Beadle's New York Dime Library (no. 1016) (1898 09)
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— oS cone ene re Post OFrrickr ’ 28 N , Kw = ° a E a a BR joo) & & < 4 E =< = n m” < - o a z ° o | 8 ENTERED AS LLIVAN. JAMES Su Pub SepremBer, 1898 LAAIK. Vol he Sport From Denver 00 a Year. Ten Cents a Copy. $1 Publishers, 9 , PROPRI Ne o ‘ IVAN et, 4 tre I Ss MES SUL ear 9 (JA 37 lished Every Month No. 4046. ETOR), w York. Pe T COWDRICK. C J BY TELE ebb We LL ap pty a aS Me Se 3. ae ee Writ - pall bs Tins 7 bai Th ae
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The Snort from Denver. The Saori frei Denver; OR 2 COOL JJHN’S TUG WITH THE CITY SHARPS AND SHARKS A Tale of Denver and New York, BY. J. C. COWDRICK, CHAPTER. I. DARK THE DEED, Denver, Colorado, was wrapt in dark- ness. The hour was late; heavy clouds hid the stars, and lightning and thunder presaged an imminent storia. ; Particularly dark and forbidding, at such atime, were the grounds around one of the hundsomest of Denver’s suburban mansions,’ the residence of Roger King, the banker. A young man was hastening in the direc- tion of this place, He was a sturdy, handsome fellow, about twenty-three years of age, as an occasional lightning-flush revealed. His face was beardiess, his eyes dark and keen, and he walked with a quick, springy step that betokened the athletic limb. On reaching these grounds he wheeled and en- tered. It was Philip King, Roger King’s son. For a little, distance he proceeded up the broad walk toward the front entrance of the house. Then he turned aside into a narrower path that wound in and out among the bushes, finally curving toward the house at the ex- treme end of an L. The house was of stone, with large, low windows consisting of one plate of glass in each sash, and the lower half of one of these windows, the one nearest the curve of the walk, was wide open. Leaving the path, the young man strode acter the grass in the direction of this win- ow. On his right was a clump of bushes, thick and Sty gian. He was within three paces of the wiudow, when, suddenly, there was a bright flash in the black square, Simultaneously with the flash came a deafening crash of thunder, and no report of the murderous. pistol was heard, but the bullet had done its dreadful work nevertic- less. Immediately following the crash there was an almost blinding display of lightning, lasting for, some seconds, and it revealed a thrilling tableau, Aman had sprung out of the clump of bushes, had seized the young man aud forced him to.the ground, with one hand at his throat; while in the window, peculiarly lighted by the blinding glare, was seen the hand of a woman wilh a revolver in its rasp. This only for a few brief seconds; then door of. his hedehamber, and the banker | Sprung up iu alarm. It, was earlier by two hours than he was | accustomed to rising, and as svon. ashe ; glanced at the clock’ on the mantel some- . thing like anger seized him. Meanwhile the knocking was continued, and tlie banker's wife, in an adjoining room, the door of which stood open, sprung out of bed and ran into her husband's apartment before the banker answered. “Roger, why. don’t you answer?” she asked, ‘“‘ What can be the matier?” ‘** What in the mischief is the matter?” the banker now blurted out, ‘‘ Who is there? What's wanted?” “It is _[, Hooker, sir!” answered the tremulous, frightened voice of the butler. ‘‘Hurry and get up, sir. Your son - has been murdered!” - The banker's wife uttered a scream ‘*Murdered?” repeated the banker, in a dazed sort of way. ‘‘ What does he mean, Myra?” “Heavens, Roger, it must be that Phil has been killed!’ the woman exclaimed: ‘* Come, make haste and dress yourself.” She ran to the door and opened it on a crack. ‘*What is it, Peter?” she asked ‘‘ You do not mean to say that Phil is dead, do you?” ‘*That is.it,.Mrs. King. He. is, lying on the grass at the end of the extension, with a bullet-hole.in his breast. My God! it is. ter- rible,” ‘‘My son. dead, my son murdered?” mumbled the banker, trying to collect him- self. *L cannot realize it. I will be down immedinxiely, Hooker.” more like himself. “Let nothing be disturbed,” ‘All rizht, sir.” ~ The butier hurried away, and the woman clused tie dyor. “Who can have done so terrible a deed?” muttered Mrs. King. wringing her hands “That remains to be seen, Myra,” an- swered the banker, making haste to dress himself. ‘Get. ready und come. down as soon as you can,” ‘*T am so upset by the shock that I can hardly do anything, Who can have killed poor Phil? Some evil companion who has had a grudge against him, | have no doubt,” ‘* Evil companion?” ‘You know his company has been none of the. best.” ‘* Perhaps not; but I was not aware that he was associating with murderers. I am not williag to believe it.” ‘* Well, some one has done it, if what Peter reports is true. Phil has been very lax in his habits, remaining out late at night, and often not.coming in at all, 1 have feared some- thing would happen,” ‘‘TTis. mother’s blood! his mother’s blood! But, get to your room and dress, for this is no time to parley.” The .banker spoke firmly, yet not un- kindly. “T only wish I could take it as.coolly as darkness closed down ten times denser than | you,” the wife muttered, as. she left. the before, seemingly. No sound was heard, save that of ay- proaching wind, and nothing could be. seen, absolutely nothing. A minute passed, and then cume another crash and blinding glare, and the sterm broke ia fury, The light was but momentary, but it was sufficient to show a change in the scene of the minute before. The window was_now | ' was hale, hearty and robust. ' street he did not look a day over fifty. “elused, and hand and revolver were xbsent. - The young man lay on the ground, just bie ts he had been thrown, on his back, wjs facé turned to the left, and his hat. lying few feet away. The otber man was gone, _ The rain descended in torrents, the thun- der rolled, the lightning flashed, and_ the | wind seemed as if determined t» carry ee ae before it. __ Half an hour of this, and then the. storm - lulled as suddenly as it had begun. Tt had passed. Onv by one the stars came out, as yuds rolled away, and finally the sky lear; and the night grew on apace. CHAPTER Il, iE eat 3 ¥ MADE, _ “@ was awakened at an early | ee , house?” ¥ MRA room, ‘And I wish that I could feel the cool- ness that I have to assume,” returned the banker. ‘* Tais is terrible. IT am almost overcome. Poor Phil, poor Phil! Who can | have done it?” Roger King was a man close upon. sixty | years of age. He wore his ycars lightly, however, and When on the Making all haste, he was soon dressed, and ; by that time had overcome the shock anid his emotion, and was himself—the calm, iron- willed banker, apparently as hard and stern as a rock. Leaving the room, he ran lightly down the stairs, . In the lower hall was a beautiful girl, hurriedly attired, who stood wringing her hands. : “Ohl. papal. what. has. happened?” she cried, her eyes dilated and her. manner frightened, ‘‘ Tell me it is not true, oh!.tell me it fs not true!” “Calm yourself, Rosa,” was the response. “Perhaps you had better remain in the 0, I could..not dothat! Where is. Aare , s i. ” ‘“Coming. Roger King had not stepped. but passed right out the door and turned toward the end of the L. There he saw the butler, the coachman, and the other servants congregated, and a dark, suggestive form was lying on. the ground. The old :man choked down.a sob and. ran forward through the wet grass, aad coming to the spot where the body of lis son was lying, he stooped and laid a hand on the dead face, He uttered a moan. As soon as he could control. his voice he arose, asking : ‘Have you Hooker?” : ‘“No, sir, not. yet.” ‘*Do so at-onee. Tell them to send a coup.e of their best detectives.. Meantime, let not a thing be touched. This matter shall be sifted to the bottom.” “TlIcere is something I found, sir,” and the butler was holding something in his fingers, which the banker at once took. It was a charm, a locket in the form of a horseshoe, one, side. set with precious. stones and on the other two initials—J. H.—in monogram. The banker touched the spring and opened the. locket, and the instant he did so his face paled.. There.were. the likenesses of his daughter, Rosa, and a young man, a sport- about-town, whom he had often seen on the street, What did it mean? CHAPTER III. MYSTERY DEEPENED. THE servants were watching their master’s face —all wondering what had caused jis sud- den. paleness—all save the butler, perbaps. Quite likely the butler had looked into the locket on finding it, if he had had opporta- nity; but, that is of no. moment, ‘Where did you find it, Hooker?” the banker asked. ‘*Right here beside the body, sir,” was the response. Roger King looked searchingly around, before speaking, ‘«T here. were no tracks?” he asked, ‘*Not a sign, sir. You sce, the rain has washed everything out. There is the spot where the locket lay,” He pointed to an imprint in the ground close beside the body, and it seemed plain that the locket had been stepped on after be- ing dropped. At that moment the banker's. wife and daughter came running to the scene, and the instant they came up the banker seized his daughter by the arm, held the open. locket . before her cyes, and demanded: ‘* What is the meaning of this?” The handsome girl gave a gasp and stag- gered backward, her face like death, ‘What, is the meaning of it, I ask you?” her father again demanded, ‘* What is your likeness doing in this locket?” ‘* Her likeness?’ spoke the .girl’s mother, wonderingly, ‘Yes, her likeness!. Look at. it!” and Ro. ger King held the locket so.that his wife could see, ‘*And where did you get. the locket, Ro- er?” 2 a It was found right there,” “‘ Good heavens!” Mrs. King, » hose face was now. as pa‘c as that, of her danghter, looked. to her for an explanation. ‘*He did not do it,” the girl.managed to gasp, in a terrified way; ‘‘oh! he did not do il, mummaa, papa,” in intense. earnestness; ‘*he did not do it!” ‘*Who did not.do it?” the banker thun- dered, : *‘Tie—that—that man.” ‘And who is he?’ ‘| have seen. him before,” declared. Mrs, King, as her daughter hesitated | “Yes. und, so. have I, more.than once,” cried the bankeer, . ‘‘ He is a fellow.of ques- tionable character and occupation, if I mis- take not.” — “ He is an honest man,” defended the. girl, telephoned to. the. police, *and—and—”. And what?” But she kept, milenl, = PER; tis his n b 4 Mk name?
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- gaping here! But you, Hooker, and the “John Tandy.” “Tal L thought I .was‘not mistaken; It is that sport around-town, that dare-devil known as Cool John. Hooker, telephone as Lordered; and tell them to arrest that man | atruightway !” ‘*Nosno, papa! nocent!” **Silence!” The butler hurried off to obey. Rosa Kine buried her face in her hands, and partly turned aside. Her mother looked at her, with a puzzled, wondering expression, while the banker glared at the locket. “Teil me, young woman,” he demanded, Ile is innocent, he is in- *“‘how'came your likeness’ ii the’ hands of | Do-you know him, ‘sivee you | that fellow? have been so quick to defend him? me, miss?” The old’ banker's harshness stung his daughter to the quick, he addressed her as ‘‘ young woman,” and **miss.” ‘*YVes, I know him,” she answered, “Oh! you do? Then answer my other question. Come, forthe police will want all the information you can give them. John Ilandy was the murderer of my boy, and he lost the Jacket here—” The young woman gave a gasp, a start. ‘*No, no,” she interrupted, quickly. Answer b “You wrong him, papa, indeed you do! I | had the locket, not he; it was’ he gave it to me!” Her eyes were wild, her manner excited. “Then how came it here?” her father de- manded, severely. ** Alas! «1 do not know.” ‘*And you have been deceiving us—your mother and me, have yon?) You have been living a lie before us? This nobody is your jover, is he? What excuse have you to offer for such conduct?” “T love him.” ‘*Tia! and you tell us to our faces «here in the presencé of the dead?” . ‘I will make vo attempt to deny it, papa Do not blame me for what'I cannot help. I do love him.” ‘Myra, do you hear?” the banker de- manded, turning to his wife. ‘‘Do you un- derstand how we have been deceived? I could almost believe there is Matson blood in her veins. I hate deception!” His wife grew white, and for a moment she seemed to. quail. ‘* Where did you meet this fellow, to make his “acquaintance?” the banker further in sisted, turniug again to his child. ‘Do you remember the time a man saved my life, when my horse ran away with me? Well, it was*he, and’ I was very grateful ‘to him, and—and—” ** And you told me you did not know who it was +” ‘*T did not, at the time,” **But you have learned since. I under- stand, the rascai! Tle presumed upon that favor to force himself upon’ you,’ and you have allowed him to win your affections. For shame!” “The fault was mine, papa; do not blame him.” ‘* What?” ‘'Let it pass for the present,” here inter- posed Mrs. King ‘‘We have something of more terrible importance to occupy our attention now.” ‘That is justit," cried'the banker. ‘*‘ That is just what I am trying to getat, How came this locket here’ by the body of my murdered boy? By heavens! but the wretch who'did this deed shall suffer!” Hé ‘thrust the locket into his pocket and paced up and down. The servants, except the butler, still stood around, white-fuced and terrified, exchang- ing now and then a whisper among them- selves The butler-came out. ‘* T have telephoned for the police,” he an- nounced, *: And may they make haste in getting out here,’’ cried the banker. ‘‘ By the way, does one of you know anything about this?” He turned upon the servants, and they trembled. ‘‘N—no,” one managed to answer. ‘‘Then away to your duties! Don’t stand -coachman, remain.” Never before had | | The others lost no time in obeying the per- emptory order and in getting away from the terrible spot, while the butler and the coach- man stood by respectfully. Roger King paced up and down as before, |} and his wifeand daughter stood near, ap- pearing as if atrail to go and yet unwilling | to remuin, and they were still there when the police and detectives arrived. There wis one policeman in uniform, one ‘police detective, and a private detective named Coughlin. ‘*Have you arrested John Handy?’ were the first words of the banker. ‘“Men have been sent to find him,” an- swered the police detective, ‘‘Have you proof that he did the deed?” “ Well, no, pertiaps not, but Thad a suspi- cion against him when I telephoned for you. Set to work, noiv, and see what you can do toward finding thé murderer of my son.” holding back?” asked Coughlin. ‘* Well, yes, for the present.” | ‘And it points to John Handy, known as Cool John?” **Tt certainly connects his name with the mystery, sir. I will explain at the proper , time ” | ‘Well, you have the right to withhold it, | | certainly; but, I would’ be willing to stake | my Jife that John. Handy is innocent of the crime,” ‘Oli! thank you, sir, for those words!” All Jooked at Rosa. ‘* Besides,” added the private. detective, *‘T happen to know that Cool John and your | gon were good friends. man of sand, every inch, and a-gentleman. | No, sir, he-never did this deed!” “*T am of the same opinion,” asserted the police detective.’ ‘Jn fact, Cool John is something of a detective himself, and has more than once done good ‘service fu a quiet way here in Denver. The fact of the busi- ness is, Mr. King, your son was a wikl Jad, and Cool John his been the break that has kept him from geing to the bad entirely, as I happen to know.” CHAPTER IV. COMPLICATIONS ARISING Tue banker’s brain was in a whirl. He wanted time to think, time to decide what course to pursue. These good opinions of Jobn Handy, him, And, now that he thought of it, his daugh- ter liad lied to him, coolly and deliberately lied. He needed no further proof for that, now that he remembered. She had told him that she had had the locket—that Handy had given it to her; but now he recollected that he had seen it dan- gling from the fellow’s watch-chain only a day or two before! Why had she sought to deceive him? ’ Her confessed Jove for the sport was the only reason he could imagine; but, perhaps that was sufficient. And he was pained—ay; not only pained, but alarmed, dearly, and he recalled ‘that there had been He is a sport, but a | _The Sport from Denver. | 3 hogany table. “This will be our only chance for a talk, perhaps, before we lave to testify.” They obeyed him, both trembling with excitement. ‘‘Now, Rosa,” he said. not unkindly, ‘‘I am going to ask you a few plain questions, and I expect trathful answers. From me you can expect mercy; from the coroner, none.” The girl's face was like death itself. ‘‘[ know you have lied to me once al- ready,” the father went on, ‘‘and—” ‘* Lied to you, father?” ‘* Yes, lied. your possession, but I remember now that I saw it-on that fellow’s watch-chain only yes- terday. Will you tell me now that he is-in- nocent?” With parted lips, eyes dilated, the young | lady gazed at her father, speechless, **Then you bave a clue which you are | ‘“You have declared before all the ser- You said this locket was! in | vants,” the banker went on, ‘‘ that this locket - | was in your possession, however, and if you | it may be made to look bad for you, j ! | daughter. | | / : | He loved his child, loved her | ; ; stick to that, instead of admitting the truth, It is no secrct that you: and Philip had no love for’ each other.” The girl gave forth a gasp that was almost a& moan. ** What if you are accused of having mur- dered your half brother?’’ the father severe:y concluded. With a cry that was almost a scream the girl threw herself upon her knees at his feet, clasped hands uplifted, aud tears streaming from her eyes. *“Oh, papa! You do not—you cannot be- lieve that of me! Perhaps 1 did not love Philip as I ought, but I would not have harmed him—indeed I would. not!: Oh, say that you do not think so.” ‘‘I do» not believe you guilty of such a deed, my child; but, what if you are charged with tre c:ime?” *«Tmpossible, papa: evilof meas that?” ‘The law is n» respecter of persons, my You have made the statement that this locket was in your possession; it was found imbedded in the sod near Phil’s dead body.” ‘“*T can say that I lost it—” **Stop!- I will hear no more lying. You are determined, I see, to shield that fellow. Do you think you can save him that way? Who would think so from the lips of such men, rather staggered, To save yourself you have got to tell the truth, for I shall testify that I saw this charm on his chain only yesterday. Where will ycu stand then?” But he is innocent, papa, he is innocent, he is innocent!” ‘* Your saying so does not make him so. You admit, then, that youtold’ me a false- hood about the locket?” ‘* Ob, papa, spare me; spare mel!”’ ‘*l am willing to shield : you all I can, my child, but the lary will show. you no mercy whatever. Confees the truth to me and your mother, and Jet us sree what we can do toward helping, you out of the dilemma into which your lic has placed. you. Witbhold nothing.” Mrs. King was scarcely less agitated than but very little affection between ber and | her daughter. Philip. She looked from the one to’ the other, For the present he would hold’ back the | wildly, almost, and at her husband’s last locket. He was sorry, now, that he had ‘taken his daughter to task before’all the servants, ‘Well, you may be right, you may be right,” he made rejoinder; ‘ I hope you are. But, the guilty: wretch must be brought forth and dealt .with as he deserves. See what you can do.” ‘** All right, sir} we will look around.” ‘«Come,” insisted the banker, to his wife and ‘daughter, ‘‘let us goin, By the way, gentlemen, let the body remain 1ight there until the arrival of the coroner. If he has ' } not been notified, send for him immediate. | ** We will attend to it, sir.” Roger King then led the way isto the house, ‘*Come in here,” he said to his wife and daughter, opening the door of the library. us We must have a plain understanding.” They followed him in, both very pale, and tell me what to do.” he closed the door, ‘* Sit down!” he ordered, himself taking his , her mother demanded. ; accustomed * great-chair by a massive ma- everything.” < Piece i tae ¥ A : Z gina f — words tears sprung to her eyes, ‘* Yes, yes, tell us everything, Rosa” she faiteringly supplemented. ‘‘ Your father and J are your truest friends. Coofidein us, and keep nothing back.” The young girl turned upon her mother with a look of. surprise, momentury—a Jook which the banker did. net fail to notice. Then she covered her face with her hands, sobbing: ‘*T cannot—oh, I cannot!” Roger King assumed a manner of great severity, now, ‘*Get up from your knees,” he sternly or- dered. ‘* Let no one discover you insucha position at this time. Now, you have got to make a clean confession,:or I myself will de- liver you up to the authorities. } am your father, and I have promised to befriend you. Can you not trust me?” ‘Shall I, mamma’ Shall J? Oh! pray “Did you not hear what I just now said?” “Te ur, certainly, oe
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4& The Sport from Denver. ‘Then it is true, papa, that I did not have | the locket: I know not how it came where it was found, but pray do not think Jvubn Handy guilty of such a terrible crime. I said what I did on the spur of the moment, fearful that suspicion might fall on him, for I knew the locket at sight.” 4 _— you had given him your likeness?” ** Yes.” ‘Then it remains for him to explain how it came where it was found.” ‘**He is innocent, papa, I know he is inno- cent; pray do not think him guilty of such a deed.” ‘*How do you know he is innocent?” ‘*T know he could not do a thing like that; he is as gentle as a woman,” ‘*Ptsch! If he is innocent, he will no doubt be able to prove himself so; if not, your excuse will never clear him.” ‘*But, papa, I have not told you every- thing.” ‘* What more, then?” “Something I saw last night.” ‘* What was it?” ‘*You have demanded that I tell every: thing, and pow that I have retracted my | first statement regarding the locket, I must do so. The parents looked at their daughter in | wonderment. ‘It was just about the time the storm be- Book ” the young woman went on, ‘‘I oked out. the window, and just as I did so | there came a terrible glare of lightning, the | Worst lever saw. You know the windows of the extension can be seen from my room, | In the dark frame of the’ window under which poor Phil’s body is now lying, I saw &@ woman’s hand holding a pistol—” ‘*Mercy!” gasped the mother. ‘‘Tmpossible!” cried the the banker, ex- citedly. | ‘* Papa, it is true; I swear that it is true,” the girl insisted, most earnestly. ‘I never saw anything more plainly in all my life. It was a woman’s hand holding a pistol, and the lightning playing upon the polished ; weapon made both hand and pistol appear |as if aglow with fire. It was only for a mo- ‘ment, ‘and then darkness shut out the sight. ‘I waited, but when the next flash came the hand was gone and the window was closed. I saw nothing more.” | ‘And you will swear to the truth of this?” asked the banker, himself almost atremble. | ‘*Yes, papa, yes; by everything sacred I swear that it is true.” } Husband and wife looked at each other, as if bewildered, and as the banker's cold, keen eyes met those of the woman, she grew sud- denly paler, reeled on her chair, and fell to the floor in a faint. CHAPTER V. INQUEST AND VERDICT. Rosa Kine.uttered a low, plaintive cry. ! The banker voiced an ejaculation, and passed his hand across his forehead as if to clear his brain. **Tt was not she, papa, oh! it was not she; it cannot have been my dear mamma, Oh, why was I led to reveal what I had seen! But, you cannot believe her guilty, papa.” Roger King looked at his daughter as if ut- terly dumfounded, Then suddenly he roused himself, but his face was pale and drawn, and starting from his chair he seized his daughter's arm. ‘ ** Mind you, not a word of this are you to mention!” he exclaimed in her ear. ‘‘Of course she is innocent; but, what if this had happened in the presence of those detee- tives? If you love your mother—if you love me, breathe not one syllable of this to them.” At that moment there came a knock at the door, The banker sprung to his wife, lifted her head, and then bade the applicant enter, The chief of police entered the room, fol- lowed by the coroner, for the report of a murder in the household of Roger King had had the effect to bring them out to his resi- dence in haste. **Good heavens, Mr. King, what has been going on here?” the chief inquired, ‘A terrible trouble has come upon us,’ net Fr the chief by name, for he knew him we ‘My son has been murdered, and the . tek Pt ne | a doctor here. I will not bother you with questions until you have had time to pull yourself together, so to say. At that moment Mrs. eyes, ‘“My God!” she gasped. fire!” ‘“What’s that she is saying?” asked the chief. “She is out of her mind,” returned the banker, hastily. ‘‘ Kindly ‘leave the room until we can get her quieted.” ‘‘ Certainly, if you desire it.’ The daughter was as sae: as death, and stood silent, her hands tightly clinched, look- ing from one to another, and the chief of police cast a searching look at. her, He and the coroner moved toward the door. ‘*T did not dare to tell,” Mrs. King mut- tered. “ it was so terrible, and I was afraid to speak.” **Oan’t you tell where you are?” the banker quickly appealed. “It was only a dream; see, here is Rosa, and thisisI, Try to think aright, Myra.” he chief and the coroner were moving all too slowly. ‘* Yes, yes, I know where I am,” the wo- man responded, ‘*but it was no dream; 1 saw it only too plainly. And I thought—I thought—oh, Rosa, how can you forgive me if I tell you what I thought?” The two men had passed out and closed the door, and’ possibly had not heard what she said. ‘* Heavens!” exclaimed the banker. ‘‘ What do you mean, Myra? Did you, too, see that hand?” ‘* Yes, yes, I saw it, Roger—I swear I saw it, too!” “Then there can be no doubting the reality of the vision,’ The woman essayed to rise, and her hus- band gave her his hand and assisted her up- on her feet. ‘‘Who can it have been, daughter asked. ‘Heaven only knows, child,” was the al- most agonizing answer. ‘*See here, we must talk rapidly, and reach an understanding,” now urged the banker. **Did you see anything else, Myra?” ‘* No, that was all,” **Nor you, Rosa?” **Nothing. You see, it was only a momen- tary vision, anyhow; ‘and, then, the tall bushes concealed the ground where poor Phil was found, Ob! J am glad you saw it, too, mamma, for now we can prove John Handy innocent!” ‘* Hearken to me,” said the banker, hoarse- ly. ‘‘This matter must not be breathed. Suspicion might fall upon one of you, and in the mean time the real murderer would get away. No, this evidence must be sup- pressed, for the present at any rate, until/we have time to think well about it.” **But, papa, you will not allow that inno- cent man to be suspected?” ‘Tf innocent, as you so strongly believe, he will no doubt easily prove himself so, my child.” ‘* Yes, but the evidence against him, papa, think of that! There is the locket which he wore only yesterday, as you yourself declare; and what if it can be shown that he was out late—” She stopped suddenly, ‘*He must defend himself, that is all,” re- plied the banker, firmly. ‘* Between an out- sider and a member of my own household, I am. against the outsider, every time; un- less—”’ ‘* Unless what?” asked his wife, huskily. ‘“T was going to say, unless had good reason to helieve the member of my house- hold ‘really guilty, and in that case— But, thank Heaven! there is no room for any sus- picion of that kind here.” A look of great relief came over the face of both» mother and daughter, upon hearing | these words. ‘*Papa is right, I suppose,” said Tosa, ** Still, papa, I ‘will hold back nothing, if by. telling I can prove John Handy innocent. My confession has been torn from me—that L| King opened her «That hand of mamma?” the ” ‘love him, and he will find that lam Teady to i shock has nearly killed my wife, I am | afraid.” | by me. jen“ It is awful, truly. You had better have prove my love, if the occasion. arise. ‘‘ Do nothing rashly, my child, And now, both of you, to your, rooms, I must confer with the officers.” Be guided : is 4. He Aintaloood shuns: and abel ae dismissed them, and seeing them ga up-stairs, went out and joined the men who were endeavoring to get a clue to the terrible crime that had been committed. The chief of police advanced to meet him. “You telephoned for me to arrest John Handy,” he observed, ‘‘and I have done so, What is the evidence against him?” ‘Have you found any against him?” the banker counter- questioned. ‘* Well, he was out in the storm last night, as his clothes proved, for he wus not up yet; and he is reticent concerning his where- abouts.” ‘Then it looks bad for him, certainly.” ‘* Why so?” ‘‘Do you know anything about a charm he has been in the habit of wearing on his chain?” ‘‘ Certainly, I know it well; would be able to recognize it anywhere, I think. But, what about it?” “Is this it?” ‘* Yes, it certainly is. it?’ The banker explained, and the chief looked concerned, He was silent. He opened the locket, while meditating, but it contained nothing now. Roger King had removed the likenesses! ‘Tt looks suspicious,’ ad- mitted. ‘But John Handy never did the deed,” declared Detective Coughlin promptly. “That is what I say, too,” the police de- tective supported. ‘‘ Cool ‘John never did this.” ‘“‘Tam inclined to the same opinion my- self,” assented the chief; ‘‘ but here is some terrible evidence to the contrary.” And he explained to them what he had just told Mr, King. They both looked troubled. The body had now been carried into the house by the butler and coachman by the direction of the coroner. The detectives had looked all around and about, but had been unable to discover even the faintest sign of aclue. It certainly did look dark for the suspected man. In due time the inquest was held. John Handy was there, a prisoner, of course; it could not have been otherwise. He swore that he was innocent, and that he had no knowledge as to how the locket came to be where found, He would not ex-. plain where he had been during the time of the storm. The butler testified to the discovery of the body, to the finding of the locket, and told how he had aroused the household. The other servants knew nothing; they had been in- structed by their master to say nothing of what they had heard concerning the like- nesses. Mrs, King and her daughter were not call- ed at all, since the banker himself had answer- ed for them. And so it was that, since they could do nothing else, the jury brought ina verdict that Philip King had met his death at the hands of some person to the jury un- known, yet with sufficient evidence against John Handy upon which to hold him to an- swer for the crime. 6 HAPT ER VI. WHO THE MURDERER? WHAT THE MOTIVE? DENVER was shockod. : By the time the matter became generally known, the inquest had been held and the accused man lodged in jail. It was a surprise to all who knew any- thing about the two men—Phil King and | John Handy—for they had been companions . / Where did you get the chief to some extent, and it was thought that they were firm friends. There appeared no motive for the crime. As the general public knew the case, it stood thus: Phil King found murdered; nothing taken from his person; John Handy’ 's watch charm found near the body. Handy arrested; his revolver found sus- | piciously clean; he had been out in the | storm; would give no account of his where- abouts. It was a mystery to all, and even more of mystery to those who knew some of the in- ner facts than to the public generally; for , those facts were inexplicable. And we have privileged the reader to know more than any, save only the two per- { sons spelly concerned.
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eon ps 5 The Sport from Denver. Who these persons were remains to be dis- closed. In the afternoon of the same day, a wo- man, closely vailed, evidently one of the servants, came forth from the rear of the King mansion and took a car into the city. She did not once lift her vail, and left the carin one of the busiest parts of the city, hurrying down a diverging thoroughfare, She entered two or three stores and made purchases. Coming forth from the last of these, she stood for some minutes on the sidewalk, looking up and down the street, as if in search of some particular person, it would seem, then she walked rapidly away, and, ere a great-while, was in one of the quiet quarters. Many times she had looked backward over her shouider, as if fearful of being followed. Finally she stopped at a certain house and rung the bell. A servant-girl opened the door. ‘‘T want to see Paul Batford,’’ the caller announced. ‘Your name, please?” was asked. “Tell bim it is his mother,” ‘Oh! then I am to show you right up, ma’am. He is expecting you.” The visitor entered, and the servant closing the door led the way up-stairs and tapped at @ room. The place hac the appearance of a. board- ing-house, and not one of a strictly first-class order at that. A voice in the room immedi- ately called out: “Come in!” The servant opened the door, and the vail- ed woman entered. A man was there, a man somewhere be- tween twenty-five and thirty years of age, a fellow with square chin and heavy mus- tache. Neither spoke until the servant had closed the door and gone away, when the-man said: ‘‘ Well, dear mamma, I see you got my let- ter—rather note.” The woman threw up her vail, disclosing the pale, anxious face of Myra King, the banker’s wife! ** Ves, Paul, I received it,” she answered, nervously. ‘‘Why in the world have you commanded me to come here at such a time asthis? Have you not heard what has hap- pened?” The man smiled in a meaning way. ‘* Well, yes, I have heard something about it,” he drawled. ‘‘It is just that that I want to talk with you about. By the way, you failed to keep your appointment with me last night, aud it is only fair that I should put. you to some trouble.” ' ‘IT did not expect you in such threatening weather, and I did not go down to meet you. At midnight the rain was pouring in tor- rents. A ‘* Yes, I happen to know that it was. Look at those clothes.” He pointed to a suit of clothes spread out to dry, and they certainly had been thor- oughly drenched. ‘* What!” the woman exclaimed. ‘‘ You do not mean Lo say you were out in the storm, do you? You do not mean to say that you were at the house ut midnight, waiting for me?” ‘*T was there,” ‘Tf I had thought for a moment you would come, I would not have disappointed ou,” ae Itseems you had other business on hand.” ‘* What do you mean?” ‘J witnessed the killing of Phil King, my dear mocher.” The woman ere | sprung from her chair, her face pale and eyes dilated, and she gasped: ‘© You—you did not kill him, I hope?” “1? Well, now tbat is cool!” ‘But, you know who did! Tell me, I pray, so that the terrible mystery can be brushed away and the innocent cleared from suspicion |” he young man looked at her in amaze. This only for 2 moment, however, and then he smiled knowingly. ‘Pretty well done, dear mamma,” he said, **but it will not work—-not with me. I wit- nessed the killing, as I say, ard I saw who killed him.” Ves, but you do not tell me who ii was. Speak, for mercy’s sake, and tell me who it was ” Now the man laughed. ‘* About as good as I ever saw,” he de- clared; ‘‘ but you can’t hope to fool me, that way. I saw the person who fired the shot from the window, my mamma dear, and the person was you.” “My God!” ‘** You see I know all about it.” “No, no; it was not I! By all I hold sacred I swear it was not I.” ‘** What is the use of your telling me that? Can you hope to make me doubt what I saw with my own eyes?” **It is false, false! This is only a scheme of your own inventing to force further money out of me. Would to God the victim of that crime had been you, instead of Phil King!” “Thank you, fond mamma! That shows the affection you have for your first-born. Will you tell me that I did not see you in the open window? That I did not see you lift your arm and fire the shot point-blank at Phil’s breast? Will you attempt to deny that you did not see me?” ‘*Paul, I swear that I know nothing adout it; will you not believe me?” ‘In spite of the evidence of my own eyes? Well, hardly! A man must believe what he sees.” ‘*But, it was not I, Paul; oh! Heavens! it was not I! I was not out of my own room, and I certainly did not see you; I did not ex- pect you would come, as I have said. Can- not I convince you?” ‘** Well, I think you will find it pretty hard to do, mother mine. Iam not a fool alto- gether, and what I saw I saw, You may just as well own up, and then we'll come to terms on the matter. My income has not been sufficient, from your other secret, and yet I have felt in duty bound to stick to our agreement.” ‘*T could pay you no more money ; it would be impossible.” ‘‘ Nonsense! Roger King has got loads of it, and you must work him for a bigger al- lowance, somehow. You can do it, if you try.” ‘*No, no; I cannot, I will not **You will not? What if he knew your secret? What if the police knew who killed Phil King? It is not only your name and position at stake, now, but your very life as well.” ‘‘My God! Have mercy on me!” ‘*Certainly 1 will. Make my allowance two hundred dollars & month, instead of one hundred as heretofore, and you are safe,” ‘*Impossible.. Roger now considers me ruinously extravagant—and no wonder! and he certainly will, not increase my allowance. Even as it is, my appearance does not accord with my income.” ‘‘Ha! there is your very chance, then!” ‘*What do you mean?’ **Convince him that you cannot keep your- self in appearance befitting your station, up- on such a paltry sum, and make him come down with another hundred—” ‘No, no, for that would only make my position the worse. How could I dress any better then than now, if you stand ready to take it from me? I tell you it cannot be done, Paul. If you push me, you will drive me to take my life.” ‘* Well, maybe I am too rough on you, dear mamma. I will compromise the matter with ou. You pay mea hundred and fifty, and eep the other fifty for yourself. I will try to get along on that until the old fellow passes in his checks, and then we will cut for a new deal.” And Myra King, innocent of the crime thus laid to her charge, as innocent as was John Handy, was forced to submit. - Remembering the hand in the window, she believed it must have been Rosa, after all, who shot Phil; and if this man told what he pepe was true, how could she disprove t? But, Rosa King, too, was mnocent. Who, then, bad done the deed? What the motive? 7? CHAPTER VII. DETECTIVES NOT ASLEEP. Pau. Barrorp gloated with satisfaction when the banker’s wife acceded to his de- ' mand. ———< He had her in his power—she was in his power before, as we have seen—and she was helpless. But this was no scheme of his own inventing, as she had asserted; he believed it was true, This man Batford, then, as the reader will have guessed, was the man who sprung out of the bushes and clutched Phil King by the throat as he reeled backward on being struck by the bullet. He saw the woman who fired the shot, and took her to be Mrs. King. We have seen why be was hid there at that hour. ‘* You have chosen wisely, mamma dear,” he said. ‘‘ Now all will be well with you, for I will keep your secrets for the price stipulated.” ** Would to God I had never had a secret!” the woman moaned, as if from a breaking heart. ‘‘But you had, you see, and it happens that I’m the burden of it.” ‘* You would not be, had I known—” She spoke in whisper, hoarsely, fiercely. ‘“Yes, I have no doubt you would,” said the fellow, as she stopped without finishing. ‘*But you didn’t, and hence you have to suf- fer for your little mistake.” ‘*But, Paul, while you have forced me to our terms, provided that I am able to do as— have agreed, you are nevertheless mistaken. | It was not I who shot Philip King—I swear} it was not!” } ‘* Well, that is immaterial, now.” / ‘‘No, you are wrong. It is everything, if, you are sure it was a woman who fired the’ fatal shot.” ‘‘Sure it was a woman? Of course, I am sure. How could I swear that it was you, if l had any doubts on that score? Was I not there? Did I not see it all? It was a wo- man.” ‘But, you know it was not I.” ‘On the contrary, I know it was jou.” “T swear again that it was not. If you are not purposely lying, then you are labor- ing under a mistake.” ‘Tt does not run in the blood to lie, as you know full well, uear mother. If not you, then who was it?” ) ‘‘T know not; if a woman, then it was not John Handy!” ) ** Certainly not.” ‘** And he ought to be cleared.” “Do you feel like going and taking hig place?” ‘**T would do so, were I guilty, rather than have him suffer for my crime.” “That is a pretty good resolve, but 1 am afraid you would back out when it came tc the pinch.” ‘* Aslam innocent, it will not have to be tested; but you, if you allow him to hang, knowing what you do, will be guilty of his blood. Can you accept that, for a price?” *‘Ha, ha! What would you have me do? Put the rope around the neck of my own mother?” ‘*No, for Iam innocent, but I would have you ferret out the truth and put the crime where it belongs. Can you not do that?” ‘‘T am not trying it. In such matters, the further away one keeps himself the better. I will leave all that for the detectives to ac- complish—if they are smart enough.” ‘* What if I undertake to do it myself?” ** You dare not!” ‘‘Do not be too sure of it.” ‘I will believe it when I see it, not before. But, that aside, have you the needful with ou?” - ‘«Yes, the sum I had for you last night, and which you might have had, had I for a moment thought you would try to keep the appointment in such weather. Here it is.” She took a roll of bills from her pocket and handed it to Lim, He took it greedily enough. ‘It must be fifty more, next time, don’t forget. You are responsible for my being in the world, and I must hold you accountable for my keep.” ‘* You are utterly heartless,” she said, sad- y. “Oh, no; I am very honorable, I pride my-_. self. Not going so soon?” She had risen from her chair, with some- thing of a shudder, as if eager to get away from bis presence. . Vy pe Uap ° “cha caid Vas ned ie reep ke rts
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6 The Sport from Denver. never want to to see your face again, and I never will, if Ican help it. Inquire at the post-office, moathly. I will do as I have agreed as long as 1 can, oras long as I care to live.” She opened the door. ‘*One moment.” ‘*Speak ” ** Let this be the monthly date. you two days’ grace each month, fail me, then [ call upon Roger King. day, madam!” he left the room without. speaking again, descended the stairs, passed out, and was gone. It had been a strange interview, and it had revealed much. When she was gone Paul Batford paced the floor in a puzzled manner, trying to solve an enigma, “‘Ts it possible that I was mistaken?” he asked himself. ‘‘Her earnestness almost made me believe her innocent, as. she de- clares. But, confound it! did I not see it all with my own eyes? What more do I want than that? She is in my power, and she knows it. But I must take care not to step over the danger-line. If King would only die, then all would be well with us.” He continued pacing up and down for a considerable time, till finally he flung him- self on a chair and lighted a cigar, ‘*T give it up,” he muttered. ‘‘If she did do it, what was her motive? Andif she did not do it, then who did? The person, who- ever it was, undoubtedly saw me, and it is lucky for me that I got away from the place quickly. It will not do for the police to get onto the fact that 1 was there, or they may make it interesting for me. There is enly one other thing I have to dread, and that is that she will wake up to the fact that she has it in her power to shake me off.” The woman, meantime, had made her way back again to the busier part of the town, and there she took a car for home. When she reached her destination, she en- tered the house by the front way, and met her husband in the front hall. ‘‘Where have you been?” he demanded, ‘‘and in such attire as that!” ‘Let these purchases explain, Roger,” she answered, exbibiting the parcels she car- ried. ‘‘ What is it?” “It is black, for mourning, such as I was able to buy.” ‘Such as you were able to buy? What do you mean by that? And why did you go out secretly?” ‘‘ What I mean is, that my means do not allow me much choice. You have no con- ception of a woman’s needs. And I went out as a servant might go, because I did not want to be known.’ ‘* Well, well! this thing can be remedied. But, you did a foolish thing, going out that way, and you have given one of the detec- ‘tives no end of unnecessary work, no doubt.” “One of the detectives?” with a gasp. ‘Yes; Detective Coughlin followed you! - But, what is the matter?” She had grown suddenly pale; she reeled, and must have fallen but for getting hold of a chair.” ‘‘I—I am tired out,” she explained—‘‘ that and the excitement together.” ~ ** Well, get to your room then, and rest,” Banker King had been pacing up and .down the hall,and he continued to do so after she left him. ‘*T don’t understand it,” he muttered to himself, as he had said a score of times, ‘‘I don’t understand it. My wife and daughter both out of the house mysteriously, at such atime as this? They must be mad, in spite of the caution I gave them, to doe such a thing!” - While thus oceupied the door opened, and Detective Coughlin came into the hall, silently. He stepped to Mr. King’s private room on the left, motioning the banker to follow. ‘* What is it?” the banker asked. ‘“You are aware that your wife has been I will give When you Good- _ into the city?” . ‘* Yes; she went to make a few purchases jn the way of mourning, and, not wanting to be recognized, di.l not take the carriage.’ ‘‘ Not wanting to be recognized—exactly! Wow, sir, can you tell me what business she Se ee ee ———— rrr could possibly hare with a: fellow named Paul Batford, living down on B—— street?” The banker looked at the man in amaze- ment, and felt himself turning pale—if such a statementcan be accepted. Pale he certain- ly was, and beads of perspiration began to form on his forehead. His wife in sucha quarter as that; what was the man talking about! And Paul Batford—who was he? CHAPTER VIII. MORE MYSTERY STILL. Ir was some minutes before Banker King could speak. The detective eyed him calmly and critic- ally, perhaps with not a little of suspicion withal. **You—you donot mean to tell me that my wife has been to such a place, do you?” the old gentleman finally demanded. . ‘‘ Is there not some mistake?” ‘* Detectives sometimes make mistakes, sir, but there is no mistake about this, I-assure you. Your wife did some shopping, as a blind; but her errand out was to go to that place,” ‘** And to meet a man?” ‘* She, went there to meet Paul Batford.”’ ‘* And who is he?” ‘“*“A man about town; a fellow of very questionxble reputation. Td forty times sooner think him guilty of the murder of your son, than John Handy.” The banker .was wiping the perspiration from his forehead. ‘*Do you know something about it?” the detective demanded, ‘‘ Are you not holding something back from me?” and ‘he scruti- nized the other severely. ‘‘T—know nothing about it; revelation to me, sir.” ‘The reason I asked, it seems to have thrown you into a state of consternation, judging by your emotions, If you are hold- ing anything back, you cannot hope to blind me long, Mr, King, for now we surely shall get at the truth.” ‘*Think you that you could appear more calm, in my place? My son murdered, my daughter — my wife’s good name _ being brought into question; it is almost enough to deprive me of my reason, sir!’ ‘‘What were you about to say of your daughter?” ** Nothing.” ‘Perhaps her likeness and that of John Handy were: found in that locket when it was first discovered, and ‘**Good God! How did you learn that: ‘‘What do you suppose 1 am workiag on this case for? I tell you again that you can- not hope to blind us long, Mr. King.” The banker had sunk down upon a chair. “Tt is my own fault,” he muttered, ‘I was wrong to make that discovery known in the presence of the servants. But, sir, you cannot possibly connect my wife or my it is all a daughter with the crime; I defy jou to do | that.” ‘“‘T am glad to see the confidence you have in them, sir, and I hope it will be as vou declare. Both, however, have claimed our attention, and their strange actions must: be explained away. Are youaware where your daughter has gone? You see 1 know of her absence from the house ” ‘“*T know not.” ‘* She has gone to the jail to see Handy.” “Tt is as 1 feared.” ‘You suspected that she had gone there, then? Well, you had good grounds.” ‘But, you cannot suspect. my child. She foolishly loves the man, since he saved her life some time ago, a secret she had been keeping from me,” ‘“And you removed the likenesses from the locket in order that this might not be- come known?” , “T did.” “ Why?” ‘* The reason is simple; I did not want my daughter’s name mixed up in it.” ‘‘ Wel), you made a mistake. Of course, you had to act upon impulse, in the time of excitement, but it is always better in such cases to let the truth right out, where you feel positive of innocence,” ‘¢And God knows I feel positive of it here,” **So do I, so far as Cool John is con- { cerned, and perhaps your daughter; but your wife—” ‘*Heavens! you would not hint to me that she murdered my son? She, who has been my trusted companion these twenty years!” ‘*T was going to say that she will have to account for her conduct.” ‘* And I believe she can, and will,” ‘* Very well; if she can do so satisfactorily, that will be sufficient. If not, I must search out the explanation.” “*T will summon her.” It was not necessary to do that, for the door was thrown open and Myra King rush- ed in, throwing herself upon her knees at her husband’s feet, ‘‘T was listening—I have heard all,” she sobbed. ‘*Roger, I am as innocent of the| blood of yourson as you are Kegecoe = onk bended knees I swear it! But do not press me to explain.” ‘*Madum, you must explain,” and the de- tective spoke peremptorily. ‘‘T cannot, I daie»not! I will die first! Do not make me desperate,” she urged piti- fully. The banker’s face was like death, almost, as he looked upon his wife, and he clutched her arm, ‘*Myra,” he said hoarsely, ‘‘ what is the meaning of this? Explain at once.” ‘*T cannot tell you, Roger! indeed I can- not!” ‘You must—you shall!” ‘No: no! It is impossible. fore I will explain.” ‘*Madam, you are standing in your own light,” spoke the detective, kindly. ‘‘ Noth- ing can save you but the truth, if you are innocent,” ‘*Heavens! Do you hold that Iam guilty of the murder?” ‘‘The appearances against you are tenfold more damning than they are against John Handy, that [can say, now.” ‘* Well, arrest me and free him! I will not complain. But, I swear that I am inno- cent; but, reveal my secret—I never will; nO, never,” The banker and the detective looked at I will die be- man’s face was one of complete bewilder- ment. That of the detective was not easy of definition; it was doubt, determination, anger mixed, Roger King uttered a moan, and released his wife’s arm. He covered his eyes with his hand, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair in which he sat. She fell back to a sitting posture, burying her face in her hands, and sobs shook her frame, while tears—hot tears—-dropped upon her dress. The resolute detective looked sadly on, for the Coughlin man had a soft heart. ‘* Madam,” he said, after a moment, ‘‘ you may just as well tell everything. A man has been sent to arrest Paul Batford, and he will reveal—” ‘No, no, he dares not! and if I had only thought of that sooner!” ‘*Do you mean that Paul Batford killed , Phil King?” quickly asked the detective. ‘No! noi not that; he could not do such a crime!” ‘**But, your words can be taken to mean that he did do it!” was urged. ‘* No, no; he is as innocent of the crime as am I, or at any rate so far as I know.” ‘Then he knows who killed him?” ‘“He does not, for tome he accused one whom I know to be innocent.” ** And who was that one?” **T will not tell.” ‘“Your daughter?” The woman kept silent. ‘* Well, it does not matter,’ said Coughlin. ‘‘ We shall soon have the matter from Bat- ford himself.” ‘*T do not believe he will tell,” averred the woman, hurriedly. ‘‘I do not believe he dares tell! Oh! that I bad thought of this point before ever I went to see him—fool that ] was!” ‘*Myra,’’ now spoke the banker, kindly, | ‘tell me what all this means.” **Roger, that I cannot do. It were better that you never know. You would, it might be, curse me for telling.” “Woman, are you mad?” ‘*The wonder is that Iam not.. My God‘ each other, and the expression upon the rf { i.
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The Sport from Denver. ¢ how I have suffered! Only my iove for you, for my home, and for my child, Roger, has enabled me to endure my life.” ‘*Myra, for Heaven's sake, tcll me all. What is it you mean?” ‘No, no; do not ask it. Detective, arrest me if you are going to do suo; otherwise let me go to my room,” **Go to your room,” The woman reached forward, took her husband’s hand and kissed it—much as a dog might have licked it, so abject her bear- ing; that done, rose immediately and groped from the room. “My God!’ gasped the banker, ‘‘ what does it 11 »n—what can it mean?” ‘*That 1 nains to be seen, sir,” answered the detective. ‘*We shall get it all out of the man Batford, I have no doubt.” ‘*But she said she did not believe he would dare to tell. Can it be that he is the one who killed Phil? But, if so, what can he be to my wife,-that she should try to shield him? Great heavens! what can the secret be?” ‘*We shall know, ere long, sir,” assured the detective. ‘‘It is developing faster than any other case I ever took hold of in my life, but at every turn the mystery seems to grow morecomplicated. The strange part is, there is still no motive in sight,” CHAPTER IX. A CLEVER TRICK NEATLY PLAYED, Let us return to the boarding-house to which the banker’s wife had paid the mys- terious visit. Paul Batford had not finished his cigar when there came a ring at the bell, and a few minutes later there came another tap at his door. He sprung up in surprise, for his callers were: few and far between. In fact, he sel- dom or never had one except by appoint- ment, and it was certain that he had made no other appointment. He opened the door, and the servant stepped back and allowed the visitor to speak for himself. ‘“‘Mr. Paul Batford, I believe,” the stran- ger observed. ‘*That is my name, sir,” was the response. **T would like to talk with you in private for a few minutes, upon a little matter of business.” ‘“* Very well, sir, step in,” making way for him to doso. ‘‘ You are a stranger to me, sir, but it seems plain that Tam the person you desire to see, Sit down.” Batford moved his hand toward a chair, taking one himself, , The stranger sat down, and as he did so a big revolver appeared in his hand, which he rested on his knee as he crossed his legs, facing Batford. The latter gave a great start, and slightly paled. > **It looks as if you had come on busi- ness,” he remarked, trying to appear uncon- cerned, ‘* Yes, I said it was a little matter of busi- ness,” rejoined the other, grimly. -‘‘I am Detective Conners, of the Police Depart- ment,” “‘T am glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Conners, although this is hardly the way in which one would naturally care to scrape acquaintance with a man of your pro- fession.” ‘*I suppose not. But that aside. You had a caller a few minutes ago, as I happen to know.” ae <i ‘* You do not admit it?” “Tadmit nothing. What are you driving at?” “By those clothes spread out there, I take it you were out in the rain last night.” ‘ ‘*Maybe I fell in Cherry Creek this morn- D pid “‘That will be easy enough for you to prove, no doubt. This visitor you had was vailed woman.” ** Was she?” *‘And she passed here for your mother. She came from Roger King’s residence, where, as you must have heard, his son was murdered last night.” “Indeed!” **The murder was committed either before or during the storm, for the body was lying out in a good part of the: heavy riinfull, | Sow: the question is, what do you know | about that crime?” “Nothing ” ‘You were out in the storm.” ‘‘So you say; yet.” I have not admitted it | ee as he wanted, in the way of papers, etc., not forgetting his money. When ready, he opened the door and stepped out. ‘* Well, good-day, Mr. Batford,” he said | aloud, imitating the detective’s voice to the ‘“This woman came to you direct from | the scene of the crime.” “You seem to be loaded to the muzzle with information; why have you come to me?” “To find out what you know.” ‘*T know nothing.” ‘That remains to be seen. You are my prisoner, Paul Batford, charged with the murder of Phil King! Resist, or attempt to do so, and you are a dead man.” Batford Jaughed. He evidently hac looked for this, and had nerved himself for it. ‘* Your visit means business with a ven- geance, Mr. Conners,” he said, cheerfully. ‘“But you never made a greater mistake In all your life. murder of Phil King—no more than you yourself!” ‘** All the better for you, then, if you can prove it.” ‘* And it will not be any trouble for me to do that. You want me to go along with you, of course?’ ‘*Certainly; but, no hurry. Plenty of time for a little chat, first. If you are inno- cent, as you claim, maybe you can put me on | the track of the guilty one?” ‘‘In saying which, you admit that you have no proof against me.” ‘*I’m following your lead, since you have declared that you can prove yourself inno- cent. ’ ‘« Well, I have no information to giveaway, just now. If you will give me a few min- utes to slick up, I will be ready to accom- pany you. I’m no fool, and I see you have got the bulge on me in the hardest kind of way.” : ‘It is well for you that you recognize the fact. Go ahead, but bear in mind that I am a pretty good shot, ind at the first sign of trying to light ont, Ill wing you.” ‘Oh, that is all righi; | am not taking the risk, thank you. I can be ready in a short time. ‘There are some cigars, he)p yourself; but, perhaps you liad better give your whole time to watching me, and not attempt to smoke.” The prisoner laughed lightly. ‘*[ believe I will take your advice,” said the detective. ‘‘{! see the banter in what you suggest, but I am not falling into your trap, if that is what you intend, even ad- mitting that there would be the ghost of a chance for you to carry ou® your idea,”’ The next instant the detective was jerked over backward with such violence that he came to the floor with a crash. Instantly the prisoner*was upon him, and a clip with a black-jack rendered Conners in- sensible. Batford rose with a smile, ‘**T think he will remember his first meet- ing with Paul Batford, if he comes to to re- member anything,” he grimly muttered. The detective had been leaning back in his chair, slightly, and the chair was standing on a strip of carpet that ran from the door of the room across to the washstand.. Stooping over as he was about getting up, Batford gave this strip of carpet a fierce jerk, wi.h the result shown. ‘*Heavens! but that was a close call for me,” he said to himself. ‘‘I thought he had me hard and fast enough. But, it seems he hadn't, thanks to a little brains. And now to dust out of here!” He began making hasty preparations for a departure, ooking around, as if to select garments from his scant wardrobe, one suit of clothes being wet, a thought struck him. He acted upon it instantly. He locked the door, and in another minute had stripp2d the detective of his outer garments, which he lost no time in donning himself, even to boots and hat The detective had a mustache something I had nothing to do with the | | voice, like his own, and once Batford hadon_ his | clothes a casual observer might have mis- taken him for Conners. And Batford aided the deception in every manner within his means, too, and armed himself with Conners’s weapo., Thisdone, he hurriedly to K such things best of his ability. to you.” **Oh! that is all right; don’t mention it, sir,” he spoke in lower tone, in his natural ‘*Good-day to you, and good luck!” Then heclosed the door, and laughing within himself, descended the stairs. The servant was in the lower hall, and he acknowledged her presence by a very slight nod as he passed out. It was some twenty minutes later when Detective Conners came to. For some seconds he was unable to get his bearings, so to say, but the moment he did so he leaped to his feet. He staggered like a drunken man, and pressed his hand to his head, where he dis- covered a gocd-sized lump, and then he made the further discovery that he was minus his clothes. It «ll came back to him then. He remem- bered his prisoner in the act of jerking the strip of carpet, but he could not act quickly evough to prevent the fall, and that was about the last he remembered of the circum- stances. He recalled this much with great chagrin. Clothing himself with such garments as the man had left hin, he made a close searcb of the room, but found nothing important. He then descended to the hall and sum moned the servant. Her amazement was so great, to find it was the stranger who had called, now in Bat- ford’s clothes, that she could hardly answer questions, and about the only thing the de- tective learned was the length of time Bat- ford had been gone. CHAPTER X. COOL JOHN AND PARD. THERE was no handsomer man in the city of Denver than ‘‘ Cool John.” Of splendid pbysique and commanding presence, he had faultiess features, a pair of keen, black eyes, and a perfect mustache. He was about thirty vears of age, and was a sport about town. No one knew a great deal concerning him, but the general verdict was that he was ‘‘ white,” and a man to tie to, every time. With a force of nerve equal to any emer- gency, almost, he had come to be called, popularly, a ‘‘manof sand.’ Some denomi- nated him the ‘‘sport of the steady hand,” and other appellations were applied to him. No one knew who or what he really was, 2s we shall see eventually, No wonder, then, that his arrest upon the charge of having killed Phil King set his friends agog. The sport had not been in jail an hour when he had a visitor. This visitor was one whose appearance alone was enough to lose for him the favor he asked, but strangely enough he was réad- ily admitted. He was a big, burly fellow, heavy in flesh and red of face, roughly clad, wearing a much-worn slouch hat, and having a bristly beard and mustache, and hair that was un- kempt. He was just such a person, in appearance, as one would wish most to avoid meeting in a lonesome place on a dark night. This man, Hugh Brown, tipped the beam at. two hundred and odd pounds, and was popularly known as the ‘‘ Big Bay.” Just why he was called that, does not ap- pear, And this man, as said, had no trouble in gaining access to the prisoner, soon after his arrest. : He was admitted into the cell with the accused sport, and the moment thedoorswung open to admit him, he exclaimed: ‘‘What ther deuce does this mean, Cooi John?” ‘*{ hardly know myself, Big Bay,” was the response. ‘‘ Here 1 am, though.” ‘*But you never done et?” ‘* Of course not.” ‘Who did?” ‘‘That is for you and me to find ou.’ “But you ain’t in much of a posisa .or ‘IT am greatly obliged active july jes’ now, I’m durn'def ye be.” ©
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~“ ‘That is so, ladmit, but I fancy I will not remain here a great while. In the mean time you must get out anc hustle and learn all you can, and try to scare upaclue for me,” ‘But, durn et, pard, they scem ter have ther dead wood on ye purty hard.” It will be noted that the Big Buy was as uncouth in speech as he was unkempt in general appearance. ‘Yes, [ have to admit that,” acquiesced the prisoner. The door had now been locked upon them and the jailer had gone away, leaving them alone. ** And can’t you explain it away?” ‘Oh, Iecould brush it off easily enough, Big Bay, if I hada mind to reveal myself and tell the whole story.” ‘*Then why don't ye?” ‘Because I am not yet ready to make myself known, and for the better reason that it would place another person in an unde- sirable position.” ‘You are durn p’ticular about other folks, seems to me, when you allow yourself to be jugged on account of ’em. Ef it was me, you kin bet that I would let out, mighty quick"” ‘* Well, you and I are different men, Big Bay.” ° *‘T reckon you are more’n half right, pardner,” ‘* What do you hear around town?” ‘‘ Why, thar ain’t anyhody that knows ye but what believes you are innercent.”’ ‘Tam glad of that, and they are not mis- taken. I am as guiltless of that crime as you are, Ben Bay.” ‘‘How kem your locket thar?” *«T don’t know.” ‘“Ye don’t know? That’s a stumper!” ‘**T do not know, I repeat.” ‘*When did it go out of your posses- sion?” ‘‘Nor do [ know that. I remember was in its place yesterday afternoon.” “Wull, et looks mighty funny.” “*T have an idea how it came there, how- ever,” ‘*Ha! that’s better. How was et?” ‘That is something I must not tell—at any rate, not yet.” ** Not even me?” ** Not even you, Big Bay.” “Then thar is some secret in et all, an’ you are mixed up in et somehow, that is as plain as print.” ‘Well, 1 won’t try to upset that convic- tion, Big Bay. And then the fact that I was out in the storm, and will give n» ac- count of my whereabouts—all that makes out @ case, you see.” “Et comes mighty durn close to et, I allow.” **PDo you know what moves the detectives are making?” ‘*Wull, not ter know much about et, but they mean business.” ‘“And so must we. Now, Big Bay, I am going to lay out a little work for you, and I expect you to do your prettiest.” ** Jest so, pardn'r; count me yours truly, every time!” *T saw Phil King in the Phoenix last night at ten o'clock.” ‘*Hillo! Mebby you are comin’ at et, pard ?” -**That is for you to find out. He was talking with a strange woman of rather dash- ing appearance.” y “Durn me ef [ ever heard of ary ornery diffikilty yet that didn’t have a woman mixed up in et somewheres. What about this p’tic- ular critter?” “That is what I expect you to ascertain; what about her?’ «All right; it’s my game, she is!” ‘They were sitting at the third table from the stage, second row from the wall, right- hand side as you face the stage,” “IT stow et away, pardner ” “And see that you do not give it away; we will work this lay ourselves; none other must have a hand in it.” ** Kerreck.” **Pbi! and this woman were as thick as ~ honey and about as s“ eet. when I saw them, and Phii gave me the wink when I caught his eve.” “ What cid that mean?” * Wel! we had seen the woman before, it « would form her acquaintance and make a ; conquest. He wanted me to understand that he was doing it.” **T see.” ““You know the kind of fellow Phil was; | he might have gone to the deuce more than once, 1f it hadn’t been for me, and I don’t say it to boast, either,” “You ain’t the boastin’ kind, Cool John; that everybody knows.” “Well, Llearned from him that this wo- man was from New York, and she had given | him the impression that she was pretty well fixed with this world’s goods. Her appear- ance went to prove that such was the case, anyhow. And he hinted that if he could work it right he would return with her.” “* Exack!” “Well, that was the last I saw of Phil King alive, and while it may not have had |anything to do with his death, it must not be overlooked)” ‘*Wull, ruther not, I should say!” “T want youto get on track of that wo- man, in a quiet way, find out exactly what time Phil seft the Phoenix, and whether she went with him, and all about it. Then, find out where she is now,” ‘ll tackle et, pard, right by ther horns.” ‘*Somebody in the Phoenix may be able to tell you something, and I want you to examine that table where they sat,” ‘¢ What fer?” ‘* Phil had a pencil in his fingers and was idly marking with it, end it is barely possi- ble that he jotted something there that will be of use to us,” ‘* Ha! now methinks I begin to sniff ther battle from afar, ez et wur! That is a long chance fer a clue, but et may be right thar, as you say.” “Don’t omit to look for it, anyhow.” ** You bet!” ‘‘And then, meet me at midnight at the corner of Seventeenth and Tremont, and we will begin work together.” ‘*Meet you?” in something of surprise. “You look a lot like meetin’ anybody, coop- ed up here like you are. And that’s only a stone's throw from the Court House, if you are thinkin’ of givin’ ’em the slip.” The prisoner smiled, and explained some- thing in a whisper, and after some further talk the Big Bay took his departure. CHAPTER XI. PERSONS DISAPPEAR, Wuen Rosa King left the house it was with even more of secrecy than her mother had employed. She merely stepped out into the grounds, as if for an ordinary purpose, and that was the last that was seen of her for some time. Sauntering out of the grounds by a rear way, she went to the house of a girl friend where she borrowed a hat and wrap with which to make a trip into the city, explain- ing to this friend where she was going. She was one to be trusted. Like the mother, she wore a vail, and thought she was unknown. And so she was, save to the detective who followed her as faithfully as her own shadow all the way. Her destination was the jail. There she asked permission to see Jobn Handy, stating that she was his sister. Permission was not denied her, and as she was not known there, no one could disprove the statement she had made. Handy might have half a dozen sisters, for what they knew to the contrary. The moment tie cell door was opened to her, she sprung in, exclaiming: ** My brother! oh! my brother She threw her arms around the prisoner, and he embraced her, speaking to her in words too low for the juiler to overhear. They stood silent, then, until the man had locked the door and gone away. when the prisoner released his visitor from his embrace, placed the cell stool for her, and himself sat down on tle edge of his cot. ‘* Why did you do it?” he then asked, with concern, “*Do what, John?” ** Come here.” ‘‘ How. could 1 help but come? I was so afraid that you would not understand why I was silent,” ” “Of course I understood it, my pet. You could not tell the truth without revealing your secret, and you knew if you admitted that I was in the grounds last night, it would appear all the worse for me.” ‘Yes, but you knew I could explain about the locket, John,” ‘* You?” in surprise, “Yes, Did you not know that I took it from your chain when you held me in your - embrace by the gate?’ **T did not know it, but I have thought of that as a possible solution of the mystery. Then you dropped it on your way back to the house?” ‘*T suppose so. But there is deeper and more terrible mystery than all this, and God alone knows where the guilt will rest when the truth is brought to light. I know cnly that you and I are innocent.” ‘*What do you mean? It was foolish of you to come here, for now suspicion may be directed toward you.” ‘‘T hardly think any one saw me come here; I used great care—” ‘‘Do not deceive yourself, Rosa; a detec- tive has not lost sight of you since you left the house, and he will not lose sight of you until you return. Not that his eye is actually upon you now, but he knows where you are,” She seemed alarmed. ‘*Do you think so?” she gasped. ‘‘T can swear to it. But, here you are, and the mischief has been done, no matter what is to be the outcome. But, what is this deeper and more terrible mystery at which you hint—indeed, which you declare ex- ists?” : Thereupon she told him all that has been made known to the reader, that is to say, all of which she had knowledge. He listened with close attention to the end. As soon as she stopped he looked up, with a sudden question, ‘* Wasit a right, or a left hand—that hand you saw inthe window? Think well, now.” The young lady was puzzled, quite. How could sbe tell now? ‘¢ Think hard,” the prisoner urged, earnest- ly. ‘*Much may depend on your answer to that simple question.” ‘* Alas! it is impossible for me to tell; I have no way of knowing. But, I saw it, as distinctly as I see my own hand now.” She held up her own hand as she spoke. ‘‘Let me help you, if I can,” said Cool Jobn. ‘As you looked from the window of your bed-chamber, that other window was on your left, was it not?” “Yes, yes.” ‘¢ Well, now, wien that hand appeared, which were towards you, the knuckles? or the thumb and fingers? as it clutched the—” ‘Ha! now I know! And, how simple it is, when one sees it! It was a left hand that I saw!” ‘‘Are you sure of that? How do you know it was a left hand?” ‘‘Yes, lam sure. The thumb and fingers were toward me, plainly visible. I know I am noi mistaken; I can swear to it.” ‘‘And your mother, is she left-handed?” The young lady had been somewhat pale from the first. but now she became suddenly like death itself ‘* Great Heavens!” she gasped. “Then she is left-handed, is she?” ‘* Yes, yes; useless to deny it. But, oh, John, she did not do the terrible deed; Iam sure she did not!” ‘‘Tam pretty well convinced of it myself, Rosa, but it remains to prove her innocent. You yourself have said that you thought the hand might be hers, when you sawit. Let us us look it squarely in the face,” ‘* But, why should she kill Phil?’ ‘Do you know of any reason?” ‘‘Not the slightest. She rather liked him, it were more reasonable to suspect me, I think, because J did not like him.” ‘‘And yet that is no reason wky you should be suspected.” ; ‘*Perhaps not; but, if I] am innocent, so is mamma; ] had rather take-the crime upon myself than—” ‘*Not another word of that! But, have you told me everything youcan? Have you mentioned to any one else besides your father this matter of the hand of fire?” ‘*No. no; except mamma— Heavens! everything is against her!”
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* What iis it now?” “‘{T know that [ can ‘trust you, John; I know that you will not believe her guilty; but, when I told papa about the hand, mamma fainted and fell'from her chair. But, ou will, you must help me to prove her dnnocent!”’ John Handy looked serious enough. ‘‘Wihat did she say when she came-to?” he asked. . ‘Why, she came-te in fright, and ex- claimed: ‘My God! That hand of fire!’ | The Sport from Denver. 9 ! ‘* Yes, here we:are, Big Bay, sure enough,’ | ment, and came on, now at an increased the other responded. “And it’s a matter of twenty-five years | since I left these parts, Cool John,” the first | speaker reflected. The men did turn the corner, the next mo- pace. If thugs they were, with evil intent toward these men out of the West, nowhere would purpose than right here, as perhaps they re- | “Tt is fully éifteen years since I was a boy | they be likely to find a better spot for their on the streets there, too,” the younger re- ; joined. ‘I used to know the city like an ‘ open book, in those days, but it has greatly ' changed, no doubt.” | “*Changed! Wull I should remark that et has, pard. Even this hyer brief glimpse of And then she said that she, too, had seen it, |et is enough to show me that I am a pil- and she:gave the hint’that she had suspected that it was I who fired ithe shot.” ‘*You-saw nothimg more than the hand and the weapon?” ** Not-a thing more.” ‘Or she?” ‘* Not.a thing more, she declared; and the bushes ‘hid her view the same as my own,” ‘*Well, well, it is a mystery profound, sure enough. But it shall be cleared up, I swear it! And the crime shall be put where it belongs. Now, Resa, since this secret of “ours is out, and since you have ‘been follow- ed here, why not diselose the whole truth—” ‘*No, no! That would lead ‘to mamma’s varrest; lam sure it would; and that would (kill me. -I cannot de that,” ‘‘But you cannot hope to hold out against those detectives, my darling. Now that they know so much, they certainly will ferret out ‘the rest, and—” > ‘And for me to tell what I know would , fasten the crime upon her perhaps, innocent as she is. No, no, it cannot be, John; I {must save her, no matter what the cost to me.” She remained a little longer, and then took her leave. Later in the day the detectives decided to ~make the arrest of Mra. King, upom evidence they had somehow secured. But she was not at home, nor was she to be found. She had given them the slip, and rag searched for her in vain. : hat had become of her? Was she, in truth, the one guilty of the crime? At a late hour that night the banker’s wife skurried through one of Denver's darkest streets, casting now and again an apprehen- sive glance over her shoulder at a great, .Tough-looking man who was persistently following her. wore no vail, but the manner of her dress was her disguise. ~ And on the following morning the discov- ‘ery was made that John Handy, or ‘Cool >John,” had escaped jail! When or how, no “one knew, but he was gone; and, strange to -say, he had left every article of clothing be- -hind him in his cell! Here was a sensation, truly, and the papers made the most of it. The authorities were as much at loss as the public, and investigation threw no light upon the mystery. CHAPTER XII. e; ACCIDENT, OR DESIGN? New York Crry. It was night, and a late train from the West had just rolled into the Grand Central. Among the passengers, as they left the cars and came filing out to the street, were two who claimed more than a passing glance from the idlers who stood around. These two were men. One was a handsome, finely formed fellow of thirty years or so, tall, supple and grace- ful in carriage, with a faultless mustache and a pair of keen black eyes. He was clad in a well-fitting suit of serviceable material, and wore a hat that, gave him a decidedly Western stamp, His companion was apparently fifteen years his senior, a big, heavy person, of decided] Srougher appearance. He had a coarse, r ’ face, with bat. beard and mustache all un- kempt, and wore a hat of the slouch variety that had certainly seen better days, to say the least of it. His clothes were good, but were coarse of texture and quite ample. They marched out shoulder to shoulder, and even the most obstreperous of the hack- men there congregated exhibited a timidity about soliciting their favor. ‘*Wull, hyer we aire,” remarked the last ii at tis a ee ee She carried: a valise, and‘ described, when they had gained the open oy stree jul AE }-grim an’ a stranger hyer, ter say nothin’ | about bein’ a tenderfoot ter boot. But, I opine we kin hold our own, ef it comes to a pinch,” ‘* We have done that many a time before, Big Bay, and I:guess we shall be able to do it here.” ‘‘ Well, where to?” ‘*A place to lodge is the first thing in order,” ‘** Yes, I s’pose so, fer we can’t hope ter git ‘down to biz the minute we land hyer.” ** And we may as well go right down-town, where we are both better acquainted with the lay of the laad, and where we naturally ex- pect to strike the trail.” ** You are ther captain, pard; jest as you ”» BBY. ‘‘All right; we'll take a car, as soon as I gét my bearings; useless to walk if we can ride.” “IT opine you are more’n half right, Cool John. But, say, what do these hyer galoots mean by stalkin’ after us the way they are doin’? I’m blest ef 1 don’t kinder surspicion Cool John glanced around. Three men were certainly coming after them, and not a great distance behind. ‘It is quite likely that they are paying no attention to us, Big Bay,” the Man of Sand remarked. ‘‘ We shall have our hands full, if we suspect every body who happens to cross our trail, here.” ‘‘That’s hoss sense, I allow, but all ther same Fdon’t like ther looks of these hyer galoots. I’m goin’ to keep one eye on’em till we board that car you spoke about.” “ All right; that can do no harm, certain- They had turned a corner, without any particular reason for doing so, and now found ' themselves On a somewhat darker and more deserted street. When the Big Bay looked around again the three men were still coming after them, and had drawn a little nearer, and again he called. the attention of his companion to them. ‘Tt does look suspicious, now, that is the fact,” Cool John assented “It can do no harm to be prepared for them.” As he said this he produced a gun, the Big Bay doing the same. . “‘If ‘they are thugs, and want to sample us, let them come oh ee up and take a taste,” the sport of the steady hand added, jocosely. Presently they passed under a street lamp, and, as they did so, glanced back over their shoulders. What they now saw fully con- firmed their suspicions of the three fellows. They were now quite close, and were an evil-looking trio. One seemed to be fairly well-dressed, wore a mustache of neat turn, and appeared to be the chief of the party. The second, the largest of the three, was a villainous-looking customer, and had one hand hooked in the arm of the other and their heads were close together. The first seemed to be talking to him. The third a whiskered night-walker, was close to the second, with his hands in his pockets and his eyes apparently fixed upon the two men whom they seemed to be fol- lowing. In fact, there could scarcely be any doubt upon that point, now, for the one first mentioned seemed to be pointing at them. Cool John and his comrade strode steadily on, holding their weapons so that they were not likely to be seen. Ina few moments they eame to another street and turned the corner. ‘“‘ Now,” whispered Cool John, ‘‘ this turn will tell the story. If they follow us further we will hold them up at the point of the n. “* Kerreck, pardner!” responded the Big y. he ws | Pope L . a eR Mie Sear aT ae cognized, But the men of the West were first to act. Wheeling suddenly, a couple of long strides brought them face to face with the trio. Their guns were to the fore, and they were more than a match for as many again of the fellows, under the circumstances, hav- ing the drop. ** Now, then, what do you fellows want?” So demanded Cool Jobn, in his coolest manner, addressing the one he took to be thy ringleader. “* What’s the matter with you?” was the counter demand, ‘‘ Do you mean to rob us? Let us proceed, or I’ll call police.” ‘*Call them, if you want to. You have been following us, and we thought we would just stop and ask what you wanted, Any- thing we can do for you?” ‘‘That’s what’s the matter,” chipped in the Big Bay. ‘‘ Ef you have picked us fer a pair of stray mavericks, you never made a greater mistook in all yer life, fer we are longhorns of reg'lar brand you bet!” ‘“We don’t care what you are; let us ass!’ ‘* Certainly; pass right on,” assented Cool John, ‘‘and take care that we don’t run up against you again.” He stepped aside as he spoke, the Big Bay ne" the same, “I guess we have the same right to the street as you,” was the retort. ‘We don’t question that, Mister Walker, but we don’t purpose being dogged around by you or anybody else.” ‘“And who was doggin’ ye?” blurted the biggest of the three. ** It looked very much as if you were do- ing that same.” ‘* Well, we wasn’t; see?” ‘* All right; we'll take your word for it, Don’t let us detain you, now, if you are ina hurry. Pass right along.” The three moved on, muttering to them- 4 selves, and they cast scowling glances back at the Westerners, who stood looking after them until they had passed out of sight. ‘*Wull, what’s yer think?” questioned the Big Bay, then. ‘Tt is plain they were following us,” an- swered John. ‘‘ But we nipped their little game right in the bud.” **You bet! But what was their game, d’ye think?” ‘Why, they took us fora brace of green- horns, no doubt, and meant to slug us and go through our pockets.” p ‘“‘Wull, they struck a snag, sure enough, that time. a, ha, ha! But, say, thar was one thing I noticed, pard: that slick chap *minded me of somebody.” ‘‘The very thing I meant to mention to you,” ** Sho!” ‘Yes, the fact. That fellow looks like the murdered Phil King, of Denver, or Iam a coyote!” ‘*Ther same, by ther great horned toad! What d’ye make of et?” **Oh, it’s merely a coincidence, I guess. But see here; I guess I will have to take a pointer from a eee, in order to get the car we want. o use of our running around wild any longer.” They retraced their steps, made inquiry, and presently were on their way down-town on a trainon the Third Avenue L. ‘But, unknown to them, they were shadowed. Many persons observed them pees! bat . there was one in particu.ar who held them under surveillance! — CHAPTER XIIL APPEARS A NEW PHASE. Tris man, for a man it was, was a pas- senger on the same train with them. Coming out of the station, he had givens signal to the three fellows whom Coo! John and his pard so neatly tricked. Waiting there at the station for the return of these, dently had been one of a dark nature, it ) Wee. at. Te Te confederates, whose errand evi- — ag
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ae was his surprise to see the two Westerners return instead, But, when they took the L train ,he fol lowed, Cool Join and his pard alighted at Chat- ham Square; likewise this shadower. The Westerners looked around and soon found a hotel that would suit their purpose, registered, and sought their room for the night. And as soon as they had gone up this man came forward. ~~ ‘How do, Will?” he addressed-the clerk. _ That worthy looked up, and, seeing who it was, put out his hand. **ficllo, Nutter!” he greeted; ‘‘how are you? Where been keeping yourself these teu days?” ‘Ou, [have been running around a little for the good of my health. By the way, wh» were those fellows who just went up to rousi?” “Strangers to me; a pretty tough couple, I should say.” ‘* Looked like Westerners,” **So they are.” The clerk indicated the register, with a mo- tion of the thumb as he spoke, as if inviting his friend to help himself to whatever infor- matiou he might be able to get there. Mr. Nutter promptly availed himself of the privilege. He read: ‘* John Jones, } El! Reno, ‘Wm. Brown, ) Ok.” “Yes, pretty good,’ he muttered to him- self. ‘‘Handy names, Jones and Brown; very! And they acknowledge the West as their native stamping-ground; couldo’t very well do otherwise.” “What are you growling about?” de- manded the clerk, playfully. ‘**Oh, nothing; but you have got a pair of wild steers on your hands, by the looks of things, and you want to watch out for them. ary give mea cigar, and take one your- self.” The clerk laughed, passed out a box of cigars, and, after some further talk of the small sort, his friend Nutter, as he called him, went away. Nutter sauntered up the Bowery until he came to a popular resort. There he entered. In the course of an hour anotber man came in, looking searchingly around the room. Nutter signaled him, This fellow was the Jeader of the trio who had followed Cool John and the Big Bay, and who had been so neatly baffled by the two men out of the West. He was looking as glum as a thunder- storm, “What in the merry deuce happened?” questioned Nutter, as soon as he came up ‘*What happened?” the other repeated. “‘Tf you had been there, Dick, I guess you would have seen what happened.” He threw himself upon a chair, helping himself t> something that Nutter had or- dered for his own regalement while he waited. ** Well, what did happen?” ‘Why, just when we were about to tackle them, they tackled us!” ** Didn't 1 give you warning to take extra precautious? I told you the kind of men they were.” ‘*But, who would have thought of that? I had Gib Wilson and Webb Harker with me, and I consider them the equal of any two men you can pick anywhere.” “They certainly are; and with you to heip— Hang me if I see how you got dumped.” ‘Well, they simply turned on us and had their pistols under our nuses before we knew what had happened and there we were.” “T'll be hanged!” **And now the question is, where are e ” On, that need not trouble you any; I have ‘ocated them all right.” _ ‘You have? Where be they?” ** At the House.” ‘Then we can fix them out, yet.” ‘* Yes, we can take care of them, now, and maybe it is better so, for, you see, we can take more time to it, There was a good deal risk about this first plan, anyhow.” fellow, ay ie their _ broke up over it.” Pte ike V——_—_--————————_— en The Snort from Denver. “That was what I sail when 1 get the | ' «About as pretty a situation as could ve word from you, bnt I thought you knew | wished for,” remarked the listener, rubbing what you was talking about, so I called in | his hands together with satisfaction. the boys and was on hand, as you ordered.” ‘*1t would have been all right if it had worked all right.” “Yes, for the boys meant to give them | such a thump that they would never have : come to, this side of the river.” ‘Well, the boys have seen them, now, and that is one point gained. They will know them, and will have that much the advan- tage next time. There are more ways than one to skin a cat.” ** Yes, and they have seen Gib and Webb, too, so it is about an even thing. It remains to be seen what we can do. But, what about things West?” “You have seen the papers?” ‘“* Yes; a mysterious case, that,” ‘** Decidedly mysterious. Of course, the pon here have given only the leading act.” “*That is about all, except that suspicion now rests upon Mrs. King, who has mys- teriously disappeared, and that the man who was arrested has strangely broken out CHAPTER XIV. CLUE, THETA. <8?’ MEANWHILE Cool Jobn and pard had held a confab, They were now on the field of action, for it was not to be supposed that they bad come to New York without some powerful incen- tive. If that was so, then there were grounds for assuming John Handy guilty of the mur- der of Philip King; but, as our word bos been given that he was not the person. t: v incentive must have another solution. From their own lips we have already learned that they had come to the metre p: - lis with a well defined object in view. They had come on business, and here they expect ed to pick up again a trail that bad been lost to them in the West. In fact, they bad a clue. When they had made themselves comfort- of jail.” : | able, on retiring to their room, they looked * Yes, and that is one point I can’t under- | over the situation. stand.” The Big Bay opened the talk by repeat- ‘* What’s that?” ‘‘His escape.” . “What about it, to make it so mysteri- ous?” “Why, lie was simp!y gone, they said, and had left all his clothes, even to his socks !'’ ing the first remark ne had made on arriving in the city: ‘*Wull, hyer we aire.” ‘‘As snug as bugs in a rug,” completed Cool Jobn. ‘Are you sleepy, you hard- looking galoot?” ** Not a bit, pardsey. ** That does seem st. ange, sure enough.” keer how you daub on pet names when you ‘** And, this fellow is the man, the younger | ‘dress me. I know I ain’t as good lookin’ of the couple you tried to tackle to-night,” as you, but I’m ounces to the pound, every But, take a leetle ** The deuce!” time.” ‘‘The faet.. He is ciiain Jightning, if all They both laughed, passingly. they say about him is true, and something of ‘*What I was going to say,” John added, a man of mystery himself; but, he will find | ‘‘ we may as well run over the points in the that he has made the mistake of his life in , game, and see where we stand. We have coming to New York.” hardly mentioned it, on the way here.” ‘*Yes; but, go on.” ‘TL opine you aire about right,” ** Go on with what? ‘The fact of my remarkable escape from it,” jail—that counts nil, The fact that you met ‘*T mean, tell.me all abont that mystery | me at the appointed time and place is the at Denver; that 1s what I am anxious to! real beginning.” know.” ‘* Kerreck.” ‘*Oh, yes; certaMMly. Well, you have got ** You had the information that Mrs, King the leading facts, of course, so t need not go | had taken flight, or, at any rate, was miss- ing, and that the daughter too, was for the time being ditto. But you had something more important than that.” ‘* Prezack.” : There was quaint uncouthness in the Big Bay’s laconic drawls. ** You had a clue, and that, under the cir- cumstances, meant everything, and we set putafion in the city, next morning) the de- | out to follow it up at once. I was innocent tectives following her. One of them set | of the crime, of course, and I knew that Miss about arresting that man, but he got the | King was; I also thought the same about the worst of it, somehow, and the suspect es- | nothek though there the appearances were caped. It looked mighty bad for the wife, | rather shady.” then, and they went to arrest her, but she ‘*Durn shady!” was gone. And, last of all, the daughter, ** You had done well the work that I had too, skipped out.” set for you. You learned that Philip King ‘“Weli, that made a tangle of it, sure | had talked with the unknown woman for a enough. Which do you think was the guilty. considerable time in the Phenix after I saw one?” them there. You learned that the woman ‘*t That is not an easy question to answer, | left the place first, and that she and Phil The one they can catch and fasten the crime | parted in the most friendly manner. You upon, I suppose. The banker himself was | looked well at the table, and there discovered knocked clear out of time, when he found | some careless jottings that Pbil had made himself entirely alone, and made a clean | while talking with her.” breast of everything he knew. He said his | ‘*Jes’ so.” daughter was in love with John Handy, and ‘‘ Among other things on that table, in the when the locket was found her picture and) smallest kind of hand, as you have described that of the sport were in it. Then he told it to me, you found a number and a name, a story about his wife and daughter’s having _ and the mitials A. 8. And that is the clue seen a hand in the window about the time , that has brought us here.” the crime was thought to have been com-}| ‘‘ Et is.” mitted, ‘The name was the’name of a street, evi- ‘The impression given out was, that the , dently, and the figures the number of a house wife and daughter apparently bad something | on that street. knew there was no such of a suspicion toward, or against, each other, | street in Denver, and in fact I had never This hand had a pistol in it, for they both | heard of a street of that name outside of New ; That's all there is of over the whole’ ground. It seems. tbe banker’s son was killed right close to his father’s house. A locket was found by the body, which proved to belong to the man who was arrested. That was the only clue that was to be had. ‘** But, it came out that the banker’s wife paid a mysterious visit toa man of bad re- claimed to have seen it by the light of a flash ; York.” of lightning. It was held as if shot had “Tally!” just been fired, or as if the person was on the ‘The initials undoubtedly stood for a per- point of shooting. Whether they lied, or | told the truth, no one could say. It seems, Hie id ft dean ee cao , case, so faraswe know. We made the guess now, as if both may have been guilty, re- | that they stood for the name of the woman moving the son so that the daughter by this ; with whom Phil King talked at the time secord wife would come in for all the! when he marked them there. That remains banker’s wealth, Be that as it may, the fact | to be seen.” remains that the son is dead, the wife and ‘You bet!” ~ daughter are missing, and the old man is all ‘*Phil left the place a little iater, with the . remark that he was going home and to, bed, paait cn bh) ¥ ve + u Kod Sie ae 5 . ale sila Sm Sa ON is get Dalia = canbe SAE ai
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The Sport from Denver. as he had been out late for five nights straight: And that was the last that was seen of him, faras our record tells, until he was fonnd cold and s iff the next morning. Now tie question is, did that woman have anything to do with his taking off?” ** You think she had?” ‘Yes: or, at any rate she may be able to give us the clue, if she can be found. learned that a woman answering that descrip tion left Denver tor New York, and that fact alone is suspicious. You think her in nocent, from the fuct that such a clue was found on that table. she would never have given her name and address to Phil. You muy be right; if she meant to kill him, or knew that he Was going to be killed, what would be the difference whether he knew her name or not?” ‘*And that woman is ther critter we are after.” “Decidedly. To-morrow morning begins the warfare, even if it hasa’t been begun al- ready,” “What d'ye mean?” ‘““The more I think of those three fellows the more suspicious it looks.” ““Lagree with ye in that, pardner.” ‘‘Tt isa little strange that we should have been jumped so soon after our arrival, for they certainly meant mischief.”’ ‘**T think so, too.” ‘« But, by what means can they have known us? And what possible reason could they have had for wanting to run up against us that way? Maybe, after all, they were only what they seemed.” ‘** Robbers, hey?” ‘Yes, common: footpads, after our col- lateral.” ‘** Mebby you are right. feller, Paul Batford.” ‘* Yes, you learned from the detectives that it was pretty certain he had come this way, too’ *' And, as I said in ther beginn:n’, hyer we aire.” Then there is that On the following morning the two pards out of the West were astir bright and early. They came down from their room looking as fresh as larks, and there was somewhat of a change in the appearance of the Big Bay. He was washed, combed und brushed to the finest, and might have been mistaken for a millionaire mine owner, whose wealth was the excuse for any little eccentricity in the mutter of dress. AnicCool John, he was as dapper as a new in. 3 A casual observer would have taken them for futher and son, perhaps, who bad come in from some far-off ranch to ‘'do” the town. They breakfasted, and after an hour or so of loitering around, left their humble hotel and went forth for a stroll, to kill time until a proper hour for Cool John to make « con templated call. They strolled up the Bowery, and in due time came out on Union Square. Aman had been following them all the way, and this shadower was Dick Nutter. While the two stood there noting the changes the passing years had wrought, Dick approached them. ‘‘[ beg your pardon, gentlemen. be sa- luted, ‘‘ but haven’t I seen you before?” “Maybe og have, sir,’ responded the Man of Sand. ‘* We hev been in ther world fer a consid erable spell of while, leastways I have,” chimed in the Big Bay. “Did I not see you in Denver, something like a month ago?” ‘* We were there about that time, that is true.” agsei.ted Cool John, with a look at the Big Bay. ; * Right you be,’ the latter coincided. “‘[ thought I could not be mistaken, gen tlemen Of course, you donot know me, but my name is Welter, Job Welter, and as the folks of Denver did the right thing by me | You think, if guilty, | We | | right handy, and if you will do me the honor to join me, come along.” He took a step in the direction of a pair of mirrored swinging doors burd by, us he spoke, and Cool John und bis pard followed him unhesitatingly, the Man of Sand lead- ing. ‘*Being strangers in the city, the sport made remark, ‘it will not come amiss to get acquainted with somebody who knows the trails. My name is John Jones, Mr, Welter, | and this is my uncle, William Brown, com- | monly called Uncle Bill out in Oklahoma, | where we hail from. Our place is near El Reno. Ever been there?” **No, I never have,” as he shook hands. | ‘* You must have been on a visit to Denver, then, when Isaw you there.” ‘Yes, we wur takin’ a leetle spin,” ex- plained the Big Bay. CHAPTER XY. WESTERN SPORT AND CITY SHARP, Coo. JOHN was not deceived; neither was the Big Bay. The latter, however, had taken his cue from the Man of Sand, and” followed his lead, This fellow was either honest in what he had stated, or he was a decoy, and in either case 1t could do no harm to let him have a lit le line—as they put it afterward. The stranger was a young man, maybe thirty years of age, und not at all bad look- ing. IIe was well dressed, and had the stamp of a Bowery blood, Cool Jobn had sized him up quickly, a way he had, and believed that he scented a lay-out of some kind or other in the back- ground, Had the man named any other place than Denver, then they would have suspected a game in the line of green goods, or the like, and nothing more; but mentioning that place, Cool Jobn looked deeper. The fellow might be perfectly straight,and his story strictly true, as said; but Cool John believed that the chances were about as dol- lars to cents that he was a crooked chap, and since they had already had one rough experience, he immediately connected this man with the three thugs of the night before. They entered the gin palace with him, it being one of the gilded dens with which New York abounds, ‘* Job Welter’ led them to the table, and ordered something of the best. ** When did you strike town, Mr Jones?” he asked Only last night,’ the Man of Sand an | swered ‘‘ We have not got the Oklahoma | mud off our heels yet.” | ** And where are you stopping?” ‘* At the —— House. ° | * You are moderate in your tastes, any- | how. But, what'stheodds? Youonly want.; it for a place to sleep in, and you would | sleep no sounder in the Brunswick.” ‘*[ opine you aire about right,” agreed the | Big Bay. ‘‘ We don’t go much on style, but | we are bound to have comfort, ef et is to be | bad up, you bet!” ‘““You men of the West usually have, when you come in to do New York ” ‘*And we have come in fer a general round-up.’ the Big Bay added, 1n something ot a boastful manver ‘Well, what have you got on your pro gramme? What were you going to do with yourselves to-day, if I hadn't forced my | they get it, they won't draw a big prize, company upon you? If 1 am not wanted, all you have got to do isto say so, and no harm done.” ** We had no plans,” assured Cool John, ‘and we are glad we fell in with you ’ “Ifthatis so, I’m giad it happened too I have nothing to do, and had as lief as not bit around a little.” hat is settled, then. You furnish the when [ was there, I am anxious to return the | music and we'll pay the fiddler, as our cow compliment. «Well. 1 don't care if 1 do” assured the ranch once in awhile. Big Bay, wiping his mouth with his hand | that, Uncle Bill?” What say, boy?” Dick Nutter laughed. } n,” gested. ‘' Here is a p boys say when they have a blow-out at the ‘‘ Your word goes boy,” was the drawl, Nutter, 1m the most pis And we have got the nuggets to put | What do you say to . ‘Give us your hand fora goodtime, then, ‘ eres e © Well, let us begin our acq uaintance that old man,” cned Dick : ‘* You seem like a purty white kind of a galoot,” the Big Bay remarked. ‘‘I reckon we'll make three of a kind ali right, and threa of a kind kin knock out any two pairs in ther deck; ha, ha, ha!” And so began their acquaintance, most favorably. ‘*By the way,” Nutter remarked, after awhile, ‘ I see by the papers there has been quite a sensation out there i.t Denver.” ‘That so?” queried Cool John. ‘‘,What is - it?” “ A mysterious murder.” ** Anybody you knew?” ‘*No; but it seems like a remarkably strange case.’ “That is the sort the newspapers like to get a hold of.” ‘* Tt seems so.” «© Who was killed?” - Thereupon Nutter stated the facts briefly, giving everything that had been made public in the press. a ‘** Well, that is a queer case, sure enough,” commented Cool John, ‘* Yes, and one of the queerest points in. it, how that prisoner escaped out of jail.” ‘*‘It does seem a little more than passing strange, thatis true. And the fact that he left all his clothes, as you say, makes it stranger.” .* Yes, But, enough of that; it does not concern us,” ‘*Not a bit. Where shall we go?” Cool John turned it off carelessly, and, bad not Dick Nutter been sure of his men, as he was, he must have been puzzled. ‘* Well,” he said, in answer to Cool John’s inquiry, ‘‘the fact of the matter is, New York is adull place in the forenoon, In the afternoon it wakes up a little, but itis not until the curtains are drawn that things be- gin to boom,” ‘* Anything ter kill time,” assented the Big Bay. Their new acquaintance thought for some moments, and then made a proposition, which was readily agreed to, and settling the score, the decoy led them forth to the day’s do- ings, Cool John had quietly given his ally the tip that they would lend themselves to the fellow’s schemes, allowing him to have full swing for a time, and the Big Bay fell in. The day was well spent, and Rutter con- ducted himself throughout in a manner cal- culated to win the confidence of the Western- ers. Had there been no ground for suspicion, he must have deceived tliem completely. ‘* Well, how have you spent the day?” their guide asked them, as they finished a hearty dinner in a popular resort, along in the evening ‘Right up prime,” cried the Big Bay. ‘‘ What der you say, boy?” ‘‘['m satisfied.” the Man of Sand ac- quiesced. ‘And now you want to see something of the dark side as well, | suppose?” the fellow inquired. ‘*« You bet!” the Big Bay exclaimed. ‘All right; we'll go bobbing round a little, then, 1f you want to see the elephant.” **Anything to keep our blood in motion,” agreed Cool John. ** You are the captain, Mr. Nutter.” ** Well, I’m ready for anything that offers, ‘now. But, by the way,” ino guarded tone, ‘*have you got much about you in the way of valuables? If you have, it might be well to deposit them, somewherv.” ‘‘Oh, I guess we can take care of the little we have got in our clothes, don’t you think so, uncie?” queried John. ‘*T opine we kin,’ wasthe response. ‘* Ef anyhow.” “All right) I thought it only 5 te to caution you.” explained Nutter ‘‘ You are both armed?” ‘**Some. * The Bowery blood smiled at the laconic drawls of the elder, and they rose to leave the place. ‘* You must mean to take us into a pretty mere hole, eh?” remarked the Man of and. , * You must expect that. if youwantto see the dark side.” ; , drive on, then.” ell bo
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12 The Port mot Denver: ! Accordingly, Dick Nutter préceeded t° pilot them into one of the most evil sections of the metropolis. He had worked hard all day, with this in view and now he meant tw conduct the un- suspecting files into the parlor of the spider, so to say. He believed he had won them completely But, of course, the men out of the West were not deceived. They were as eager for the fun to begin as their conductor was to entrap them. Cool John had laid aside his own first plan of the day, in order to give this decoy a full chance to work his little game, whatever it might be. The Denver Sport believed that more was to be gained by so doing, since he was now satisfied fully that Nutter had been in league with the three fellows of the night previous, and he had no doubt but that he and the Big Bay would be able to pee through all in good shape, as they had done many a time before, by standing shoulder to shoulder, if it came to a matter of wit and nerve. The Big Bay was more than a match for two ordinary men, in mere strength, while for nerve the Man of Steady Hand had never met his better. ‘| But the near future was destined to try nerve and muscle and wit as they never be- i fore had been tested. on the island, or worse. moments only neck of the Big Bay, exclaiming: town?” called uncle?” the Big Bay demanded, *“Why, by your looks, the rocks about you.” thing to him. This was not lost upon Cool John. proposition. ‘‘We are out ter see ther ele- ter make him dance.” ** You're the stuff!” the creature exclaimed. ** We'll show you all the elephant you want to see, you bet, if you do what’s right.” ‘All right, that’s what we’re hyer fer; hey, boy?” ‘*It. is your say, Uncle Bill,” the sport made response. ‘‘And whateyer you say goes, generally.” ‘* You bet your life et does,” the old fellow cried, as he brought a little money to light. 3 Hyer, you feller,” to the man at the bar, a giant Irishman in red shirt, ‘‘set ’em up fer ther gals!” Cool John was taking a critical survey of everything and everybody, and that without appearing to do so. He noted that the woman who was, talking to Nutter was in earnest. She was not speaking flippantly. He could not hear what they said, but he knew well enough that it was business and not foolery Nutter took a sudden look in his direction, but the sport was apparently as innocent of observing anything closely as the veriest greenhorn could have been. Their entrance had caused a momentary check to the revelry that was going on, but now it was resumed with as much fervor as before, if not indeed a great deal more, for the tip had been passed that these ‘‘ jays” were all right. The Big Bay flung some money to the red- shirted Irishman, and the latter immediately set out his vile poisons, None of the three visitors partook of it themselves. ; ‘‘Here’s to you!” cried the woman who had accosted the burly Westerner, and she lifted a full glass, ‘*Go right in,” cried the Big Bay: “et’s all paid fer.” ‘* But ain’t you going to take any?” ‘*No; I’m fuller’n a tick now,” he an- swered. He had not touched a drop, but his ap- pearance was to the contrary. There was a lively time for a few min- utes, which it were just as well to pass over lightly. While this was going on, the Man of Sand still had his eyes well about him, and he caught sight of a face that might have caused another man a start. It was that of the tall, grim-looking fel- low, the hardest-looking of the trio of thugs of the night before, although he was now in something of a disguise, a beard having been added. But Cool John was not to be deceived. The man was well back against the wall, but he had his eyes upon the two men-out- of-the- West. Neither of the others was there, unless in such disguises as the sport was not able to penetrate. ** Well, now, boys and girls,” spoke Dick Nutter, to those gathered around. ‘‘1 don’t suppose you know me, but I'm a solid New York blood, and these gentlemen are friends of mine.” ‘* Good fer you!” ‘* Bully for the blood!” ‘They have come to town to see the sights, and 1 have undertaken to show ’em around a little, and you don’t want to try to ut up any games on them, for I won't have tt See? We have got a little money to CHAPTER XVI. A DARK SCENE OF DARK LIFE, New York Crry is a magnificent, opulent city; New York City is a wretched, poverty- stricken place. It is also a good and pious, charitable town, or it is a bad and vicious, malevolent one; it all depends upon the observer and. his point of observation. It abounds with both classes. Attention is invited to the darker side. When Cool John and the Big Bay set forth : with Dick Nutter, they fully realized the risk , they were taking. ' ‘But, both accustomed to facing dangers, , they did not hold back on account of that; and now. believing that much was to be gained by playing into the hands of this man, for a time, they willingly but warily followed his lead. A brief journey of twenty minutes wrought a great change in their surroundings, The ,contrast was most striking; they had stepped ifrom almo.t the one extreme into the other. In lieu of light, splendor and cleanliness, here aboundéd shadow, squalor and wretch- edness, True, crime may lurk in the high ‘places, but it seemed as if the sight-seekers ad left all of good behind them. John and the Big Bay had nothing in par- ticular to say to each other, but exchange glances had sufficed, and the expression of rim determination on the face of the Big ay, of which Cool John knew well the sig- nificance. They chatted with their conduc tor, and there was nothing in their words or manner that could possibly reveal their minds to him. + When, finally, they had descended into what seemed the lowest social depths, their guide led them down some steps, and into pA he , narrow saloon, where the very prince of evil seemed to be let loose. * Now, then, keep a stiff neck,” the guide whispered. ‘Don’t you fear fer us,” responded the Big Bay. ‘‘I opine we kin keep on our pins; hey, Y ide €f **Oh, I don’t look for any trouble,” said Cool John. ‘‘ We will meet them half way on their own ground, and as there are three of us we can probably pull through if any- thing goes wrong.” Their entrance was promptly observed. Men and women, creatures of the vilest stamp, most of them, surveyed them curi- ously. The man of sand with steady hand thought . that he detected something of a signal given by Nuiter, and as he had a quick eye he be- lieved that he was not mistaken. But, be that as it might, no one seemed to recognize the man. The three looked around the room, Some of those present seemed to look upon them with something of fear, for a - moment. Perhaps before their mind’s oT) . Ait / ; | \ } } there came ined b RTRs rae eye the vision of a police court and a sojourn The mutual inspection lasted for a few Then a couple of women tripped forward, one of whom threw her arms around the “Hello! Uncle, when did you come to ‘* How in ther mischief did you know I’m Come, now, ain’t you going totreat? I'll bet you have got Another had spoken to Cool John, while the second of the two first-mentioned ad- dressed Dick Nutter, and was saying some- ‘‘Wuil, anything to make myself agree- able, 1 s’pose.” the Big Bay agreed to the phant, and I s’pose it costs a leetle somethin’ eee VRP rate ee ly > 1 e , se ok Sal MAG Maheawrt ste ry ard eee aA ‘ ‘, 3 FT spend, but no great pile, and all we wantisa fair shake,” ‘* You are the stuff!” ‘“What ye take us for? The gents will find that we’ll use them right.” ‘That is all we want; I merely mentioned it so that there could be no mistake made. Now, I have been here before, and J am on the square; no police fake about me. What’s the matter with going into the back room? Just invite a few friends of yours, ladies, and my word for it there will be a good time all around, and nobody to interfere.” ‘‘That is just the racket!’ was the eager acclaim, ‘‘ Come along, Uncle Bill, and you, too, sporty!” The Big Bay looked at Cool John. There was nothing that any one else could detect, but they understood ‘Shall we venture further?” the big fel-b low had plainly asked; and the answer was: ‘* We'll see it to the end, you bet!” They followed their leaders, “You are sure of being used well, and there is nothing to fear,” assured Nutter, | speaking tothem. ‘‘All these people want to know is that you are square, and they will stand by you through thick and thin.” ““Wecan stand it as long as you can, I uess,” answered the sport. ‘* All right; you lean on me and I'll see you through I know the ropes, for I have knocked around a good deal.” So into the back room they went, and there were about a score in the company when the door closed behind them, an equal number of men and women; and wine and cigars were called for. Then it was that the ‘‘elephant” was put on exhibition, and here description must cease. What has been said thus faris true to life, to the shame of the great metropolis be it, said; what might be told must remain sealed. ‘ Hasten the time when these things shall have been swept away. CHAPTER XVII. A DEVIL IN HUMAN FORM. LEAVING these men of the West for a little time, let us change the scene. In another part of the city, less than halft an hour's distance, in point of time by cars, a far different picture, A quiet street, splendid residences on every hand, brilliant light in many of the win- dows, and people for the most part of the better classes thronging the sidewalks os On one corner was a church, into whick ig some were turning, and one stopping here to i meditate would have found it hard to ima- gine that such a scene as we have just de- picted could be found so near at hand. In fact, many of these very residents could not have imagined anything so frightful. Along this street, at this hour, passed @ vailed woman, bearing in ber hand a valise. She walked with a quick, nervous step, and was watching the numbers. Presently she stopped, pressing her hand to her breast. } She was jostled, and stepping aside out of the current, she placea her valise on the bot- tom one of the steps of a fine residence. . ‘*T wonder if I dare?” she spoke to herself. Ail ‘‘I wonder if I dare? I fear that he will / turn me away in anger; I wish I had never come, Better that I had given myself up.” Who was she? What did she mean? pra She looked up and down the street, while re) she rested, and presently she gave a violent if start. ‘*My God!” she gasped. ‘It is he! and ss so soon!” haere Snatching up the valise, she started to pi spring up the steps with it. bfit, ere she had taken three steps, a hand seized her. ‘*Not so fast, if you please,” was hissed in vate her ear. ‘*Heavens! Release me, or I will scream.” ‘You may scream if you want to; that does not alarm me in the least. I want to talk with you for a minute or two. ’ The man was a dark fellow, with heavy mustache and square chin. The woman did not carry out her threat, but became quiet at once and descended the steps to the sidewalk. . “TI thought you would come here,” the man said, ‘“‘and I have been looking for you inf aca | % PN GU hes Tee ee ra} ig yi ai’ ry £ i One hye See eo ; Tren eee tan MON a
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The Sport from Denver. 13 a little, now and then. What do you imagine your reception will be?” ‘How did you know?” the woman asked, trembling. ‘‘Well, don't you suppose I know a little something? I have made it my business to find ‘out, that is how I know.” ‘*And you would ruin me utterly?” ** Well, no, not if there isa prospect for me ahead.” ** And why have you come here?” ‘‘Fora double reason. In the first place, for safety, and in the next place because I thought you would come here,” “But, you will gain nothing; you have all to lose.” “* All is lost, you better say.” ‘* And that is all the more reason why you you should spare ine. 1 am powerless, now, and if there is a spark of manhood about you you will go away forever.” ‘* As I have no intention of doing that, I suppose I lack that spark. As I have told you before, you are responsible for my being here, and you must take care of me.” ‘*] cannot even take care of myself, Paul.” ‘*Maybe not, but Abner White can. But we must not be seen talking here; I will carry your valise and we will take a little walk ” He took it up as he spoke, and the woman followed him. ‘*He may cast me out,” the woman almost moaned. “*T hardly think so,” “‘ Why do you not think so?” ‘‘T have taken his measure.” ** What do you mean by that?” “‘Thave founa that he is not so hard as he used to be; he has turned to good works, and that church there at the corner is partly one of his monuments.” He spoke sneeringly. *‘And for that reason—” ‘Fer that reason I am inclined to think he will be only too glad to forgive the past, take you in, and help you out of your die lemma. When a man turns gocd, he is pretty sure to make that kind of a fool of himself.” “‘ Would that there were far more fools of the kind, and that you were one!” ‘Thank you, mother dear!” ** But what have you to say tome? What do youdemandof me? Iam free from you for a month, at any rate, if you hold to your agreement.” ‘Yes, I acknowledge that, but I do not see the way clear for your keeping your part of the compact, and if I can be of use to you in that direction, I must do so, you see,” “*You wiil render me desperate,”’ ‘* No, no, there is no sach word as that, Not in this case, at any rate. If one string bas broken, another must be tuned, don’t you see?” . ‘* What do you mean?” ‘* Well, my next payment cannot come from King, and for that reason you must worm it out of White.” ** Never!” “Oh, yes you will.” ** But, 1 cannot—how can I?” ‘‘ There will be away, and you must grasp it." ‘* No, no; I swear that I will not!” She spoke cesperately, now, and there «ame a shade of alarm upon the face of the man, ‘*Tam not going to press ee further than you can go,” he said; ‘I will give you a fair chance of course. But, I must live, and you must keep me.” ** What will you do when I am dead?” ‘Time enough to cross a bridge when one comes to it.” *- You will reach this one sooner than you imagine.” . o, I think not,” * You do not know me.” ‘On the contrary, I think I know you well.” ‘‘T assert that you do not know me. If you did you wouid see that the end is dan- gerously near.” ‘* Now what would you do?” “Jt is not what I would, or might, do, but what I wilido. The river is not so far dis- tant, and that will end it ali and cover my: disgrace.” I a a lp mente st Sei less espns mg en tg See sep ispesn < ‘“Will it? And what will then be said? You will be found, and the crime of the mother will fall upon the beautiful daugh- ter;—no matter about the son, he is a no- body; but the daughter—” **My God! You will drive me mad.” ‘Nonsense! Iam here to save you—and myself.” **But, my child—” ‘*Me?” **My daughter; you would not drag her down, would you? She is innocent and stainless—” **Curse you!” and with a hiss the man seized herarm ‘‘Is she any better than I? Are you not the mother of us both? Would you throw this stain, as you call it, in my teeth?” ‘*God help me!” “Tl be all the help you need, mother dear The sin of the parent falls on the child, you know, and since there is a stain I suppose I should not complain, ‘as I had no voice in the matter But, you are the re- sponsible one, and you shall do your part to the end.” ‘What is my part?” ** You know wellenough. I look to you for my support, and if you are going to fail me I will — ‘* What will youdo? If you drive me to it, I will denounce you as the murderer of Philip King—1I swear I will do it! I will confess my own guilt, tell who you are, and rid myself of you by swearing falsely against ou!” ‘‘T supposed you would think of something of that kind, mother dear, but I did not do the deed, as you are well aware.” ‘*No matter—” “It does matter. You go back on me, and I’! drag that beautiful half-sister of mine down into the mud—by all that’s mighty I'll do it!” “You are worse than I ever dreamed. 1 am bound, hands and feet, and in your power Do with me as you will, but spare her, oh! spare her! Would to Heaven I had never been born.” '«*But, you are, you see, and you must face the music. We have had a plain talk now, and you understand me. Go back to the house, make yourself known to Abner White, and pour out your story to him. He will forgive and aid you, and through him I shall be able to pull through.” CHAPTER XVIII. A LEAF FROM! THE PAST. Hb lifted his hat with mock politeness, and left her. / . The valise he had set down at her feet, but she did not notice it; she gazed after him. What the thoughts of that crushed heart were did not come to thé lips, but a flood of tears leaped from her eyes and asob shook her frame. Stooping, she picked up the valise and re- traced her steps. Coming again to the house, she hesitated, halted, passed on, but stopped at a little distance from it. ‘“‘T dare not, I dare not,” she muttered, “ He would carry out his threat; I know he pr for her sake I must bear it to the end.” Returning, she mounted the steps and rung the bell. A servant opened the door. ‘*Mr. Abner White?” She could not control her voice to add more, “He is at home, madam. Will you step within? What name shall I tell him?” ‘“]—I have no name to give him— _ Tell me: do you think he would assist one who is in direst need of help?” ‘If that is your errand, have no fear. Come in hefe, and I will tell him of your presence. He will at any rate hear your it—” “Stay! do not call him; I will goaway—” “Why, what—” ‘*Oh! I deserve nothing; | am the most miserable of creatures! I can hope for nothing—” A tall, commanding form darkened the doorway. It was a man of noble presence with a saintly face and hair of silvery white falling to his shoulders. story, and if you deserve help you will get , At sight of him Myra King uttered a scream and fell upon her knees at his feet, her clasped hands uplifted, and the servant hurriedly withdrew, closing the door. ‘‘T came to you for help,” the woman sobbed; ‘‘all I ask now is mercy—that you will allow me to drag myself from your presence—” ‘* Peace, madam!” the kindliest voice. ‘‘In coming to me you come to one who is greater than I, whose humble instrumentIam. If you believe on Him, fear not to confide in me.” The woman sunk down, and broken sobs shook her frame. She had not raised her vail. The man was silent for a time, and his eyes glistened with moisture as he looked down upon her. As soon as she began to recover from the outburst, he touched her gently on the shoul- der, bidding her rise and take a chair. She obeyed, choosing one that was in & corner where a shadow fell. Here she lifted her vail, { “‘T heard you say to the servant that you had come seeking assistance, and now if you will tell me in what way I can serve you—” ‘Tam undeserving, sir; it is for another that I ask it, indirectly. I Rave sinned, but. she is as pure as the angels. For her sake, and for that alone, I have dared to come. “‘How did you learn of me?” ‘*A man I met on ihe street told me some- thing about you,” ‘‘ Well, tell me your story. I will help you, if you desire help in the direction of right.” ‘* But, I have sinned, and it is the punish- ment for that sin that iscrushing me. There is a millstone around my neck that is drag- ging me down and down.” ‘Tt can be removed, perhaps. me.” ** Could you forgive me, do you think?” ‘As I have been forgiven. Years ago I did a great wrong, the weight of which al- most crushed me, and which I can never hope to repair. But that very wrong made a man of me.” “You sinned!” ‘Yes, miserably.” ‘*1t is hard to believe.” **No matter; tell me what I can do for ou.” ) “First hear my wre and then if you n asking aid, I will Confide in. think me in the right accept it.” “Proceed.” ** Years m4, I made the mistake of my life. trusted was false to me, and shame came upon me. Ido not blame him; I take it all upon myself. My family turned me out from them, and I went away | crushed.” | The man before her clinched tight his hands, She seemed not to see it. ‘*In a distant city my babe was born,” she went on, ‘‘and I placed the child in the care of a woman whom I had been able to befriend, and whom I[ took to be my friend. | I"gave the boy his father’s name, and sought to hide my shame by going away still fur- ther from my home, where no one could pos- sibly know me, ‘‘T worked, and regularly sent the woman the price agreed upon for the keep of my child. Idid not want the boy to know who his mother was, but I did want to educate him, so that he could face the world when he came of age. That was the one object of my life, and for years nothing came between me and that object: and then, of a sudden, | everything changed for me, and the prospect of my life brightened, | ‘An honorable man asked me to wed him, uni what was I to do? I loved him, in a measure, and he could give me a good home Bat my past? If I confessed that to him, he would despise me and cast me off. If I kept | it secret, it could do him no harm, and who could ever know? Those four years had seemed like four ages, and who would know me, evén should any one chance to meet me? I gave way to the temptation, kept my se- cret, and became his wife. But my sin has found me out! ‘*For twenty years I have been that man’s devoted wife, and I am the mother of his daughter, a beautiful girl now nineteen years old. For twenty years I hee lived One whom }
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14 this lie in his life. But I have tried by every devotion to atone for the deception | played upon him. Do you think there can be forgiveness?” ‘*“Your sin was no greater than my own— heavens it was not half so great!” ‘But the end has come, now. My son, the child of my shame, is now a man, and he is everything that is evil, almost. The woman with whom | left him betrayed the trust I reposed in her. She somehow learned that I had married, and whom, and when the boy became of age she told him who his mother was, and, I suspect, put it into his mind to come to me with the de- mand for money. Be that as it may, he came, and for four years he has made him- self a burden upon me. But perhaps the punishment is just.” *‘It has been severe, truly.” ‘** You have not yet heard all. As I said before, the end has now come. I am des- perate, and I would take my life if I dare—” *‘Banish that thought instantly. You have no right to do that.” “The only thing that holds me now is my other child. My son has vowed that he will drag her down in shame, if I kill myself and so deprive him of support. What amI to do? But, I have not told you half. My husband’s son has been murdered, there is some suspicion that I did the deed, and I have run away in order to escape arrest and the necessary exposure that would follow— tne latter had the more terror for me. My son has followed me here, and is determined to hound me to the last. His demand is money money! My God! how can I es- cape?” “*He is of age; he has no claim upon you. | The law will free you of him, if that must be the resort—” ‘*No, no; for he has sworn that he will | declare me the murderer of my husband’s son, and will prove it against me. He has rae in his power, for I dare not face the or- eal. ** Are you innocent of that crime?” ** As innocent as you; I swear it.” **Do you know who did the deed?” “I do not; I cannot imagine. I only know that it was a woman.” ‘Well, by running away you certainly have placed yourself in a bad light, but be- ing innocent you have nothing to fear.” “IT fear that man, my son. You do not know him. Now that I have left my hus- band he insists that I shall get from you the means to support him in idleness, but I made | the resolve that I would confess all—” | **From me?” "Gab he counted upon your forgiveness, | an x, ‘My forgiveness?” | “Abner, my brother, do you not know | me?” ; She sprung forward and knelt at his feet, | her face uplifted and the light falling full | ‘upon it, and, after one moment, he caught | her to his breast with a glad cry. “Myra! My sister! Can you forgive | _ me?” ‘ _ Bay gave Cool John a touch with his foot, * being in —_—-——- — CHAPTER XIX. SPRINGING THE TRAP. RETURN we to Coo! John and pard. We left them in a desperately hard place. An hour had now passed, and yet nothing | had occurred to enlighten them concerning the scheme which they believed to be work- | ing for their injury. They had remained.as far as possible pas- sive observers of what had been going on around them. A few others had joined the company. On the entrance of one of these ‘the Big | position to do so without drawing | attention. { But the signal was not heeded, for the | Man of Sand, recognized the fellow, in spite of the attempt at disguise. It was another of the three who had undertaken to attack them on the previous night! Cool John saw a stubborn resolve settle upon the countenance of his ally, and knew that the Big Bay was prepared. Of a sudden the storm broke. A woman who had been making herself around to-day.” _understood. We know you, and some others here, and we have been waiting to’ see what he Sport from Denver. ** What do you mean?” cried Dick. particularly friendly with the Big Bay ‘Just what I say.” | sprung away from him with an _ exe- cration, ‘* What's the matter?” demanded the man, ; you?” the most evil-looking of the trio of the night; ‘‘ Exactly.” before. ‘* Well, there is gratitude for you! By ‘* That man has robbed me, that is what!” | Heavens, I havea notion to take sides against was savagely explained. you! ‘*T opine thar’s some mistake about that,” | pair of cut-throats.” | asserted the Big Bay, getting up from his ‘*The wonder is that they didn’t go through chair. you, too,” spoke the woman. | ‘‘There must be a inistake, surely,” agreed ‘*Mebby they have,” another. Dick Nutter. ‘‘ My friends here have means Dick Nutter clapped his hand to his | enough of their own, my good woman, with- | pocket. out robbing you.” ‘‘By smoke!” he cried, ‘‘somebody has!” ‘‘T don’t care what they have got,” cried ‘* What have you lost?” | the woman; ‘‘he done it! Do you all think ** Pocketbook.” I am a fool?” “At ’em!” cried Gib Wilson. ‘‘ We'll ‘**Did you do that, Uncle Bill?” demanded! show ’em how we deal with their kind. We Cool John, he also now on his feet. are square ourselves, and we don’t show no ‘*Of course I didn’t, boy; you know bef- | mercy on them what ain’t.” | tern that.” “* You bet!” | ‘*T swear he did!” yelled the woman. ‘‘I| But, all the same, they did not ‘‘at ’em” | want him searched, and if he ain’t got it [ll | with anything of a rush, | eat crow.” The fact of the matter was, Cool John and | _‘*How much money had you?” asked | his’ pard held the best hand, and the thugs | John. were not blind to the fact ‘* Fifty bones, wrapped in a little piece of ‘* What are you going todo abont it, now?” | newspaper.” asked the Man of Sand. ‘**There’s one way to set. the thing right,” ‘‘T demand my pocketbook,” cried Dick. spoke up the evil-looking fellow. ‘‘Let us ** We have not got it.” search ye,” ‘‘That’s what your friend said about my ‘*Not by a durn sight! Iam no thief, and | money,” reminded the woman. the man that says Iam had better git ready “Or ifrwe have got it,” added the sport, to back et up.” ‘‘it is another case of the same kind, and it “* Well, now, if it comes to that,” retorted | has been put in our possession.” the fellow, ‘‘ this woman is a friend of mine, ‘A likely thing.” and I will take her word quicker’n yours. ‘* Well, call in the police and have us We'll see whether you have got that money | searched.” | or not,” and he took a step forward. ‘* Ha, ha!” Jaughed Gib Wilson. ‘‘I Cool John had put himself alongside the | guess you don’t know the kind of place you Big Bay on one side, and Dick Nutter was | are in, do you?” ‘on the other side. ‘* About as hard a hole as | was ever in,” *‘Go a little slow here,” called out Cool | was the rejoinder. John, putting up his hand. ‘‘I guess Uncle| ‘‘And you couldn’t get a policeman to Bill will be willing to show down and satisfy | come in here, unless yon had three or four of you that there is a mistake—” "em in a bunch.” ‘No mistake about it!” screamed the wo- ‘“‘ Well, then, we'll go to the nearest man, now raging likeafury. ‘‘ Didn’t I see | police station, and there you can make | him take it? Didn’t I feel him? Don’t 1| your charge and there the matter can be | know just where he put it— See! what do | settled.” ' you call this?” ‘“*T’ll bet ye don’t get these byer galoots in With a spring as quick as that of.a cat she | no police station unless ye drag ’em there,” leaped forward, thrust her fingers into one | avowed the Big Bay. ‘‘We understand of the Big Bay’s peckets, and, although she : their game, pard, don’t we?” was caught by the wrist, she was quick ‘*So I have told them.” enough to bring to sight a folded piece of | ‘‘ Will you give me my pocketbook?” de- | | } newspaper. manded Nutter. ““You put it there,” declared the burly “With pleasure, if I have got it,” an- Westerner, swered Cool John. ‘‘ Which pocket did you “That isa likely thing, that I would put | my money in your pocket! Idon’t have so plenty of it that I can give it away.” “IT took you for a square man, Mr. Brown ” said Nutter, with an injured air. ‘* Don’t blame me, friends; I have been de- ceived in him, I wash my hands of them both, now.” He moved away from Cool Jobn and | Big Bay. pard. ‘« We have been in worse corners than this, ‘We'll fix thom out, curse them!” cried | although never in such a rotten hole,” the worst-looking of the lot, one Gib Wilson, | added Cool John, ‘‘and we have come out. who leaped forward as he said this, and | all right. We expect to go out of here the others with bim, but the fist of the Man of | same.” put it in?” ‘*How should 1 know what pocket you put it in, you Western thief? But we will know, before you get out of here, you can bet on that.” ‘Well, you may just as well open the ball,” the sport invited. ‘*That’s what’s the matter!” echoed the Steady Hand sent him to the floor with a ‘*Maybe you will tell us how you are go- crash, while the Big Bay grabbed another | ing to get out?” growled Wilson. and flung him clear across the room. He was smarting under the blow he had The next moment the pards had their guns | received and it could be seen that he was in hand, now fondling a black-jack he held in his ‘““Now, what are you going to do about | hand, it?” asked the cool sport. ‘‘Do you want The whole echeme, or nearly all of it, was any more of the same?” transparent to the two men Out of the West, The inmates of the room fell back, like so | but it clearly had not worked as the authors many woives from an attack with fire | of it had intended that it should. brands, and Gib Wilson and the other| The plan had been, to have a charge made were scrambling up from their unheroic | against the two men, and for the crowd positions, to jump on them before they could have a ‘“You are a brace of thieves!” grated | chance to defend themselves, and it might Gib. be that nothing short of murder would have ‘‘That’s what they are!” chimed in the | beentheoutcome.. But, they had run against woman. ; some pretty stubborn snags. ‘*The proof was too plain to be doubted,” asserted Dick Nutter. ‘‘I have been sadly mistaken in you. It was a dirty trick, after the way I have been showing you CHAPTER XX. A TOUGH STRUGGLE. A LESSON, For the time being it was a deadlock. On the one side the two Westerners; on the other the pack of human wolves at bay. Cool John and his pard kad their backs to the wall, and an attack would mean disaster for somebody, that was certain. . ‘*We understand all about that, and you understand us,” retorted Cool John. ‘* Or, | if you don’t, we will try to make ourselves your game was.” ** You mean to say that I have been against I had no idea that [had taken up @ ;
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15 The Sport from Denver. On the other hand, the wretched horde held the position of the door, and it meant a fight if the two friends exnected to pass out that way. for tables and chairs. Cool John was surveying the field, and the Big Bay was waiting for him to give the word what to do. The Man of Sand soon had his plan form- ed, and said something to his ally in an un- dertone, after which he spoke, addressing the pack before them: ** Well, we have had about enough of this, and are sing out of here. You will oblige us if ) 1 will clear that doorway. If you don’t we \ i'l begin to clear ourselves.” ** You w.:1. hey?” “Ther: is; no need for further parley; we mean busiuess.” ‘And so do we. We don’t allow two thieves like you to come in here and walk away with us.” ‘* You have just one minute to get a move on you.” The women were already sneaking out of sight, and the rascals looked at one another questioningly. The ringleader, Dick Nutter, seemed at loss what to do, and his right bower, so to call the man Wilson, was none the less so. They had a regard for their good health. As for the two Westerners, they had count- ed the odds against them, and found there were just aneven dozen men opposing them, to say nothing of the crowd in the main room of the dive; and the women having gone out, they would be apprised“of what was going on. ‘Come, make your decision, ordered, peremptorily. His guns came up a little higher, as did also those of the Big Bay, and it looked de- cidedly ‘‘nasty ” for the thugs, **You give up my pocketbook and we’ll let you out,” assured Nutter, “Tf I have got it, I’ll surrender it after we get out; 1am not aware that it ison my erson.” ‘Well, it is, and I mean to have it.” ‘*Time is up; out of the way!” Shoulder to shoulder the pards advanced a step, the glittering tubes of their guns in sighted level. A couple of the fellows, who had never faced this kind of ‘‘ music” before, made a hasty change and put themselves out of range, and others looked as if they would like to. Another step. The pack of human hyenas stubbornly held on. Almost simultaneously a couple of shots were fired, and Dick Nutter and Gib Wilson were thie targets, Each of them got a bullet through the hat, so close to the quick that it fairly made them jump; at which the rest broke, and ran. For the moment the two thugs fired at were as if paralyzed. Then they suddenly ‘‘ got a move on,” and were out of the room as quickly as the rest had gone—Covl John and pard right at their heels. The two Westerners now faced the horde in the main room of the dive, where the air was thick with smoke. Heavy, sullen faces confronted them, in every direction, and they made the discovery that the front was closed—that wooden shut- ters had been put up. ‘Open that front door,” ordered the Man of Sand. ‘‘We'll open nothin’,” a man somewhere blurted out. ‘*And make room for us to advance,” the cool sport added, ‘‘ If you don’t we will lay some of you out,” They strode forward, but, at that instant the room was plunged in darkness! Instantly the two desperate men began to shoot, nut to kill, but just to give a whole- some warning of what might be expected. And as they fired they made a dash for the front of the room, the only light being that made by the flush of their weapons. The situation was now desperate, and the sconer they got out, the better. A hand grabbed Cool John’s throat. Instantly his revolver was dashed into the face of the owner of the hand, and the hold was broken. The Big Bay, having emptied his guns, ” the sport The center of the room was clear, save | now scized a fellow who Jaid hold upon | him and dashed him around with giant strength, clearing the way with him! About that time the sports’ guns gave out, as the click of the hammers told, and in- | Stantly there arose a shout. {| ‘*At’em now! Their weaponsareempty!” | and the rush was made. | It was now that the two Men-out-of- | the-West fully realized their desperate situa- | tion, There was no help for them, unless they ; could help themselves, and it was a des- perate chance whether they could do that or not, now. They certainly could not reload their guns. Even had they been loaded, it would ‘have been folly to take life therc, in the dark, They had purposely avoided killing. ‘*Grit yer teeth, pardner,” whispered the Big Bay. ‘* We must get to that door, somehow,” re- sponded the sport. ‘‘We can do it, if we keep together.” There was no time to say more. Forward came the crowd, or, more proper- ly, they closed in, for they were now in the eenter of the horde. The men of the West put their backs. to- gether, and the Big Bay flung a strap around the body of his lighter companicn, and thus they were buckled together! It was all done in less time than it has taken to tell of it, And it was then that Bedlam seemed to be let loose in that room, and imprecations were heard on every hand. Back to back, as said, the fists of the two pards worked like the pistons of pony steam-engines, almost, and whenever a fist found a target, there was heard a cry or a groan. Hands were laid upon them from every side, and they were roughly handled, but it was impossible to separate them, as the fiends found to their amazement, And in this manner they pushed their way to the front of the room, and found the door. But it was fast, Voices were heard on the outside. ‘* Break in this door from out there!” called the Man of Sand.* ‘*What is going on in there?” came the demand, ‘*It will be murder, if you don’t act!” **Open this door!” ‘* Break itin, I tell you!” There came a pounding with a club, and at the same time the shrill call of a police- man’s whistle. Immediately there was a break in the crowd; men could be heard making a scram- ble to get out by the rear way, and the two pards found the pressure less around them, The doors were creaking, under the pres- sure of a shoulder against them. The Big Bay unbuckled the strap. He and Cool John had now a better chance, and in another moment they could venture to draw a gun and load it. That done, and a couple of shots fired, they had the whole field to themselves; and in an- other moment the doors moved under the pressure and came Crashing open. The light of the street shone in, and three policemen were ievealed. Instantly they laid hands on the Western sport and his pard, demanding to know what it was all about. ‘‘We got into this place, and they tried to fix us out, that is all,” the cool sport ex- plained, ‘They have taken leg bail and have made their escape.” ‘* Well, you are our prisoners,” cried the officer. ‘‘ Don’t ye resist, or the worse it will be for yez. This isa respectable place, and you must have been up.to some devil- ment. Come along wid yez!” But they did not have to go far. Some- thing, was slipped into the policemen’s slip out! CHAPTER XXI. SQUARELY IN THE FACE. THE reunion of the brother and _ sister, | Abner White and Myra King, was most af- fecting, For some moments they were silent; then the woman gently broke her brother's em- brace and turned ber tear-wet face to his, ; SN ee | ‘* You ask my forgiveness?” she question- ed. ‘'Icame here to implore yours.” ‘*T have nothing to forgive, my sister.” ** But the sbame—’ ‘*Worse shame was mine, when, in my fancied righteousness I turned away from you in your hour of direst need. Can you forgive me for that?” ‘*) deserved it all, Abner. It was more than I merited. But, oh! if you have for- given me; if you will only be my brother as of old, and aid me now— Abner, do not turn me away!” ‘‘Nothing is further from my thoughts, Myra,” kissing her forehead. ‘‘Get up, now, and let us talk the whole matter over calmly, and see what is to be done. You may count upon my help, though | cannot possibly do more for you as my sister than I would have donéas a stranger.” ‘Yes, you can take me into your home,” “True; and I will. This is the happiest hour of my life, my sister. If you could only know the misery that one act of mine brought me—if I could only picture itto yeu. In less than a day after I had turned you away I repented, and sought you. You were not to be found. What had been your fate? My God! how I shudder at the recollection of the days, the weeks and the months that followed! ‘*] searched everywhere, but you had ut- terly disappeared. I believed that the silent river had carried you away in its dark em- brace, but how was Ito know? I pictured a fate far worse than that, and held myself responsible for it. My remorse changed the whole current of my life. I saw clearly what a whited sepulcher I had been, and my whole soul turned unto good works. By doing good unto others I hoped in some measure to make reparation for the wrong I had done to you.” “And what of Paul Batford?” ‘He is dead, died a miserable death. He stood in mortal dread of vengeance at my hands,” ‘* Well, thank Heaven my sin has brought good, through you, to some others as wretch- ed, perhaps, as was I then—as desperate as I was when I entered your doors to- night.” ‘“‘T will say yes, and to many, though I do not allow my left hand to know half that my right hand is doing. God has rewarded me by restoring you to me again. by sending you to mein this distress that I may prove to you a brother's love. But, tel: me your story.” This she did, filling in all that she had omitted before. He listened, with bowed head. ‘‘Again I thank God,” he: said fervently, when she had done. ‘‘He heard my im- perative prayers in your behalf, and raised up a friend and home for you, and for many years you have been comfortable. Now it only remains to clear up this mystery, break the power of Paul Batford’s son, and restore you to your home. Myra, that is my work, and I promise you that it shall be accom- plished.” ‘*Thank God that I had the courage to come to you, my brovher!” ‘*Now, let us see what is to be done.” ‘That is more than I can tell; Iam utter- ly helpless.” ‘*In the first place, I must have an inter- view with your son and try to reason with him.” ‘*It will be useless,” ** You think so?” ‘Yes. I have tried that too often.” ‘*Perbaps he will listen to me where he would not heed you.” “* And if not?’ ‘Then we must compel him to desist from troubling you. to come to terms, | imagine.” ** He is wicked and desperate.” ‘“‘No matter; he can have no further shnds, and the prisoners were allowed to | power over you when once your husband has been told your secret. And the mystery of the murder—that will be cleared away, all in good time, I am sure.” ‘** You believe me innocent of that?” ‘‘Task for no proof of it, for myself; your word is sufficient,” ‘*God bless you!” “You have told me everything you can?” But he will be glad enough ©
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16 ne ee ee Se —eceenuseeane See | ‘‘'There is no idea in your mind as to who killed your husband’s son?” ‘*Not as yet.” ‘‘ Well, you are ® pretty-looking lot, I must say!” he cried. ‘‘A dozen of you ! against two, and’to come off like this— Ha, «Your daughter could have no reason for | ha, hat” doing the deed?” ‘*No, no; she is as innocent as I am my- | better, ’ one of the majority, growled. self. Do not suspect her, Abner, I implore of you!” ‘Then your son—” “ET could suspect him, but there was the hand in the window. And then, Paul could have no motive for the deed.” “Well, well, itis truly a mystery, but de- _« tectives can solve it, and I will put one on Tithe case immediately.” | ‘*And you,will tell him all?” ‘* Everything.” i “Tt is better so. can she be?’ ‘‘That was the reason I questioned her in- nocence so closely, for what reason could she have in disappearing?” *s **T cannot imagine.” ‘Tt looks dark for her, for that reason.” ‘But, she is innocent, I can swear that she is innocent. You must convince the detec- tive of that, or he will waste time looking for her.” «Tt will be useless to try to bias the judg- ment of a good detective. He will take the matter as it appears, and will work accord- ingly, following all clues to the end.” *“And do you intend to write to my hus- band?” “You must do that. Confess to him in full, declare your innocence of this crime, and there stop. Do notask pardon; let your letter appear as if he were never to hear from you again.” ** And give your address?” ** Certainly.” ‘And what if his whole nature turns to hatred against me, and he sends the officers here to arrest me?” **He may do that, or he may not; that re- mains to be seen. In either case you will have done your part, and you will feel free from the burden of the lie you have been living.” ‘**But, they may suspect my daughter.” ‘*There is nothing to fear, if you are con- vinced of her innocence.” ** But, how can I prove it?” ** Can they prove her guilty?” **No; impossible.” “Then rest easy. But, now about that man who was arrested, and who escaped from jail so wonderfully. What do you think of him?” ‘‘T know very little about him.” ‘* He had no motive for the crime?” ** Not that I can think of.” ** Your daughter loves him?” “Yes; she had admitted that.” ** And believes him innocent?” “Yes, again. She is sure of it.” ‘*Do you think she can have run away with him?” ‘*Ha! I had not thought of that. But, if she has— Heavens! these dark thoughts!” They must be faced. But, you are tired out; you must have something to eat, and then retire to your room, which I will have the servant prepare for you. Rest to-night, and to-morrow we will act.” ‘* How can I thank you?” “s By forgiving me for the wrongs in the But, my daughter, where **Gladly would I do that, were there any- thing to forgive, believe it.” The servant was summoned, the stranger Batoduced, and the directions given and car- ‘ried out. An bour later Abner White was pacing e floor of his library, his hands behind his k, his white head bowed, and tears glit- tering in his eyes. We have learned his story; comment were needless, Such menthereare, in this vicious, malevolent city; as there are also men of the opposite extreme, many more in number, veritable human wolves. CHAPTER XXII. ANOTHER HAND IS SEEN. Lev us enter a room where a cabal of ras- cals have just come together for a con- clave. ‘There are several of them, some about as evil-locking fellows as can be well imagined, _ and nearly all wear the marks of a recent hard scrimmage. ‘‘Curse you! maybe you could have done “We will see that you have achanee at it next time. We thought we had them dead to rights ” ‘But, you hadn’t.” ‘It’s their accursed pistols. Our bdys here are not up to that kind of business,” * And they got off?” ‘If the police didn’t nab them. Nobody | waited to find out.” The first-quoted speaker was he who had | been the ringleader of the trio of the pre- | vious night, Then there were Dick Nutter, Gib Wilson, Webb Harker, and others of their class. The first speaker was called Henry; his last name remained yet to be revealed. ‘* Well,we must talk business,” this Henry now declared. ‘That was what was talked before!” i growled Nutter. ‘‘And to think how I | worked to make a success-of it!” ‘‘Tt would have been a go, only for them pistols,” averred Wilson. ‘‘ We ain’t bullet- proof, and if they had ‘the bulge on us they had it, that’s all.” | Henry. “We didnt carry it out, that was the | deuce of it.” | ‘*T mean, what was the scheme?” ‘* Well, we expected to lush them, if we | could, but that didn’t work. Then it was fixed that Dirty Kate was to kick up a muss And even that failed?” ‘Do the boys look asif it was a howling success?” demanded Nutter. ““They don’t, that’s the fact. But the job has got to be done, somehow, and that be- fore twenty-four hours pass.” ** Maybe you will tell us how.” ‘““When the disease is desperate, the remedy must be the same. If this man re- mains alive and free a couple of days, good- by to everything! He must be taken care of this night!” ‘Yes; but how?” ‘* He will go again to the hotel, and two of ny must spend the night. there. You know ) | in no time.” is room, Nutter, anc it will not be impos- | sible to get into it. The gas can be turned | on, and in the mnrning there will be another sensation for the papers. The countrymen and the fatal gas again!” ‘That is a mighty good plan,” asserted Nutter. ** And she will carry it out?” “‘T will. I know the clerk there, and can get a room next to theirs, if one is vacant.” “‘ Allright; we'll leave it to you, and it is ‘| to be hoped that you can muke a success of it. If you don’t, there will be some other way, and I want you boys all to hang to- gether until the thing is done.” a ‘* You bet!” ‘* Well, Nutter, be off, and remember how much is at stake.” ‘*Not likely that I'll forget that. If we had thought of that last night the work would be out of hand now.” ** Yes, I believe it would.” So, the fellow called Nutter, more than ever eager to get even with the Westerners, took leave of the rest and was gone. The others got down to business, then, in an earnest talk, which we will not pause to record, and finally, when the. hour was grow- ing late, they separated. Let us follow the one named Henry. He went to a certain street and number, rung the bell, and was admitted withoui question. Ascending the stairs, he tapped lightly at the door of a certain room, and the door was opened by a rather bold-looking but decided- ly handsome woman. ** You!” she exclaimed. ** Exactly; better Jate than never.” * But, it was getting so late that I did not look for you.” Well, Iam here, as you see,” ‘¢Come'in.” He entered the room, and the door was losed, “T have been waiting for you,” the wo- 1 ‘4 1 Aa rath e ' rie ‘‘How did you carry it out?” asked | and we were to wade in and knock them stiff | | | man continued, ‘‘ but was on the point of | giving youup. What do you know?” ‘* Well, it fizzled. The pair got away with the whole gang.” | ** Impossible! Why, who would have thought? But, that man has got a name out in Denver.” ‘‘He will have one here, if we can work it, and then it will be Dennis.” ‘* They call him the Man of Sand.” ‘* Well, they are not far wrong, I'l} swear, But, Dick Nutteris after them now, and if they get off this time it will be queer.” “ After all, what is the use in bothering with them? What barm can they do us?” ‘Well, Nutter seemed to think they could do a good deal, ‘I fail to see how, for my part. How could they get a clue that would put them on the right track?” ‘* How did they get a clue to lead them to and mighty dangerous?” ‘* Have you seen your mother?” ‘Yes, and I persuaded her to remain idle one day, at least, but she will act to-morrow. She believes in striking while the thing is warm,” ‘All the same, 1 wish she would wait. Can’t you induce her to do so?” ‘‘No, that is out of the question; she has made up her mind, and that settles the whole | business. That is the main reason why we wanted to wind these fellows up to-night,” “It would be too bad to have it fizzle out now, Henry.” ‘Well, 1 should say it would. Nothing but love could have induced me to run the long risks I have taken.” ‘**T can well believe that, my darling!” They embraced, and for a few minutes their talk took a softer turn. | Well, 1 must be going,” the man said, presently. ‘I knew you would ‘be anxious ' to know all about it.” | ‘Dare you trust me to try my hand at it, if he should escape from Nutter to-night?” the woman inquired. ‘*T hate to say yes, Ann.” ‘Give me your consent, and I’ll bet I can wind up his career.” ‘But, think of the danger if you should miss the mark, or if you should be found out if you hit it.” “Tam willing to take all the risks.” ‘Well, I'll see about it. It will be time enough to lay further plans if Dick fails.” Further plans would be necessary, for Dick Nutter was destined to fail. He spent the | night at the —— House, but the two Men- ' out-of-the West failed to put in their appear- ance there at all. | CHAPTER XXIII. | A CASE FOR: THE COURTS. ' Own the following morning, at fashionable breakfast time, two persons were seated to- gether at table. They were mother and son, and the latter | was tle man, Henry. 4 *‘*No, Henry, I will not wait another day,” the woman was saying. ‘It will be better to have everything clear before the move is made, and this man isa big obstacle.” “T thought you had more brain, more nerve,” the woman sniffed disdainfully, “I am almost ashamed to own you fora son of mine. What care we for obstacles? We are | independent.” “Yes, that is all very well, but this escaped risoner ought tobe lodged in jail again be- ore we act; then there would be no further looking for some one on whom to put the murder.” "apt ‘* Yes, I know it is an ugiy word.” ‘“And one not to be mentioned. Take care not to speak it again.” ‘‘What have we to fear? We have done no murder.” | Heavens!” in hoarse whisper. ‘ Will | you keep still?” | ‘© Why should we keep still? Can’t we talk about a thing that has been a sensation in the papers?” “Yes, but it is dangerous—” “That is the very point, mother, It is dangerous for you to go to that lawyer until ‘some one has been found guilty of that crime.” \ / Ce Se, em I gab yt iaiag New York, for here they are, as large as life, eee 4
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ee 17 The son spoke now in a low tone and most earnestly. ‘What do you mean? What had we to do with the death of Philip King?” ‘*Nothing, to be sure; but, somebody might take it in hand to make trouble for us, and no one would be more likely to do so than this very escaped prisoner.” **But while I wait time is being wasted,” she urged. ‘That need not matter; you can say it ye reached your notice,even if it is a month ence,” ‘That will be a likely story. It would look ten times more suspicious for me, then, than now while the matter is fresh. In fact, I am sorry that I have waited at all.” ‘*Then you are determined ?” “Tam. In less than one hou I will be at the mist Ai office ” “Well, if that is your decision, we must all play accordingly. I only hope it will come off all right.” “How can it work any other way?” “TI have no more to Bay then. If you dare take that risk, you will dare to do any- thing.” “Do you think that I will allow anything to come between me and a sweet revenge? I guess not! I will take the first steps this very day. Now. let us glance at the thing as it is: I learn by the news of this matter in the papers where my former husband is, He has never been divorced from me, and you are his heir—” “‘ And that is the ugly point in itall,mo- ther.” ‘“*That is the golden point, you mean, rather, You will enter your claim to recog- nition, and he cannot get out of it.” ‘* Well, and what then?” ** Why, it will outlaw this second mar- riage and the fruit of it, and you will stand alone as heir to Roger King’s fortune, don’t you see? Why, that murder was the most fortunate thing in the world, for us.” ** Where do you come in?” } “You could not come in at all, only for me, could you?” “That is true enough; but suppose, after everything is established, I should throw you over?” There shone a glint of fire in the woman’s eyes. ‘Tt would not be well for you to try that,” she declared. ‘‘Hven if you are in- nocent of this thing, it would not be impos- sible to make you appear guilty. Bahish that thought.” The matter was dropped for the remainder of the repast. In about one hour after, this same woman entered the office of a lawyer and handed her card, | ‘Mrs. Irene King,” the lawyer read. *‘ And I desire to retain your services, sir,” she said, promptly. ‘Very well, madam, if I can serve you, I will gladly take your case in hand and render you whatever aid I am capable of giving.” is You will allow me to give you a retain- ing fee?” “Tt is customary, madam.” She handed him a crisp note. ‘‘Now let me have the particulars,” ne requested. ‘‘What is the nature of the case ‘‘T will tell you my story, and you will be able then to see it as a whole. I am. not posted well in your legal terms.” x” “Very well,” She took some newspapers from a hand- bag which she carried. “Have you read anything about that mysterious murder case at Denver a few days ago, sir?’ she made inquiry. “T have,” with some surprise. ‘« Well, my business concerns this Roger King, the father of the murdered young man.” ** Indeed?” ‘* Further, that murdered young man was my son,” ** Ah-ha!’ ‘‘About twenty-six years ago | was mar- ried to Roger King hire in New York, and he was in business here at that time. We had two children, Henry‘and Philip, the jatter being the younger.” ‘‘T follow you, madam.” vy ** Weill, about two years after the birth of. wife, sae ae the story the papers give, / the second child my husband deserted me suddenly. taking the youngest child with him, and I have never seen him since; and I never heard of him again until his name ap peared in the papers in connection with this crime.” ““Exactly. ‘““When he disappeared his affairs were found to be in bad shape, and he left me al- most penniless. I was nearly crazed with grief for him and my baby boy. I have never since married, because, first, I had no desire, and in the second place I felt that I had noright. I believe I love Roger King as warmly to-day as when I gave him my hand and heart,” ; ‘It is an interesting story, madam.” ‘* Well, now that I have discovered my truant husband, by chance, I want to see if he cannot be made to recognize me as his wife, and his son as his rightful heir, I seek only j-stice, and that on account of my son. You see, sir, he is now living with another Proceed, madam.” and hasachild by her; but I consider that my rights Still hold good, and I desire to have the case pushed ard see what can be done.” **It seems to me, madam, that you have a case against the man and his estate. I will ask you some questions, and if the answers are satisfactory, will proceed in your name according to law.” An hour later the woman left the cffice, with a very satisfied expression. The way evidently seemed clear. CHAPTER XXIV. PAUL BATFORD’S SCHEME. THERE are villains and villains, Villain Paul Batford was one of the worst of his class. On this morning Paul was abroad at an early hour, enjoying a walk in the bright morning air. He wore a satisfied look upon his face, as his keep ‘was assured for a few weeks, at least. ~ He had no business worries, further than that of making bis future a certainty. While he walked along, lightly swingin his cane, he came suddenly face to face wit & young woman, who caused him a start. ‘** Blazes!” he muttered, as soon as he had passed her, “‘if it isn’t vit handsome half- sister! What in the deuce is she doing here? And she has just arrived; her appearance shows that,” It was, indeed, Rosa King! She looked weary and travel-worn, for she had ‘just reached the city from the West. She carried some wraps and a light hand- bag, and as Paul stopped and looked after her, @ villainous scheme sprung suddenly up in his mind. : ‘Tt will never do to miss the chance,” he said to himself. ‘‘She appears to be uncer- tain about anytnne and if I can place her in my power | will have the. joker in my hand and can’t lose the game, No, sir, Paul Batford, it will never do to miss it!” He turned and followed the girl. At the next corner she stopped, looking about her with uncertainty. The rascal was not far behind her, and stepped forward at a lively pace, and slightly jostled her. He stopped immediately, lifting his hat, “*T sincerely beg your pardon,” he said, with all the politeness he could assume. ‘Freely granted, sir,” she responded, with a slight inclination of the head, and a gracious expression. He seemed as if passing on, but stopped, again lifting his hat. “Are you uncertain about your way?” he asked. most civilly. ‘‘Are you a stranger here? Can I direct you?” Not that he knew the city any too well himself, but he had been there before, and a good general idea of the lay of the land was fixed in his mind. ‘*May I trouble you to direct me to —— street?” ‘‘IT am going right there, and it will bea pleasure to conduct you, if you will give me that privilege.” The offer was so humbly made that she could hardly have refused it. “Tt will be a great kindness,” she said, simply. a eC nn eneneeeenenemeneenenennn He took his place by her side. **May I not carry some of your wraps?” he offered. _“*Oh, no; I would not trouble you so far sir.” ** No trouble at all—” **T prefer to carry them myself.” ‘*May I ask to what part of ——. street you desire to go? What is the rumber you want to find?” “Tt is No 942.” “Ah! that is right in my way, and it will bea pleasure to see you safely there. You appear weary; have you just reached the city?” se Yes.” “‘Tf you had rather not talk, I will not speak again.” ‘*T shall not object to your talking, but I am afraid I would be sorry company even for an acquaintance, just now.” 2 I did not want to bore you, that was a a> «You are thoughtful.” ““ You are from the South, I take it?” “You think so?” “Yes.” oe Why ip? ‘By your speech I know you are not a native of this city.” ‘*Indeed! J was not aware that there is anything noticeably different, so far as I have any acquaintance with New Yorkers.” “Tt is so slight as hardly to be noticed. But, am I mistaken?” ‘*No, I am from the South, sir.” He smiled to himself, at this. It was plain ya she desired her identity to remain out of sight. “‘And may I inquire what part of the South?” “Tam from Virginia.” And so they talked on, Batford’s brain busy trying to hatch a scheme whereby he could place this girl in his power. ‘“Well, we are nearing the end of our walk,” he finally observed. ** And 1 shall be glad to have reached the end of my long journey, provided I find my friend at home.” “Then you are comingon a visit to friends who are not expecting you? Well, I certain- ly trust you will meet with no disappoint- ment, Miss—with no disappointment, cer- tainly.” “Thank you, sir.” ‘‘Do you expect to remain long in the city?” “That I cannot tell.” ‘«The ‘reason I ask, will you be averse to an introduction, if I can by some means bring it about properly?” “T would not refuse it, sir, certa'nly, if you would care enough about it to take that trouble to secure it, But, you would bardly be repaid for the bother, 1 feel certain?” ‘‘ Why do you say that?” ‘* Because it could be no more than & pass- ing acquaintance.” “Even that would amply rapey me, no matter how great the trouble. May I men- tion my name?” ‘If you please.” “Tt is Howard Elmore.” “Not an easy name to forget, Mr. Elmore.” “Tam glad to think so.” “Why?” ‘*Tt is proof that its owner may be held for a time in remembrance also.” **T shall certainly remember your kind- ness, Mr. Elmore. And now I will grant what you are delicate about asking—my name is Flora Fielding.” She had been trying to think of a suitable name, and this came to her mind from a ro-- mance she had recently read. ‘* A name I shall never forget!” exclaimed the rascal. ‘‘It was impossible for me to ask it.” ‘* And yet you knew how to place me un- der obligation,” ‘**T could not resist,” “Well, say no more about it, Mr. Elmore. We must be near the desired number, are we not?” ‘“* Yes; only a few doors more,” *‘ Well, permit me to thank you for your kindness,” ‘‘I have been more than repaid, Miss Fielding. I trust you will find your friends _ at home,” ors?
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aad 18 The Sport from Denver. ‘* Undoubtedly I shall.” ‘* And here is the number. Permit me to say au revoir!” politely raising his hat. ‘‘I trust that we shall meet again.” She inclined her head in response, and ascended the steps, while he passed on. ‘*T have got her,” he chuckled to himself. “Tt will be casy for me to decoy her from : there, if T hive need to do so,using the name [amon the winning side, . of John IT:n:'v as sure as fai: CHAPTER XXY. MAKING A NEW START, Once well out of the terrible den into which they had allowed themselves to be conducted, and out of the hands of the police as well, Cool John and the Big Bay consult- ed over the situation ‘ m Wull, hyer we aire,” the Big Bay draw- ed. ** And with whole skins, I guess,” added the sport. ‘‘That was a pretty stiff encoun- rer: ‘* Et wull do, pard; we have been in wuss. Thar was no barkers makin’ music but ours, an’ I guess we made all they keered to hear, What's ther next move?” ‘* We have got to change our tactics.” ‘*How’s that?” ** We are too well known, one thing.” ** Mebbe you are right.” ‘““TknowlI am. We have got to disguise, now, for further service.” ** All right; [’m in et.” ** And we have got to change our place of roosting, too. They will spot us again if we go back there.” ** Kerreck.” ‘* We'll go straight to another hotel, and in the morning we will make a complete altera- tion in our dress, and see what can be done. It seems like a day wasted, almost.” ** And so et has been.” *“ Yes, in one respect, but not altogether. We have got the proof, now, that they are after ourlives.”’ ‘“There wasn’t much doubt about that afore to my mind, but now thar ain’t a mite o’ doubt They are after our gore, sure enough, and_they mean real ole business, too.” ‘Well, they have had a sample of our goods anyhow,” ** An’ they will be more wary.” ‘* Yes, and more subtle, too.” ** Nary doubt.” They sought another lodging place, as agreed, and retired for the night. As tbey had left nothing in their former place, and bad paid in advance, they had nothing to call them there again. On the following morning they were astir at an early hour, and Cool John summoned a messenger, to whom he gave a dollar as an incentive to good service, und sent him forth upon an errand. In due time they had a caller. ‘Mr. Jones?” the man asked, on coming in. “Yes,” said Cool John. ‘** Well, I represent the firm of Rich, Price & Co., to whom the messenger delivered your message.” ‘*As I supposed. We want you to take our measures and send us a complete outfit apiece, ready made, immediately. We have just reached town, and cannot go out until we make ourselves presentable.” ‘**T understand.” ‘*Here is a hundred dollars on account; make ull the haste you can, and give us your best service.” The caller smiled asmile that could almost be beard, for it almost tinkled with satisfac- tion. And he proceeded to businessin a wa that meant business and that be knew his business. . Within one hour he had performed his part satisfactorily, and had received his | money. When the pards of the West next appeared on the street it would have been hard to im- agine them the same persons. Both were shaven clean, and doubtfulif even Dick Nut ter would have known them. They wore neat business suits, with every- thing else new and in style, and in appearance they were typical New Yorkers, ; “Now, Big Bay. one thing,” said Cool . Jobn. — | ‘* What’s that, pard?” ' “That is just it—your Western dialect. It bas become chronic with you, I know, but just as far as possible you must put it under.” ‘‘T see, bo ,I see. I'll try hard ter—I mean to luy et—I mean it off ther same—I mean the same as I have the old clothes Thar, how was that? Think 1 will pass mus- ter?” : ** You will have to get it a little finer than “that, if you do.” |‘ Well, I'll try to. There ain't much Wild | West about us now, I reckon, save your sand | and my muscle, and our guns,” | ‘*That is what we aimed for, anyhow.” ‘* Well, what now?” ‘‘A visit to that address.” ‘‘Sure enough.” ‘That was the clue that brought us here, ou know, and it must not be overlooked. Mind, now, no broad dialect.” | ** I'm trying to mind it. But, I expect it | will slip out at the wrong time. I was glad we got hold of that clue, and now if you can only get a sight of ther gai—I mean the lady.” ‘** Yes, that will be a long step in the right direction, I fancy.” They talked as they went along, and finally came in the neighborhood of the place they had in mind, It will be remembered how this address Lad been learned, by the Big Bay, and that they were in quest of the woman who had been the last one to see Phil King alive, so ' far as known. | That was, the last save the murderer. It was agreed that Cool Johnshould go on | to the house alone, while the Big Bay would wait 2 little distance off. The sport went forward. To this time he had been puzzling his brain as to what he should say when he had summoned some one to the door, and even yet he had not been ableto decide, There was no name he could ask for, for he had simply the two letters—A. §., and the street and number, and it would never do for him to go upon that alone, That would awaken suspicion, The Big Bay, watching, saw him pass the house. *““Wull, I ber durn,” he said to himself, dropping into the easy vernacular. ‘‘ What does that mean?” He watched his partner for a few minutes, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing him turn back again and mount the steps. He did not think far enough to guess what had been the reason, ‘* Must ‘a’ passed the number,” he reflected. ‘Now, Pard John, let’s see what you will make out of et all.” Cool John had struck an idea. In passing, he had noticed a small strip of white paper pasted just outside the door on the bricks. He had been in New York long enough to know that these tiny slips, looking like a speck of white court-plaster on a red face, mean almost invariably that there is a room to let or a boarder wanted. In this instance both, He read the notice before ringing the bell. , It set forththat a large room, suitable for two gentlemen, was to be let. A servant answered the summons, ‘There is a room to be let here?” he in- quired. seP¥ 08) Bits. ‘* T would like to see it, find out the terms, and so forth.” ! ** Just wait, then; I will call Mrs, Cross.” / Cool John had stepped into the hall, and | the servant closed the door and disappeared. In afew minutes a woman of middle age made her appearance, a grim look upon her | face at first sight, which melted away as soon as she saw her caller. Cool John’s clothes and appearance won re- | spect for him, It is said that clothes do not make the man, but in New York they go a mighty long ways toward that end. The sport detective repeated the observa- tion he had made to the servant ‘* Yes, the best room I have,” the woman declared. ‘‘It is onthe next floor front, if you would like to see it.” **T would,” ** Go right up, then.” ———— een ee The room was a good one, well-furnisned, and the result of a ten-minutes’ parley was that Cool John engaged it, ‘‘ Your lodgers are all gentlemen?” he then asked, ‘* No, I have two ladies, sir; two very re- spectable ladies, sir. Why did you inquire?’ ‘* Thad no object, only that I thought Be did not take ladies at all, owing to the fact that your notice outside specified that this room would be let to gentlemen.” ‘«For the reason, sir, that ladies, as a rule, cannot afford to take such an expensive apart- ment. When shall I expect you, sir?” ‘‘In the course of an hour, perhaps.” CHAPTER XXVI. COOL JOHN SCORES A POINT. Coon Joun took leave and joined his pard. He had met with little success, and yet with considerable of success, too. Not knowing the name of the woman he desired to geton track of, his only way was to get sight of ker; and in no way could this be accomplished so well as by becoming an inmate of the same house for a time, and in this a kind fortune had greatly favored him. ‘* What luck?” demanded the Big Bay. ‘* Not much, but a beginning.” And Cool John explained to him, ‘“That’s good enough, if we kin carry et out, and mebby you kin all right, but as fer me—” ‘* You have got to choke off that twang of yours. But, then, I have made it a little easier for you, I think, now.” “ How is that?” ‘‘T have given this woman our names as John Green, Senior and Junior, of Vermont, in town for a couple of weeks to see the sights.” ‘* What has that got ter do with et?” ‘‘Tt will give you a chance to give your dialect a little play, that is all. The people we meet are not likely to know the difference, you see, between the two, and’you will be safe,” ‘* A durn good idee! out ’most too well?” ‘*No, for our clothes will show for just what they are; it will be seen that we have fitted out anew.” ‘‘And whenare we going there?” ‘*In about an hour.” They strolled up the street together, to kill a little time. Ere they had gone a great distance Cool John suddenly caught the Big Bay by the arm. ‘SDo you see anything?” he asked. ‘«Wull, I ain’t stone blind,” was the drawl. - See that man ahead there?” ery en. ‘* Who js it?” ‘* Give it up.” ‘*Think hard, now.” ‘*T tell ye I give et up, boy.” ‘* Never saw him before?” ‘* Don't believe l everdid. Whois et?” ‘* Well, I may be mistaken, for that swell stride is not his natura: gait, but if that fel- low isn’t Paul Batford I'll treat.” ‘* By thunder!” ** You agree with me?” ‘* Et’s him fer dust, pard.” ‘‘T don’t think we can be mistaken. The whole set have come hereto New York, by the looks of things.” } “* What will you do?” ‘* We'll watch him.” And this they did! Had they been ten minutes sooner, and had they encountered the fellow in another place— which double proposition could not have been a they would have seen, also, Rosa ing. They followed after the man, who walked with as important a swing as though he own- ed half the city. He did not look around, evidently having no thought that anybody was following him. His destination, finally, was a respectable- looking house, in a respectable street, where herung the bell, and after a few seconds was admitted. The detective pards waited for his reap- pearance, but they waited in vain. He did not come out again, slthongh they hung around acouple of hours. In fact, some- thing had happened to Paul Batford But, ain't we togged
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ite” i a 19 This was the residence of Abner White, the just man, Weary of waiting, at last, Cool John and his pard took note of the street and number and went to their newly-engaged place of lodging. Here *‘ John Green, Junior,” introduced his father, and they repaired to their room. It was coming on to meal time, now, and as Cool John had spoken for meals in the house whenever they happened to be there, it was their planto remain and get a sight of the other lodgers. When the hour came and the bell sounded in the hall, they went down. Mrs, Cross pulled chairs for them as they entered her dining room, at the same time saying ‘* Mr. Green and son, of Vermont,” This was her habit, ‘‘in order to make her boarders at home,” asshe put it. Cool John inclined his head slightly, and took the place assigned to him, and as he did so hecould hardly repress a start. Directly opposite to him sat the woman of the Phcenix—the woman who had been in conversation with Phil King so short a time before his death, and who had given him her name and address. He did repress the start, however, so far as any outward show of it was concerned, It was she, the same cold, handsome woman. She looked at Cool John sharply for a mo- ment, but he paid no attention to it, and she turned away her eyes. There was another woman, an old lady, at the board, who, on hearing that the stran- gers were from Vermont, immediately broke out with an exclamation of detight. ** Dew tell!” she cried, ‘‘ Aire yew from Vairmount?” This caused « broad smile among the others present, which broadened when the Big Bay responded: ‘*Thet there is whar we hail from, ma’m.” Cool John saw trouble ahead, unless he could avert the danger ‘TI take it that you are from the same State, madam,” he said, quickly. ‘‘May I ask from what part?” ‘Well, neow, yew have guessed right; that is where Iamfrom; but, how could yew tell? I am from up Burlington way.” Cool John had more or less knowledge of the whole country. ‘* We are from near Bennington,” he said, He thought if he placed them well apart— the two places, there would be but little dan- ger of running against snags in local descrip- tion. ‘*T know Greens aplenty up our way, too,” said the old soul. ‘* Yes, they are all over the land,” averred the sport. ‘*May I ask how it comes that you are so far from your native soil?” This gave the old lady a chance, and she rattled away with a story that‘. of no inter- est to us, but which proved of service to Cool John and his pard in firmly connect- ing them with Vermont in the minds of the other boarders. ‘ Cool Jobn listened attentively to the old lady, occasionally offering some remark, but for the most part his attention was secretly given to the woman opposite to him. Tbe Big Bay had little to say, but his oc- casional remark was so broad that it added strong weight to the evidence. As soon as they were again in their room Cool John gave him a terrific slap on the shoulder: ‘* What yer doin’?” the Big Bay growled. ‘*Want ter loosen my teeth?’ ** We have struck it—struck it rich!” cried the sport detective, in undertone. ‘‘ You saw the woman opposite me?” “You bet.” ‘She is the one we are after.” “The deuce ye say! See hyer, pard, she’s too durn handsome—” “Softly, now, Big Bay. I don’t care if she is sprouting the wings of an angel, she is the person who killed Phil King!” ** What?” “Take it easy, but store it away deep. She is the one who killed Phil King, and I have proof of it.” ** Proof?” “Exactly. But, the question is, how to bring the crime home to her.” ‘*‘ What ther durnation is ther proof? I be hanged ef you ain't got me all in a sweat, now, sure enough.” ‘‘The proof is, that she is left-handed Didn’t you take notice how she: was eat ing? Well, I did, and we are on the right track. And that old lady, bless her simple old soul! she has covered us over so thick with Vermont plaster that suspicion cannot touch us. Shake, Big Bay!” Cooi John put out his hand, and the Big Bay gave his. They had indeed struck the.trail! CHAPTER XXYVII. INTRODUCTION UNEXPECTED, Paun V’arrorp made a bold move when he went tv the house of Abner White. But, he considered it a safe move, for two reasons—perhaps three, to be more exact. In the first place, he believed that he had his mother entirely in his power, and could do with her as he pleased. Then he consid- ered Abner White a sort of mild lunatic. Best of all, he had Rosa King in his power, or what he believed amounted to the same thing. He felt himself strongly intrenched. Ringing the bell with a firm pull, he gathered himself together, so to say. When the servant came to the door he made inquiry for Mrs. King, the lady who had arrived there the previous evening. ‘* Yes, she is here, sir,” was answered. ‘* What name shall J say?” ‘“*Tell her it is Paul; she will know me.” The brother and sister were together in a | little sitting-room just off from the library. When the servant entered and made the announcement, the poor woman turned as pale as death, for a moment, and clutched her hand to her side, Abner White, too, was pale, but he said calmly: ‘Show him in here, Martha, He will find Mrs, King alone,” ‘* Yes, sir.” The servant withdrew. ‘*T will step behind this portdere,” spoke the brother, then, hurriedly. , ‘‘1 will him talk to you, and when I step into the room you will introduce him boldly as vour son,” There was no time for response, and Mr. White immediately concealed himself behind , the heavy curtain. The next moment the door opened, and Paul Batford stepped in, He looked all around before speaking. ‘*Are you alone?” he asked. ‘“You can see that I am,” was the re- sponse. ‘‘Why have you come here? Was it not enough that you saw me ‘Well, no; that mamma dear. Then I merely directed you what to do; now | have come to see if you | have done it, I hope everything is all right?” ‘*Yes, everything is all right.” ‘*And that canting saint has forgiven you, I suppose.” ‘“* Paul!” “There, don’t flare up about it; he must bee ither a fool or a hypocrite, I am certain. No matter.” ‘*My brother is neither one nor the other, Paul Batford. But, it is impossible for you to understand, much less appreciate, a nature like his. Yes, be has forgiven me, fully.” ‘Excellent! If I can’t appreciate his na- ture | assure you that I will know how to appreciate his pocket, when you tap that for me.” ‘‘T hope you will,” ** What do you mean?” “« Just what I say.” ‘*Do you hint that you are going to go back on me?” “J mean that it is high time that you be- gan to appreciate something, for one thing, your own position.”’ ‘“ Ha, ba! Why, it is my position that is pene me all this concern. I[ appreciate it ully, [can assure you of that, dear mother. But, have you begun to feel the way?” ** What way?” ‘To pull his leg.” ** What are you talking about?” ‘*Confound it! I mean have you begunto lay. a plan that will open his pocketbook for us ” “ I have not.” ‘* Well, it is short notice, of course, But, -_ SC SO OC hear | | Paul.” esterday?” | was hardly enough, | her sake.” the sooner you make a beginning the better. Do you want me to suggest a plan?” The woman was silent. She wanted her brother to step in and take the matter in hand. ‘*All you have got to do is to pretend that there is a certain somebody somewhere badly in need of help, and the good Samari- tan will fork over the ducats in a hurry. I have no doubt.” ‘* And do you think that I would stoop to that?” ‘* Maybe you have a better plan?” ‘“T have no plan.” ‘* But you must form one. I may need money before the month is up, for New York is an expensive place.” ‘* What will you do for money when I am dead ?” ‘“You are not dead yet. to think about that when it happens. looking out for the present.” ‘* Well, Paul, Iam going to speak plainly to you.” ‘«That so?” **'Yes,” ‘* Well, let’s hear it.” ‘You have had the last dollar from me that you will ever get.” The fellow’s lip curled with a cynical smile, | albeit a certain degree of pallor appeared. ‘*Is that so?” he drawled. **It is so” **T think you are mistaken, mammadear,” he declared. ‘‘I have not only myself to keep, but another as we'l, and you must put | up the needful.” ** Another to keep—”’ Plenty of time : Tam wie age | §*€- You are married ?” | ‘*Ha, ha! Hardly that, thank you. But my handsome half-sister is boarding with me, and it will require—” The woman had sprung to her feet, face blanched, and staggered toward the villain who was thus torturing her. She had to grab a chair for support. ** You—you do not mean—” “Oh, yes, I do. Rosa is right here in New York, under my care, and it all de- , pends on you. I have no doubt your pious '‘brother will come to your aid, if you put it ' to him in the right light.” ‘But, that child, you would not barm | her—” / “* Not a hair of her head, if you give me the wherewith to provide for her. If not, | she will have to take her chances.” ‘*In heaven’s name, bring her here to me, “Well, hardly. What you will not do for me for my own sake, you shall do for me for ‘* Whereis she? At least tell me that.” “Yes, I will tell you that, certainly; in fact, I have told you, She is in this city.” | ‘*And you have made her your prisoner?” ‘Well, I scarcely believed you would | think so evil of me as that; I am protecting her. You see, she is hiding from the officers of the law, who want her on the charge of killing—” “‘Great heavens! But, she is innocent, Paul, she is entirely innocent of that crime!” ‘*How do you knowthat? Was my first guess correct, that you can be so positive?” **T am not certain that you, yourself, are not the guilty one.” “*T can best answer that; I am not,” **Can you prove it? What if I call the police, turn you over to them, and declare you the murderer?” ‘*You could not prove it, and I defy you to do anything of the kind. You would not dare to do it, for you are in hiding your- self and dare not let your identity be known.” ‘**Don’t be too sure about that.” ‘‘lam positive of it, dear mamma. And now I will take my leave In one week from to-day I will call again.’ He rose as he spoke, but at that moment a door was heard to open and close, and Abner White thrust aside the portiere and stepped into the room, stopping short on seeing a strangert here. ‘*Brother,” spoke the woman, making @ supreme effort to speak, ‘‘allow me to intro- duce my son, Paul Batford. Paul, I will make you known to Mr. Abner White, my brother, who has befriended me in the hour of my direct need and forgiven my folly of the past.” :
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; 20 CHAPTER XXVIII. REPENTANCE PRETENDED. Pau Batrorp looked as if he wished the floor would open and take him in. This was one of the surprises of his life, and one for which he was entirely unpre- pared And yet, no sooner had it been sprung upon him than he realized that it was just the very thing that he ought to have been prepared for in coming there. ‘** Paul Batford,” spoke Abner White, step- ing forward, ‘‘ give me your hand. As I _ desire to befriend your mother, so I will be- friend you, if youprove worthy of my friend- ship, and | trust you will.” The manner of the man was so frank, and the surprise of the rascal so great that Paul had given his hand before he knew it. But it was given without that hearty grasp which honesty makes natural. ‘* |—I am glad to know you, sir,” the ras cal faltered. ‘* Then pray sit down, if you were on the point of going, and let us have a little con- versation.” “‘T should like to, sir, but as I was just telling mother, I have a pressing engage- ment. Ishall be pleased to call again, sir, at some other time—” ‘*Paul,” interrupted the mother of the wretch, ‘‘I have concealed nothing from my brother; lying will not serve your purpose now. If yon are nota foo) you will give him attention.” The fellow’s face flushed, and confusion overcame him. He saw that he was in a trap. **T am pained to think that you would lie to me,” said Abner White, ‘‘but that can readily be pardoned, under the circumstances. Sit down, and we will have a plain talk and see what is to be done. 1 am not willing to believe there is no good in you, young man,” **T don’t know that I have any need of your advice,” was the sullen response, as the rascal moved toward the door. ‘** Perhaps I can give you more than ad- vice,” was the rejoinder. ‘‘Maybe I can give you such substantial assistance as you need. This may be the turning point of your career,” ““T am much obuged, [ am sure, bat I don’t think I’min need of your help, sir. When I want it, I’ll come again.” He laid his hand on the door and would pie opened it, but to his surprise it did not eld. His face blanched, and he looked startled. **You may sit or stand, just as you choose,” said Abner White, with provoking calmness. ‘‘ For the time being you are my uest. Ithink you will find it more com- ortable sitting.” ** Have you locked me in here?” the fellow demanded. ‘““ The door is locked.” fe “*T demand that it be opened immediately, Bi” ‘** Your demand will not be heeded. You are my guest or my prisoner, jnst as you please.” “Tam, eh?” ** You are.” The two men looked into each other’s ey es. The younger man was wild, excited, al- most desperate; the elder was calm and mas- terful. _ “If you will listen to reason, will repent, and will try to make a man of yourself,” the elder continued, ‘I will be your friend. If you will not, but persist in wrong-doing, then I will deliver you up to justice,” ** What do you mean by that? What have I done?” **Tt is not for me to say what you have done; you know that better than any one NE *‘ Then what charge can you make against me?” **T will make no charge. You are wanted at Denver, and there you will no doubt be given a fair trial” **T am innocent of any crime there.” “T hope you are.” “‘T swear that J am, sir.” ‘Have you any oy who cid that deed?” The Sport from Denver. ** Who did it?” ‘* My mother here, I saw her do it.” ‘**Paul, you know that you lie,” spoke the woman, calmly. ‘*1 know that I tell only the truth. too close at hand to be mistaken. I will swear to it, if 1 am pressed. You had bet- ter allow me to depart, I give you fair warn- ing ” ** You cannot go, sir,” said Mr. White. “Or, if you do, you go forth a prisoner. | Your power over this mother woman, your mother, is broken forever, and it only remains to be seen what fate will be yours. We are ready to befriend you, if you will have it so.” ** You are lying to me?” **T do not lie.” ‘* You know lam desperate, and for that reason you want to keep me here a prisoner. But, you can't do it.” ‘We care no more for on the street,” declared ou than fora cur r. White, ‘‘so far as fearing you is concerned. But if you | will allow us to befriend you, we will do that.” ‘* What can you do?” ** Tf you will give me your word, sir, that you will turn over a new leaf and be an honest, industrious man, I will do what I can toward placing you on your feet so that you may become self-supporting and respectable. Undoubtedly you will never have a better chance,” _ Batford was doing some lively think- ing. He saw that he was in a bad situation, apd that something must be done to get out of it For some moments he was thoughtful. ‘*T am afraid it is too late to try that,” he said, presently. ‘“*Tt is never too late.” “Yes, but here I am cornered, and if I turn it will be because you have forced me todo so, What confidence will you have in me?” ‘IT will begin by having confidence in you, sir, and the longer I find that my con- fidence is not misplaced the stronger it will become and the better will be my opinion of ou.” “* Will you take my word for one thing?” ‘‘T will, if you declare it to be true.” ‘I swear that it is true—that 1 did not kill Phil King.” “Then I hold you to be innocent, and nothing but proof of your guilt will convince me otberwise.” “Thank you, sir. And now let me con- fess sumething else. I am not sure that it was my mother who fired that fatal shot on that night.” ‘* Bless you for those words, Paul,” mur- mured Mrs. King. ‘* But, you saw who did the deed?” asked White. “Yes, but not the person’s face, sir, I only know that it was a woman.” ** Well, it would place you in a bad fix if it were known that you were there when the crime was committed,” ‘*T am aware of it.” ** And your desire is to repent and begin anew ?” ‘* Yes, sir.” ** Very well, let us see what can be done for you. But, you will have to remain here till that can be thought out,” ‘* But, my child?” cried Mrs King. ‘‘ Tell me about her. Where have you put her, Paul? Tell us that, so that she can be brought here to me. Do this, and I will fully trust you.” ‘*There, too, I must ask forgiveness,” said the rascal, sinking down upon a chair with anairas of being crushed. ‘1 know noth- ing about her,” “* You know nothing about her?” ‘Not athing.”’ ‘Then you were—” ‘‘T was lying to you. By that means I hoped to get a firmer hold upon you, and make you the more eager to give what I de- manded. As I am at the end of my rope, I may as well confess the corn.” ‘*Miserable man that you have been!” sighed Abner White. ‘‘ But, by your con- fession you in a measure make amends, and give us reason to trust you,” ‘I do not want you to trust me, sir, till I prove myself.” . I was ‘bat Ido not care; if mother and I can only | ‘* We will give you every chance to do ‘that, Here is your mother, almost broken under the load you have heaped upon her, | but she has mailed a full confession to her husband, so your power would be broken gas ig a 3atford was taken a ‘little aback by thig | bit of information, but his mind as quickly rose equal to the emergency with further | scheming, If his mother had taken this step to free herself from his power, all the more reason why the daughter should be made to | yield him a handsome ransom. He played into the hands of his mother and | her brother for the time being, and remained | in the house as a guest. CHAPTER XXIX. BANKER KING'S RESOLVE, In the mean time, what of Rosa King? Paul Batford had watched long enough to ‘see her enter the house, and he rightly guess- ed that she had found her friends. Applying at the door, she had asked for Cynthia Dean, and being informed that she was at home, entered and gave her name, which was carried to the person in ques- tion. Presently a young woman burst into the room into which Rosa had been shown and ran forward with a glad cry. _ They embraced, and Rosa burst out cry- ing. **Come right to my own room,” said her friend, leading her by thearm. ‘* There you can tell me whatever you have to say, and no one shall see you until you are calm.” She carried the handbag and wraps, and led her friend up-stairs. ‘*T had no one else in the world to go to,” Rosa declared. “And Iam glad you thought to come to me. I have read all about it in the papers, dear.”’ ** But, you do not believe it was I?” “** Assuredly not.” ‘‘Tndeed, it was not; but, I have taken this step in order that they may think that I did the deed.” ‘‘In order that they may deem you guilty!” ce Yes.” ‘‘What can you be thinking about?” ‘*T have done it to protect mamma.” ‘‘Mercy! you do not believe she killed him, do you?” “Far from it, Cynthia; but, others think at and I want to draw their attention from er,” ‘‘ What an awful mystery it is! you any idea who did the deed?” ‘‘ Not the slightest,” Their tongues rattled as only the female tongue can, while Rosa bathed her face and made her toilet, after her journey. By the time that was done she was more like herself, and she and this friend had come to an understanding. She was to re- main there as her friend’s guest as long as she desired. The two girls had been chums at a semi- nary, and their friendship was strong. Rosa had told her friend everything. “‘Avd what is going to be done, now?” Cynthia asked, when they settled down to finish their private chat, “I do not know. pletely.” ‘*You have no idea where your lover is?” ‘** Not the slightest.” ‘‘ And you are sure of his innocence.” ‘* Positively,” ‘It will certainly look dark for you, and your object will no doubt be accom- plished,” ‘*That is as I desired. I must remain in hiding until the guilty one has been discov- ered, so that it will in a measure draw atten- tion from mamma.” ‘* But, what of your father?” ‘* | pity him. he will be so lonely.” ‘You love him?” ‘* Dearly.” ‘But you did not like Philip?” But, have I am lost com- **T did not; he was nottrue. I could not trust him.” ‘* And now that he is dead you are the only heir, and that makes it look all the worse.” ‘*Yes, yes; I have thought of all that,
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21 remain out of sight till the mystery is cleared.” ** What do you think was her object in go- ing away?” **She had a double reason, one part of which I must not tell you, since the secret | is hers. The other, I suspect the same ob- ject as my own.” “ To draw attention from you?” pe Yea.” ‘‘T fear that you ‘both have done foolish- ” **Do you think so? I know you always had a clear head at school, Cynthia; what is your reason?” **My reasons are good. Suppose the real murderer can not be found; all this will go toward fastening the terrible crime upon you and your mother, one or both, and what can you say?” Rosa was pale. **T did not think so far as that,’’ she con- fessed *‘And then, by drawing all attention to yourselves, you are diverting it from investi- gation in other directions, and so lessening the chances of getting at the bottom of the terrible affair.” ‘“*Can you tell me what I ought to do?” ** As to that, you will have to give me time to think. But, now that you are your- self, let us go down and I will introduce you to my mother, who will be as eager to beltisod you as am I.” And thus Rosa King found herself in the hands of good, true friends for the time being. But, the wolf knew of her hiding-place. For the moment let us take up the thread at Denver, where our romance had its be - ginning. ~ The funeral of the murdered young man jhad taken place some days before, and ’Banker King was the only one remaining of . his household, save the servants. ; Detectives had been at work constantly, yupon every clue that offered, and one of Ithem, Coughlin, had gone to New York, up- ,on @ slight clue that pointed in that di- ‘rection. * The banker was in his library, sad and . broken, when the morning mail was handed in to him. having 1 He opened his letters mechanically, no spirit for business. | a suddenly he straightened up, interest- ed. , : The letter he had just opened was post- marked from New York, and the very first - line he read chained his attention. | It ran as follows: ’ J« Roar Krxe:— : ‘* Will you allow a stranger to suggest a ‘elue to the mystery surrounding the death of -your son? I have read all about it in the ‘papers, and it seems to me the detectives -must be blind if they cannot see the point. You had an only son and an only daughter. The mother of your daughter was not the ‘mother of the son. With the son out of -the way the daughter would fall heir to ‘all your riches at your death. Who would ‘have an object in putting him out of the way? Why, the mother of the daughter, of course, or the daughter alone, or both to- ' gether.” | The banker's face grew ashy as he. read .these words, and he clinched his fist as his -arm lay on the edge of the table. He continued to read: ‘‘Have you not seen enough of their char. | acters to believe this? A daughter who would deceive you as yours has been doing, meeting at night with sucha man as the one . who was arrested; and a wife who hada fa- miliar acquaintance with men of known bad “repute around town! there is only one thing to be done, and that -is, to find the mother and the daughter and ' ceived a letter from It seems to me that | Here it is.” ' The banker put the letter in thedetective’s damnable lie! I will fot give ita hold upon me, foritis untrue, After twenty years of steadfast devotion— No, by heavens, ne- ver!” The lion of his nature was aroused, He put the letter in his pocket and pre- | pared for the street, and having done so summoned his butler, ‘“‘Tam’going away,” he said. ‘‘I may be away forsome time. You will carry all my letters to Detective Conners, at Police Headquarters, until my return. Do you understand ?” | The butler said he did. Some minor directions, and the banker left the house. In a little while he was at Police Head- quarters, where he found the man he want- | ed, Conners. To him he showed the letter, saying noth- ing except to bid him read it, and when he had done so th» detective silently handed it back again, saying nothing himself. ‘Well, why don’t you say what you think?” demanded the banker. ‘*Mr. King,” was the reply, ‘‘it is just what I have been forced to think for some time. I hate to say it, but I fear there is truth in it,” **] don’t blame you,” said the banker, then, ‘‘ but I do not agree with you. I am | going to New York to ferret out the writer / of this, All my mail will be brought to you. Open my letters and forward any that bear / upon this case, All the rest deliver to my | secretary at the bank.” With just time to catch atrain, the banker was out and away, leaving the astonished Conners to stare after him. CHAPTER XXX. DETECTIVE COUGHLIN’S CLUE. A Few days Ker quietly. It seemed as if both sides were gathering strength for the coming struggle. But, such was hardly the case, for one side was for the time being worsted, if sucha term be allowable We refer here to Henry King, Dick Nut- | ter and their tools, who had lost the scent of their game and were beating around wildly trying to strike it again. Thetwo men from | the West had disappeared. During the same time, Cool John and the Big Bay were quietly keeping an eye upon the suspected woman, Ann Spader, as they | had learned her name to be; and were like- | wise paying attention to the house ef Abner White, into which they had seen the man Bat- ford disappear. Paul Batford was ‘‘lying low,” to make | use of the slang phrase, enjoying the hospi- | tality of Abner White while he concocted ' further schemes for his own benefit. ; , ner of honest labor if he could avoid it, for he did not take kindly to the thought of earn- ing his bread by the sweat of his brow. | rs. King was there, of course, awaiting the coming of some word from her husband, and the daughter, Rosa, was still at the home of her friend, Cynthia Dean. | This was the situation when Roger King _ reached the city | He had telegraphed ahead to Detective | Coughlin, Whose address he had, and was met at the train, ‘“ What news?” he immediately asked, as | the two shook hands, ‘“Not a word,” was the answer. ‘‘ What news do you bring? Something important must have brought you here.” | ‘Itis nothing in the way of news, strictly speaking, but it is something that may be the means of giving youaclue. Ihave re- New York.” snl =O bas hang both of them for the crime, and then | hands.99.they made their way to the ferry. you cannot make a mistake. ‘‘ ComMon SENSE.” Even after he had reached the end, the banker sat and stared at the letter as if still reading, but he could not see the writing for blinding tears. Suddenly he sprung to his feet, flinging tis a black, a the letter to the floor. “Ttis a lie!” he hissed. ‘ ve af ares A ee ein ee aay ale ‘ ‘Why do you think this may be a clue?” | Coughlin asked. ** Because I believe in the innocence of m wife and daughter in this matter, and thin this hag been written by some one who de- sires to injure them,” ** Who can that person be?” “T know not,” “The writer of this strikes a chord that gives out a full sound.” **T-can’t help admitting that, sir, a5). at it from,the practical stand-point, but know my wife and daughter too well.” **T hope you are not mistaken in them.” “*T feel certain that Iam not,” ‘‘How do you account for their mysteri- ous actions?” ‘*Are you going to insist that this letter is the key to the truth of it ail?” ‘* No; I am seeking to get at the truth, and want to see the matter the same as you see it. But, perhaps we had better defer further talk till we reach the hotel.” This was agreed upon. The banker engaged a room in the same hotel at which the detective was stopping, and there they took seats and resumed the conversation. ‘“Now, wkere did we break off?” asked the banker. i. “T asked you what you thought of the mysterious actions of your, wife and daugh- ter.” ‘Their disappearance?” ‘* Yes; and these points raised in the let- ter.” **7 do not understand them, therefore can- notexplain. But, I am willing to give them the benefit of every doubt.” ‘Let us glance at the daughter first. She would benefit by the death of your son, of course, But, that aside, Let. us try to clear away the suspicion if we can. She had a lover.” **'Yes, as you know.” ** And that was a secret from you. Why?” ‘* Because, as I look at it, it would have been opposed by me had I known it.” ‘*Good enough. As I know the man, I will say that he was in every way worthy of our daughter, or any other man’s. I hold fim to be innocent of the crime; likewise you your daughter.” “Exactly. **T can explain the disappear ence of the one; accused of the crime, falsely, I believe he is trying to solve the mystery. Now, what of the other?” “It has been rag So that perhaps she has eloped with this fellow.” ‘*Notso, for John Handy is not that sort of aman, even if your daughter were so in- clined.” “You think not?” ‘*Tam sure of it, I had rather think that the daughter has gone in search of her mo- ther.” “‘Well, possibly you are right, but if so, why would she Ls ita secret from me? If that is the case, I do not like the looks of it, for it would appear as if she thought ° her guilty.” “That is the way it looks. Now, your wife would love her own child more than she could love your son. The death of the It was | son would place the whole of your fortune to far from his intention to enter into any man- | the credit of the daughter, prospectively. The son was murdered, and your wife has mysteriously disappeared.” ‘* Still I hold her to be innocent.” ‘‘ How, then, do you explain her sudden | leave-taking ?”’ ‘I don’t explain it; that is what I expect youto do, if you are able.” ‘*Looking upon her as guilty, everything is plain sailing; as innocent, we are at sea. ‘‘And that being the case, we must look around us the best we can, get our bearings if possible, and sail for the shore.” **And you want me to take this letter as a clue?” **T want you to find the writer of that let- ter, and I think it will test your ability asa detective.” “Yes, I rather think it will, Mr. a We have no clue whatever to begin with, and I would defy you to tell me whether ; this was penned by a man or by a woman.” “‘T want you to find out.” ‘* And you have nothing to suggest?” ** Nothing.” ‘¢ Well, J think it would be folly for me to undertake any such task. In the first place, the letter has a genuinering. It strikes me that some person has taken it into his or her head to write a letter, and that is all there is to it, since the view taken of the matter isa sensible one, from a disinterested point of view,” “You think so?” “1 aoi" _ “And you will not aid me,
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22 —_— The Sport from Denver. ‘‘T am here to do alll can, but I must stick to my own outline of work.” “What brought you to New York?” “Tcame here looking for Paul Batford, haviig a clue that he came here when he left Denver. By finding him we will get at the truth, perhaps.” ** You hold him to be guilty?” “He may be; cannot say. But he will be able to explain what business your wife had with him, and that will be the means of clearing her, if innocent; or of—” ** You need not finish, You have not found him?” **T have not.” “And you have lost the trail?” **T never had it to lose; I am looking for a trail. All the clue I have is the faint one that Batford came here, and it is my busi- ness to find him. if he did. Iam making a thorough search. ’ ‘** Well, lam going to find the writer of this letter.” ‘* Yourself?” ** With your help, if you will give it.” “Which I will, gladly enough, as soon as the way opens; but, that is a harder task than the finding of Batford.” “Tt may be easier.” ** Why?” “Hold that sheet of paper up to the light.” The detective did so, and saw a faint water-mark ©° peculiar form, ‘*The mark?’ he usked. “Yes,” “What of it?” ““What of it? I will tell you: Over twenty years ago I was in business in this city, and this very paper is paper that I had in my office. Itis paper that was made for me. I had a quantity of it at one time. The water-mark, you see, is & monogram com- posed of R and K.” ‘© A clue, as I Jive!” exclaimed the detec tive. CHAPTER XXXII. THE TURN OF THE WHEEL. New York had a sensation. ~ Onthe morning following the arrival of Roger King, and his interview with the Den- ver detective, a man was found insensible on the street near a certain hotel. He was unknown at first. There wasa mark on his head, showing where he had been struck down, and it was the wonder of all who saw the wound that he had not been killed outright. There could be no doubt as to the intention of his as- sailant. ‘The victim was taken to the hospital, where his identity became known by some letters in his pockets. The man was Detective Coughlin, of Den- ver. A reporter found out more concerning the man; that he was a detective, and that he had come to New York in the interest of the King sensation of Denver. ; Cool John and his ‘‘ pard ’* were at break- fast. when they learned about it. The sport detective was glancing at the morning paper, when suddenly he muttered an ejaculation and read something with in- terest. ‘* What is et?” asked the Big Bay. ‘* A fire in Boston,” answered Cool John. ‘*Man I knew when I was there lost his life in i!.” “Dew tell!” This was one of the phrases the Big Bay had picked up from the prattle of the woman from * Vairmount ” As soon as they had gone to their room, however, he there demanded to know what it really was that had claimed the attention of his ‘‘ pard”’ and caused him to utter the exclamation. Cool John read the item. The Big Buy gave a prolonged whistle. **Ther boil is open in earnest, durn me ef _ et ain't!” he cried, ** You are right,” agreed the sport detec- tive. ‘‘Tlat is the fate that was intended for us.” **You bet; but, et didn’t work accordin’ to the way they wanted et to. Thar is one thing purty certain, an’ that is, that we y who done this job. What ef we put police onto’em?” facts. Lis eink “It would be a good idea, but it might block our own game,” ‘How is that?” “Why, the fellow would have to keep shady, and we would not be likely to get much good out of them,” ‘*T guess you are right, pard.” ‘* But, there is one thing we can do,” ** An’ what’s thet?” ** Go and see Coughlin.” ‘*Not a bad idee, but only one had better go, and you must be that one,” the Big Bay advised. ‘‘I will stayin while you are gone and try to hold things down here.” “Very well, and I will go at once,” They parted. Cool John set forth immediately, and in due time wasat the hospital to which the knocked-out detective had been taken. He made known his errand, ‘‘The man cannot be seen,” he was in- formed. ‘*But, he was a close friend of mine,” the sport insisted. ‘*Can’t help that; he can’t be seen. is the order for the present. conscious anyhow.” ** Will he live, think you?” ‘It is about an even chance, is my opin- ion,” Cool John was just turning away, when he came face to face with Roger King. The banker had come there on the same errand, having learned of the detective’s mis- fortune by the same means, The sport recognized him at once, but he in turn was not recognized. His change of appearance in dress, and the loss of |:is mustache, made a different man of him. He Joitered near while Mr. King was mak- ing inquiries similar to his own, to which the same responses were given, and as the banker turned away the sport detective ad- dressed him. ‘*Was that man a friend of yours?” he asked. ‘* What man?” asked the banker, looking at him, * The man you just inquired for,” ‘Yes, sir, he was—and is.” ‘«The same with me, sir.” ‘*What do you mean?” “I mean that Detective Coughlin, of Denver, was my friend, and I want to find out who served him this shabby trick,” ** And who ure you?” ‘*My name is Green. Suppose we have a talk, if you don’t object? Perhaps we can getat the thixg, somehow, and by so doing get at the man who did the deed.” ‘‘What proof have I that you are what you claim to be?” ‘What have I claimed to bet” “‘Coughlin’s friend.” ‘* Well, Ido not happen to have proof at hand, but if you write to his people at Den- ver, Colorado, they can give you the assur- ance.” ‘** Are you from Colorado?” ‘*T have been there.” ‘* What is your business?” ‘*T am a detective, sir.” ‘* Detective!” **7 will talk with you. If you are telling the truth, you may be just the man I want to know, and if not, you may be just the man I want to get hold of.” ‘*T hope I may be found the former.” They had passed leisurély out of the hos- pital main entrance, while speaking, and they did not observe a man who was watch- ing them from a little distunce as they made their anpearance. ‘* Where shall we go fora talk?” asked the banker. ; ‘‘Anywhere. We can stand right here, if that is agreeable to you, sir.” ‘Tt is not, for, if you are what ‘you claim to be, our talk may be of some length. Will you come with me to my hotel?” **T will.” Thither they repaired, and on the way Cool John revealed enough to satisfy the banker, | The sport deteetive knew, of course, what business had brought Coughlin to New York, and it sec the banker’s confidence when he mentioned some of the leading That But he is un- b] a) Fit om) | a ge er 7 © What then?” - Pe ee ‘* Now, sir,” Mr. King demanded, “ do you know who I am?” This as soon as they reached the hotel and were seated in the banker's room, ‘‘How should I know, sir, any further than you have seen fit to disclose to me?” was the counter quesiton. ‘¢ Well, then, I will tell you: King, from Denver.” ‘* Indeed!” ‘The fact. What is more, the poor fel- low Coughlan met me yesterday on my ar- rival and I placed a new clue in his hands regarding the case. Who, do you think, can have struck him down?” ‘* Must have been some of the rascals he was working against.” ‘*That is what I think, too, Now, sir, have you the nerve to take up the matter and carry it on?” ‘* Nothing would be more to my liking, sir. It is my intention to hunt down the ras- cals who tried to kill him, and if at the same time I can do anything for you, I will gladly do it. ‘* What reference can you give me?’ ‘* The chief of police. I will go with you to his office, if that will satisfy you.” This was a bold moveto make, for, to car- ry it out, Cool John would have to disclose his identity to the chief, and that might work to his disadvantage. But, it carried as.he thought it would, ‘Say no more,” said Mr. King, ‘* I will give you the whole matter, in all its particu- lars, as far as anything is known to me, and you can begin work at once.” Fortwith, then, he went over the whole ground, telling the whole story, coming down finally to the clue which he had placed in the hands of Detective Coughlin only the day before, ‘* Coughlin said it was a complicated case,” remarked the sport detective, ‘‘ and now I can fully agree with him that itis, But, I think itis a plain one, for,in my opinion that fellow who was first arrested must he the murderer, or he would never have run away.” Cool, John wanted the banker's opinion concerning himself. “[ think you are wrong,” said Mr. King. ‘*T have come to agree with the detectives that he is innocent, for they speak highly of him. And, since I have thought it over well, I know nothing to the discredit of the young man. But, the end will reveal that. Now, to business.” CHAPTER XXXII. A GLEAM OF LIGHT AHMAD, ‘* Yus, to business,” agreed the man of sand, ‘* What have you to propose? You have asked nothing of Coughlin’s plans.” ** Hig plans did not work, save ill to him- self. There was something wrong, or he was misfortunate,” “Well, your own, then,” ‘‘T must ask some questions,” ‘*Ask them,” ‘*But, first, a word of warning to you, aie? **And what is that?” ‘It is this: The same hand that struck down Couglin may be seeking opportunity to serve you in the same manner.” “That is what I fear.” ‘it is a wholesome fear. You must be on your guard,” ‘*T intend to be,” “Take care not to go out after night, alone,” ‘* My intention,” “And let nothing decoy you into any other part of the city, no matter what the pretext.” ‘*L had not thought of that, have warned me.” ‘‘And that is about all you cando. Be watchful; for, bear in mind, the same person who killed your son may desire to put you out of the way.” “You think so?” ‘*Tt may be so.’ “‘Then you think this letter was a decoy to get me to New York?” ‘**No; the wording of it is proof that it was not intended for any such purpose.” Glad you Pos CT eae ee ge ey 2 urea ; I am Roger «
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eet'sa ~ ‘Yen _“T have.” Pei tk DR VOs et r are oo aS oad a The Sport from Denver. ‘To throw the more suspicion upon your wife and daughter.” ‘*Then you hold them to be innocent?” ‘*T believe your daughter to be as innocent aslam myself, and I hope we may prove your wife the same.” ‘*Both are innocent.” ‘* We will look at it in that light, sir.” “* Well, the questions?” “‘ Are concerning your past.. You say this letter is written upon paper you had made for your own use years ago.” Ade abd ‘‘Into whose hands did it pass when you left the city?” **Tmpossible for me to tell.” ‘*Then it isa faint clue indeed. But, I must know something of your history, Mr. King.” ** Question me.” ‘““ You formerly lived here in New York.” ** Yes; I was born here, sir, and here started in business. 1 married here.” ‘* Your first wife.” “se Yes, ” “* And she it dead?” “‘T don’t know.” 46 Ha ks ‘‘The fact of the matter is, I left her.” ‘* Well, well, here begirs toappear a skele- ton in the closet, I should say.” ** Yes, but it is one of the past, sir.” “‘They always are, if you willstop to con- sider. Who was this first wife? Why did you leave her?” ‘Her maiden name was Hazmore. ‘She was a perfect termagant, or turned out to be such, and life with her was unbearable, for Iam & man of peace. Besides, she ruined me financially.” ¥ ‘*She was the mother of your murdered son?” ‘« ¥os.~’ \ “‘ Had you any other children?” “Yes, another boy, two years older than Philip.” ‘*What was his name?” ae Henry.” . ‘Is he living?’, ‘‘l know not, sir,” **Well, yoursecond marriage—that was—”’ ‘‘Legal? Yes, it was that, certainly. I secured a divorce, according to law, and wnarried again.” ‘* Have you ever heard of this first wife?” ** Never, since I bade her farewell one fine morning and started for the West.” ‘‘Then you know absolutely nothing about her, whether she be living or dead, or anything eenee ene Soe other son?” *‘ Absolutely nothing, and never desire to ” ‘Did you leave them destitute?” “On the contrary, I turned everything over to my wife, save the sum of two hun- dred and fifty dollars in cash.” ‘* But you said she had ruined you.” ‘‘ The wind-up must have netted her some thousands, after selling the little property I left her.” eae you set out to begin life anew?” * Yes,” *‘And you succeeded ?” ‘Yes, thanks to the help of my second wife.” ‘Mr. King, this is a puzzling case, look at it as you will. You seem to have. full confidence in your second wife.” ‘¢ With the best of reasons, sir.” **And that reason—” ‘*Long association.” ** And yet it is as plain as day that she has some secret from you,” “Why do you think so?” ‘“‘Her action after the discovery of the murder. She went into the city, secretly. and there had an interview with a fellow of bad repute.” ** Yes,” “* Next, she disappears.” ‘And what do you suspect, from all that?” “What I have said, that she had a ‘secret from you, and further, that this fellow had some power over her.” ‘*L see we think about alike.” ‘**That is your idea?” ‘‘Yes. Further, I believe he has been draining her of money.” ‘fla! have you grounds for that sus- picion?” LE Saye PR a a oS tf i ** What are they?” ‘In spite of increased drains upon me, my wife grew to be almost shabby, and did not dress becoming her station.” ‘*Are you quite sure you do not underrate the needsof a woman?” ‘*Only a few years before both she and my daughter had dressed better and entertained a great deal more upon far less money.” ‘*You spoke to them about it?” ‘*‘Once or twice.” ‘*W hat answer?” ““That I did not know the thousand and one ways in which money had to be laid out. And, I had to admit that it was true; still, that did not solve the problem of how they had previously lived better on less.” ** Your providing was generous?” “To a fault. It was what ruined me in the first instance.” ‘**And it might have ruined you again?” ‘‘Oh, no; I have a solid foundation now.” ‘You have no idea what that secret can | have been?” ‘* Not the slightest.” “‘T think your daughter must have got hold of it; in fact, it seems pretty certain that she did.” ** Why do you think so?” “The mother would have to explain in some | way, when the curtailment began to be felt, od perhaps she confessed. If that was the | case, mother and daughter have in all pro- | bability gone away together.” ‘*And in toat case—” ‘* In that case, if we find one we shall find the other. But, it is more important, just now, to get on track of the murderer, if pos- sible; for, with you, I believe that both your wife and daughter are innocent of the deed. I intend to put forth every effort, Mr. King.” CHAPTER XXXIII. PLAYING A CLEVER CARD. THE interview was a lengthy one. Cool John learned ali he could, trying | hard to pick out of it a definite clue to the whole. What information he got was fragmentary, however, and with that he had to be satis- fied. But, he believed that he now held the key to the situation. He did not leave any address with Mr. King. but promised to call again in as short a time as possible, or to write if necessary, and in that case a private token was agreed | upon so that no decoy could be employed. | When he left the hotel his mind was busy | with the case. It did not occur to him to observe whether | he was being followed or not, and in fact he had no suspicion, And even had it occurred to him, he pos- sibly would have failed in detecting the man who was abadowing him, for he was an art- ful fellow, the equal of the average detec- tive. The man was Dick Nutter. For some days, as we have shown, he and | his ilk had been beating around to pick up the scent of their lost game, and at Jast they were onthe trail again. } Needless to pause to explain how; to go no | further back, the news of the discovery of | thealmost-murdered detective was enough of itself to give them a clue, and watching at | the hospital they were likely to discover his | allies, So, at any rate, had they reasoned, and we | have seen with what result, Cool Jobn proceeded straight to his lodg- | ing-house to consult. with the Big Bay, and | the shock to Dick Nutter, on seeing him en- | ter that house, can be imagined. The fellow stopped short, completely knocked out of time, and had to mop a sud- | den outbreak of perspiration from his face. | The discovery wasone thatalmost paralyzed | him for the moment, He knew who lived here, of course, and , realized that while he had been trying to | find the Western pards they had been all the time on the track, and no telling what im- portant discoveries they had made. The situation was more desperate than ever, . now. idle. Cool John and the Big Bay had not been ied | ere the woman explained. a } bo G ee 23 During such time as they had positively known her to be out of her room, they had made a hole through the wall, high up and behind a picture so that it would not be like- ly to be discovered. In their own room the two detective pards | had made this hole about six inches in diame- ter. The hole through intothe other room, however, was no larger than a nail might make. had been cut with greatest eare,and being lower than the larger opening, it gave a view of the floor space toa great extent. hs this time it had brought them no re- sult. When Cool John entered his room on this occasion, however, he found the Big Bay ; mounted upon a table with his eye glued to the opening. Each had a latch-key to the room, and as the Man of Sand came in his burly ally held up a finger cautioning him to silence, and Cool John knew immediately that something important was going on. The Big Bay got down from his perch. “‘We are onto’em at last, pard,” he ex- citedly whispered. ** Who is there?” asked Cool John. ‘‘That chap they call Hennery ” ‘*Ha!l is that so? I think he is my game, ; | Big Bay.” ** You do?” “Yes; but no time to explain now. What have vou been able to hear them say to each other?” ‘*They have been sayin’ perlite things about us, and it seems that they have been allat sea tryin’ ter locate us, an’ now they think they have got us to rights once more.” ““They do, eh?” ‘* ¥es.” “In what way?” “‘TIn a way we orter have thought of.” ** And what way was that? Come, talk up lively, old horse!” ‘Why, they have set a man ter watch ther hospittle ter see who will Visit that de- | tective—” ** Great Scott! Just kick me, will you?” ** An’ you have jest come from there.” ‘“ Worse than that, pard. But we may give them the slip yet. Get ready to leave hereat once. Gather up our effects while I eer & squint through the hole in the wall.” Cool John leaped lightly to the table, almost without a sound, and applied his eye to the opening. The Big Bay proceeded to carry out his directions. The Man of Sand saw Henry King and Ann Spader sitting close together, in low-toned conversation, He had been looking but a moment when the door opened suddenly and into the room stepped Dick Nutter, his face wearing an ex- pression of excitement. Cool John immediately applied his ear to the opening. - ** What the deuce is up?” he heard the man Henry ask, “The devil is to pay!’ cried Nutter, “That accursed detective is lodging in this very house!” ‘* What?” from both the man and woman, excitedly. : ‘*It is the fact. I got onto him at the hos. pital; he went to the —— Hotel with Roger King, where he remained a good while, and from there direct here.” “*And entered this house?” oo Yes.” ‘What does he look like?” asked the wo- man. Nutter gave a hurried description of the Man of Sand as he had seen him. ‘*Mercy!” the woman exclaimed. ‘ They have been right here all this tme. _Is it pos- sible that they know—” Cool John took a hasty look upon the scene, All three were upon their feet, their faces white and full of fearful apprehension. ‘Of course they have,” cried Henry King, as the sport applied his earagain. ‘‘What else would bring them here? But, we have got them in their death-trap, for they cannot suspect that we are onto them.” The Man of Sand smiled grimly. **They are known here as father and s 64ND iz & * 2 tg Rr x
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24 ee The Sport from Denver. they claim to be from Vermont. Who in the | “Now, if ther driver will only keep her world could have suspected them? What is going to be done, Henry? The situation has | suddenly grown desperate.” “We must get out of here, unseen, and then entrap them, somehow,” was hurried response given. ‘‘ Where is their room ?” “The front room here, right adjoining mine,” “Thunder!” **And they are both in their room now?’ demanded Ne utter. “‘T don’t know; I never hear much of them, except the sound of their voices at times.” There was silence. Cool John knew they were listening, He glanced to see what the Big Bay was doing, and found that he was ready to de- rt. Leaping lightly down from the table, not waiting to hear more, the Man of Sand gave his ally the cue and they opened the door and passed out. As silently as shadows they descended the stairs, and as silently left the house, unseen. And that done, they made their way with all | haste to the nearest-corner, There they paused. Cool John knew that it was not likely that any other person was on hand to watch a since Nutter had been doing that ser- vice. ‘That was a close shave, Big Bay,” the sport declared. ‘‘ But we are on top of the heap yet, if we can only stay there, and now we must get iuto our disguises as soon as possible.” oo had briefly told what he had seen and “You bet,” was the eager response. “They will leave the house in a jiffy, no doubt, and ten to one each of ’em will strike outin a different direction, to puzzle any- body that tries to foller’em. Whatis goin’ to be done? Hang me ef this ain’t one of the times when a feller wants brains!” At that moment an empty cab came along down the street, and the Sport of the Steady Hand signaled the driver to stop. Finding that the cab was not engaged, the Wild West sport handed the driver a five-dollar coin, giving him some careful di- rections, after which he and his ally got into the vehicle, and the driver, turning into the other street—that upon which the house was situated~drew in to the curb and stopped. CHAPTER XXXIV. THE HOUNDS THROWN OFF. Coot Jon and pard, as soon as they were within the cab, proceeded to put on disguises, hey had provided themselves with vari- ous articles, preparatory for such an emer- gency as this, and now those articles came right into play. he Man of Sand put on a pair of side- whiskers and a mustache, which he adjusted with the aid of a small looking-glass, and then he helped the Big Bay to put on a full gray beard. ot only so, but the Big Bay was further fixed out with a pair of spectacles, and the sport with a little strip of black court- spel across his nose. gs change in their looks was remark- able. They had barely done when the cab started, and the driver gave an agreed-upon signal. Cool John iooked out,.in the direction of the house, and saw a woman walking rapid- y up the street, and he knew who it was at ht. t was Ann Spader. “That is the way it is going to be worked, eh?” he said. **She is goin’ alone, eh?” observed the Big Bay. ‘‘I s’pose the others will lay low for us ” “Not a doubt of it, old horse, but that house will know us no more forever, or at any rate it’is not likely that it will. We were paid in advance.” ‘ Good plan; leaves us free at any min. ‘are right.” the | in sight.” **He will do that, never fear. He is a bright fellow, and the promise of extra re- | ward will spur him on. And thus they talked, while the cab rolled leisurely on. But let us return to the house. A plan had been hurriedly arranged, and | the woman had left her room and tiptoed | down the stairs with all the silence that the | | two pards out of the West had observed, | _ and thus out of the house. Her room was so located that the street ‘ could not be seen from the windows, but the two rascals watched the door of the front ‘**Be calm, woman!” cried Henry. ‘‘ Don’t | you know me? I am Miss Spader’s brother. | This is my friend.” ‘*Goodness me!” the landlady cried. ‘** What are you doing here?” “We were merely going out the rear way, to see if we could get through to the other | street, to decide a bet.” **T hope you are telling the truth—” ‘*Madam! can you doubt me?” The other boarders, the members of the family, and the servants, were now all rush- ing to the spot, ‘Where is Miss Spader?” the woman asked. room to make sure that the sport and_ his pard did not detect the woman ‘in her flight, little thinking that they had already | | departed. When she had passed out, they softly closed the door. **Now, what is going to be done?” de- manded Henry King. “That is the question,’ the other re- | sponded. **How in the name of wonders did they get after this woman? That is what puz- zles me.” **Don’t aes think it possible that they came here by chance, and that they know nothing about her?” ‘It is possible, but we dare not trust to that.” ‘Of course not; but how could they know anything about her, or connect her with the affair?” Both were silent, **They have got to die,” grimly declared Henry King, after a few minutes of re- flection, “That has been decided upon from the first, I believe.” : ‘“‘Tt is more than ever decided, now. Nothing must stand in the way of carryin out the sentence, somehow. We have foole about long enough.” ‘“‘There has been a little fooling done, on our part, e meant well in every move, but it seems this dare-devil of a sport has the nerve and the luck of the Old Boy himself.” *“Not too loud; they may hear you.” ‘“‘They couldn’t hear me through that wall, speaking in this tone.” ** Well, are we going to stay here?” **Tam at loss what to do.” “They can’t know we are here.” “Tt is not likely, and yet they must know it, if they are here on business.” “They are mighty still, whatever they are doing. I don’t like the appearance of things. Can’t we leave 2 back way?” “Yes, if we take our chances about get ting through some house and out upon the |" opposite street,” “Then let’s do it, by all means. must keep out of danger.” They thought again. ‘*Still, 1 hate this running away,” com- plained Henry King. ‘‘Curse them! if we could only get into their room and finish them off, it would—” ‘‘Be the worst thing we could possibly do,” interrupted the other, ‘‘ There must be a mystery about the manner of their taking off, and no possible chance for a clue,” ‘*Couldn’t it be done that way here?” ‘What about the woman? Suspicion would attach to her immediately, now that she has gone, and the whole thing would be brought out. It is not to be thought of, Henry.” ‘*“You are right. Besides, it would be impossible anyhow, I had as lief go into the den of a couple of Bengal tigers.” “*Me, too.” Their other plan was fixed upon. Leaving the room as silently as the wo- man had done, they went below and made their way to a back door. This they opened, and were just passin out when the landlady of the house espie them, and as no boarders had any occasion for using that door, she mistook them for thieves. ‘*Help! Police! Thieves!” So she cried out, at top of her voice, and immediately evéry person in the house made haste to learn what was the matter, > We Te bis Lai S) meeey Nm OS, We : ‘She has ane out,” answered Nutter, feeling himself breaking out in perspira- tion, ‘‘See what a scene you have created, madam.” ‘‘And why not?” the woman cried. “‘Think you that ]’m goin’ to allow men to come and go in and out the rear doors of my house, and not know what they mean by it? I guess not!” ) “* Have ’em locked up!” cried the old lady from Vairmount. ‘‘No tellin’ what they have been up tew. Where is Mr. Green an’ his son?” \ ‘“‘They must be out,” said the land- lady. ‘I assure bbe madam, that it is all right,” urged Henry King, earnestly. ‘*How do I know that it is all right, though? It may be all wrong, for what. I can tell.” ‘We will remain here till Miss Spader comes, if that will satisfy you. Or, if you are determined to do it, call in the police and hand us over. Hither that, or let us go.” Inwardly, the two fellows were fiercely cursing. **] would call down Mr. Green, or his io if they are in their room,” advised the old lady from Vairmount, “That is what I will do,” decided the landlady: ‘‘Mary, you go up and ask one or both of them to come right down here, Your actions are too queer, men, to sult my taste.” ‘“You may as well call in a policeman,” urged Henry King. ‘‘There is no need of any trouble, 1 assure you.” “You wait a minute first.” The rascals were in a dilemma, truly. They did not dare to make a break for liberty, for that would bring a hue and cry at their heels and their arrest would be cer- tain. Nor did they care about facing Cool John and his burly pard. They hoped, by put- ting on a bold front, to allowed to go away quietly. And to Henry King; who was known, it was particularly galling. Meantime, the servant was heard to knock, but there was no response, and at length she came down, ‘‘They are both out,” she reported. ‘‘ And so is Miss Spader.” ' ‘“We told you she was out,” urged Nut- ter. It was news to them to learn that the sport and his friend had taken their leave, Loo, ; After some further parley, in which the fellows began loudly to demand that a policeman be called, they were allowed to go, and they lost no time in going. And as they walked away from the house they applied complimentary names to each other for the foolish thing they had under- taken, and tried to ponder out what had _ be- come of the Western comrades. At length it dawned upon them that they had been given the slip, and that they had once more lost the trail. And realizing that, they cursed roundly. CHAPTER XXXY. RIGHT TO THE POINT. MEANWHILE, the cab had. followed the woman, Once or twice she had looked back, to see if any one was following her, but seeing no one, she seemed reassured. She slackened her pace somewhat, in or- der not to attract notice, apparently, and so continued on to her destination, a respect- * able-looking house on a respectable street. There she rung the bell. W Hep
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oo Pe entered, and the cab drew up on the oppo- site side of the street and stopped. Cool John and his pard made note of the number and street, and waited patiently to se@if the woman would come out again, but at the end of half an hour she was still within, ** Well, she has come to stay,” remarked the Man of Sand. ‘‘T opine you are right, pard,” was the re- sponse, Cool John gave a signal, and the cab moved away, and when it had gone around the corner, stopped. The driver got down and opened the door, : ‘Well, was that done all right, boss?” he asked. But even as he asked it he gave a start of surprise. He stared at his two fares as if they had risen from the dead. Indeed, had they been old acquaintances, long since departed, he could not have shown greater astonishment. These were certainly not the two men who had gotten into his vehicle. Cool John had to laugh. ‘*Yes, you did excellently,” he compli- mented the man. ‘‘I see you are amazed at the change in our appearance, but it is all right.” “Yes, now I know your voice, sir. What next on the bill?” : “You do not know who lives in that house, of course.” ‘* You are right when you say that,” **Could you find out?’ “I can try, sir.” “Tf you can ascertain, without exciting suspicion, I will— But, on second thought, I will attend to it myself.” ‘‘Then you are done with me?” ‘Yes; and here is the promised reward. Now, I want your name and address, so I will know where to find you if I should want any further services of this kind per- formed,” F The man gave the information, willing- Cool John and his Spee then alighted from his conveyance and he drove off. ‘* What now?” demanded the Big Bay. ‘“To find out about that house.” ‘Good enough, pardner; what kin I do?” ‘You walk down that side of the street to the next corner, and there wait, and I will soon join you.” ** Kerreck.” So they set out, one on one side of the street and the other opposite, and Cool John stopped at the house while the Big Bay went on without even looking in that direc- tion. The Man of Sand rung the bell. It was soon answered. ‘Does Mrs. Burton Predmore live here?” he asked. ‘*No, sir,” was the answer. “‘Indeed! Isn't this No, —?” “© Xea, sir.” “Well, that is very strange. May I ask who does live here? Is this a private house?” “Tt is, sir. A Mrs. King lives here.” Cool John could hardly repress a start, man of nerve though he was, **A Mrs. King?” he repeated. ** Yes, sir.” “Well, there is no likeness between the mames. Can it be possible that I have made a mistake? Perhaps Mrs. King takes lodgers—” ‘Indeed, sir, she does not!” **Merely a guess, 1 was directed to this number, as plainly as could be. It is pos- sible that Mrs. Predmore did live here—-”’ “Not for a dozen years, sir. Mrs. King and her son live here, and that is all, sir,” ‘‘Tsn’t this East —th street?” **Indeed, no! This is West.” “‘Oh! a thousand pardons; I have made a blunder.” ; And with that clever excuse the detective descended the steps and went off, and the girl closed the door When he rejoined the Big Bay at the cor- ner, he grabbed his hand aa *‘ What luck?” the Big Bay demanded. cae richest!” was the exclaimed answer. “se or The door was soon opened to her, and she ee ee finest kind of a vein.” ** Yer don’t say!” “*Yes I do, though, and we have got the bulge on this case, now, if nothing happens to down us.” ‘* An’ we must look out fer that.” “* We'll try to.’ ** But, what have ye found?” ‘Tl tell you as we go along.” ‘* And where are ye goin’?” ‘* We'll go now and pay our respects to Mr, Abner White.” **Good enough, fer it is high time that we looked after that p’izen galoot of a Paul Bat- ford.” ** Comealong, then.” They set forward, and as they went along Cool John told what he had learned. He had previously, while they were wait- ing in the cab, given his ally all the particu- lars of the morning’s work. ‘* We have got ’em, sure enough,” the Big Bay cried. “Yes, if we play it right, now, and they do not get the drop on us somehow and knock us out.” But, there was still much work to be done. We have stated that they had been all along paying some attention to the house in- to which they had seen Paul Batford disap- ear. They had learned who lived there, and the character of the man, and were satisfied that Batford was still there, though why he was there was a mystery to them. It was their intention to solve it. In due time they reached their destina- tion. They were still in their disguise, and the Man of Sand rung the bell, which was soon answered. ‘‘Mr. Abner White at home?” he asked. ‘* He is, sir.” “‘{ desire to see him.’ “Your name?” ‘* We are strange’s to him, but our names is Green; Mr. John Green and son.” ‘* Step into this room, please.” They obeyed, and the servant went to an- nounce their presence, In a few minutes Abner White came in, his countenance bright, and invited them to be seated. “* We have called upon a little matter of business, sir,” Cool John opened the. mat- ter, ‘Very well, sir, please to state it.” ‘*You have a gentleman stopping here with you, I believe.” *‘T have a guest in my house,” ‘His name is Paul Batford.” ee | | Res ‘“* He is recently from Denver, I believe.” ‘*Before we go any further, gentlemen, let me ask you the nature of your business with Mr. Batford.” ‘* Well, that is right to the point, and not to be avoided, sir,” said the Man of Sand. ‘* We are here to arrest him for the murder of Philip King. Weare from Denver.” ‘*Have you proof that this man is guilty?” ‘* We have not, sir, but we hope through him to reach the guilty person. We know that he knows something about the matter, and we have tracked bim to this house, Your question was to the point, and so has my answer been. Now, Mr. White, what will you do in the matter?” CHAPTER XXXYI, CLOSING THE CIRCLE. IMAGINE the dilemma in which Abner White was placed. We have had a faint glimpse of the character of the man; he was a good man in | every sense of the word. Here, beneath his roof, was harbored a et it. As to an interview, that. must be for ) with a man like Abner White. the same in return: ; | ‘Yes; jabbed the pick right into the | his face excited, and his breathing hard bus He was in the rear room adjoining For some moments Abner White was silent, while he gathered himself together for the emergency. ‘‘Are you aware who Paul Batford is, | gentlemen?” he asked. | ‘*We know that he is a rascal, whose re- putation in thecity of Denver is not savory,” answered Cool John. **Do you know who I am?” ‘Your name is Abner White, and we have learned that you are a man of truth, honor and good works, It was a surprise to find a man of such character in your house, sir.” ‘‘Taim to be such a man as you mention, | sir,” said Mr. White. ‘‘ This man Batford is my nephew; that will explain why he is here. Ihave it upon his word of honor that he neither committed that Denver murder himself, nor knows who did the deed. He is innocent.” ** You believe that.” “‘I do.” ‘Well, we hope he is, for your sake, sir, and we have no proof to the contrary; but, he must tell what he knows.” ‘*How do you know that he knows any- thing?” ‘* How did we learn that he is here? That comes within our line of business, Mr White.” ‘*Yes, I suppose so. You believe that I am dealing fairly with you, and that I would not knowingly tell you an untruth, not even to shield this man?’ “‘We believe that, Mr. White.” “Thank you. Now, will you deal as openly with me?” “We will, sir.” ‘*Itis enough. Isuppose you have your search warrant, and also a warrant of arrest | suppressed. for me to deny that he is here, even were I inclined to do go ” ‘*Cursed fool!” grated the listening ras- cal, ‘“We have no warrant to search your house, sir,” the Man of Sand answered, *‘ but as to the arrest, we intend to make arrests wherever necessary in the pushing of this case. Perhaps an interview with this man would be satisfactory, so that his arrest would not follow.” **'You could not take him from my house without a warrant, anyhow; I would forbid him to decide, inasmuch as you have no real authority to demand it at present. This action I take, believing him to be entirely innocent of any part in the crime, gentle- men.” Cool John felt that he was getting worst- ed. It was a new experience for him, to deal He was dis- armed, as if were. He had every reason to believe the man was dealing openly with him, as he declared, and he had given his word of honor to do ie had much rather deal with a rascal. ‘“You have the advantage of position, sir,” he readily admitted. A smile came over the face of the listening man, and he mentally scored a point for his acknowledged uncle. But, he also decided that he was too hon- est by far to prove much of a defense for him, for it would probably be but little trou- ble for these detectives to get such warrants | as were needed. He took another careful look through the | narrow crack between the folding doors, and | quietly tiptoed out of the room. | “A few seconds later he went out by a rear door. | Meantime, the talk went on. | © What, then, will you do?” asked the wolf in skeep’s clothing, whose pretense of | philanthropist. repentance had won the favor and sym- pathy of his would-be benefactor, who de- sired to shield him. And not only for himself, but, what was more important, for the sake of his own sis- ter who had come to him in her hour of dire distress. By giving up Batford, he invited the arrest of Myra King. Perhaps these officers did not know ‘of her presence in the house. Listening at the door was Paul Batford, ) ‘*We could not do much of anything, | witout using force, and we are not here for | that purpose,” | ‘Tt will not be necessary for you to use | force, gentlemen. Procure warrants, and _ every nook and corner in my house will be opened to you, freely.” ‘* And Paul Batford will be missing.’ “It will be as he elects.” - ** You are frank.” “Tam truthful,” for my nephew, so that it would be useless. EOS nn eee yey = * Haseir i =; Ad
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26 —_ ——_—_—— - ——-—— ** Well, for an interview; will you ask the gentleman if he will see us for a talk?” ‘**T will, on one condition.” ‘* Name it,” ‘*That you will use no force to take him from my house without a warrant,” ‘* We promise that, sir. We will talk in ¥ your presence, freely, and at the end of the : interview will goaway quietly.” " Then it was that Paul Batford was leaving the house, Mr. White asked to be excused fora mo- ment, and stepping from the room, summon- ed a servant, He had left the door of the room open, so that the callers might hear every word that might be said, for he had nothing to conceal from them, in this. The servant was promptly on hand. “You will step to Mr, Batford’s room,” the master directed, ‘‘see if he is there, and ask him if he will come down to meet two gentlemen from Denver. Tell bim he need not come down if he does not wish to. Tell him my advice is to see them.” ‘Yes, sir.” The servant ran up the stairs, and Mr. White stepped. back again into the room where his callers waited. “You h ard?” he asked.” “Yes,” the response. ‘* And vou are satisfied?” ‘* Perfectly. ’ A few minutes passed, and the servant came down. ‘* Mr. Batford is not in his room,” she an- nounced. ‘‘See if he is in the house,” said the mas- ter. This time several minutes elapsed, and when the servant finally came back the re- : port was the same. .? “Ts his hat in : asked. ‘*No, sir.” ** You see, he is out,’ Mr. White then said, turning to the detectives. ‘‘I was not aware of it, for 1 supposed he was in his room, Perhaps you will find him hereif you call again; perhaps not.” “It will hardly be necessary to call again, Mr, White.” ‘* You think not?” **T feel-sure of it. You will inform the man that we called, and he will depart in haste,” ‘* He will be free to do so, ifhe so elect. I intend to deal as openly with him as I have dealt with you. Ishall tell him everything immediately he comes in, gentlemen,” ‘* You have no idea where he is?” **T have not.” ; ‘* You thought he was in the house when we came in?” ** Yes, I thought he was here; I had not seen him go out. Will you wait awhile for his return?” ‘* He will not return, Mr. White.” “Not return!” ‘‘It is my opinion that he will not, sir. I believe he has taken the alarm, and has quiet- ly given us the slip,” ‘I can hardly believe it, sir.” ‘* An honest man yourself, sir, confiding in the profession of the same characteristic in others. You say that you are the uncle of this Paul Batford, I be- lieve.” : “"¥es.” ‘*Then perhaps you can give us all the information we need, since it wil] be impos- sible to see the man himself. He was your sister's child, of course, the name being different from yours. Perhaps he will re- return while we talk, but I very much doubt it.” the hall?” the master ou are too CHAPTER XXXYVII. BATFORD OVERREACHES HIMSELF. Paut Batrorp, when he left the house of Abner White, by the rear way as de- scribed, made about the quickest move in his life. He had previously laid well his plans for such an escape from the house if it ever be- came necessary for him to do so, and now he ut into practice what he had outlined. _ He yaulted over the rear board fence into _~ the rear yard of the house fronting on the The Sport from Denver. other street. From there he leaped into the yard adjoining, and so on until he came to that of the third house to the right, when he ran to the rear door and entered. This house he knew to be occupied as a saloon on the ground floor, and men frequent- ly passed in and out that rear door. Once inside the door he moved leisurely. He passed into the saloon with a wool air, loitered there a few moments, patronized the bar, and went out to the street. There he took -a hasty survey up and down, and seeing nothing to give him alarm, moved away with an easy, careless swing, as iffhe had nothing to fear and had a clear conscience, ‘*That was a close shave,” he muttered. “They would have had me, if I Had at- tempted to leave by the front door. Lucky I had planned that way out before, or I would have been in a bad fix. Well, I have worked Old Sanctimonious for all it was worth, and what now?” He thought. ‘““That hold is broken, that is sure,’” he de- cided. ‘‘My only chance now is with my charming half-sister, and I'll see what can be made out of that. If I can make the old man come down handsomely, that will repay me for the trouble [ have had. Let me bend my niind to it a little.” And he did. A smile curled his lip, and he livened his ait. ee That is just the idea,” he chuckled to himself, ‘‘ and that is just the place for the lady. Lucky | thought of it. But it was there and it was bound to come when I put my mind toit. I'll goand see her immedi- ately.” He was presently at the door of a house where he was gladly received, It is not necessary to enter into any de- scription of the place, further than to say that outwardly it was a house of good ap- pearance. i He made inquiry forthe landlady, and was soon in earnest talk with her upon a matter which seemed to be of more than usual im- portance. Their conversation lasted some time. At length they seemed to come to an un- derstanding, and Batford took his depar- ture, He went to one of the avenues not very far away, and there entered the first stationery store he came to and bought some paper and envelopes. ** Will it be possible for me to write a note here?” he asked. ‘* Why, certainly,” he was answered. Pen and ink were provided, and the fellow —_ some time in preparing what he de- sired. He crumpled the first and second effort and thrust the paper into a pocket, but the third seemed to suit him better and he folded it and sealed it inan envelope. This he directed. Having paid for his purchase, and now thanking for the favor, he went out and sought @ messenger. Ere long he espied a boy who he thought would answer his purpose, and gaining his attention, soon struck a bargain with him and sent him with the missive, The boy's destination was the house where Rosa King was staying. The note was for her. As soon as he delivered it the boy ran away, as he had been directed to do, and that was the last that was seen of him. Rosa and her friend were together when the note was delivered. On opening it, an exclamation escaped Rosa's lips, and all the color left her face for an instant, The next ifistant the blood mounted to her cheeks and her eyes brightened, and her friend made inquiry as to the nature of the message. ‘* Listen,” said Rosa; and she read aloud: «Dear Rosa:— ‘«*By mere chance 1 have learned where you are,and I would come to you, but I dare not do so—you know why. But I must see you, and so J will arrange a plan. I will send a cab for you, and you will get in without any question, and the driver will bring you safely to me. You must come alone, or he will not bring you at all. Lam ‘cab come?” still free, and am at work on the case, but I have to be careful. I have ‘a clue to’ the mystery, and all will be well. I amin need of your help. With love, = Jomy.’” ‘*And who is John?” asked Miss Dean, ‘Why, John Handy, of course, as you must know.” **And he is in hiding?” ‘* Yes; you know, as I told you, that he broke jail and ran away.” ‘* And how can he have learned that you are here?” **T do not know.” ‘**And you are going to him?” ““Most assuredly.” * ‘* Suppose it is a trap for you?” ** Nonsense! Who would lay a trap for me?” ‘*T do not know, of course, but that thought came to me.” ‘*No one would ‘do that. If the officers had discovered me, they would come for me. No, it- must be all right.” ‘** Well, I hope it is.” ** You have misgivings?” “e Yes.” ‘*] see no cause for alarm, Cynthia.” ‘*Do you’ know your lover’s handwrit- ing?” ‘This is the first time I have ever seen it,” ** Ts it possible!” ‘« Yes, for there was no need of our writ- ing; we met occasionally, and that was all,” ‘*Don't you think you had better decline to go, when the cab comes? It will be just as safe for him to come to you as for you to go to him.” ‘“Oh! 1 don’t believe he ever thought of that, Cynthia.” ‘Then he is [very thoughtless, isall 1 have gotto say about him. No, I will add that he is very selfish as well.” ‘*Oynthia!l” ‘*T mean it, ard, too.” ** Cynthia Dean!” ‘‘T cannot help it; that is just the way it looks to me, and I don’t consider him very manly,” Rosa King sprung to her feet and paced | the floor, her face aflame, while her friend sat calmly waiting for her to burst forth in anger, or to calm down, and she knew not which it would be. It was the latter. : ‘‘ What makes you speak as you do, Oyn- thia?” Rosa asked. ‘*Because the tone of this letter has none of the manliness you have ascribed to your lover,” ‘‘T did not see it before, but I ‘do see it now. What can it mean?” ‘*T fear that everything is not as it should , I might say that he is a cow- ‘“But, who can have sent the note, if not Jobn?” ‘« And if he did send it he is all that I have said of him, and more. He is not worthy another thought of yours,” ‘* You are severe, Cynthia.” ‘‘Lam just. He admits that he dare not come to you, and yet he invites you to takea risk he fs too cowardly to assume, He isa coward!” ‘But, maybe there is another reason—” ‘No, he states the reason. He is afraid of arrest, and yet he would expose you to the danger of arrest.” “« But, he says he must see me,” “Then let him come and see you, that’s all.” ‘«And he needs my help, too. Cynthia, I must go to him.” ‘‘You will be foolish if you do. I will tell you what made me suspicious.” *“And what was that?” ‘‘ Saying that you must come alone.” ‘« T never thought of it that way!” ‘*It would be far better for me to go with you, for there would be less suspicion, even should any one see you.” ““Yes, yes; I believe that you are right, and I am glad that I had you to consult. I begin to have a suspicton myself, now, that all is not right, for this note is not like John,” ‘*Perhaps he never wrote it,” ‘* But, if not he, then who did write it?” “You ask too much, But, when will the-
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‘He does not say, but I suppose it will be soon. Oh, Cynthia, what am I todo? Per- haps we are wrong.” ‘¢ And perhaps wearerigbt. I am not go- ing to allow you to run into danger if I can help it. Let us put our heads together, and see if we can’t make up a scheme to learn the truth of the matter ” +s CHAPTER XXXVIII. SOME LIGHT DISCOVERED. ABNER Wuite realized that the Denver detective had him in a close corner, in asking him for information concerning Paul Bat- ford. The good man had already revealed that Paul was his nephew, and hence Cool John knew that the fellow was a son of Abner White’s sister. But he did not know that that sister was Myra King. It was some moments before Mr. spoke. ‘** | foresee,” he said, ‘‘ that if we talk at all we must talk plainly.” ** That will suit me better than anything else, sir,” assured the Western sport detec- tive. ** And let us have perfect frankness.”’ ‘** By all means.” ‘* You have revealed to me that you are detectives from Denver, and that yon are in search of the murderer of Philip King.” ‘Exactly.’ ‘* You have said that you have no proof that Paul Batford is guilty of the crime.” ‘* We have not,” ** And I fully believe him innocent. How you tracked him to my house I know not. That is a secret of your calling, You said that you hope through him to reach the guilty party.” ** Yes.” ‘‘Have you a suspicion who the guilty one is?” ‘*There is a suspicion aguinst the banker’s wife and against his daughter, to say noth- ing about the man who escaped from jail.” ** What is your own honest opinion?” ‘‘T know, sir, that neither of these did the deed.” Abner White gave a start, and a bright- ened look came upon his face. Cool John saw it. “You say you know that none of these did the deed?” the man repeated, eagerly. “In my own mind 1 am convinced of it, sir.” “Then why are you so eager to see Paul Batford?” ‘*Because I want to get proof of their in- nocence, in order to get more proof against the guilty wretch,” ‘* You speak the truth?” ‘*T do, sir, as I promised I would.” ** And you want to learn what Paul Bat- ford knows,” ‘That is it.” ‘In order to know why Myra King went to him as she did after the crime.” ** Exactly.” ‘Do you krow where Myra King is?” ‘““Wedo no'.” ‘** You are Loth detectives?” = | ea.” P ** You are both agreed upon the belief you F have expressed?” > ** Perfectly, sir.” ‘‘Further, you believe that I know Paul Batford’s secret.” ‘*Yes. We do not think you would be- friend him without being satisfied of his in- nocence.”’ “Even shough my nephew?” “That would make no difference, with a man of your honesty, sir.” *‘Lam glad that you can think it of me. Well, Ido know all about Batford, and his connection with the matter.” ‘* And you will tell us?” **On one condition.” ‘*Name it,” ‘That you will do all in your power to clear him from suspicion.” He White | nom Abner White had to deal with care. kept Batford to the front, but his real con- cern was for his sister. j ‘‘T promise that,” said Cool John, prompt- . “T work for the innocent as well as against the guilty. To confess the whole The Sport from Denver. truth, my strongest efforts are to establish the innocence of Rosa King and her mother, and of the man who escaped.” ‘*T admire you for your frankness.” ‘*One could scarcely deal otherwise with aman like yourself.” “Well, I will tell you something about | Paul. Batford, though I do not promise to tell | everything. 1 will consider.about that while | I talk.” ** Very.-well.” ‘*Paul Batford was my sister’s child, as you have guessed. His father’s name was | Paul Batford. He is now dead. “What I] now. say I say privately; I would not have is inade. public, if that can be | avoided. J.approach delicate ground, upon a matter which is properly the-secret of two persons.”’ ** We follow you.” “You promise not to make it public if | you can avoid it?” ‘¢ We promise that.” ‘‘Ttis enough, Paul Batford was a child of shame. My sister ran away from her | home— No, no; God help metotellitaright. | She was driven from home, and I myself | was the most bitter of all against her. ‘* She wandered away, her child was born. and for long years nothing was heard of her. We all believed her dead. Not long ago she came to me, poor, brokenand wretch- ed and I took her into my house and tried to make reparation for my cruel work in the past. ‘* Her son had been making himself a bur- den upon her, and he followed her here. I took him in also, upon his expression of a desire to mend his ways and lead a better life. My sister is still here, but of course you would not desire to see her. Ihave told you, now, the truth concerning Paul Batford.” ‘But not the whole truth, Mr. White.” ‘** What more?” “ Why did Mrs. King visit him?” ‘** She, too, is my sister, gentlemen. She was paying money to Paul Batford, in order to keep the shameful secret from the ears of her husband. Can I tell you more?” ‘It is not necessary. You could only add that Mrs. Roger King is the sister of whom you have told me. and that this Paul Batford is herownson, Mr. White, you haveas good as established the innocence of that woman by telling me these things. I now see my way clear.” “ God aid and direct you in the work, sir. ‘* Not a doubt butthat He will, Mr. White. But I should like to see your sister.” ** You will not arrest her?” “ T will not,” ‘*Then I will ask her to come down,” He rose and stepped from the room, pres- ently returning with Myra King, The woman was pale, but she was calm, and acknowledged introductions by a slight inclination and took a seat. ‘* My brother has told me that you believe me innocent,” she said. ‘‘ [know you are innocent, madam,” said Cool John. ‘‘You are as innocent as I am myself.” ‘He tells me that you know who did the deed.” ‘*T believe I do.” ** Who?” “That I cannot tell you, now. Do you know where your daughter is, madam?” ‘Il do not; would to God that I did. I fear that she has taken an unwise course and has run away with her lover.” ‘*T know that such is not the case.” ‘*How do you know it?” ‘**T will tell. you. It were better that you should know just who I am. I am John Handy, the escaped prisoner from Denver.” ‘*Mercy!" ** You said you were a detective,” remind- ed White. ‘“‘And so I am, sir; this is not the first case I have handled, by any means. I am here working in my own behalf,” **And you do not know where Rosa is?” cried Mrs. King. “‘I do not, madam; you have suspected me wrongly, in thinking that I would elope with her, with a stain upon me.” ‘*Pardon me, then, But, you will en- deavor to find her?” “IT shall put forth every effort possible, I assure you. You, on your part, sir and ; = {a % be \ 27 madam, must keep my secret, as I have been required to give pledge to keep yours.” ‘““You need have no. fear sir,’ spoke up Abner White. ‘* And, asit was my intention | to employ a detective myself, 1 now turn everything over into your hands, and may God speed you in the task before you. There is much work to be accomplished.” CHAPTER XXXIX. DOUBLY SURPRISED. WHEN Cool John and the Big Bay left | the home of Abner White; they were in high spirits. It will be remembered that they were in disguise, and so were not likely to be dis- covered by their enemies under ordinary cir- cumstances. ‘‘ Well, what do you think of matters now, Big Bay?” the sport asked. ‘* What do I think?” ‘That was what Lasked you.” ‘‘T think you are ther tallest hoss in this hyer town!” ‘** As you are the biggest, eh? Well, what do you think of the case, then, is what I'm after.” “IT think we have got the bulge on it, hard.” ‘Yes, there is daylight ahead, now.” ** And what next?” ‘* We must see Roger King.” ** Will that be safe, d’ye think?” ‘Yes, perfectly, disguised as we are, I think.” ‘‘ All right, then, if you are willin’ to take the risk I am.” “Then you think there is a risk?” ‘*Sartain I do, pard.” **In what way?” ‘‘Why, from them fellers we dumped so nice.” “‘T see you are forgetting to use good language. Brush up your English a lit- tle.’ ‘*Pretty hard matter, pard, when it has become chronic, as it has in my case. That is one thing that would give us away, mighty sure.” ‘*The very reason that I want you to take care, But, tell ne, how do you imagine those fellows could ‘discover us again, after the neat way in which we have given them the slip?” ‘Phere is only one way, and they must take that way or none.” ‘* And what is it?” ‘‘They know where Roger King is, and they will shadow him, hopin’ to get onto you again by so doin’.” ‘‘That is just the point, Big Bay. That is the snag inthe way, now, and I am glad that you see it the sameas Ido. Now, what mo 7e can we make that will checkmate their game?” ‘*Don’t go to see ther banker.” ‘*But I have got to see him.” ‘‘An’ ef you go ter see him you will be seen, and if he comes ter see you he will be follered.” ‘‘And if you don’t drop that Western twang you will be getting into trouble be- fore you know it. Now, f have a scheme in my mind, old horse, and I’ll see what you think of it.” They were walking along as they talked. ** What is it?” the Big Bay asked. “If we separate, and I go to the hotel sees, we will be less likely to be spot- te be ** An’ then what will become of me!” The big fellow’sexclamation was in sucha — droll way that Cool John had to laugh. ‘* T guess nobody will run away with you,” he responded. ‘I was goingtosay that you could have an eye on the hotel, and shadow anybody who attempts to shadow me whenI leave there.” ‘* You have struck et, pard.” ‘* We will agree upon a signal by which you can let me know if I am followed, and together we may capture the fellow.” , “That is what we will do, straight away.” They continued on, talking and laying ‘their plans, and finally they parted company. Cool John made his way to the hotel where Roger King was stopping, keeping a sharp lookout as he entered, to discover an enemy, if one was there. : ESr,
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28 The Sport from ~~... a Denver. —--——-- He saw no suspicious character around. His plan was no‘ toask for Mr, King at the office, but to engage a room himself, and that he did. When he had gone to the room, however, he sent a call-boy to see if Mr. King was in his room, and if so, to bid him come at once and see him, sending a card with the token they had agreed upon. The reader will recall their former inter- view. In a few minutes the banker entered the room, but he stopped short with a start, Cool John smiled. “Tt is I, Mr. King,” he said. merely a change of attire.” ‘*T’jl be hanged if I would have known you if I had fallen over you in the strect.” ‘*T think [am pretty well disguised.” ‘Yes, youare. And, you are the man of all men that I wanted to see!” **$02?” ‘* Yes; I have got a clue, now.” ‘“*And so-have I, Mr, King. have solved the mystery.” ‘* The deuce you have!” “TI certainly believe’ that I have, sir. Will you kindly tell me the maiden name of your wife?” ‘*T told you that, I think; it was Haz- more.” ““No, no; your second wife.” **Her name was White.” “Excellent!” ** What do you mean?” **T mean that all will yet be well.’ “* You have found her?” . “‘ 7 have.” “At the home of Abner White, her brother?” a‘ Yes. of the information? surprised me.” ‘“‘Thave just received a letter from my wife, sent to me at Denver and forwarded from there.” ** Ah! then you know—” **T know all about it, sir.” ; ‘And what are you going to do?” “Tam going to forgive the wrong.” ‘*Noble man! She has been more than punished, for her secret has been like a gall- ing canker to her héart.” ** And for twenty years she has been a de- voted wife and mother to me and my two ebildren, Philip and Rosa. I would be both a knave and fool not to forgive her. I have already done so.” ‘“‘Then you have communicated with her?” : ‘*No; I mean in my heart.” *‘T am glad to know it, sir. Aud now—” a is one thing I must ask of you, sir.” ‘* And what is that?” ‘That this thing may be kept secret, if that be possible.” ‘*It shal) not be made known, if ‘possible to akg The only one we have to fear, really, is Paul Batford.” nd there must be a way found to scare him out of opening his lips.” ‘* Some way will be found of dealing with him, there is no doubt of that, sir. But, the others. We must move carefully.” ‘* What is the situation?” Cool John thereupon went over the ground, giving all the particulars necessary or Mr. King to know, and concluded: ‘*So, the thing is narrowing down, Mr. King. We have now to find your daughter, fix the crime upon the suspected person—if it belong there, and bring the whole affair to a close.” ** You overlook one point, sir.” ‘¢ What is that?” the detective asked. 5 The young man who escaped from ail.” ‘What about him?” ‘*He must be found, cleared from suspi- ‘cion, and then | will take his case into con- sideration.” - * Favyorably?” “Yes, if I find him worthy.” ‘Then, sir, look no further for John Handy, for I am he, I will endeavor to prove inyself worthy of your daughter's land “when the right time comes. _ your secret, keep you this one of mine, for “This is In fact, I But, how did you, too, get hold You have somewhat the time being.” The remainder of their talk needs not to EEE a LLL } CHAPTER XL. JUST A LITTLE TOO LATE. Ir has been shown that Henry King and Dick Nutter, when they realized that Cool John and the Big Bay had given them the slip, gave vent to their feelings in mad curses. It galled them to think that the two men out of the West had slipped through their fingers again. They had expected to overcome them easily, in New York. ‘‘Well, what is to be done?” demarded Nutter, savagely. ‘*Something has to be done, and that im- mediately,” grated King. ‘*Tf we don’t down them, they are going todo it for us. No telling what they have got hold of.” ‘* We'll down them, curse them, if we have to shoot them on the street and take all the chances of swinging for it ” ‘*Count me out of that, if you please.” ‘* We must go and sec Ann, at once,” said King. ** What can she do?” ‘“*T don’t know, but she has asked the privilege of taking a hand in the game. She may have an idea.” ‘*She has got brain, that is a fact.” ** Yes, and nerve, too.” ‘*As she has proved. Come along, and we’ll see her.” ‘*We had better see the boys first, though, so as to have them on hand at a moment's notice, if needed.” ““ Well, maybe you are right, for it is war to the teeth, now.” They took a car, and ere long were ip a gs Sete quarter of the great metropo- is. Here they entered a den where they found Gib Wilson, Webb Harker, and others of their sort congregated, patiently waiting for orders. ** Well, what is it?” demanded Gib. ‘** Another miscarry,” growled King, ‘‘ We want you,” ‘“Well, we are ready and waitin’, What is in the wind now? What's fer us ter do?” ‘*Itis not certain what there will be to do, but we want you and Webb to come with us so that you can be on hand for whatever may turn up. We mean business this time, hard.” **Tt seems to be a hard job to handle.” ‘‘That is the way it begins to look, true enough.” ‘** And where are you goin’? We will look out o’ place on Fifth.” King mentioned the place to which they intended going, and outlined what was re- quired of the ruffians, eX: This accomplished, he and Nutter left the place, Wilson and Harker following them, and the first mentioned made their way to the house where Ann Spader had taken refuge. Had they been earlier they would have en- countered their prey right there, as we have seen. Henry King entered. Nutter remained without, and the ruffians were a little distance away. Villain King entered aroom where his mo- ther and the woman Spader were sitting, and he found his mother somewhat excited: ‘““What has happened again?” she de- manded. “‘That is just the trouble, nothing has happened,” was the growled response. ** Didn’t you get them?” asked the woman Spader. ‘‘ They were in their room, and you could not miss them.” ‘“‘They were not in the room at all,’ an- | swered Henry. **Notin the room!” ** They had left even before you went out of the house, I suspect, and where they are is amystery.” ‘Tam afraid thereis trouble ahead,” spoke up Irene King. ‘‘I think you had better get away from here as quickly as possible, young woman. | cannot afford torun the risk of getting mixed up in anything.” “© T will go, madam, don’t worry.” ‘* Yes, I want you tohelp us,” said Henry Since I have | ‘* You said you would do that if you could.” ** What can I do?” “ T want you to help me think what there isthatcan be done, and then lend me your help in carrying it out.” ‘* Of course I will do that, if the danger is not too great. Ihave got to look cut formy- self, you know, Still, [amin it and I will see it to the’end, if you will stand by me.” ‘* We'll stand by you, certainly. Dick Nutter is outside, and Gib and. Webb are within call.” ** 7 don’t want their help.” ‘They will come in hand slips.’” ‘* Yes, no harm done by letting them keep in sight, I suppose, if they would stand to the scratch,” ‘« They willdo that. They are likechained tigers, now, eager to get their teeth into those accursed fellows from the West. And heavens help them when they do get at them!” “If they do,” muttered Mrs. King. ** They will, mother,” “Ifthe men from the West do not get at them first.” ‘*That will be impossible. They are ony two against the gang, you see, and we can do them up.” * They were only two upon another occa- sion of which I have recollection, but they seemed equal to a score and two, according to the account you gave me of what took place.” ‘*Enough of that. Ann?” ‘‘Where can you get on track of them again?” ‘* That is the mischief of it. That is what I want you to held me thivk out.” ‘Well, then, think instead of talking. You got ontrack of them before at the hos- pital, didn’t you?” ‘“Yes; but they won’t let us do it again.”’ ‘Not likely. Then, that detective went to see Roger King, at the hotel.” ‘* Exactly; but he will not be likely to go there again, either. If you can see a way you are smarter than I am.” **T think I can.” ; ** What is it?” ‘Twill shadow Roger King.” ‘What good will that do?” “If the detective does not come to him, he will go to the detective.” **Ha! why didn't I think of that? That is just the idea, Ann, and it must be carried out just as soon as possible.” ‘*And you must let me work it my own way.” ** Certainly.” ‘*Youand Dick, and the rest, cankeep me in sight, but you must not interfere with anything unless I signal you to do so, or un- less you see things going decidedly against me.” ‘‘Justas yousay. You are the best man of the lot, I believe.” ‘* It would have been better if you had al- lowed her to entrap the fellows in the first instance,” reminded Mrs, King. ‘“‘T believe it, now. But, who would have thought that they could get away with us like they did?” ‘* Well, I will take up my work at once,” said the woman, ‘* Yes, the sooner the better.” “And, you must not come here again,” said Mrs, King. ‘‘ There must be no sus- picion against this house. You will not be admitted if you do come.” “She Will be admitted if she comes with me,” spoke up Henry. ‘ You are not the only one who has an interest in this thing, mother. But, we will not trouble you with our presence unless it is safe to do so.” Ann Spader had risen and was making ready for the street. ‘You must not forget that everything de- pends on me,” the mother of the villain re- minded. ‘And that you depended on us,” retorted the son, ‘‘ We opened the way, and if any- thing happens we have got to sink or swim together; no use thinking about it in any other way.” ‘*All the more reason why you should make no further botch of the business ” ‘* There shall be no botch work this time.” A few words further, and they left the house. Dick Nutter signaled that everything was right; that no one was on hand watching. For a little distance Henry King and the woman walked together, earnestly in conver- y, if anything What can we do, cae V2 a a FS" Mt re oars eer ee ee On inn yes e
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= N ht aah ee ee eee Te | “Well, Lam your man, then, fer money. rt from Denver. 29 sation, and then they parted company and the woman went on alone. She went straight to the hotel where Roger King was stopping The others went near enough to be of ser- vice, and then began their vigil. But, they were too late, for the interview between the banker and the detective having been concluded, both had taken leave of the hotel. The Big Bay, however, was on hand, as the banker had barely gone when the vil- lainous crew arrived, and had they been but a few moments later, the Big Bay, too, would have been gone. CHAPTER XLI. NOT DOWN ON THE BILLS. Paut Barrorp having carried his scheme along so far, all that remained for him to do w.s to engage a vehicle and entrap his prey. He had counted all upon Rosa King’s love for Cool John, and upon herconfiding nature, for of course he had an opportunity to learn something about the young lady, through the mother. His messenger came back to him and re- ported that he had delivered the note at the proper address, and Batford rubbed his hands _with satisfaction. ‘«Tt works well,” hechuckled. ‘‘ Now for a cab, if I can find a fellow who is not too squeamish.” But, would it be necessary for him to let his cabman into the whole? thought not, Still, he would have to tell him enough so that he could be depended upon to do his part and do it well, « He was on the point of making inquiry “concerning some cab-stand, when he saw an empty vehicle coming toward him along the street, and when it came up he hailed it. + The driver pulled in and stopped. ** Engaged?” asked Batford. “é No.” ‘*Can you undertake a job for me?” ‘Well, sir, that depends.” ‘Yes, I suppose it does.” ‘What is the job?” ‘*T suppose you mean it depends on the size of the pay, eh?” ‘«-Yes, I mean that, too, of course. Iam out fer big fares to-day, no mistake about that part.” ‘““Well, what else, then?’ ’ **Ts the job straight?” **Perfectly.” ‘Because if it ain’t, I don’t want anything to do with it.” “Ob, it is all right, and even if it wasn’t there would be no danger of your slipping ‘up.” SERIE ees i Not a bit.” . “ Well, what is it?” ‘«T want you to go to a certain place, get a young lady, and take her to a certain other place.” ‘* That is simple enough.” ‘Certainly, and perfectly honest.” “She will go willingly?” “ Of course.” *s How much do you want?” ** What will ye give?” ** Five dollars.” ** All right, so let it be.” **V’ll give you two dollars down, and the balance when the work is done.” ‘All right, let’s see your money.” “* Here it is,” **Good enough, Get in.” ‘*But [ am not going with you; you go alone.” ‘* Oh!” “And 1 want you to carry it out well. The girl may ask you some questions.” What if she does?” ‘*You must know how to answer them,” «*T-see.” ‘‘Perbaps she will simply get in and say nothing.” ** What if she does that?” “You will take her straight to No, — — street.” “Tt pee.” ‘‘And if she asks you any questions, then you must use a level head, Do you understand?” * 1 cuess 80,” \ **She may ask who sent you.’ wenn * ee fe? ‘« And in that case you will tell her it was a young man, good-looking, with black eyes and black mustacbe.”’ ‘« That will be easy.” ‘* And that is all you are to know. ** All right.” ‘¢ No matter how much she asks, that is all you can tell her.” ** Just so.” 2 ‘‘And appear rather in haste and inde- pendent. Tell her to come or stay, just as she pleases—” ‘That you say so?” ‘*No, no; you say that on your own ac- count. Don’t you understand?” ‘‘Yes, now that you have told me, I do.” ‘« And, she must come alone.” ** Oh-hol” ‘* What’s the matter?” ‘*Tt looks like a little trap, don’t it?” ‘No trap about it. You just do what you are told to do, and that is all that you will have to do.” ‘‘And if she don’t come, then leave her?” ‘Yes, But, she will come fast enough, I think.” ** And if she don’t come, no more pay?” ‘‘Of course not; I pay you to do the whole job.” “ And how will you know whet: er I have gone there or not, if she don’t come?” ‘‘T want you to come to the address and tell me. You won't forget the street and number, will you?” That will cost you a half a dollar more.” ‘* Well, so be it. Now, do we understand each other, my man?” “TI think so. If I bring the am to have three dollars more. a dollar.” ‘‘That is straight. Beoff with you, now, and serve me the best you can. I may make it even better than I promise, if you are quick and prompt aboutit. [ll be at the place when you come,” “ All right.” The cabby drove off, and Batford contin- ued on his way. In due time the cabman was atthe house, and heran up the steps and rung the bell. The door was soon opened. ‘* Is the young lady ready?” he asked. ‘*She will be ready in a minute, sir,” was the prompt response, The cabby chuckled to himself, to think how little trouble he was going to have. He returned to his cab and waited. The door soon opened again, and a woman came out, clad in black and wearing a vail. She stopped to question the driver, ‘* You have the address?” she asked. ** Yes, miss.” “* Where is it?” ‘* No, — —— street.” ‘© And who was it sent you for me?” “A good-lookin’ fellow, black eyes and mustache.” « And he is waiting for me now?” ‘* Yes;.ma’m.” . And did he say that I must come alone?” ‘¢ That was the condition, I believe.’ “ And you will not allow me to take a friend with me?” ‘‘Cannot possibly do it. Come, make haste, for time is money with me, young lady.” ““ Why did he not come to me?” ‘*'You will have to ask him that. are you going or not?” ‘Tam going, of course, You need not be impertinent about it. I wanted to be sure.” ‘’Scuse me,” The young woman got into the cab, the driver closed the door and sprung to his place, and the vehicle rattled away. : The next moment acard fluttered from the cab to the pavement, and a young man run- ning down the steps from the house picked it up and glanced at it. Having done so, he followed the cab. CHAPTER XUil, PREPARING A SURPRISE, Coon Jon had a clue, It was one that must be followed, too, while it was possible. That clue was, the watermarked paper upon which the note had been written to Roger King, from New York, Now that he had heard Roger King’s story, suspicion turned against his wife, that irl, then I f not, half Come, ‘ is to say, the first wife, and he decided to pay her a visit, taking the risk upon him- self. He would do this before returning to Ab- ner White’s. There was no haste for his return there, since Banke: King was going there to an- swer in person the letter he had received from his wife, Myra. But, there was one thing he had to con- sider. Should he carry with him a warrant for the arrest of the woman and her son, as well as for Ann Spader? He decided not. In the first place, he had no direct proof against them, that he could get a warrant upon without revealing too much of his own plans. But the woman Spader he meant to have at any hazard, and he must have a warrant for her anda search warrant for the house. This last was fully as important as the warrant of arrest. Hunting up a justice, he made known his errand, He gave his name, saying he was a detec- tive, showing such proofsas he could, and in due time was armed with the papers. With thesehe set forward immediately for the residence of lrene King He had now laid off his disguise. It was quite a distance to his destination, and he stopped at a corner to await the coming of a car, While he stood there, whom should he see coming along, but his friend, the cabby, the fellow-who had aided him, not a great while before, as has been set forth, and he signaled. The man motioned that he had a fare in- side. But, that did not matter, for he slackened his pace and drew into the curb to speak, So generous a customer was not to be slighted; perhaps he had other work for him todo. This was a fat day for this particular cabby. Hehad seen Cool John both with disguise and without, as we know, and knew him the moment he set eyes upon him. He drew rein and stopped : As he did so aface appeared at the window} of the cab, and Cool John gave a start, It was theface of Rosa Kihg! To the amazement of the driver, Cool John sprung forward and opened the door of the cab, ** Rosa!” he cried. ‘* Heavens! You, John?” “Yes, itis I. I have been distressed to know where you could be.” ** And I have been anxious to learr of your whereabouts. But, it was soodd, your send- ing for me, and I hardly knew—” ‘** My sending for you?” ‘‘Did you not write for me to come to rou?” ei No; I did not know where you were; I meet you here by merest chance.” ‘‘ Here, read this note, then, and say what you think of it,” and she thrust upon him the note she had received. ‘‘T never wrote it,” he declared again. ‘“You ought to have known I did not write it, Rosa,” “Why?” ‘*Does it sound like me?” ‘* No, we discovered that it did not, when we studied it well.” “ Whom do you mean?” ‘**My friend, where I am staying.” ‘«Then why are you here?” ‘‘T am protected,” “el ‘« The brother of my friend, Frank Dean, is following this cab—yes, yonder heis, now.” ‘And you were bold enough to venture?” “As yousee. I thought possibly it might be you, though I did not believe it, and if not, we meant to learn what thescheme was, hoping that by it we might get a clue to the whole mystery.” “Well, well, my little detective sweet- heart, you are a bold one, true enough, I will take a band in this myself.” He looked up at the driver. “Seems you know my passenger,” that fellow said, sheepishly. ‘“Yes, l know ber, my man, and what— kind of business is this [ find you in? have beén sadly cisenpentel in you, sir,” The fellow looked sheepish enor gh. t i ~] «=
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30 -- — The Sport from Denver. ‘*T didn’t know anything was wrong,” he faltered; ‘‘the feller said everything was all regular ” ‘You knew well enough it was not, when such a scheme was being carried out. You have got to redeem yourself, or I will make it my business to run you in,” The man paled, ‘*Don't do that, boss,” he implored. ‘* Well, then, will you aid me against the fellow who sent you?’ “Yes, yes, 1’ll do that, I swear I will.” ‘“‘Good enough. If you do, 1 will not only not arrest you, but I will pay you well besides.” ‘‘[’m your: man, sure enough.” ‘All right. Rosa, motion to your friend t» come up, and-introduce me.” Rosa leaned out of the caband made a signal, and the man who had been following the cab came running up. She introduced them, The time had come when Cool John could sail under his own colors. “‘T am: pleased: to know you, sir,” cried Frank Dean, ‘‘and that this lady has found a true friend at last,” ‘“‘T am sure she had true friends here,” said Cool John. ‘‘ But we must carry out the work you have so well begun. You and I must go to that. house first, and be on hand.” ‘* The: cab will beat us there.” ‘«No, the cabman will take a little longer in reaching there.” ‘‘ Anything in the world you say, gentle- men,” the cabman promised. ‘‘I am for yous, tooth and nail.” ‘‘Have youany idea who the enemy can be?” asked Rosa. ‘*Yes, I have,” said Cool John. * Who?” ‘Tt is Paul Batford.” ‘Good heavens! is it possible?” wait FD? “‘Yes, I know all, Rosa; mention no more.” “You have seen mamma?” with an eager cry ** Yes, I have seen her, and your father, : too. Both are well and allright.” : ‘* Thank God. ’ ‘* No'time to say more, now.. I will take you to them as soon as we have made the ar- rest of this fellaw.” ‘« What-is the plan?” asked the driver. *« Just what you heard me say.”’ answered Joho. ‘‘ You give ustime to get to the house first, and when you come let everything be done naturally, sothe fellow: cannct suspect.” ‘©T onderstand.” ‘And you remain there. for further ser- Vitus’ * 7 li dorit, you bet.” ** Ticen we'll be off; and you fail notin your part, or the worse for you, Succeed, and a rewrrd):” * J‘}1 succeed, or bu’st.” and sv, they parted company, Cool John feeling certain that: Rosa, was perfectly safe in the hands of the cabman, now. . Ceol John and Frank Dean went. straight to the street and number. Opithe way. the detective had adopted a disguise,)stepping into: a eigar store to do so. his was on the corner, aud there they made inquiry about the house in question, and, to their alarm, learned of its true char- acter, With determined mindsthey went forward, straight to the door, rung the bell, and in a moment were: promptly admitted without - question. Tnoey were on the ground, and now it only remained to carry out their plans, CHAPTER XLII. MAKING A DOUBLE PLAY. Frank Dean was a fellow to Cool John’s liking,. He had. a fearless face, was muscular; and the glint of his eyes bespoke courage. They-talked-with the persons in the house in a trifling way while they waited, and as hays were good talkers the time passed quick- y. Nothing had been seen of Paul Batford. Cool John was neara window, and present- ly a cab drew up before the house and we Nie dace. ot Rosa King was at the win- WwW, 2 Cool John rested his hand and. ES “ , ee . eS x ein Ey FLT ee ee upon. A din EO ERE icy the sash of the window where he stood, a signal that he was tliere. ‘*Who is this?’ he asked. **Oh, that is a girl coming here to meet a friend,’”’ was the careless answer. ‘‘ Mighty good-looking girl,” the detective declared. ‘‘I must get a closer view at her as. she comes in.” ** Me, too!” So exclainied Frank Dean, and they both stepped to the door, which they opened slightly. Meantime, Rosa had got out of the cab, and now she rung the bell, whieh was speed- ily answered by the servant to whom that duty fell. ‘*Is Mr. Handy here?’ Rosa asked. “Yes, ma’m,” was the answer; as it hap- pened, the truth. ‘* And he is expecting some one?” “Yes.” ‘* Then please show me to his room imme- diately. She had stepped within, now, as had been agreed upon, and the servant led the way up- stairs, When hey had reached the upper landing, Cool John and Frank Dean stepped out into the hall, giving a signal for the others to re- main quiet, as if it were all a bit of fun. Rosa, glancing back, saw them, and Cool John signaled her to goon. He and Frank followed them: When they reachéd the top of the stairs a door at the end of the landing had just open- ed, anda voice bade Rosaenter. With a couple of quick strides, Cool John and his new ally were right at her back, and she stepped boldly into the room, where a hand seized her anda voice exclaimed: ‘*T thought that would bring you, my beauty! You are now inmy powerand noth ing short of a ransom from your dad will get you out again. This is to be your home for atime, and if you behave yourself weil no harm will come to you; if not—” The wretch stopped short, his face as pale as death. Two men had entered the room, one of whom. had pointed a revolver straight at his forehead, ‘* Dog!” was the fierce exclaim. ‘‘ Release this lady at once!” “Tricked, by Judas?” cried Batford. ‘I cave, pardners; let me down casy and you'll never hear from me again.” ‘* Yes, curse you, I'll Jet you down!” hissed Cool John. ‘‘ Here; Mr. Dean, put these things on the fellow’s wrists, and then we will talk with him and hear what he has to eay.” He gave Franka pair of handcuffs. These were snapped over the fellow’s wrists in a trice. Batford's forehead was bathed in perspira- tion, and he - was trembling at. the knees, ** Won't you let me go?” he begged. ‘*We'll let you go to prison, yes,” assured Cool John. Meantime, the servant alurm below \that. these tives, There was a great commotion in the house, and the proprietress came hurrying to the scene to proclaim her innocence in any share of theschenie, butCool John quieted her, ** Silence!” he cried. ‘‘ Two words, and I'll run you in, too.” ‘* But, I am innocent,’’ protested Batford, “T defy you to prove anything against me.” “Aa, hat laughed Cool John. ‘* You are a greater fool than Ltook you to be. Let us see. just for the fun of it, what you have got in your poekets.. Maybe there is something to be learned.” He proceeded to search the fellow, and almost the first thing brought to light were the crumpled notes which he had started to write to Rosa King, as the reader will re- member, before he got one to suit him. Had there been no other proof, this were sufficient, Then, too, some papers of value, bearing the name of Abner White, were found which the rascal had stolen while in bis house. ‘Tt is more than enough, my fine fellow,” said» Cool John. ‘* You will come along with me, if you please. Mr. Dean, will you take Miss King back to your home in the cab?” ‘*T would not willingly consent to her go- ing any where else, sir.” ‘ Very good.” had carried the men were detec- _ “Te | They left the house, and while Frank and Rosa went home in the cab, Cool John took the prisoner to the nearest station. There he disposed of him in the proper manner, Jeaving him securely jugged in a station cell, and proceeded immediately to the residence of Irene King, changing his disguise. He rung the bell, and ft was quickly an- swered. The same person came to the door as be- fore, but she did not recognize him, and he asked to see Mrs. King. He gave his name as Barks, a lawyer from Denver. After a little delay he was shown into the woman’s presence, finding her a little pale and anxious, ‘Mrs. King?” he asked. ‘* Yes, sir; I presume you are here regard- ing the business I have placed in the hands of Lona Kredge?” Cool John jumped to take the cue at once, ‘* Certainly, madam,” he assured. ‘* And, by the way, I have lost-his business address, That is one reason why I have come to you immediately on my arrival. Lucky I did not lose yours.” She fell into the trap immediately, and gave the desired information. “T thank you very much for the informa: tion,’ said Cool John, blandly. ‘‘ You are, of course, the wife of Roger King, the banker of Denver—” ‘“* His first and only wife, sir,” the woman interrupted, ‘I learned of his whereabouts by the newsin the papers, and have begun proceedings against him for the recovery of my rights— But, you know all about it.” Cool John saw it all, now, ‘*Yes, I know all about it, madam,” he said. ‘‘ But, there is something in the way. Mr. King procured a divorce from you. and his second marriage is Jegal. There will have to be more removals than that of Philip King before you and your rascally son can—” ‘* Sir!” leaping to her feet, pale as. death, ‘“what do you mean?” ‘“‘T mean just what I coolly. ‘*Would you insinuate that I had any- thing to do with the death of that young man? Why, sir, he was my own child! 1 knew nothing of it, till I sawit in the pa pers, Andastothe divorcee, I was assured that nothing of the kind had been granted, for T have spent much money to find out, and it has taken more than a year—” ** Ah-hal more than a year, eh? That is all I wanted, madam—” “«That—that was a slip; I mean—” ‘Yes, lam aware that it was a slip. You are my prisoner, Irene King. Hold out your hands.” He advanced upon her with a pair of handeuffs; and she uttered 1 piercing cry aud tried to run from the room, but he had her in a moment She was but a child in his steel-like grip, and he forced one’ of her arms through the back of a massive chair and thus haodeu fed her, and it wonld be impossible for her to leave the room. Servants came running to the room the next moment, He allowed them to enter, and then cor- nered them and threatened them with arrest if they moved They obeyed him, tremblingly, and_ his next move was to take from his pocket the letter that had been. sent to Banker King, at Denver signed ‘‘Common Sense,” and this he held before Mrs. King’s eyes. “This is the clue that brought me here, madam,” he said. ‘‘ You should have had better sense than to write upon paper that your husbund “used to have in_ his office. And then, you should lave taken more pains to disguise your hand: Why, it was as plain as day!” It was a bold bluff, but it succeeded. ‘*Ourse my luck!” the woman grated, flerce- ly. ‘* Providence has been against me. Like a fool, too, I have cut my throat with my own tongue, Jt istrue that we played to get Roger King’s fortune, but we did not mur- der his son; that was done by his wife and daughter!” “T happen to know better,” said the detec- tive, quietly. ‘‘It was Ann Spader who killed him,” say, madam,” ae : et ie (eos Se ~~ a my eee ato”
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- be their capture or our lives, one or the CHAPTER XLIV. THE BIG BAY'S BIG PLAY. Lur us return now to the Big Bay. We left him at the hotel, or near it, watch- ing Ann Spader, Henry King, Dick Nutter, and the rest. The big fellow smiled to himself as he thought how useless was their vigil, and he tried to think of some plan by which he could turn the tables upon them. He beut his mind to it. He was not quick, but he was solid. Presently it flashed upon him, and he smiled as the thought struck him, The plan was one that meant some risk to himself, but he was willing to take his chances in the matter. He would expose himself to their detec- tion, and would then let them follow him and lead fhem into a trap of his own setting. And he felt that he could make it work, He knew it was Cool John’s plan to go to the residence of Irene King, Ile would go there, and he might.lead the rascals right into his partner's hands. If not that, he feit that he could hold them there till Cool John arvived. Or, if he got the worst of it, he could look for help fiom Cool John. Ilis mind made up, he put it into execu- tion. ; Removing his disguise, far as possible, he went forward to the hotel and entered, It took him. but a few seconds to find that he had been sighted, and that the eyes of the 4vhole evil five were upon him, and he played well his part. Inquiring for Roger King, he learned that he was not in, and of course, the rascals got the same infermation, and when the Big Bay sauntered out, they followed him, every oue. He appeared to pay no attention. On their part, they thought they had a sure thing. They believed the’ big fellow would lead them straight to where his partner was. Andin that they were not mistaken, for such a scheme was in the Big Bay’s mind, as we have seen. And so they proceeded, each party confident. hat was theamaze of the rascals, finally, however, when the burly Westerner led them straight to the door of. Irene King’s house, and there pulled the. bell, they watching him. ‘* What in thunder does it mean?” cried Nutter. ‘* Hang me if I know,” answered Henry King, somewhat pale. ‘‘It will mean his death, if we can trap him there.” ‘** But, had we better risk it?” questioued the woman. ‘* Everything depends on it,” urged Hen- ry. ‘‘ Weare five here, and mother and the servants are there—we are sure to win!” **Go on then.” The door had now been opened, and the Big Bay had stepped within. Cool John bad locked all the servants in a capaciors closet, and it was bein person who opened the door, He was surprised. ‘* Git out both yer guns!” cried Big Bay. “Ther hull durn pack aire at my heels, an’ I hev decoyed ’em right hyer.” ‘*That was a big risk, Big Bay.” ‘*No matter "bout that. I kalkylated that I was good fer half a dozen or so of.’em, ef 1 didn’t find you hyer.” **Well, come right-into this room, then, and we will Jet them come in, and it) will other. But no, that will not do; waita min- ute.” Cool John ran and secured the doors leading out of the hall, and came back at once, ‘* You take your place there at the foot of the stairs,” he directed. ‘' Appear as if you have no weapons in hand. I'll leave the dour ajar, and will stand behind it. When they—” But there was no time for another word, for they were heard coming up the steps. The door was tried, flung open, and into be hall rushed the five, drawing their wea- sihey came, and glaring around for ant the last one came in, Cool he door shut with his back, at instant that he and 1 sss sss sss ese Big Bay were discovered, and oaths were heard, ** Hands up!’ cried Cool John, in ringing tones, ** Never!” retorted raised his arm to fire. Quicker than light Cool John caught the weapon out of his hand with a bullet, and the Big Bay did the same for Henry King. They broke and ran” at. once, thinking only of escape, but to their dismay they found the doors locked, and as Dick Nutter started torun up the stairs,turning to fire as he did so, Cool John brought him down with a bullet in his leg. The woman was. the fiercest of. the lot, fighting like a tigress, using mainly her left hand, but she, like the rest, was soon overcome, and all were made prisoners, mad- ly cursing and groaning. And then it was that, the two detectives out of the West shook hands. ‘“‘Pard, we have got thar,” cried the Big Bay. ‘You say. aright,” responded Cool John, ‘*And here is the slayer of Phil King.” He pointed at Ann Spader as he said this, and the woman fairly shrunk from the accus- ing finger. ‘*Tt is a lie, alie!’ she screamed. ‘*Oh, no, we have got it on you, hard and fast,” declared Cool John. ‘‘ You were seen to do it.” ‘No, no! Gib - Wilson, and he You cannot prove it, I defy you to prove it! Why should I want to kill thatman, or anyone? I tell you itis a lie— a lie! You cannot prove that I killed him!” ‘Softly, now,” said Cool John, calinly, and in tone to carry conviction. ‘ You were seen to do the deed. What of the man who sprung out of the bushes? . Did he not see you in the lightning glare? He is my prisoner, and there is no chance for you in the world,” ‘Mercy! Have mercy!” She threw herself upon her knees, raising her, shackled hands, ‘*There is only one chance for you,” said Cool John. ‘‘ By confessing the whole thing you may escape hanging.” “I will doit, I will do it!” ** Pool!” eried [lenry King. head shut, will you?” ‘* Yes, fool when my love for you led me to take such risks,” ‘she retorted. ‘‘I was blind.” ** Will you keep still?” ‘*No, 1 will not! For you I killed Phil King; for you and your mother 1 took all the risks; for you—” **Curse you! will you hold your tongue?” ‘*For you I have stained my soul with blood. You bave used me as your tool, but you shall suffer with me. With Philip King out of the way, you expected to come in for the old man’s wealth,” ‘*Go on,” urged Cool John. ‘*She lies!” cried Henry King. knew nothing about it!” Cool. John Tinehok lightly, as did also the woman, who was now desperate in her situa. tion. ‘* Yes, yes, I. will tell it all’ she cried. ‘They engaged me to go to Denver for the purpose of. murdering Phil King. I went, and. I carried out the scheme, I enticed him, won his confidence, and laid a trap for him, “On that rainy night I met. himin the Phoenix, I made ‘haste to get first to his home, and. entered by the window I had be- fore seen him use, when he was out late. I waited there till he came, when I shot him. The next moment I leaped out and ran off in the darkness.” ‘* And where did you go then?” ‘*T had already engaged passage for New York, and. I was, just.in time to get the train.” *“Much obliged to you,” said Cool John. ‘*That is just the way we have been figuring it out, It might have been a success, if Providence had not been against you.” ‘*Providence and Cool Jobn,” added the Big Bay. ** And you,” said John. They took their prisoners into the room where Mrs. King was, and there Cool John left them for the time being in care of the Big Bay. He went straight to Police Headquarters, ‘‘keep your ae We The Sport from Denver. 31 told who he was, gave his story, and con- ducted a squad of policemen back to the house to get the prisoners, and in due time they were all safely quartered where they de- served to be. CHAPTER XLV. CONCLUSION. MBANWHILE Roger King had gone to the home of Abner White. Heasked first for Mr. White, and when he had explained who he was, asked to see his wife. The woman came into the rvom and stood before him with clasped hands and down- cast eyes, without speaking, simply awaiting whatever might be decreed by her hus»and. The banker put. out his hand and touched her, saying: ‘* Myra?” ‘** Roger.” Abner White moved quietly out of the room, softly closing the door after him, leav- ing them alone together. “« Myra, allis forgiven.” ‘** Roger, can it be true that you pardon me?” He was sitting, and she threw herself upon the floor at his feet, looking up into his face. ‘** It is truethat I pardonyou. For twenty years you have been my faithful, devoted wife, and your punishment has already been more than was deserved.” ‘* No, no, I deserved itall, and more. Why do you not spurnme? Why do you not cast me out and so make complete the misery I deserve for the lie I have lived in your pres- ence? Your forgiveness will klll me!’ ‘*] will take the risk of that, Myra. Come back tome, come back to your home, and come back to your place in my heart, and let the past. be forgotten.” When Abner White entered the room an hour later he understood. There had been time sufficient for them w talk over the whole affair, and no shado was between them now, The three talked over the matter still more fully, trying to reach some conclusion, but there was still much that they could not understand. They desired the coming of Cool John, After a time the sport and his burly pard made their appearance. They told their story, as known to the reader, and that. there was. great 1ejoicing can be imagined, A messenger was sent for Rosa King, and when she came, with her friends, the brother and, s.ster, the happiness of the mother, was .made complete. The mother and daughter embraced. Explanations followed. Much of it all has been made clear to the reader. duiing the progress of the story. On.the,night of. the crime John Handy had been out to King’s place for a clan- destine meeting with Rosa, and had been gone but a little while when the crime was committed. Rosa had taken the locket from his chain while standing in his embrace, and must have dropped it on her return tothe house. She had left the house by way of the L window, and had met Handy in the grounds, returning by the same way, which was made use of by all the family, occasion- ally. Mer first. stories had been told to shield her lover,. 1t would never do for her to let. it be known that her lover had been there that night, for that might fasten the crime upon him. She could not insist that the locket had been in her possession and not tell the truth about. it, for that might throw suspicion upon herself; and, if she told the whole truth, and cleared herself and, her.lover,. suspicion might then. fall upon her mother, and she hada dread that she might be the guilty one, Rosa knew her mother’s secret. There had been little time for the girl to | think; she had to decide quickly. She decided to deny all knowledge of the locket, and trust to her lover to clear bim- self. As for Cool John, he would not tell the truth for Rosa’s sake. He left it all with her. He had rather suffer himself than ex- pose her (to arrest. explain the mystery of the locket, a1 And, then, he could not
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how; and, as Rosa did not clear him, he half feared that she might be guilty, at first. He loved her too well to place her in jeop- ardy. As for Mrs. King, she half feared that her | 264 The Croeked Three. By Buckskin Sam. | evil son had had a hand in the murder, and | she could not expose him to arrest. As Handy was unknown to her, she allowed the | Besides, there was | suspicion to rest on him. the fear of the exposure that must follow. It can be seen that she was in a dilemma, It had been a terrible matter of mystery all around. W hen the case came to trial, all was made plain Cool John had by that time done further work upon it, and every point was brought out fully. The first wife of Roger King had been the prime mover in the matter. She had found out where her former husband was, and had laid out the scheme, with the help of her son. She had been misled by the report that he had never secured a divorce, and she thought herself still his legal wife. She wanted to remove the younger son, then the father, and she and her son would step in and take the whole property. But she had not reckoned well enough. Both she and Henry took good care to make possible an alibi that could not be shaken, while the woman Spader was absent for the purpose of doing the deed, and in that they were secure, but, events had gone con- trary to their designs. Needless to add, in conclusion, that all the guilty ones were pun- ished as they deserved. Paul Batford took his own life. Who had been to blame for his life, and its ending? The reader must decide. Here are depths, full of human interest, to the student who cares to dig deep into the matter; we have barely touched the surface. And, as the evil ones were punished, so, eventually, the others were rewarded for their good works. And perhaps the happiest of them all was Abner White, whose faith in the overruling of God was unwavering. Cool John finally married Rosa King, and the question as to his worthiness was settled He had been a detective in Government em- ploy, working upon a case that made it im- perative that his identity should not be revealed to any one. And the Big Bay was . his ally. All returned to Denver, where they settled down to long, happy and useful lives. Detective Coughlin recovered, and he and Conners are still firm friends. It had not been known to them who John Handy really was, but they had faith in him nevertheless. It had been a great mystery, a sort of nine ¢ days’ wonder, as it were, and so it might ever have remained but for the timely work of Cool John and his pard. As to John’s escape from jail, the Government had ordered his release, and he had changed clothes in his ; cell to add to the mystery. THE END. 2 ~ —— = 247 A'tligator kes or, The Secret of the Ever- é lade. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. 248 fiontana Nat, the Lion of Last Chance Camp. By Edward Willett. 249 Elephant Tom, of Durango; or, Your ; Gold-Dust or Your Life. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. , 250 Phe Rough Riders; or, Sharp-Eye, the * Seminole Scourge. By Buckskin Sam, 251 Tiger Dick vs. Fron Despards; or, ; Every Man Has His Match. By P. 8S. Warne, *252 The Wall Street Blood; or, Tick Tick.the { Telecraph Girl, By Albert We. Aiken, : / 253 A Vankee Cossack; or, The Queen of the ; Nihilists. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. ; 254 Giant Jake, the Patrol of the Mountain. Whe Pivnte Priest By Col. P « BY . P, Ingraham, 256 Double Dan, the Dastard; or, The Pirates of the Pecos. By Buckskin Sam. 257 Death-Trap Diggings; or, A Hard Man . from "Way Back. By Jose bh E. Badger, Jr. 58 Bullet Head, the Colorado Bravo. By | 325 ! % Captain Mark Wilton. 259 Cutiass and Cross, By Ool. P. ere 326 The Whitest Man in the . Mo’ (| 860 The Masked Mystery. By A. P “* The Sport From Denver. | 26¢ Biack Sam, the Prairie Thunderbolt; or, : / 262 Fighting ‘fom, the Terror of the Toughs. | The Bandit-Hunters. By Col. Jo Yards. By Col. Thomas Hoyer Monstery. 263 Iren-Armed Abe, the Hunchback De- stroyer. Captain Mark Wilton. 265 Old Double-Sword; or, Pilots and Pi- rates, By Capt. Fred. Whittak 266 Leopard Luke, the King of Horse-Thieves. By Captain Mark Wilton. 267 The White Squaw. By Capt. Mayne Reid. | 268 Wiagic Mike, the Man of Frills; or, Bad Ben’s Bad Brigade. By William. R. Eyster. 269 The Bayou Bravo, By Buckskin Sam. | 270 Andros, the Free Rover; or, The Pirate’s 282 The Merciless Marauders; or, Chap- arral Carl’s Revenge. By Buckskin Sam. | : i : | / / Daughter. By Ned Buntline. 271 Stonefist, of Big Nugget Bend; or, Old | Ketchum’s Tug of War. By Capt. Mark Wilton, 272 Seth Slogum, Railroad Surveyor; or, The Secret of Sitting Buil. By Capt. F. Whittaker. 273 Mountain Mose, the Gorge Outlaw. By Buckskin Sam. 274 Flash Fred, the Mississippi Sport; or, Tough Times in Tennessee.. By Ed. Willett. 275 The Smuggler Cutter. By J.D. Conroy. 276 Texas Chick, the Southwest Detective. By Captain Mark Wilton. 277 ‘Khe Saucy Jane, Privateer. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 278 Eiercules Goldspur, the Man of the Velvet Hand. By Captain Howard Holmes, 279 The Gold-Dragon. By Wm. H. Manning. 280 Biack-Hoss Bens; or, Tiger Dick’s Lone Hand. By Philip 8. Warne. 281 The Sea Owl. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 283 Sleek Sam, the Devil of the Mines; or, The Sons of the Fiery Cross. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 284 The Three Frigates; or, Old Ironsides'’ Revenge. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. 285 Lightning Bolt, the Core Terror; or, The Mountain Cat’s Grudge. y Mark Wilton. 286 Pistol Johnny. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 287 Dandy Dave and His Horse. White Stock- ing; or, Ducats or Death. By Buckskin Sam. 288 Electro Pete, the Man of Fire; or, The Wharf Rats of Locust Point. By A. P. Morris. 289 Flush Fred’s Full Hand; or, Life and Strife in Louisiana, By Edward Willett, 290 The Lost Corvette; or, Blakeley’s Last Cruise. By Capt. Fred, Whittaker. 291 Horseshoe Hank, the Man of Big Luck, a Capt. Mark Wilton. 292 Micke HWiorner, the Boss Roustabout. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 293 _ Steve. By Buckskin Sam. 294 Broadcloth Burt, the Denver Dandy. By Captain Howard Holmes. 295, Old Cross-EKye, the Maverick-Hunter. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 296 Duncan, the Sea-Diver3 or, The Coast Vultures. “By George St. George. 297 Colorado Rube, the Strong Arm of Hot- spur City. By Wm. H. Manning. 298 Logger Lem; or, Life and Peril in the Pine Woods. By Edward Willett. 299 Three of a Kind. Tiger Dick, Iron Des- pard, and the Sportive Sport. By P.S. Warne. 300 A Sport in Spectacles, By Wm. R. Eyster. 801 Bow!lder Bill; or, The By Buckskin Sam. 802 Faro Saul, the Handsome Hercules; or, The Grip of Steel. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 803 Top-Notch Tom, the Cowboy Outlaw; or, The Satanstown Election. By Capt. Whittaker, $04 Texas Jack, the Prairie Rattler; or, The Queen of the Wild Riders. By Buffalo Bill. 805 Silver-Plated Sol, the Montana Rover. By Capt. Mark Wilton. $806 The Roughs of Richmond; or, The n from Taos. Mystery of the Golden Beetle. By, A. P. Morris. 807 The Phantom Pirate, By Col, Ingraham. 808 Hemlock Hank, Tough and True. By Edward Willett. 809 Raybold, the Rattling Ranger. By Buckskin Sam. 810 "khoe Marshal of Satanstown. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 811 Heavy Hand, the Relentless. By Captain Mark Wilton. 812 Kinkioot Karl, The Mountain Scourge; or, Wiping Out theScore. By Morris Redwing. 313 Mark Magic, Detective. By Anthony P:! Morris. $14 tafitte; or, The Pirate of the Gulf. By Prof, J. H. Ingraham, 815 Flush Fred’s Double; or, The Squat- ter’s League of Six,. By Edward Willett. 816 Lafitte’s Lieutenant; or, Theodore, the Child of the Sea, By Prof. ’J. H. Ingraham. $17 Frank Lightfoot, the Miner Detective; ; or, Following a Blind Lead. By J. E. Badger. $18 The Indian Buccaneer; or, Red Rovers on Blue Waters. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 319 Wild Bill, the Whirlwind of the West. By Buffalo Bill, 820 The Genteel Spotter. By A. W. Aiken. $21 California Claude, the Lone Bandit, By Captain Howard Holmes. 822 Khe Crimson Coyotes, By Buckskin Sam, | $23 Hotspur Hugh; or, The Banded Brothers of the Giant’s Arm, [Ty Captain Mark Wilton. 324 Old Worked-Lightning, the Solitary; or, Every Inch a Man. By Jos. BE. Badger, Jr. The Gentleman Pirate; or, The Her- mit of Casco Pay. By Cok. P. Ingraham. imesj or, The Dog-Town Crowd, By Capt, F. Whit % | | | | j | | 827 Terrapin Dick, the Wild Woods Detee tive. By Edward Willett. 328 King Kent; or, The Bandits of the Bason By Buckskin Sam. 329 The League of Three; or, Buffalo Bill's Pledge. By Col, Prentiss Ingraham. 330 Cop Colt, the Quaker City Detective. By Chas. Morris. 331 Chispa Charley,the Gold Nugget Sport; or, The Rocky Mountain Masks, By 3 E. Badger 332 Spring-Heel Jack. By Col. Monstery. $33 Derringer Deck, the Man with the Drop By Wm. R. Eyster. 334 The Cipher Detective. By A. P. Morris. 335 Flash Dan, the Nabob; or, The Blades of Bowie Bar. By Capt. H. Holmes. 336 The Magic begs By Col. P. Ingraham. 837 hn, ee the Mountain Tramp. By Ed ilett. 838 Jack Sands, Sport. By Philip S. Warne. 339 oprene Eagle Sam, the Hercules Hide unter. By Joseph E Badger, Jr. 340 Cool Conrad, the Dakota Detective. By Capt, H. Holmes. $41 The Sea Desperado. By Col. Ingraham, 342 Blanco Bill, the Mustang Monarch. By Buckskin Sam. 343 The Hexd Hunter; or, Mark Magic ix the Mines. By A. P. Morris. $344 Double Shot Dave of the Left Hand. By Wm. R Eyster. $45 Masked Mark, the Mounted Detective. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. : 8346 Ocean Guerrillas; or, The Planter Mid- shipman. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 847 Denver Duke, the Man With ‘Sand,’ or, Centipede Sam’s Lone Hand, By Capt. How- ard Holmes. 848 Dan Dillon, King of Crosscut; or, A Wo man’s Wild Work. By Edward Willett. 349 Lion-Hearted Dick,the Gentleman Road- Agent. By Albert W. Aiken. 850 Flask Falcon, the Society Detective. By Weldon J. Cobb. 351 Nor? West Nick, the Border Detective; or, Dan Brown’s Fight for Life. By J. E. Badger. 352 P Sate Desperate Dozen. By Cap. Howard olmes. 353 Barb Brennan, the Train Wrecker. By John Cuthbert. 354 Red KHichard; or, The Brand of the Crim- son Cross. By Albert W. Aiken. 355 Stormy Steve, the Mad Athlete. By Jos, E Badger, Jr. 356 Three Handsome Sharps. By Wm. R. Eyster. 357 Jack Simons, Detective; or, The Wolves of Washington. By A. P. Morris. $58 The Prince of Pan-Out. By Buckskiz am, 359 Yellow Jack, the Mestizo; or, Tiger Dick to the Rescue. *By Philip 8. Warne. 360 Jumping Jerry, the Gamecock from Sua- down, By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 361 Fombstone Dick. By Ned Buntline, 362 Buffalo Bill’sGrip. By Col. P. Ingraham, 363 Crowningshield, the Sleuth; or, Pitiless as Death. By Albert W. Aiken. 364 The Sea Fugitive. By Col. P. Ingraham. 365 Keen Kennard, the Shasta Shadow; or, The Branded Face. By Capt. Howard Holmes. 366 The Telegraph Detective; or, The Dy- namite League. By George Henry Morse. 367 A Royal Flush; or, Dan Brown’s Big - Game by, Babies = 5 By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 368 The Canyon King. By Edward Willett. 369 Whe Coast Corsair. By Col. P. Ingraham. 370 The Dusky Detective. By Albert W. Aiken. 371 Gold Buttons; or, The Up-Range Pards. By Buckskin Sam. 372 Captain Crisp; or, The Man With a Record By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 3 The Sailor of Fortune; or, The Buc idea ecaneers of Barnegat Bay. By Cdl. P. Ingraham. 374 Major Blister, the Sport of Two Cities, By Capt. Howard Holmes. 375 Royal George, the Three in One. By Wm. R. Eyster. 376 The Black Beards; or, The High Horse = on the Rio Grande. By ‘Albert W. Aiken. 377 Afloat and Ashore; or, The Corsair Con- spirator. By Colone] Prentiss Ingraham. 8 John Armstrong, Mechanic; or, From S78 JomBattom to the Lop of the Ladder. By Capt. F. Whittaker. 9 Howling Jonathan; or. the Terror from Headwaters. By Jos. BE. Badger, dr. 0 The Golden Serpent; or, Tiger Dick's = Pledge. By P. 8. Warne. ady Feb 3. The Gypsy Gentleman; or, Nick Fox, is the Damar etective. By Albert W. Aiken. Ready Feb. 10.