his fellow-clerk could say more, — But when he gained the street, the Jew with his costly jewel had disappeared. : CHAPTER XXXVIII. ISABEL LYNDE’S CONFESSION, Wen Adolph Hugo left the home of Jule, the Jewess, be secured a carriage from a stable near by and drove to the palatial mansion of the millionaire, Andrew Lynde. Thither Harold Lynde had already preceded him, and, with his father and sister were seated in the library, when Richards announced: ‘*Mr. Victor Moloch.” Isabel’s face flushed, for, from her brother’s _ she had just learned the story of the past, when the two were at the University together, and also that Merton Wilbur had been a class- mate with them; in fact, the humbled and sor- rowing Harold had told all. “Ts he alone, Richards?” asked Isabel, for she knew that it was the day when he had a = to claim her in , according to the agreement, “Yes, miss,” She gave a sigh of relief and he entered. oe r. Moloch,” she began; but he broke in th: ‘*T am no longer Victor Moloch, Miss Lynde, for that name I assumed at the will of one from ’ whom I inherited my fortune, “} am now Adolph Hugo.” ** Yes, Lrecaii you now; your full beard de- ‘ceived me, though often have I wondered where I bad met you before. ‘*You saved my life on that awful night of wreck, when I was returning home from board- bps Bie ye and thus I find I owe to you another debt of gratitude.” “Miss Lynde, before your father and bro- ther, I wish to <p ang PA owe mo ne debt. “Tloved you from that speak, and father, and wishing e g bride if so you be. He was very pale, and breathlessly awaited NGhoking back her emotion she said, in a trem- shall have no unwilling wife, n9 + Adolph Hugo, for, from that night bave I also | haught | tled in believed had forgotten me that made me reck- less of whose wife I became, and caused me to offer myself as a sacrifice to the miser to save my father and brother from ruin; yes, Adolph Hugo, I love you with all my heart, and if you will take me, in the presence of my father and | brother, who owe you so much of gratitude, I tell you that thy home shall be my home, thy God my God until death do us part.” ** Amen!” The one word came from the lips of the mil- lionaire, while his son, with his face Buried in | his hands, made no reply. |_ “Tsabel, I thank you, and may the God of | Israel forever bless you; but this day will I not | claim you, as I wish no hasty dragging of a | bride from her home and father. ‘To-day two months, if so it please you, I will claim you as my wife, and the mean | time the world may know of the step you take, | and which I take, for it is no slight thing for one of my race to turn his back upon the daughters of Israel and the laws of his race.” “Tam content, Adolph; claim me when you will, for frankly I confess that you only can I love,” she said, earnestly, and soon after the oung Jew took his leave, Harold Lynde offer- ing his hand in farewell as he departed, and hearing the words; | “For your sister's sake, Mr. Lynde, I forgive | the past, and shall forget it; may your life in | the future be truer and nobler than in the past; | farewell.” CHAPTER XXXIX. THE STAR OF ILL-OMEN, THE day set by Adolph Hugo for the one on ha he was toclaim his biide rolled around at last. But in that time changes had come to some of | those who have become known in these pages to | the kind reader. Harold Lynde, a far different man from the aristocrat of his earlier years, had set- aris, and was living a quiet, uneventful _ life, for there were memories that haunted him which would not down at his biddin é The Reverend Silas Sloan, who had accom- | panied him to England, bad found out upon his | arrival that the way of the transgressor is hard | for he had been recognized as anold theological student who had fallen from grace, committed crimes that had sent him to prison, and, having, as the reader is aware, crossed ere his sentence was out, had been sent back to a cell to medi- tate u the brilliant career he had led in the New Worldasan impostor, and regret that he had not taken Merton Wilbur’s advice and gone toa more congenial clime than England, for. having promised the evil man protection not to betray him, if he testified to the truth against the miser millionaire, he could not, in honor, deliver him up, as he richly deserved, for ners go Quilp, the miser, had one to n uilp, the miser, had one to prose- cute him he little liked, for it was none other than Merton Wilbur, who had become District Attorney at the expiration of his predecessor’s term, and his eloquence sent the wretched man, in spite of his money, to prison, and the public verdict was that “it served him right.” Of course the rumors that there were to be two weddings in high life set all the fashionable pesele on the qui vive; but when it was known hat the belle and heiress, Isabel Lynde, was to marry a Jew, none other than is Hugo, a millionaire banker, ery d was on the tip-toe of excitement, yet could find no word against the young man other than that he was not a Chris- an, and there were some who openly said that he lived a purer, better life than those who were. The other wedding to be, was a poorer one, for the popular young District Attorney, Mer- ton Wilbur, had looked over the heads of the Christian maidens and fallen in love with Jule, the Jewess, and the double wedding was to be celebrated at one and the same time, And it was celebrated, with great p and lendor, and by a double ceremony, for both a Christian cle’ anand a Jewish rabbi read tye services of their respective churches. And off on a bridal tour ioe the happy quar- tette, to be gone for a month, but ere very long Adolph Hugo and his bride returned, for, stran to wed a. ealth of the young wife began - denly to fade. : ‘And soon after Merton Be cre and Jule were called home to see Isador e. Bat they arrived too late, for that strange te: thed his last ere he character brea rate gy Pootad again gazed upon the face of his But to her he left his fortune, and his papers, And it was in looking over these latter one day, when alone, that Jule suddenly turned deadly pale at something she read. Again and again she read it over, and ther thrusting the paper into her bosom, hastily called for a servant. ‘Order my regio hs at ouce, Rachel,” she said to her maid, and, by the time the vehicle came round to the door of the handsome home where she lived with her husband and mother, she was dressed for her drive, ‘*To Lynde Manor, Reuben, and drive in haste,” she said to her coachman, and soon after she sprung out at the door of the mansion. ‘How is Mrs. Hugo, Richards?’ she asked, quickly, of the worthy old butler. ‘*Seems to be daily fading, miss, though none know why.” “*T will go at once to her room,” announced Jule, and the next moment she entered the handsome chamber, where Isabel indolently lay upon a lounge, idly toying with a costly, gem- med wedding gift that was fastened around her neck by a gold chain. Warmly she welcomed the Jewess, and her pale face flushed slightly; but Jule hastily said: “Tsabel, | have come to cure you, for I have discovered what the physicians have failed te ? “What do you mean, Jule?” asked Isabel, languidly. **T mean that I understand the nature of your disease; here, let me have that gemmed star.” ‘*No, I have not taken it off since Se clasped it around my neck, Jule, the day I was mar- ied.” “T will take it off, for I wish to examine it,” and she did so. Then she took from her bosom the paper she had thrust there, and which she had found among the effects of her uncle Isador Muir, and said: ‘*Tsabel, you have often heard me speak of my strange kinsman, uncle Isador Muir.” ‘Yes.’ “*T have told you his sad history?” “Yes; well?” ‘He was a skilled jeweler, and also a chemist, and knowing these facts about him, and that he had a most revengeful natur*, you will under- stand what I now read to you, and which is a leaf from his diary of many years ago. “Tt is as follows, and in a secret cipher which he taught me one day: “* Paid almost my last dollar to-day for the gems to fit in my revenge present. “*Tt will be most beautiful, and the poisons I have so set in the rays of the star that they will do their deadly work and none ever believe that I caused the death of Salome Monica, and revenged myself upon her for discarding me and becoming the wife of Marcus Hugo.’” “Great God! Jule, what does this mean?” cried Isabel, in alarm. ; “Tt means, Isabel, that my poor uncle so hated the woman he once loved that he never forgave her, and sought revenge upon ber son, your husband, beget me. “This is his wedding-present to her long years ago, and she died with a disease none could fathom. f ) , “She was poisoned by this ill-omened star, as you are being day by day, and he gave it to me to give to you, that he might see you die, and ( bus gloat in his revenge upon Adolph Hugo. “Now, Isabel, I take back this gift of ill- omen, and, thank God, in time to save you, and, when next Merton takes me for a in his yacht, you go, too, and far downin the sea ill I send it never more to do harm. “ Now come, rouse out of =< indisposition, for the cause is removed; but, Isabel, for the sake of the dead, let this secret be buried be- tween youand I,” Isabel was deeply affécted by all she had heard; but already did she seem to feel better, and casting off the presence of gloom upon her, ‘she roused herself to liveliness, and greatly was her busband cheered when he found her in such high spirits upon his return home. rom that day her health improved, ana then she knew, indeed, that but for Jule’s discovery of the cipher she would have met her th, the victim of Isador Muir’s revenge. a Jule, the Jewess, kept her word, for one pleasant afternoon, when Merton Wilbur's yacht, The Jewess, was nene on ina race around the Lightship off dy Hoo down into the depths of the sea sunk from the “ Star of Ill-omen.” THE END. penee ot hie pe .3 ca At nc ce
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FOR sGHoo» = | LO GUE ral xIBLEION S gs HOME ENT ‘Ses, I © SS inclusive, AK to 25 Fepular Dialogues and Dramas in cach book, Each rolume 100 18me pages, sow post-paid, on receipt of price, TEN CENTS. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William St., N. Y. These volumes have been prepared with especial reference to their availability for Exhibitions, being adapted to schools and parlors wit i without the furniture of a stage, and suited to SCHOLARS AND YOUNG PEOPLE of every age, both male and female. It is fair to assume that no other books in the market, at any price, contain so many useful and available dialogues and dramas of wit, pathos, humor and sentiment. Soueanen — Dime Dialogues, No. 1. ents ot baad i tpl For pe ‘eg hn gg ot olly of the Duel. For three male } nglishman. For three boys. ogmatism, For three male kers, Tasso’s Coronation. For male and female. or ow Di Fashion, For two ladies. The Fast Y erehearsal, For six ye Re Which will you Choose? For two boys. The four ladies. Scenes Wedded Life. For male and female. Mrs. Sniffles's Confession. For male and female. ing. For five ers. Seoret of Success. For three speakers. an BEADLE AND ADAMS, 98 WILLIAM STREET, N, Y. General Dime Book Publi Young America. For three males and two femaies., Josephine’s Destiny. For four females, one male, The Ignorant Confounded. For two boys. Man. For two males. a bb eae pes gm Mt ror oe male. © Village me Gentleman. For it females The oe of ayy... For two little girls. and one male, ~ Dime Dialogues, No. 2. The Mission of the Spirits. For five young ladies. | The Genius of Liberty. Two males and one female, mobbi Cinderella; or, the Little Glass’ Slipper. Doing Good and Saying Bad. For several characters. ers, The Golden Rule. For two males and two females, The Gift of the Fairy Queen. For several fe Taken in and Done for. For two characters. Country Aunt’s Visit to the City. Several characters. The Two Romans... For two males. ee J the Characters. For three males. The Happy Family. For several “ animals,” The Rainbow. For several characters. How to write ‘Popular’ Stories. For twe males The New and the Old. For two males, A Sensation at Last. For two males. The Greenhorn. For two males. a The Three Men of Science. For four mal The Old Lady’s Will. For four males. The Little Philosophers. For two little girls, How to Find an Heir. For five males, The Virtues. For six young ladies. A Connubial Eclogue. The Public Meeting. For five males and one female, The English Traveler. For two males, Dime Dialogues, No. 3. The May Queen. For an entire school. Dress Reform Convention. For ten females, Keeping Bad Company. A Farce. For five males. Courting Under Difficulties. Two males, one femala, National Representatives. A Burlesque. Four males, Escaping the Draft. For numerous males. The Genteel Cook. For two males. Masterpiece. Fortwo males and two femalea The Two Romans. For two males. The Same. Second Scene. For two males, Showing the White Feather. Four males, one femaia. The Battle Call. A Recitative. For one male, The Frost Eing. For ten or more persons. ering bin ife. For three males and two females. Faith, Hope and Charity. For three little girls. ap and Joan. For two males and one female, Nhe May. A Floral Fancy. For six little girls. The Enchanted Princess. 2 males, several females, Honor to Whom Honor is Due. 7 males and 1 female The Gentle Client. Several males and one female, Phrenolegy. A Discussion. For twenty males, The Stubdletown Volunteer. 2 males and 1 female, A Scene from “ Paul Pry.” For four males. — The Charms. For three males and one female, Bee, Clock and Broom_ For three little girls. The Right way. A Colloguy. For two boys. What the Ledger Says. For two males, The Crimes of Dress. A Colloguy. For two boys. The Reward of Bexevolence. For four males, The Letter. For two ruales. Dime Dialogues, No. 5. The Three Guesses. For school 29: mg Sentiment. A ‘Three Persons’ Farce.
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“gg iD = S n 3, S 4. Comic gpopeaker 6. locutionist, ! orous § ‘ g Standard Spe f Etique Book Lp |-room : we of Beauty: Hand-Books of Games ; et. Book of Croqu 7 Chess Ins aan lalogues Ni Oks, fe: farses No. Te Dial cae No. Thré Wenty-fiy. ~ p2ges, P ip VY, YY jy ul, K d mplete an *} piograDMes, ve Be Y i Y, YY = Allen. nS meen de Lafayette. vi—Daniel Boone. *“_pavid Crockett. at Tera putnam. 1 X.—Kit Carson. } ~TPecumseh. o _Abraham Lincoln. | HANDBOOK OF WINTER SPORTS, EMBRACING: : ICE-SKATING, ROLLER-SKATING, RINK-BALL, CURLING,’ | \§ AMERICAN ‘FOOTBALL, 7 AND “ICE-BOATING, Together with the Special Code of Rules for Prize Skating of the Skating Congress, and Records of Matches at Base-Ball and Cricket on the Ice. Edited by Henry Chadwick. / The above books are sold by all Newsdealers, or sent, post-paid, on receipt of price, 10 cts, each, \ OO tn gi eee f i
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ed Yd ba ~ & 27 a 56 The Indian Mazeppa} or, The ot De tain Seawaif, the Privates ie. pty, Pi: t a ‘ vd ————$—_ ———— ; ‘ y oa 4=|B/E|A/D|L\E|’S|=|D I|M|E) y \2 A Hard Crow4; or, Gentleman Sam’s Sister. By Philip ©. Warne. 2 Whe Dare-Wevil; or, The Winged Witch of the Sea. By Col P: Ingraham. $ Kit Carson, Jr., the Crack Shot of the West... By Buékskin Sam, 4 'The Ridwapper or, The Great Shanghai of the Northwest. By Philip S. Warne. 5 The Fire-Fiends; or, Hercules, the Hunch- back, By A. P. Morris. 6 Wiideat Bob, the Boss Bruiser By Ed- ward L. Wheeler. 7 Death-Notch, the Destroyer. By Oll Coomes. 8 The Meadiess Horseman. Bv Cptain 9 oo Radbepi : fandy Andy. By Samuel Lover. — 10 Vidoca, tlic tench Pol‘2e Sp Written by 11 Mideh ' Shipman Easy, sy Captain Marryat. 12 The Death-Shot; or, Tracked To Death. By Captain Mayne Reid. 13 Pathaway; or, Nick Whiffles, the old Trap- per of the Nor’west. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 14 Thayendanegea, the Scourge ; or, The War Eagle of the Mohawks. By Ned Buntline. _ 415 The TViger-Slayer; or, Eagle-Head tc the Rescue. Gustave Aimard. 16 The White Wizard ; or, The Great Prevhet of the Seminoles. By Ned Buntline, 17 Nightshade, the Robber Prince of Hounslow Heath. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 18 The Sea Bandit, By Ned Buntline. “2 19 Red Cedar, *s Prairie Outlaw. By Guscave Aimard. . ( 20 The Bandit«. Bay; or, The Pirates of the Prairies. By Gustave Aimard. 21 tbs Trapper’s Daughter; or, The Out- law’s Fate. By Gustave Aimard. 22 Whitelaw; or, Nattie of the Lake Shore. By Dr. J. H. Robinson, r 23 The Red Warrior; or, scella Delorme's _. . Comanche Lover. By Ned Eurtline. + 24 Prairie Flower. By G. Aimard. 25 The Gold Guide; or, Steel Arm, the Regu- lator. , By Francis Johnson. 26 The Death-Track 3 or, The Outlaws of the ow Mountain. By Francis Johnson, 27 he Spotter Detective. By A. W. Aiken, 28 Three-Fingered Jack, the Road-Agent of the Rockies. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr. 9 Tizer Wick, the Faro King; or, The Cashier’s Crime. By Philip S. Warne. 30 Gospel Georges or, Fiery Fred. the Outlaw. By Joseph BE. Badger, Jr. 31 Bue New York Sharp; or, The Flash of vi Lightning.’ By Albert W, Aiken. 32 Bhoys of Vale 3 or, The Scrapes of a Hard Set of Coliegians. By John D, Vose. ’ Overland Kit} or, The Idyl of White Pine. Albert W. Aiken. 84 Rocky Mountain Rob Outlaw. By Albert W. Aiken. \85 Kentuck, the Sport; or, Dick Te!hot at the Mines. By Albert W. Aiken. 36 Injun Dick; or, 'The Death Shot of Shasta. Albert W. Alken, ; ‘37 Hirl, the Hunebback; or, Tae Sword- maker of t \e Santee. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 38 Velvet Mand; or, The Iron Grip of Injun i Dick, By Albert WW. Air”. 39 The Russian Spy 3, che Brothers of the tarry Cross, By Captain Fred, Whittaker. 40 The Long Matred * Pards;* or, The at tote of the Plains. Jos. E. Budger, Jr. old het 2 or, The White Savage of the Great Salt Lake. By Albert W. Aiken. 42 The California Detective; or, The Witches of New York. By Albert W. Aiken, 43 Dakota Dan the Reckless Ranger: or. The Bee-Himnters’ Excursion. By Oli Coomes, 44 Old Ban Rackbacic, the Great Extarmina- 45 Ola Hulls Eyes the Te ly Dee geht 5 pu Pains 5 Jos. bebo deer, 7 Shot of the owie-Knife Ben, the Little i Nor West, By ou Cooin iy Hunter of the acifie Pete, the Pri- 30° +3 Rey. o Tom e Youu tlaw of ‘ _ or, the Hunters of the Wild West. ON Cans 49 The Wolf Demon. By Albert W, Aiken, 50 Jack BRabhit, the Prairie Sport, By Jos. E. er, Jt, ‘ 51 Red Bob, the’ Roaa-agent* By on Coomes. ( , «& 5 f 52 Death Tra.ter, the Chief of Scouts; or, Life and Love in a Frontier Fort. By Buffalo Bill. 53 Silver Sam; or, The Mystery of Deadwood City.” By Col. Delle Sara. $4 Always On Hand. By Philip 8. Warne. 65 The Scalp Hunters. Capt. Mayne Reid. of the Plains. By A. W. Aiken. 57 The Silent Hanter; or, Ths Scowl Hall 5 mi The Mountain Ranger. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. bo The en oom ‘Texas; or, The Outlaws en CLArkansas. By A. W. Aiken. ‘60 Wide Awake the Robber King; or, The Idiot of the Black Hills. By Frank Drmont. bi By Ned ‘ 8 (62 maak Heart; or, Te Trappers t A: cansus, @2 tave Aimard. { 63 ‘The Winged Whale. By 3. W. Aiken « Rs Pouble-Sigh ~ < Th Ou : raat t, the Deatu Shot; or, The a : Ww of . 1 s. E. Badger, Jr. the Chaparral. By Jos. E oy re gael $5 The Red Rajah}; or, The Sco ‘thas anti Whittaker : : the California ) \° t man |" 66 The Specter Barque, By Mayne Reid, ~ 67 The Boy Toekey™ By Jos. E. Basecr ar: 68 The Fighting Trapper; or, Kit Carson to the Rescue. By Captain J. F. C. Adams. 69 The Irish Captain. © By Capt. F. Whittaker. 70 Hydrabad, the Strangler; or, Alethe, the Child of the Cord. By Dr: J. H, Robinson. 71 Captain Cool-Blade}; or, The Man-Shark of the Mississippi. By Jos. E, Badger, Jr 72 The Phantom Hand; or, The Heiress of Fifth Avenue. By A. W. Aiken. 73 Whe Knights of the Red Cross; or, The Magician of Granada. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 74 The Captain of the Rifles; or, The Queen of the Lakes. By Capt. Mayne Reid, 75 Gentleman George. By A. W. Aiken. 76 The Queen's Musketeers}; or, Thisbe, the Princess Palmist. By George Albany. « 77 The Fresh of Frisco. By A. W. Aikep 78 The Mysterious Spy. By A. M. Grainger. 79 Joe Phenix, the PoliceSny. By A.W. Aiken, 80 A Wan of Nerve. By Philip S. Warne. 81 The Human Tiger; or, A Heart of Fire. By Albert W. Aiken. 32 Iron Wrist, the Swordmaster. By Colonel Thomas Hoyer Monstery. 83 Gold Bullet Sport. By Buffalo Bill. 84 Hunted Down; or, The League of Three, By Albert W. Aiken. 85 The Cretan Rover; or, Zuleikah, the Beautiful, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. ueen of the 88 Big George, the Giant of the Gulch; cr, The Five Outlaw Brothers. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 89 The Pirate Prince. By 90 Wild Will, the Mad Ranchero; or, rible Texans. By Buckskin Sam. $1 The Winning Oar; or, The Innkeeper’s Daughter. By Albert W. Aiken. 92 Buffalo Billi, the Buckskin King; or, The Amazon of the West. By Hag, Dangertes Burr. 93 Captain Dick Talbot, 4 of the Road; or, The Black-Hoods of Shasta. By.A. W. Aiken. 94 Freelance, the Buccaneer; or, The Waif of the Wave. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 95 Azhort, the Axman; or, The Secrets of the Ducal Palace. By Anthony P. Morris, 96 Double-Beath,; or, The Spy Queen of Wyo- ming. By Capt. Fred, Whittaker. 97 Bronze Back, the California Thoroughbred. By Albert W. Aiken, 98 The Rock ider; or, The Spirit of the Sierra. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 99 The Giant Rifleman. By Oll Coomes. 100 The French Spy; or, The Bride of Paris. By Anthony P. Morris. 1 The Man From New Work 5 or, The Ro- manee of a Rich Young Woman. By Aiken. 102 The Masked Band} or, The Man With- outa Name. By George L. Aiken. 103 Merie, the Mutineer; or, The Brand of the Red Anchor. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 104 Montezuma, the Mlerciless; or, The Eagle and the Serpent. By Col, P. Ingraham. 105 Dan Brown of Denver, the Rocky Moun- . tain Detective. ._By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 106 Shamus 0’SBrien, the Bould Boy of Glin- gal. By Col. Delle Sara. 107 Richard Talbot of Cinnabar ; or, The Brotvers efihe Red Hand. By A. W. Aiken. 108 The Duke of Diamonds; or, The Flower . of Calcutta. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 109 HL y= Kyd, the King of the Black Flag. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 110 Fhe Silent Rifleman. By H. W. Herbert. 111 The Smuggler Captain; or, The Skip- er’s Crime. “By Ned Buntline, 112 Joe Phenix, Private Detective: or, The League of the Skeleton ag By.A, W, Aiken, 113 The Sea BIPEer § or, The Amateur Free- booters. By Prof. J. i. Ingraham. 114 The Gentleman From Pike; or, The Ghost of the Canyon. By Putin 5 arne. 115 The Severed Heads or, The Secret «f Castle Coucy. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker 116 Black Plume, the Devil of the Sea. dy Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 117 Dash mandy. the Hotspur of the Hills. By Major Dangerfie d Burr. 118 The Burglar Captain; or, The Fallen Star. By Prof. J. H. raham. 119 Alabama Joe; or, The Yazoo Man-Hun- ters. By Jos. E. Badger, Jv. 120 The Texan Spy; or, The Prairie Guide. By Newton M. Curtis. : 121 The Sea Cadet; or, The Rover of the Rigo- - . By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 122 Saul Sabberday, the Idiot Spy; or, Luliona, the Seminole. By Ned Buntline. 123 Alapaha, the Squaav ; or, The Renegades of the Border, By Francis Johnson, 124 Assowaum, the Avenger; or, The Doom of the Destroyers. By Francis Johnson. 125 The Blacksmith Outlaw: or, Merry _ England... By Harrison Ainsworth, 126 The Demon Duelist; or, The League of Steel.. By Col. Thomas Hoyer Monstery. 127 sol Scott, the Masked Miner; or, Dan Brown's Double. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr, 128 The Chevalier Corsair, By the author of ‘* Merle the Mutineer.” 129 Mississippi Mose; or, A Strong Man's Sacritice. By Edward Willett. 130.Captain Volcanos or, The Man of the Red _ Revolvers, A. W. Aiken, , 164 kuckskin Sam, the Texas Trailesaor, The ! audits of the Bravo, By Col. P. Int Pros! e Ter- —|L|1/B|R A'RY. EE als te Boe. TE a ee Be 132 Nemo, King ofthe Tramps. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 183 Rody, the Rover, the Ribbonmat of Ire land. by William Carleton. 134 Barkie Dan, the Colored Detective; or, Th¢ Mississippi Mystery. By Col. P. Ingraham. 135 The Bush Ranger; or, The Half-Breed Brigade. By Francis Johnson. : 12.6 The Outlaw-Hunter; or, Red John, the Bush Ranger. By Francis Johnson. { 137 Leng Beard, the Giant Spy. By O8 Coomes., t 188 Khe Border Bandits; or, The Horse Thief’s Trail. By Francis Johason. 139 Wire-Eye, the Sea Hyena; or, The Bride of a Buccaneer. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 140 The Three Spaniards, By Geo. Walker, 141 Equinox Tom, the Bully of Red Rock; or; Dan Brown’s Masterstroke. By Joseph. E. Badger, Jr. 142 Captain Crimson, the Man of the Iron Face. By Maj. Dangerfield Burr. 143 The Czar’s Spy; or, The Nihilist League. By Col. T. H. Monstery. 144 The Hunchback of Notre-Dame, By Victor Hugo. 145 Pistol Pards; or, Soft Hand, the Silent S-ort from Cinnabar. By Wm. R. Eyster. 146 The Doctor Detective ; or, The oe ha of the Golden Coffin. By George Lemuel. 147 Gold Spur, the Gentleman from Texas. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 148 One-Armed Alf, the Giant Hunter of the Great Lakes. B. Ol Coomes. 149 The Border Rifles. By Gustave Aimard. 150 El Rubio Bravo, King of the Swordsmen. By Col. Thomas Hoyer Monstery. 151 The Freebooters. By Gustave Aimard. 152 Captain TIronnerve, the Counterfeiter Chief. By Marmaduke Dey. 153 ‘The White Scalper. By Gustave Aimard. 154 Joaquin, the Saddle King. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 155 Khe Corsair Queen; or, The Gipsies of the Sea. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 156 Velvet Face, the Border Kravo; or, Muriel, the Danite’s Bride. By Dangerfield Burr. 157 Mourad, the Mameluke; or, The Three Swordmasters. By Col. Thomas H. Monstery. 158 The Doomed Dozen; or, Dolores, the Danite’s Daughter. By Dr. Frank Powell. 159 Red Rudiger, the Archer; or, The Lady Bertha’s Treachery. By Capt. F. Whittaker. 160 Soft Mand, Sharp; or, The Man With the Sand. By Wm. R. Eyster. 161 The Wolves of New Work, or, Joe Phenix’s Great Man Hunt, By A. W. Aiken. 162 The Mad Mariner; or. Dishonored and Disowned. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 163 Ben Brion, the Ethos oa Captain: or, Red- path, the Avenger. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 164 The King’s Fool; or, The Knights of the Clasped Hands‘and Red Branch, By C. D.Clark, 165 Joaquin, the Terrible. By J. B. Badger, Jr. 166 Owtlet, the Robber Prince; or, The Unknown Highwayman. By Septimus R, Urban. 167 The Man of Steel 3 or; The Masked Knight of the White Plume.” By A. P. Morris. 168 Wild Bill, the Pistol Dead Shot; ot ngeee f Don’s Double. By Col. Prentiss anges 169 Corporal Cannon, the Man of By Col. Thomas Hoyer Monstery. 170 Sweet William, the Trapper Detective. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 191 Wiger Dick, the Man of the Iron Heart; or, The Dumb Bandit. By Philip 8. Warne. 172 Khe Black Pirate; or. The Mystery of the Golden Fetters. By Col. P. Ingraham. 173 California John, the Pacific Thorough- ‘pred. By Albert W. Aiken. 174 The Phantom Knights. By Capt. F, Whittaker, 175 Wild Bill’s Trump Card; or. The Indian Heiress. By Major Dan rfield Burr. 176 Lady Jaguar, the Robber Queen. By Cap tain Mark Wilton. 177 Don Diablo, the Planter-Corsair; or, The Rivals of the Sea. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 178 Dark Dashwood, the Desperate; or, The Child of the Sun. By Major Sam §. Hall. 179 Conrad, the Convict; or, Was He Guilty? By Prof. Stewart Gildersieeve, LL. D. 180 Old 9493 or, The Amazon of Arizona. By Jos. E. er, Jr. 181 The Scarlet Schooner; or, The Nemesia of the Sea. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 182 Hands = s or, The Knights of the Canyon, By Wm. R. fyster. 183 Gilbert, the Guide; or, Lost in the Wk derness. By ©. Dunning Clark, 184 The Ocean Vampire; or, The Heiress & Castle Curse. Col. Prentiss am. 185 The Man Spicer; or, The Beau Sphins. By Anthony P. Morris. 186 The Black Bravo; or, The Tonkaway's Triumph. Buckskin Sam. 187 Whe Death’s Head Cuirassiers; on Brave of all Braves. By Capt. Fred. Whittaket 188 The Phantom Mazeppa; or, The Hyen} of the Chaparrals. By Maj. Dangerfield 189 Wild Bill's Gold Trail; or, The Despe ado Dozen. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 190 Ean Whree Guardsmen, By Alexandn mas. A new issue every Wednesday. Beadle’s Dime Library is for sale sk Newsdealers, ten cents per cop: n. orty Duels, y, or sent by mailow- receipt of twelve cents cach, BEADLE @ ADAMA, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York-
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From the New York Huening Sun. TWO REMARKABLE HEROES. The Deadwood Dicks, Senior =, Junior, are the Gentlemen, There Have Already Been Ninety Volumes Published Relating to Their Astounding Courage, Coolness and Skill In only one sense of the word can it be regarded as a novel statement when the fact is here recorded that literature has given many heroes to the world, and perhaps more than one reader will have to think a moment over this remark before the subtle delicacy of its genial wit strikes home, But it is most essentially a half dime novel state. ment that will be news to many when it is added that literature, if traced from the dimly distant days when Adam was a mere child down to the present day, would show but few heroes that in the eyes of boy- hood would be even judged worthy of comparison with the two greatest heroes known to American literature, or, to promptly_reveal them, Deadwood Dick and Deadwood Dick, Jr. Perhaps if everything were known of his career in bookland, Robinson Crusoe would rank above any hero ever offered to the boys of the world, tor Robinson made his ng been a long time ago and his adventures have been translated into pretty nearly all the languages that are printable; but while Robinson is and ever will be a Merb person- age, he is, it is to be feared, most decided y, a back number in the eyes of several millions of the boys and young men of to-day, And then, too, Robinson’s reputation was made and safely anchored to leeward at a time when com- Sameer in the manufacture of heroes of juvenile iterature was so slack that it is scarcely worth men- tioning. Had he postponed his debut until to-day. Robinson would have had to hire a press agent, o the very objectionable type known asa hustler, and even with that assistance the odds are that he would have experienced a severe frost, Robinson, like many other bygone characters caiculated to thrill the juvenile mind, labored under the disadvantage of having only a comparatively few adventures, and he was further very heavily handicapped by having to confine his adventures within the narrow circles of probability and com- mon sense, The modern heroes of fiction for youn America, who are now as countless as the sands o the sea, and of whom the Deadwood Dicks are much the most important, are not trammeled by any such confined conditions, and with the bars let down ad- mitting them to the boundless expanse of the utter- ly impossible, it is but natural that their unnatural ness should bear away the palm of DEpalAtisys and such as Robinson be left far behind in the race, Therefore the statement of the surpassing promi- nence of the two Deadwood Dicks having been so emphatically made, it will be as well to justify the emphasis with some facts about their history from a bookseller’s point of view, before plunging into the seething voriex of their recorded lives, Deadwood Dick made his first Sppearence before the public in 1877, under the — ces of Beadle & Adams, the William street publishers of popular literature for the masses, and for fourteen, years he or his son has been reappearing at intervals, which were at first irregular, but they have now settled down to a basis of once in six weeks, It was in 1885 that Deadwood Dick the elder made his final appearance after thirty-three volumes of adventure, and his son, Deadwood Dick, Jr., who had been growing up in them for many years, took up the running, and has kept it up to the tune of very nearly fifty volumes more in the six years — in New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, Boston, Cincinnati, Roches- ter, Buffalo, San Francisco, Denver, Galveston Leadville, and even at Coney Island, The titles of the younger hero’s volumes show that he met with and got the better of swindlers, bunco men, coun- terfeiters, bank robbers, horse thieves, smugglers, pirates, stage robbers, and, indeed, pretty peay every sqrt of criminal known to the police, while his father Jonfined himself almost exclusively to root- ing out the Western type of bad men. Progress has, therefore, a worthy representative in Deadwood Dick the younger. It is surely not necessary to add that in the mod- erate compass of a newspaper article, only the merest shadow of justice can bedoneto the careers of any heroes that have had such an extraordinar collection of stories as that written about them. If a month or so were given toa careful reader for the task, he might, with the assistance of a double-entry bookkeeper, tabulate the number of blood-curdling episodes thaewey in the eighty volumes, together with the éxact number of persons who are shot, stabbed, hanged and removed in sundry less con ventional borderland ways, such as being tossed into quicksands, burned inthe tops of forest giants, fed to bears or made to try and walk on tight ropes across bottomless chasms. The finalsummary would be something appalli in its gory magnitude, and would form a record o slaughter that would shame the battle of Gettys- burg, but it might prove a source of entertainment. to some idle person of a sanguinary turn of mind, anc so the idea is suggested here, The variety of duels in these stories is another sources of wonder to the reader, and it must be ack- nowledged that Mr, Wheeler has as prolific an imag- ination as it is possible to conceive. Every volume of the series fairly bristles with episodes of a nature that makes those related in the more ordin 10 cent or 5-cent stories seem as mild as hotel] milk, and hotel milk has been pronounced by scientists to be the mildest object in nature. In coming face to face with the notes of a variety of episodes and adventures in the books which thc writer made as he hurriedly went through the eighty volumes, and which he hoped to utilize in this article, an overpowering sense of havin bucked up against the impossible rears its dre front and mocks the man who dared to face the task of doing justice to the subject. Once or twice a flowing beaker of moxie, o7 nerve food, has been tossed off, and with grim determina- tion the struggle made to sift the material on hand ae condense it into something like a reasonable shape. With a heartfelt sigh the colossal task has, however. been reluctantly abandoned. There are the eighty volumes each so crowded with thrills and heart-iugs that it were madness to hope to do justice to shem collectively and rank injustice to discriminate be- tween them, The three larger pictures illust: ating this article have been selected at random fror eighty just as interesting, and the smaller ones are por raits of Deadwood Dick, his wife, Calamity Jene and Deadwood Dick, Jr. To abandon the idea of giving a few extracts from their lives causes infinite pain, but if once - start were made in that direction, if would be crue to The Evening Sun’s reac ers to stop, and it is there- fore better not to relate one single adventure. Suffice it to say that the stories are clean and well written, and until the glut of Gore and supernatural courage and success of the heroes becomes indi- gestible to the ordinary mind, there is much amuse- mont to be found in adventures of the Deadwood cks, The small boy and his larger brother have minds attuned by nature to absorb the music of the con- stant flow of villains’ blood and the never-ceasing cracking of rifles and revolvers that keep the silence ina tual state of unrest throughout the Dead- wood Dick series, but it is not so with a more mature mind, and unless you are a small boy or a youth prone to admire the terrifically heroic in literature, you are advised not to pure the entire eighty but to try a ‘sample here and there from volum . y, or the other fellow the list, If you are a small you doubtless know more about it than the iter, and so don’t want any advice on the subject, As.a parting tribute to Mr, Wheeler, the owner of the brain that has evolved and continues to evolve the most pone a ae stories of the day, it is but fair to add, and an interesting fact as w that he has also found time to dash off some novels about Cloven Hoof, the Buffalo Demon; Bob Woolf, the Girl Dead-Shot; Death-Face, Detective; Old Ava- lanche; Wild Edna, the Giri Brigand; Jim Bl : Jr., the Boy Phoenix; Buckhorn Bill; Gold Rifle, the Sharpshooter; Rosebud Rob; Nugget Ned; Idyl, the Girl Miner; Photograph Phil; Canada Chet; Watch- Eye; Jack Hoyle, the Young Speculator; Gilt- Edged Dick, the Sport Detective; Cinnamon Chip the Girl Sport; Bonanza Biil; Boss Bob, the King Bootblacks; Solid Sam, the Boy Road ent; Cap- tain Ferret, the New York Detective; New York Nell, the Boy-Girl Detective; Nobby Nick of Neva- da; Wild Frank, the Buckskin Bravo; Fritz, the Bound Boy Detective; Snoozer, the Boy_ Sharp; Apollo Bill, the Trail Tornado; Cyclone Kit, the Young Gladiator; Sierra Sam, the Frontier Ferret; Jumbo Joe, the Boy Patrol; Denver Doll. the Detec- tive Queen; Turk, the Boy Ferret; A No, 1, the Dashing Toll-taker; "Liza Jane, the_ Girl Miner; Kelley, Rickey & Co,, the Detectives of Philadelphia; Little Quick Shot; Kangaroo Kit, the Mysterious Miner; Manhattan Mike, the Bowery Blood; First- class Fred; Yreka Jim, the Gold Gatherer; Nabob Ned; Cool Kit. the King of Kids; Bic cle Ben; Wrinkles, the Night Watch Detective: High Hat Harry, the Baseball ‘Detective; Sam Slabsides, Beak and Pal, the Beggar Boy Detective; Jim Private Detectives; and Santa Fe Sal, the Slasher, He may therefore be pronounced the wag md ler from Storytellersvilie, and the Deadwood Dick stories will be bis towering monument.
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- ‘146 The Mad M 109 Deadwood Dilek as De ; iis Mustang Sam ¢ or, The King of the Plains. a8 Fidge Lynch ES rr Sam ey Sudsome Harry. By Charles Morris. Bi) ia lc ee - ta e ort. i Rerrot, tne Ket Yor, Bese —__—_ BEADLE’S Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road. By E.L. Wheeler. Yellowstone Jack. by Joseph E, Badger, Jr. Kensas King. By Buffalo Bill, (Hon. W. F. Cody.) The W lld-Itorse Hunters, By Captain Mayne Reid and y Osptain Frederick Whittaker. = Jagabond Joe, the Young Wandering Jew. By Oll Coomes. Double number, 10 cents. Bill Bidden, Trapper. By Edward S. Ellis, The Flying Yankee. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. Seth Jones}; or, ‘Ue Captives of the Frontier. By ES. Ellis. 9 Adventures of Baron Munchausen. 10 Nat fel or, The Hate of the Sioux Captives. By E. S, Ellis. 11 The Two Detectives. By Albert W. Aiken, 12 Gulliver’s Travels. A Voyage to Liliput, and a Voyage to Brobdingnag. By Dean Swift. 18 The Dumb Spy. By Oll Coomes. 14 Aladdin; or, The Wonderful Lamp. 15 ‘Vhe Sea-Cat. . 16 Robinson Crusoe. (27 Illustrations) By Defoe. is Ralph Roy, the Boy Buccaneer, B DAA TQ Rew 22 The Sea Serpent; or, The Boy Robinson Crusoe. By J. Lewis. 28 Nick o’ th ight; or, The Boy Spy of 76, By T. C. Harbaugh. c+ By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, he Bo: Sapien. or, Roger Starbuck. > the Buffalo Demon, By Edw Wheeler, t Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide. Ii cocoa : 28 Buffalo Ben, the Prince of the Pistol. B The Dumb Page. $0 Roaring Ral 1 Keen-Knife, p By Captain J. F, Be Adaiie. 89 Death-Face, the Detective. Ben. B 44 ot Pony Express Rider. Burt Bunker, the T: : 51 The Boy Riflens or, The Unde Coe ee ois udsoe, Jr., the B Phenix. Ned Mazel, the Boy Trapper, By Capt: 2 gry ee n 55 Deadly-Eye, the Unkn Ss B i 58 Nick Whilles’ Pot. By Cacia Sp Bill Pas A erage ‘. , y St. George. te Indian, By Captain ad © ‘bites Ps Buckhern Bill; or, The Red Rifle Team, By E. ls Wheeler. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. By W. J. &4 Dandy lack. By T.C. Harbaugh. Hamilton: 65 Hurricane Bill. By Joseph E.B . 66 Single Hand; or, A Lite for a Lifes ee J. Hamilton. Patent-Leather Joe. By Philips. Adel e Border Robin Hood. By Buffalo Bill, 69 Gold Rifle the Sharpshooter. By Edw 70 Old Zip’s Cabin. BY Captaio F.C, Adana ee 71 Delaware Dick; the oung Ranger Spy. By Oll Coomes. 72 Mad Tom Western, the Texan Ranger. By W. J. Hamilton. 78 Deadwood Dick on Deck. By Edward L. Wheeler. 74 Hawk-eye Marry. By Oll Coomes, = 7 The Bey Dmelf«t. By Colonel Prentiss Ing-nham 76 Abe Colt, the Crow-Killer. By Albert W. Aiken, z She ek riley the Boy Bravo, By E. L, Wheeler, 3 at, re a be Septet Mayne ae by r, the Giant Trapper. bert W, i, 60 Tosebuad Rob. By Edward L. Wheeler, — $1 Lightaing o, By Captain J. FO. Adams. 82 Kit Harefoot the Wood-Hawk, By T. Cc. Harbaugh, y G. Waldo Brown. ig yee Morne Reid. sagt’ oy 88 Pectenrsnh Phil, the leuth. By E. L; Wheeler, 89 Ialand Jim. By the author of “ Jack Harkaway,” BO The ven Rider. By George Waldo Browne. 91 The Capt ofthe Club. By sreetannee Hemyng. 92 Canada Chet, the Counterfeiter Chief, By E. L. Wheeler. 98 The fners. By Edward S. Ellis, t Jack, the ad-Agent. By T. @. Harbaugh, 95 The Rival vs averse. By yor nba yg 96 Watch-Eye, the Shadow. By Edward L, eeler. 87 The Outlaw Brothers, By Jobn J, Marshall. 98 Robin Heod, the Outlawed Earl. By Prof. Gildersleeve, 99 The’Tiger of Tuos. By George Waldo Browne, 100 Deadwood Dick in Leadville, By E. L. Wheeler, 101 Jack Harkaway in New York. Bracebridge Hemyng. 102 Dick Dead-Eye. By Colone! Prentiss Ingraham, 108 The Lion ofthe Sea. By Colonel Delle Sara. 104 Deadwood Dick’s Device. By Edward L. Wheeler, 105 Old Rube, the Hunter. By Captain H. Holmes, 106 Old Frosty, the Guide. By T. C. Harbaugh. OT One-Eyed Sim. 8 pacer site ey 0: the Youn ar-Killer. By H. St, George. 109 During Da Del ctive. By EL, Whealers™ 110 T lack Steed of the Prairies, By J. L, en. il re Pat, Soi - By Colonel Prentiss Ingrakam, 12 The Mad Hunter. By Burton Saxe. 3 Jack Hoyle the Young Speculator. By E. L. Wheeler. 114 The B ack Schooner. By Roger Starbuck. iner. By George Waldo Browne, ie © Hussar Captain. aby Col. Frenfiee Ingraham, ged « B ward L. eeler. 1 ii oe atective. By Charles Morris, By J, E. Badger. © The Branded Hand. 247 121 a 428 Kiowa Charley, the White Mustanger. By T.C. Harbaugh, Onanza Bill, Miner, By ie pp She Pete. By Charles Morris. 18s Wild-Fire, the Boss of the Road. By Frank Dumont. 12 re ecti vk. By Charles Morris. 1ST The widen thas. By George Wal he 8 Bee ac plese Hand, & Captain Mayne Reid. ' 4 Jn Ptain | t ‘ew York Detective. By Wheeler. $ Silver Star, the Boy Knight. By Oll Comes.” Vinx, Cigale OMEN 147 Will Wildfire, the Thoroughbred. By Charles Morris. 148 Sharp Sam _ By J. Alexander Patten, 149 A Game of Gold. By Edward L. Wheeler. 150 Lance and Lasso. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 151 Panther Paul, the Prairie Pirate. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 152 Black Bess, Will Wildfire’s Racer, By Charles Morris, 158 Eagle Kit, the Boy Demon. By O01] Coomes. 154 The Sword Hunters, By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 155 Gold Trigger, tie Sport. By T. C, Harbaugh. 156 Deadwood Dick of Deadwood, By E. L. Wheeler. 157 Mike Merry, the Harbor Police Boy. “By Charles Morris. 158 Fancy Frank of Colorado. By Buffalo Bill. 159 The Lost Captain. By Captain Frederick Whittaker. 160 The Black Giant. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 161 New York Nell. By Edward L. Whe ler, 162 Will Wildfire in the Woods. By Charles Morris. 168 Little Texas, the Young Mustanger. By Oll Coomes. 164 Dandy Rock’« Pledge. By George Waldo Browne. 165 Billy Baggage, the Railroad Boy. By Charles Morris, 166 Hickory Marry. By Harry St. George. 167 Asa Scott, the Steamboat Boy. By Edward Willett, 168 Deadly Dash. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. Tornado Tom. By T. C. Harbaugh. 170 A Trump Card. By Charles Morris. 1 Ebony Dan. By Frank Dumont. Thunderbolt Tom. By Harry St. George, Dandy Rock’s Rival. By George Waldo Browne. Bob Rockett, the Boy Dodger. By Charles Morris, Captain Arizona. By Philip S. Warne. The Boy Runaway. By Lieutenant H. D. La. 4h U.S.N. Nobby Nick of Nevada, By Edward L. Wheeler. Old Solitary, the Hermit Trapper. By Oll Coomes. Bob Rockett, the Bank Runner, By Charles Morris, The Sea Trailer. By Lieutenant H. D. Perry, U.S.N, Wild Frank of Montana, By Edward L. Wheeler. Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain. By Oll Coomes, The Hidden Hand, By Charles Morris, The Boy Trailers. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. Evil Eye, King of the Cattle Thieves. By Frank Dumont, Cool Deamond. By Colone! Delle Sara. Fred Hatyard, the Life Boat Boy. By Charles Morris. 188 Ned Temple, the Border Boy. By T. 0, Harbaugh. 189 Bob Rockett, the Cracksman. By Charles Morris, 190 Dandy Darke. By William R. Eyster. 191 Buffalo Billy, the Boy Bullwhacker, By Capt. A. B. Taylor. 192 Captain Kit, the Will-o’-the-Wisp. By Lieut. Perry. The Lady Road-Agent. By Philip 8, Warne. 194 Buffalo Bill’s Bet. By Captain Taylor. 195 Deadwood Dick’s Dream. By Edward L. Wheeler, 196 Shadowed. By Charles Morris. 197 Little Grit, the Wild Rider. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 198 Arkansaw, the Man with the Knife. By T. C. Harbaugh, 199 Featherweight. By Edward Willett. 200 The Boy Bedoutns, By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 201 The Black Hills Jezebel. By Edward L. Wheeler. 202 Mpg ce Pete, of tne Boy Brigade. By O!! Coomes. 208 The Boy Pards. By Joseph KE. Badger, Jr. 204 Gold Plume, the Boy Bandit. By Col, Prentiss Ingraham, 205 Deadwood Dick’s Doom. By Edward L, Wheeler. 206 Dark Paul, the Tiger King, By Charles Morris, 207 Navajo Nick, the Boy Gold Hunter, By T. C. Harbaugh, 208 The Boy Hercules. By Ol! Coomes. 209 Fritz, the Bound-Boy Detective. By Edward L. Wheeler, 210 Faro Frank of High Pine. By William R, Eyster. 211 Crooked Cale, By Joseph E. ger, Jr. 212 Dashing Dave, the Dandy Detective. By Charles Morris, 218 Fritz to the Front, By Edward L. Wheeler. 214 Wolfgang, the Robber of the Rhine. By Capt. Whittaker. 215 Captain Bullet, the Raider King. By T, C. Harbaugh. 216 Bison Bill, the Prince of the Reins. By Col. P. Ingraham. 217 Captain Crack-Shot. By Edward L. Wheeler, 218 Tiger Tom, the Texan Terror. By Oli Coomes, 219 Despard, the Duelist. By Philip S. Warne. 220 Tom Tanner, Scalawag and Scapegrace. By Chas. Morris, 221 Sugar-Coated Sam. By Edward L. Wheeler, 222 Grit, the Bravo Sport. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 2283 Ozark Alf, King of the Mountain. By Edward Willett. 224 Dashing Dick. By Oll Coomes. r 225 Sam Charcoal, the riggs Darky. By Charles Morris, 226 Snoozer, the Boy Sharp. By Edward L. Wheeler. 227 Dusky Darrell, Trapper. By E. Emerson. 228 Little Wildfire, By Ol! Coomes. 229 Crimson Kate. By Colonel! Prentiss Ingraham, 280 The Yankee Rajuh. By C. Dunning Clark. 231 Plucky Phil, of the Mountain Trail, By T. C. Harbaugh, 282 Gold-Dust Dick. By Edward L. Wheeler. 288 Joe Buck of Angels. By Albert W. Aiken, 234 Old Rocky’s ** Boyees.” ap earth in Sam. 285 Shadow Sam, the Messenger Boy. By Charles Morrie, 286 Apollo Bill. By Edward L, Wheeler. Lone Star, the Cowboy Captain, By Col. Ingraham. 288 The Parson Detective. | By O11 Coomes. 289 The Gold-seeker Guide. By Captain Mayne Reid. 240 Cyclone Kit. By Edward L. Wheeler, 241 Bill Bravo and His Bear Pards, By T. C. Harbaugh. 242 The Two“ Bloods,” By Charles Morris, 248 The Disguised Guide, By Ol] Coomes, 244 Sierra Sam. By Edward L. Wheeler. 245 Merle, the Middy. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham oar Giant George. By Buckskin Sam, : 24% Old Grizzly and His Pets, By Capt. Bruin” Adams. 248 Slerra Sam’s Seeret. By Edward L. Wheeler. 249 Milo Romer, the Animal King. a Capt. Fred. Whittaker. 250 The Midshipman Mutineer, By Col. P. Ingraham. 251 Light-house Lige. By Captain J. F. C. Adams, 252 Dick Dashaway. By Charles Morris, 258 Sterra Sam’« Pard, yy Edward L, Wheeler, 254 The Half-Blood, By Edward S, Ellis. 255 Captain Apolle. By T. C. Harbangh. -_ PWOEPPBBMPSeiederwsseideiesed pe deeded edadod-vdedadadelelaladalatael AAW PACK SCHNAM Hw 256 Young Kentuck. By Captain Mark Wilton, 257 The Lost Hunters. By im J. F.C. Adams, 258 Sierra Sain’s Seven. By Edward L. Wheeler, 259 The Golden Harpoon, By Roger Starouck. 260 Dare-Devil Dan. By O!l Coomes. 261 Fergus Fearnaught. By George L. Aiken. 262 ‘The Young Sleuths. By Charles Morns. Deadwood Digk’s Divide. By Edward L, Wheeler. e Fleatin eather, By Col. P. Ingraham. e Tiger Tamer. By Captain Fred, Whittaker. 266 Killb’ar, the Guide, By Ensign Warren. 267 The Buckskin Detective. By T. C. Harbaugh, 268 Deadwood Dick’s Death Trail. By E. L. Wheeler. . 269 The Gold Ship. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 270 zard Ben, By Captain Mark Wilton. 271 qredinge Hunter. By Edward §., Ellis. 272 Minkskin Mike. By Ol) Coomes. 278 Jumbo Joe, By Edward L. Wheeler. 274 Jolly Jim. By Charles Morris. 275 Arizona Jack, By Buckskin Sam. 276 Merle Monte’s Crulse. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. 277 Denver Doll. By Edward L. Wheeler. ‘ 278 The Three Trappers, By Major Lewis W. Carson. 2T9 Old Winch, the Ritle Kine. By Y. C. Harbaugh. 280 Merle Monte’s Fate, By Col, Prentiss Ingraham. 281 Denver Doll’s Victory. By Edward L. Wheeler. 282 The 7" Detective. By Edward Willett, ; 288 Indicn Joe. By Major Lewis W. Carson, 284 The Sea Marauder. By Colonel Prentiss Incraham 255 Denver Doll's Decoy. “By Edward Lo Wheeler. 286 Josh, the Boy Tenderfoot. By Capt. Mark Wilton. 287 Billy Blue-Eyes. By Colonel Preniies Ingraham. 288 The Scalp King. By Captain J. F.C. Adame, 289 Jolly Jim’s Job. By Charles Morrin, * i 200 Little Foxfire, By Ol! Cooines. 291 Turk, the Ferret. By Edward L. Wheeler. 292 Sancho Pedro. By Major EF. L. St. Vrain. 298 Red Claw, the One-Eyed Trapper, By Captain Comstock, HALF-DIME | LIBRARY. a Oe ee ek Ty 294 Dynamite Dan. 295 Fearless Phil. 296 Denver Doll's Drift. By T. C, Harbaugh. By Edward Willett. By Edward L, Wheeler. 297 The Tarantula of Taos. By Buckskin Sam. 298 The Water-Hound. By Charles Morris. 299 A No, 1, the Dashing Toll-Taker, By Edward L. Wheelet 800 The Sky Demon. By 01! Coomes. 861 Leadville Nick. By Major E. L. St. Vrain. 802 The Mountain Detective, By T. C. Harbaugh. 808 *Liza Jane, the Girl Miner. By E, L, Wheeler. 804 The Dead Shot Dandy. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham 805 Dashaway, of Dakota. By Charles. Morris. 806 Neck-Tie Ned. By Major H. B, Stoddard, $07 The Strange Pard. By Buckskin Sam. $08 Keno Kit, the Boy Bugler’s Pard, By Col. P. Ingraham, 809 Deadwood Dick’s Big Deal. By E. L. Wheeler. 810 The Barranca Wolf. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. $11 The Roving Sport. By Edward Willett. 812 Redtop Rube, the Vigilante Prince. By Maj. E. L. St. Vraine 818 Cimarron Jack. By Frederick Dewey. 814 The Mysterious Marauder. By Col. P. Ingrakam. 815 Ned, the Cabin Boy. By Jack Farragut. 816 Old Eclipse, Trump Card of Arizona, By T. C, Harbaughe. 817 Peacock Pete. By Lieutenant Alfred Thorne. 818 Ker-whoop, Ker-whoo! By Buckskin Sam, 819 The Black Rider. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 820 The Sea Sorceress. By Jack Farragut. 821 Deadwood Dick’s Dozen. By Edward L. Wheeler. 822 Nemo, the Detective. By Edward Willett. 828 Arkansaw Jack. By Harry Hazard. $24 Ralph Ready, the Hotel Boy Detective. By Una Morrla,. 825 Kelley, Hickey & Company, the Sleuths of Philadelphia. By Edward 4. Wheeler. 826 The Ten Pards; or, The Terror of Take-Notice. By T. C. Harbaugh. . 827 Oreeping Cat, the Caddo, By Buckskin Sam. 828 The Sky Detectives. By Major Mickey Free. 829 Red-Skin Tom. By Harry Hazard, 880 Little Quick-Shot. By Edward L. Wheeler. 881 Black Nick, the Demon Rider. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker... 882 Frio Fred. By Buckskin Sam. 888 Brimstone Bob, and His htnimg Horse Quar- tette. By Major E. L. St. re 2: ® 884 Kangaroo Kit; or, The Mysterious Miner. By E. L. Wheeler. 885 Old Double Fist. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 886 Big Benson. By T. C. Harbaugh. 887 Ben Bird, the Cave King. By W. J. Hamilton. 888 A Tough Boy. By Philp S. Warne. 889 Kangaroo Kit’s Racket. By Edward L. Wheeler; 840 Clip, the Contortionist. By Edward Willett. $41 Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective. By Charles Morne, 842 The Mountain Devil. By Harry Hazard. 848 Manhattan Mike. By Edward L. Wheeler 844 The Fighting Trio. By Buckskin Sam, 845 Pitiless Matt, By T. C. Harbaugh. 846 Rapler Raphael. By Major H. B. Stoddard. 847 Deadwood Dick’s Ducats. By Edward L. Wheeler. 848 Fire-Heels; or, Old Skinflint the Death-Shadow. 3y: Roger Starbuck, 849 Wild Wolf, the Waco. By Buckskin Sam. 850 Red Ralph, the River Rover. By Ned Buntlins. 851 Dendwood Dick Sentenced. By Edward L. Wheelen 852 Tombstone Tom. By Maj. E. L. St. Vrain. 858 The Reporter-Detective. By Charles Morris, 854 Big Horn Ike the Hill Tramp, By Roger Starbuek;. 855 The King of the Woods; or, Daniel Boone’s Last ‘Trail By Joseph E. Badger. Jr, 856 Cool Sam and Pard, By T. C. Harbaugh, 85T The Ranch Raiders. By Buckskin Sam. 858 First-Class Fred, the Gent from Gopher, By E. L. Wheeler. 859 Duranga Bave, the Young Wrestler Champion. By Maj. Eq L. St. Vrain, . 860 Silver-Mask, the Man of Mystery. By J. C. Cowdriek.. 861 The Phantom Lighthouse. By Roger Starbuck. 862 Deadwood Dick’s Claim. By Edward L, Wheeler. 868 Little Tornado. By Philip S. Warne. 864 Snap-Shot, the Boy Ranger, By Buckskin Sam, 865 Baltimore Ben. By A. P. Morris. 866 Velvet Foot, the Indian Detective. By T. C. Harbaugh,. 867 Wide-Awake Joe. By Charles Morris. 868 Yreka Jim, the Gold-taitherer. By E. L. Wheeler, 869 Shasta, the Gold King. By J. C. Cowdriek. 870 Breaker Ben, che Uecef-Runner. By Roger Starbnek, 871 Kingbolt Chris, the ¥ Hard- rectly * ag . —— ie oung Hard-Shell Detective.. 872 Yreka Jim’s Prize. By Edward L. Wheeler, 878 Little JL 3 or, the Queer Pard.. By Philip S. Warne. 874 Gold-Dust Tom. By George H. Morse. > 875 Chiota, the Creek. By Buckskin Sam. ; 876 California Joe’s First Trail. By Capt. F. Whittaker. 877 Benodel, the Boy Rover. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 878 Nabob Ned. By Edward L. Wheeler. 879 Larry, the Leveler, By Charles Morris, 880 Avalanche Alf. By Major E. L. St. Vrain. 881 Bandera Bills or, Frio Frank to the Front. By Buckskie: am. 882 Cool Kit, the King of Kids. By Edward L. Wheeler. 888 The Indian Plot. By Col. Prentise Ingraham, 884 Whip-King Joe, the Boy Ranchero. By Oll Coomes. 885 Yreka Jim’s Joker. By Edward L, Wheeler. 886 Captain Cutlass, the Ocexn Spider. By T. C. Harbaugh. 887 Warpath WiLL, the Boy Phantom. By Col. P, Ingraham. 888 Little Oh-my, By Philip S. Warne. A New issue Every Tuesday. The Half-Dime Library \s for snie by all newsdealers, Sve. cente per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of wix cents enh. BEADLE AND ADAMA, Pubifxhera, * 98 William Street, New York,
Page 32
_ BEADLE'’S« H ALF-DIME* LIBRARY. Published Every Tuesday. LHeteh Issue Complete and Sold at the Unitorm Price of Five Cents, by all Newsdeatare, BY OLL COOMES, 846 Kit Bandy, Detective; or, Silver Star, the Boy Knight. 168 Kit Bandy in Texas; or, The Young Mustanger,. 208 Kic Bandy’s Catch; or, The Boy Hercules. 422 Kit Bandy’s Right Bower; or, Baby Sam,the Boy Giant 444 Kit Bandy’s Swoop; or, Little Buckskin, tne Centaur. 478 Kit Bandy’s Slick Scheme; or, Old Tom Rattler, 66% Kit Bandy’s Deliverance; or, Banner Ban. 680 Kit Bandy’s Pardy; or, Dauntless Dan, the Freelance. TH1l Kit Bandy Rattled; or, The Iniant Giant. 795 Kit Bandy in Red Ruin; or, Tbe Young Whirlwind, T99 kit Bandy’s Big Ruatle; or, Saddle King Sam. 804 Kit Bandy’s Brigade; or, Dan, the Mountain Gaide. 2T Kid Pandy’s Brigade in Arizona. 989 Kit Bandy’s Star Engagement. She Jack Drew, the Nemesis; or, Eagle Kit, the Boy Demon. $2 Jack Drew's Drop; or, Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain, 02 Jack Drew in Deadwood; or, Prospect Pete, 27 Keen Knife on Guard; or, Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide, 81 Keen-Knlfe, the Prince of the Prairies. 5 Vagabond Joe, the Young Wandering Jow, 18 The Dumb Spy. 41 Lasso Jack, the Young Mnstanger. 58 The Border King 3 or, The Secret Foe. 71 Delaware Dick, the Young Ranger Spy, 74 Mawk-eye Harry the Young Trapper Ranger, 88 Kollo, the Boy Ranger; or, The Heiress, 184 Sure Shot Seth, the Boy Rifleman. 148 Sear-Face Saul, the Silent Henter, 178 Old Solitary, the Hermit Trapper, 218 Tiger Tom, the Texas Terror. 224 Dashing Dick; or, Trapper Tom’s Cartia, 228 Little Wildtire, the Young Prairie Nomad, 288 The Parson Detective; or, The Little Ranger, 248 The Disguised Gulde; or, Wild Raven, the Rangor. 260 Dare-Devil Duan, the Young Prairie Ranger. 272 Minkakin Mike, the Boy Sharpshooter, (290 Little Foxfire, the Boy Spy; or, Old Caleb Arbuckle, goo The Sky Demon; or, Rainbolt, the Ranger. ‘B84 Whip-King Joe, the Boy Ranchero. 409 hercules; yr, Dick, the Boy Ranger. 417 Webfoot Mone, the Tramp Detective. 457 Wingedfoot Fred; or, Old Polar Saul. 468 Tamarae Tom, the Big Trapper Boy. 452 Stonewall Bob, the Boy Trojan. 562 Blundering Basil, the Hermit Boy Trappe, 65% Don Barr, the Plains Freelance, 670 Norway Nels, the Big Boy Mountalneer. TTS Highland Harry, the Wizard Rifleman. 823 Poker Jack, the Detective Sport. BY T. 3d. FLANAGAN, 909 Midshipman Dare, the Pirate Catcher, ¥25 The Voung Cowboy Captain. 988 The Two (Midshipmen; or; The} Corsair-Chaser’s First Cruise, BY DAN DUNNING, 416 yaiet Jack, the'Seeret Service Spy. Mac and Jack, the Invincibles; or, The Diabolical Three, Detective Dave's Close Call Farrel Fox and Uis Girl Ferret. Varrel Fox’s Sweep-Stakea, BY GEORGE 0, JENKS, 5 Git Thor Owney the Unknown, = - Git Thar Owney’s Pledge. The Demon Doctor; or, Dendhold, the Kid Detective, Double-Ourve Dan, tne Pitcher Detective. Flutes toe Singer Detective; or, Owney in a New Role, The Pitcher Detective’s Foils or, Dan’s Double Play, The Ocean Detective or. The Last Cruine ofthe Black Bear, The Pitcher Detective’s Tovaghest Tussle. } Larry the Thoroughbreds or, Beaten on Every Side. Jrou Hand, the Charmed Detective Uncle Sam’s Detective In Chicago. BY WM. @. PATTEN. the Velvet Sport: or, The Jubilee ot Jacktown Violet Vane’s Victory; or, The Jasper City Cleaa Out. Violet and D alsy, the Posy Pards. Violet Vane’s Vow; or, The Crafty Detective’s Craft. Violet Vane’s VY bat, | he mayan or, The Wipe-Out, Violet Vane’s Verdiet; or, The Game at Coffin City. Violet Vane, the V ron et yee Vidoeg; or, Sport va, Sport. Violet Vane, the Vanquished, or, The Life Strugg'e. Violet Vane’a Vialon; or, The Fiery Hand of Fate, The Diamond Beorks or, The Doubie Face of bed Rock. 19 Captain Mystery; or, Five in One, ‘S81 Dalny are the Sport from Denver. \S8T Old Bombshell, the Ranger Detective. #04 bron Fern, the Man of Fire; or, Among the Vultures. ,619 The Boy Tramp. Detective: or, The Doubie Grip Witness 641 Dismal Pave’*« Dandy Pard; or, The Clue to Capt. Claw 651 Bound Boy F rank, the Young Amateur Detective 682 Wild Vulcans the Lone-Range Rider, 714 Old Misery the Man from Missourl. %74 Clear-Grit Cal, the Never-Say-Die Detective, 7TSY9 Ram Sheridan, the Secret Service Special. 8066 Cowboy Steve the Ranch Mascot, 820 Nobby Nat, the Tenderfoot Detective, 886 Sharper Stoke’s Double Deal. S857 Spotter Bobin New York. 366 Spotter Bob’« Bowery Racket. BY COLONEL DELLE SARA, 398 The Lion of the Sen; or, The Vailed Lady. Cool Desmond ¢ or, The Gambler's Big Game, BY CAPTAIN FRED. WHITTAKER, The Sea-Wat; or, The Witch of Darien. The Dumb Page; or, The Doge’s Denghter. Dick Darling, the Pony Express Rider. ence and Lanao ; or, The Children of the Chaco. 54 @ Sword Hunters; or, The Land ofthe Elephant Riders 569 The Lost Captains or, Skipper Jabez Coffin’s Cruise. 200 The Boy Bedoutnay; or, The Brothers of the Plamed Ranee 214 Wolfgang, the Robber of the Rhine. 249 Milo Romer the Animal King; er, Round the World, gsr The Tiger Tamer ; or, The League of the Jungle. ‘ Violet Vane, Black Nick, the Demon Rider. 95 California Joe’s War Trail. BY OAPT, J. F. ©. ADAMS, { 84 Oregon Sol}; or, Nick Whiffles’s Boy Spy. 46 Glasa-Eye, the Great Shot of the West. 54 Nad Hazel, the Boy Trapper. 56 Nick Whifllew’s Pet; or, In The Valley of Death, 0 The White Indian; or, The Scovt of the Yeilowstena, © Old Zip’a Cabinyg or, The Greenhorn In the Woods, PE Lightning Jo, the Terror of the Prairie. 5 Buck Buekram ¢ or, Bess, the Female Trapper, 7 Old Grizzly and His Peta; or, The Wild Hontress 1 ht-house Liges or, Osceola, the Firebrand. 7 e t Hunters; or, The Underground Camt 8 The Scalp King} or, The Human Thundervol’ SS a SS BY T. C. HARBAUGH, 28 Nick o the Night} or, The Boy Spy of 76. 87 The Hidden Lodge; or. The Little Hunter. 47 Nightingale Nat; or, Toe Forest Captains, 64,Dandy Jack; or, The Outlaws of the Oregon Trali. 82 Kit Harefoot, the Wood-Hawk; or, Old Powder-face, 94 Midnight Jack ; or, The Boy Trapper. 106 Old Froaty, the Guide; or, The White Queen. 128 Kiowa Charley . the White Mustanger. 189 Judge Lynch Jr. or, The Bey Vigiiante. 155 Gold Trigger, the Sports or, The Girl Avenger. 169 Tornado Tomy; or, Injun Jack From Red Core, 188 Ned Temple, the Border Boy; or, The Mad Hunter. 198 Arkaneaw: or, The Queen of Fate’s Revenge. 207 Navajo Nick, the Boy Gold Hunter. 216 Captain Bullet; or, Little Topknot’s Crusade. 281 Plucky Phil; or, Rom, the Ren Jezebel. 241 Bl Bravo; or, Tue Roughs of the Rockies. 255 Captain Apolivs tne King-Pin of Bowle. 267 The Buckskin Detective; or, The King of Réad-agents, 279 Old Winch? or, The Buckskin Desperadoes. 294 Dynamite Dan; or, The Bowle Blade of Gochetopa. 7 802 The Mountain Detective ; or, The Trigger Bar Bully, 816 Old Eclipse, Tromp Card of Arizona, 826 The Ten Pards; or, The Terror of Take-Nottce. 886 Big Benson; or, The Queen of the Lasso. 845 Pitileas Matt; ov, Red Thunderbolt’s Secret. B56 Cool Sam and Pards or The Terrible Six. B66 Velvet Foot, the Indian Detective. BSS Captain Cutlaas; or, The Brecaneer’s Girl Foe. 896 Rough Rob; or, The I win Champions of Blue Blazes, 411 The Stiken Lasso: or, The Rosec Ranch Robin. 418 Felix Fox, the Boy Spotter; or, The Gold Gang of New York, 425 Texas Trump. the Border Rattler. 486 Phil Flash, the New York Fox; or, The Mystery of Room 91, 445 The City Vamoplresys or, Ked Rolfe’s Pigeon. 461 One Against Fifty; or, The Last Man of Keno Bar. 470 The Boy Shadow; or, Felix Fox’s Hunt, 477 The Exceistor Sport; or, The Washington Spotter. 499 Single Sight, the One-Eyed Sport. 502 Branded Ben, the Night ferret. 512 Dodger Dick, the Wharf-Spy Detective. $21 Dodger Dick’s Beat Dodge: or, The Gotham Gold Gang, 528 Fox and Faicon, the Bowery Shadows, 588 Dodger Dick, the Dock Ferret. 548 Dodger Dick’s Double; or, The Rival Boy Detectives, 558 Dodger Dick’s Desperate Case. 568 Dodger Dick, the Boy Vidoeq; or, The Gang of Threee 5678 The Two Shadows; or, Dodger Dick’s Stop Game. 5S2 Dodger Dick’s Drop} or, The Man from Jersey. 594 Little Lon, the Street-Singer Detective. 610 Old Skinner, the Gold Shark; or, Tony heed on Guard. 626 The Champton Parda; or, The Lucifer of Silver Bar, 687 Dick Doan, the Dock Boy Detective. 645 Kit, the Pavement Sharp. 658 Rilly Bantam, the Boy Beagle. 671 Jersey Jed, the Boy Hustler; or, Shadowing the Shadower. 685 Happy Hugh, the Boy. Musician, Detective, TOL Photo nan Fred, the Camera Sharp. 715 Wide Awake Len, the Quaker City Ferret. 7B2 Doalay Dell. the Pavement Detective; or, Trapping Big Games 742 Billy Winka, the Bell Boy Detective. 754 Billy Winks, the Poss Boy Shadow. THs Fagie Ned, the Boy on Guard; or, Tne Camp Spiders, 780 Tonkaway Tom, the Red Wizard S27 The Bantam Sport. S48 Olip, the Battery Ferret; 01, vace seutrs Fou) Play SUT Davy Doon’s Big Bounce. 905 Dandy Nugget, the Bo~ Shadow, 921 The Boy from Denver. BY CHARLES MORRIS, 118 Will Somers, the Boy Detective. 322 Phil Hardy, the Boss Boy. 126 Pleayune Pete; or, Nicodemua, the Dog Detective 180 Detective Dick; or, The Hero in Rags. 142 Nandsome. Marry, the Bootblack Detective, 147 WI Wildfire, the Thoroughbred. 2 Black Beas, Will Wildfire’s Kacer. Mike Merry the Harbor Police Boy. Will Wildfire in the Woods. Billy Baggage, the Railroad rh A Vrump Cardy; or, Will Wildfire Wine and Losses 4 Bob Rockett; or, Mysteries of New York. Bob Rockett, the Bank Runner, The Hidden ands or, Will Wildfire’s Revenge, 7 Fred Nalyard, the Life Boat Boy; or, The Smuggiers. 189 Rob Rockett; or, Driven to the Wall. 196 Shadowed; or, Bob Kockett’s Fight for Life, 206 Dark Paul, the Tiger King. 212 Dashing Dave, the Dandy Detective. 220 Tom Tanner}; or, The Black Sheep of the Flock. 225 Sam Charcoal the Premium Darky. $85 Shadow Sam, the Messenger Boy. 242 The Two * Blooda”; or, Shenandoah Rili and His Gang. 252 Dick Dashaway : or, A Dakota Boy in Chicago. 262 The Young Sharps; o2. Rollicking Mike’s Hot Tratl, 274 Jolly Jim, the Detective Apprentice. 259 Jolly Jim’« Job; or, The Young Detective. 298 The Water-Hound;: or, The Young Thoroughored. 805 Dashaway, of Dakota: or, A Western Lad in Quaker City, 824 Ralph Keady, the Hote) Boy Detective. 841 Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective. 858 The Reporter-Detective; or, Fred Flyers Bitzeard, 867 Wide-Awake Joe; or, A Boy of the Times. 879 Larry, the Leveler; or, The Bloods of the Boulevard, 408 Firetly Jnek, the River-Rat Detective, 4283 The Lost Finger; or, The Entrapped Cashier. 428 Fred Flyer, the Reporter Detective. 482 Invincible Logan, the Pinkerton Ferret. 456 ile Rrilek, the Jolly Vaganond, 466 Wide-Awake Jerry, Detective; or Entombed Alive, A479 Detective Dodge; or, The Mvstery of Frank Hearty, 488 Wild Dick Racket; or, How He Fought for Honor, 501 Boots, the Boy Fireman : or, Too Sharp for the Sharper, 586 The Secret Service Boy Detective. 596 Jimmy the Kid; or, A Lamb Among Walves. 627 Tom Bruce of Arkananet or, The Wolfin the Fold. 655 Plucky Paul, the Boy Speculator, 667 Bob and Sam, the Daley Detectives. 709 The OCurbatone Detective; or, Harry Hale’s Big Beat. 757 Detective Fran k’a Sweep-atakes, 869 Ned Norman, the Gamin Broker, S81 opr kes. 917 Flash os ek oa eh et Neh hk SPHARNAAaIH Pouven Billy, the Shine-’em-up Detective. ightning, the Mountain Mascot, BY ALBERT W. AIKEN, 11 The Two Detectives; or, The Fortunes ofa Bowery Girl. 76 Abe Colt, the Crow-Killer. 79 Sol Ginger, the Giant Trapper. 288 Joe Ruck of Angels and His Boy Pard. 447 New York Nat. A Tale of Tricks and Traps in Gotham, 58 New England Nicky or, The Fortunes of a Foundling, 64 Nimble Nick, the Circus Prince. Taos Ted, toe Arizons Sport. Cool Colorado, the Hall-Breed Detective Cool Colorado in New York: or, The Cowboy's Fights BY CAPT. ALFRED B. TAYLOR ©. 8, A, 191 Buffalo Billy, the Boy Rullwhacker. 194 Enffalo Bis Ret: or. The Gambler Guide, BY J. W. OSBON, 469 The Rival Glants of Nowhar’. 498 Cactus Burr, the Man from Hard Luck, 58T Old Buckeye, the Sierra Shadow. 564 Powder Phil, the Boy Miner. or, The Man Without a Pasg, 609 Bolly Dorrit, the Veteran Detective. 620 Little Lightning's League; or, The Mystery oitne Island 688 Plucky Pals the Boy Prospector, i pee leoe 5 the i Patrol. ogy the Regulates rh ho Just Dan’a Gathy or, Reckless 928 Gold-Dust Dan’s Snap-Shot. : BY JOSEPH £. BADGER, JR, 2 Vellowstone Jack; or, The Trapper. 48 Black John, the Road-Agent; or, The Outlaw’s Retreas, 65 Murricane Bill; or, Mustang 8am and His Pard, 119 Mustang Sam 5; or, The King of the Plains. 186 Night-liawk Kit; or, The Daughter of the Ranch, 144 Dainty Lance the Boy Sport. 161 Panther Paul; or, Dainty Lance to the Rescue. 160 The Black Glant; or, Dainty Lance in Jeopardy. 168 Deadly Dash; or, Fighting Fire with Fire. 184 The Boy Trallers; or, Dainty Lance on the War-Path, 208 The Boy Pards; or, Dainty Lance Unmasks, 211 Crooked Cale, the Caliban of Celestial City. 810 The Barranca Wolf; or, The Beautiful Decoy, 819 The Black Riders or, The Horse-Thieves’ League 885 Old Double Fist; or, The Strange Guide 855 The King of the Woods; or. Danie! Boone’s Last Trai 449 Kit Fox, the Border Boy Detective. 625 Chineapin Dan, the Boy Trafler. 677 Chineapin Dan’s Second Trail. 688 Chineapin Dan’s Home Stretch. 698 Old Crazy, the Man Without a Head. TOS Light-Ueart Lute’s Legacy. 718 Licht-Ueart Lute’« Last Trail. 728 Sliverbinde, the Shoshone, 729 Silverblade, the Half-Blood; or, The Border Beagle st Bag, 789 Silverblade, the Hostile; or, The Border Beagle’s Trail, 748 Silverblade the Friendly; or, The Border Beagle’s Boy Past BY ©. DUNNING CLARK. 185 Captain Paul , The Boy Spy of the Moun £0 Te Paka Hajaha cr Th, Fass ofthe Black Mbetead, BY LIEUT. i. D. PERRY, U. 8. N. 176 The Boy Runaway; or, The Buccaneer of the Bay, 180 The Sea Trafler: or, A Vow Well Kept. 192 Captain Eit; or, The Mystery of Montank Point, BY JACK FARRAGUT, 815 Ned, the Cabin Boy; or, The Witch of the Fort, 820 The Sea Sorceress; or, The Boy Skipper. BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID. 78 Blue Dick: or, The Yellow Chief's Vengeance. 87 The Land Pirates: or, The Leazue of Devil's Inland, 87 The Helpless Hand; or, Backwouds Retribution. 289 The Gold-secker Guide? or, The Lost Mouatais, BY BRACEBRIDGE HEMYNG RP Teland Jim: or, The Pet of the yumi f91 The Captain of the Clnbt or, The Rival Athletes, 101 Jack UMarkaway in New York. MISCELLANEOUS AUTHORS. 4 The Wild-Morse Hunters, By, Capt. Mayne Reta and Frederick hear fc i Mu 9 Adventures of Baron Munchausen, 12 Gulilver’s Travels, By Dean Swift. 14 Aladdin; or, The Wonderful erry. ¥ 16 Robinson Crusoe, (27.1!tustrations.) 18 Sindbad the Saflor. His Seven Voyages. Y 22 The Sea Serpent; or, The Boy Robinson Crusoe. By Juan Lewis, 88 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, The Red Pirates of the Carribees. By S, W. Pierce. 86 The Roy Olownt or, The Arena Queen. By F §, Finn. BS Ned Wylde, the Boy Scout. By Texas Jack. 61 The Roy Rifles: or. The Underpmese Camp. By A. C.Trons, 95 The Rival Rovers; or, The Freebooters of the, Mississipp» By Lient.-Col. Hazeltine. 98 Robin Jlood, the Outiawed Earl; or, The Merry Men 0’ Green* wood. By Prof. Gildersleeve, 105 Old Rube, the Hunter; or, The Crow Captive. By Captale Hamilton Holmes. 112 The Mad Wunters or, J he Cave of Death. By Burton Saxe, 124 Tippy. the Texan} or, The Young Champion, By George eraon. 128 The Young Priwatesrs or, The Pirate’s Stronghold, By Harry Cavendiab. 148 Bhace Bam} or, The Adventures ot a Friendless Boy. By J, Alexander Patten. 227 Dusky Darrell, Tr ; or, The Green Ranger of the Ye\.. lowstone. 7 ever “ . ¥ nk Boy. By @, Lo 261 Fergus Fearnaug e New ¥ r % }. Le Miken, 266 Killb’ar, the Guides °r, Davy Crockett’s Crooked Trail By Ensign C. D. Warren. 298 Red Claw, the One-Eyed Trapper; or, The Maid of the Clim By Captain Comstock. . B17 Peacock Pete, the Lively Lad from Leadville. By Liew tenant Alfred Thorne. 828 The Sky Detective 3 or, A Boy’s Fight for Life and Honor, By Maior Mickey Free. 850 Red Ralph, the River Rover} or, The Brothers Re ee ts aT wy the hoot) k Detect R6 : en the ack De! ve. Bra GaldeInet Tomy or, Bev’s Double Match. Be FL. Morse, 876 California Joe's Firat Trail, By Colonel Thoma Hover Monstery. 418 Billy Rombahctl, the Cliff Climber. By F. 8. Winthrop. 475 The Black Ship. By JobnS Warner. 4s4 Gomuntne Mick and His Three Invinefbles. By eury J. OMmAs. < BR2 The Cowbay Duke. By Edwin Brooke Forrest. pt od ant th At Lise Py fb eg PR 5 P Yaters, the Bov Ferret. By H. ° 682 The Dead Petective’s Double. By Gerald Carlton. 721 Maverick Mose, the Arizona Detective: or, The Winard ¢ Urkos Pass, By Will Lisenbee. 809 Don Danton, the Gent from Denver. By King Keene, of @& By C. E. Tri, a4 U.S. Secret i er am wt 814 Ace High, the Frisco Detective. 880 The Grim Lodgers in Rag Alley} of Cithen Rube of Number Seven. By Ben D. Halliday. 881 The Chicago Droummer’s« Denl. By J. G. Bethupe, 841 rivines Oharlie, the Cat’s- Paw Spert, hy Mar duke ve 861 Billy Bring, the Swamp Fox. By Chas. F. Welles 879 Blue-light Bil, the Sapphire Sport; or, The Roney Detess tive’s Lone Hand. By King Keene, A New Insane Every Tuesday, The Half-Dime Library {s tor ssle by all Newsdeal”* it} eonts per copy, or sent by wall on receipt of aix ents ancien “AT TE UTD, OS Nee, 4 PAs Ora ome ets ‘ oe