Beadle's New York Dime Library (no. 982) (1897 08 18)

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—o i Copyrighted, 1897, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, ENTERED AS SECOND CLASS MATTER AT THE NEW YORK, N. Y., Post OFFICE. August 18, 1897. ‘ N QR). PUBLISHED EVERY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, TEN CENTS A COPY. Vol. LXXVL. | WEDNESDAY, 92 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK, $5.00 A YEAR. AA Hy AULA Mii ATR ACHAT AAMT ATAU THER UTEP HPO Hii, A Hit i ASA AT | | | HAT HL yt Wi LCA HALA aa) ‘in NA ni aya TT Sai \ \ | it) Mit | | . Mil Hit Hit! win Hill | Kil a) || HANAN ANAM TAT 3 ¥ i il i HH Ds | ® ! i)! i | { WA NANA Hit Whivht mi HN Hi yy NTU THT) TT ) HI HG i}| ir 1} hh | i —— i ii) Y) y : AN. ye RS Ge Mie i | iI i) ub ih wlll ARAN

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TT \ ~ ‘opyrighted, 1897, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, R — M Mi Qigo DS ENTERED AS SECOND CLASS No 98) UBLISHED EVERY t 8 aes WEDNESDAY. wien AT THE New Yor, N. ¥., ar vei: BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, August 18, 1897. 92 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. TEN CENTS A COPY, Mee, sooo aveae, VOL LAME NAN | | ill . iu fi | HAMA We i | rh il Hl i in eh pal Die NE (june nt i] 1 | Le re A nN \ H i \ Ath \ a.) \\\: \\ie AN \ \ Xs \ \ si WY Sas PRN | au , = : . \ ere |

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2 Chris Crewley's Winning Hand; The Rascally Valet’s Double Game, A Story of Detective Life in Washington, BY A. P. MORRIS, JR. CHAPTER I. THE QUEEN OF THE TAPESTRIED ROOM. **’Tis true, he ever lingers at her side, But mark the wandering glances of his eye: A lever near a fond and plighted bride With less of love than sorrow in his sigh!” —LAWSON, ‘* T will forget thee! AJ dear recollections Pressed in my heart, like flowers within a book, Shall be torn out and scattered to the winds!” —LONGFELLOW, DARKNESS, storm and wind. Fast flashed the lightning, loud the great artillery of heaven rent the storm-tossed air. Winds were shrieking like unrested de- mons, and a dreary alto blended in the sounds that told of snarling wolves hied on by Jove, It was a night of wet and chill. A quick, sharp, lurid flame—a fearful crash; the rum- bling thunder shook the cowering earth; the watchman on his lonely beat felt unmanned, despite his oft-tried courage; and above the howling blast,-like a sepulchral groan, “The iron tongue of midnight had tolled twelve!” Close-shut in window and door, rearing its ancient angles like spectral shadows, stood a commodious, square-built house at | the corner of Main and —— streets, in the city of Richmond. Its situation was rather a deserted one—a space of several lots on either side. Front, back and sides of the building were dark, | gloomy; its air one of a shunned and haunt- ed tomb. But in the back room of the second story | sat two females, The apartment was a broad salon, costily | arranged; the walls draped and tapestried of | Gobelin—rich buff in color, and sparkling | with tiny stars; the ceiling was cased, | cushion-like, with fabric of a similar shade; | and an immense chandelier, depending from | ‘wicked, Orle ' arose and began pacing the soft mat. Chris Crewley’s Winning Hand. Her snaky eyes were fixed upon the beau- tiful girl, in whose society she seemed so , strangely out of place. ‘‘Meg,’ spoke the girl, toying absently with a ring upon her finger, ‘* how strange that lives like yours and mine should be so interwoven—ah! hear the storm.” Her voice was like the warble of a bird, low and sweet its accent, as she finished, was tremulous—the tempest shook the room in which they sat. ‘« Yes,” said the hag, her voice snappish in its bluntness; ‘‘ that’s a bad night. What a | nice home we’ve got, though, eh? There’s many a poor, starved soul a-trembling now; serry wretches! But, I don’t pity ’em, I don’t; I was like ’em once myself—but I worked up. Hey? Why don’t they do it, too? Ha! h—a! because they can’t. They haven’t the brains. No, I don’t pity ’em.” Her companion cast a quick, momenta glance into those devilish orbs; then shud- dered, as she said. ** And there are better hearts than yours, | Meg Semper, among the poor who suffer on this night.” ‘**Better hearts? Yes—oh, no doubt! But where does their timid heart keep them, eh? Look. in beggary, in filth, in | wretchedness! See me. I’m better off than | they; I struck hard for my ends, I did. Let them do it, too,” and she laughed gut- | turally. The young girl was not at case under those eyes. ‘* Ay, Meg Semper, you did strike hard— and wickedly. The blow that placed you amid the comforts of luxury—you who are unfit to tread a carpet that has passed through an honest man’s hands!|—you who are vile in heart, thought and deed, as— as—’ ‘“As he who rules the regions of fire!” prompted Meg: hissingly. ‘‘ Yes, I am eice—oh, very—but I don’t | eare Do you hear? I don’t care a straw how wicked I am!” Again the lovely girl shuddered; again she glanced into the eyes of the hag; then a er | ight hand sought her bosom, asif to obscurer | what was half unseen; her head bowed, in | thought. ‘* What’s the matter now? I haven’t made you angry, Orle, eh? Come, lie down again | —let me look at you. 1 like to look at you, | Ido. Come.” Orle waved her hard. ‘‘Let me alone, Meg; you unnerve me, Di | ‘“‘And leave you alone with him, eh?” in a tone that was snrill, sneering, protest- ing. ‘* Yes, alone with him. Now go.” ‘‘But I hate him!” ‘“No matter what you hate. It is mere keeping of a frightfuloath. And have I not told you that he is mine? You must not harm him.” ‘«Every time he comes here you keep me from him,” returned the hag, in a half-fierce way. ‘It’s no use, I tell you. I hate him! I’m bound to do ’t—my oath!” ‘‘He is mine, Meg Semper” — firmly. ‘You shall not harm him, But listen: I will grant your request to-night; you may speak with him—” ‘*Ha!” she exclaimed, with eagerness. * Provided. you will control your hate. You must offer him no harm. Will you promise?” A severe conflict evidently raged within the dark bosom of the hag. Her breath came in short jerks, There was a footfall sounding on the stairs. ‘* Your promise?” impatiently. ‘*T give it!” began Meg, though she articu- lated the words with difficulty. ‘*‘Enough, then; begone. Hurry. He is here.” Meg Semper hastened to the head of the couch, and, drawing aside the heavy cur- tains, disappeared within a concealed open- ing. Another second, and there came the sound of a light knock from the opposite side of the room, ‘*Come in,’”’ said Orle, in her sweetest tone. 2 The curtains were pushed aside, discover- ing a door, and through this a young man entered, Orle had regained her couch, and re- clined in a graceful posture, her dark eyes, now liquid and dreamy, bent upon the comer. Handsome in limb and feature; eyes dark, brilliant, flashing; a silken mustache gracing tke upper lip; a high, broad brow, over which his jetty locks clustered in curls—a brow that bore the stamp of intellect and dissipation, at once; clothes of latest fashion; rings, pins, studs, watch - chain, promi- nent on his person—such was Reginald Darnley. Midway across the room he halted, folded his arms, gazed upon her, seeming enrap- tured with his contemplation; and his cheeks the middle, contained numerous burners that | feel that my life is being miserably dragged , flushed with a mastering fire. blazed a fragrant oil. Ottomans were negligently placed; sin- | gularly deviced mattings covered the floor; stools and rugs were scattered in rich pro- fusion here and there. At one side was a raised couch, whose | cushions and curtains matched the sur- | rounding hues and fairly scintillated with spangles. On this couch reclined a girl of about _ eighteen years ter complexion was a faint olive, tinged with a delicate blush; the face chiseled in purest beauty. Full red lips parted over teeth to shame the whitest ivory; eyes of jet, and brillian. as the luster of a diamond, Her hair reached below the waist—black, silken, and falling in a mossy cloud; and on her | forehead, held by a band of gold, was a jew- | eled star, that flashed and gliftered in the bright light of the chandelier. er habit was of black, spangled with ‘sil- ver—its low cut exposing a neck, throat and bust to tempt the passion of a god; and the | dress being looped gradually away from the right knee, a chaste display of exquisite sym- metry told of a form that equaled the face in | its enrapturing loveliness. At her side, kneeling on a stool, was a bag of sixty-odd years, whose cadaverous visage told of an ill-spent life and impure heart. Her form was long and lank; her head was covered with matted locks of gray ard black; | her jaws were disproportionate; her toothless ms were visible behind the shriveled lips; the nose was large, flattened: until it spread , ‘upon the bronzed, sunken cheeks. Her | arms were muscular, hairy gr aes limply | a Gypsy er from the short-cut. sleeves o bodice, or nervously worked about pointed knees. buh age | out by your presence. f I were coarse and vile as you, I could endure it, But I am not; your manner er upon my spirit.” And she added, half aloud, as she resumed | her walk to and fro: ‘*‘ Why isit fate has cast my lot with such a woman, chained me to her for life? We are not fitted for each other! She is all that bars a human bein from the light and bappiness of Heaven! It is strange—strange.” Meg Semper followed the movements of the girl with her dagger-like eyes; a hideous grin settled on her countenance. "Yes, it’s strange, Orle Deice—strange. But it’s so, eh? We've got to stay by each ers forever! That was the oath! Ha! ha! a ‘‘Don’t, Meg, don’t! Let me have some respite from that terrible reminder,” ** Now, don’t be angry. Orle,” pursued the hag, squeakingly. ‘‘I don’t want to make you feel bad—” ‘‘Hark!” interrupted Orle, pausing abrupt- ly, in the attitude of listening. The grin disappeared from Meg Sem- per’s face; instead, came a glowering scowl; the bloodshot eyes buried with a Satanic glow. ‘*Tt’s him!” she hissed. “Yes, it is he,” said Orle, in a low voice, ‘* He is coming.” ‘* Your lover!” and the hiss was prolonged in a lasting breath. “Reginald,” said Orle, more to herself. ‘* Curse him!” The hag started to her feet and took a step forward, Orle wheeled about. Her slender figure set ibaa to its full height; she raised one hand. “Stop, Meg Semper! Leave me—leave the room!” . “ Reginald,” she said, gently. Though her voice was winning as a- bird- song, there was something in it which breke his enchanted reverie. The flush receded from his face, he drew a long breath and ad- vanced, saying, simply: ‘* Well, Orle—I have come.” **Be seated, Reginald; draw an ottoman to my side. I would have you sit near m » e. He silently obeyed. The lustrous eyes of the beauty followed him with a yearning look ook. ‘Reginald, you are cold this evening,” He had forgotten a customary kiss. ‘In heart?—yes,” A shadow of pain flitted across her face. **And why?” biting her under lip till the warm blood seemed ready to ooze forth. ‘*Can you ask, Orle?”—fixing a searching oe upon her. ‘Can you not imagine? ou have been my queen, Orle—my fate, Your love, I know, has won me from many, very many evil habits that have made up my life; and my obligation to your soft coun- sel has only served to thicken a web that hovers about me. But—but—” “Well?” ‘*You have done wrong—” “Wrong?” **In teaching me to love you.” Again that shadow of pain upon the lovely features. * Reginald!” ‘“When I first met you,” he continued, ‘‘T became your slave—in love. Even now those bonds are not entirely broken; and they chafe me, Orle—they chafe me.” “Oh, Reginald, Reginald, what meaning is in your words? There is something be- hind them; there is something that makes me fear.”

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ete se Oe, Se RRL REE oe = ete or Se ~ ¥ ie yl = * j i . hy, of. “8, ¥ z= fey 4 a => **Some strange influence has led us to a mutual love—” ‘And it has been a happy one!” she ex- claimed, quickly. ‘To you—perhaps, yes. But to me, Orle, it has now become a misery. Answer me: you knew well enough that, at the time I yielded to your charms and asked you to be my wife—you knew I say, that I was the atiianced of another? ‘ ‘*Yes,” her eyes drooping beneath his steady gaze. ‘That first engagement has not been broken off. It never can be,” ** Reginald—no—you jest—you cannot mean—” *T mean it,” he interrupted. ‘‘I have been, am yet, what the world calls fast and dissipated. What little reform I have under- gone, I will admit, Orle, has been of your oing; and | feel grateful. Yet, with all its caprice, there is one recess in my herd heart where honor lurks, That honor ealls me to asense of duty, calls me to my first volun- tary allegiance.” “You speak, now, of Cecilia Bernard: Oh, Reginald, forget her; forget that she ever lived. You are mine. No love is greater than that which binds us!” “No, I cannot forget her, nor that I have wronged her. My conscience pricks me. Pure, loving, trusting girll—she must never know how deeply I have slighted her oe I am going to return to her, rle,” ‘*No—no—no, Reginald; you must not desert me!” she cried, starting up and wind- ing her arms about his neck. ‘He was upon his feet also, and looked hesi- tatingly down into the speaking eyes of her who clung to him, In a moment he said: ‘You have heard, Orle; I must bid you farewell. My place is at the side of Cecilia Bernard. My love for you has been a mad infatuation — nothing more—wrought by charms no mortal could resist. You cannot blame me for the step Iam about to take, even though it break your heart—you who have lectured me so often upon the rewards of right and punishments of wrong. Be re- signed, then,” ‘IT cannot lose you, Reginald; I cannot.” **Consider. I have loved, do love you yet. Do you think I do this now without a pang? My heart aches. But duty, honor, feelin for one who has trusted me, and who learne love's first lessons from my lips, is my in- centive. Wecannot part. Come! let mekiss you good-by—and let our separation be for- ory Reginald Darnley drew her to him, and would have imprinted that farewell kiss up- on her lips, “Oh, no—no! no!” cried Orle. ‘‘ You must not say I am to lose you! You are trifling; you would tease me. But it is a crue] tease. Leave off.” ‘Not a tease, Orle, but stern truth. This is to be our last meeting.” She uttered a quick, pained cry, and clung closer to him. . ‘‘Moreover,” he added, “my marriage with Cecilia Bernard is to take place at an early day—a date fixed upon long before | saw you.” ‘Your marriage!—no! you belong to me.” “Calm yourself. What I have said must ‘Reginald! Reginald! you know not what it is to love. You have taught me to love you, even as I have taught you to love me. We have exchanged vows. In many hours past, when tegether, the same stream of joy has borne us on its wave—the pulsa-' tions of our hearts kept time in responsive beats; our souls were chained together in an fehtek of bliss! The same joys that de- lighted your breast have also intoxicated me! My life has been your life, your life has been mine! Without you I could not, would not live! Can you be so cruel, now? Say that you do not mean it. Take back _your words. Tell me that you are still mine. Oh! could you but reach my heart! hot cannot desert me; I know you will not!” “Orle, be calm. 1 foresaw this; but it could not be helped. My dream is past, and you, the bright vision of its center, must Chris Crewley’s Winning Hand. vanish from before me. Again, I say, let of herdress. Slowly she drew forth a long me kiss you good-by.”’ “Reginald, oh! stop—one moment more. You know not what you do. I feela strange fire lighting in my bosom; it spurs my tongue; I cannot control it! I am not my- self. Hear me—I will not part with you! You shaj] never wed Cecilia Bernard—” “Orle!” “‘ Ay, you shall never wed her! She shall not snatch from me the only man I ever did, or ever will love!” ** Stop!” ** Before you shall lead her to the altar, my own hand shall take her life! I would re- move her from my path without scruple!” “*Orle, in Heaven’s name—” *“Do you hear me, Reginald? Do you comprehend? And I here swear it! Now rou know what it is to love! Now you <now what one will do to retain that which alone sustains life and happiness! Do not tempt me further,” the dimpled arms twining still tighter around his neck, and her lustrous eyes burning strangely. ‘‘ Do not drive me to madness! I already hate her; do not make me hate you!” ; *Orle, stop!” ‘“No—no, Reginald; you make me say these things. My words are oaths! You are mine! You are learning how a woman loves! May you never know a woman’s hate! Cecilia Bernard shall not stand be- tween us! Sle shall die first! I, Orle Deice, claim you before all women! You are mine! Remember—-J will never give you up!” Her arms suddenly withdrew from his neck. Her passionate utterancts rung in his ear like a threatening. knell; he bowed his face in his hands, as if to shut out sight of the lovely being who spoke words in sych strange contrast with her nature, A faint, rustling noise aroused him. He looked up; then started back aghast. Orle had disappeared. Before him stood Meg Semper, a hideous shape, whose ghost-like presence, for ‘the moment, terrified him, brought a cold pér- spiration to his brow. She stood, with her brawny arms folded, gazing fixedly at him. The young,man was staggered. Had he got into aden of sorcery? as Orle, after all, but a beautiful fiend who would have charmed him to ruin, and now, in the im- pulse of hate, had assumed her natural shape of horror? But, no; that age is past. The horrible thing before him was flesh and blood—a hu- man being of fearful aspect. “Woman! Hag! Who are you?” sprung from and died huskily on his lips. “‘Ha! ha! ha!” she laughed dismally. ‘““WhoamI? I’m Meg Semper! You don’t know me, eh? No. You never saw me. But I’ve seen you; I’ve seen your father, too. I’ve kept close to you for the last two years, I have. What for? But, you'll learn soon enough. Takea good lookatme. I’m going to be your death!” She advanced a step, and he recoiled before her. Her ugly mien, her grating voice, her sig- nificant words awed, startled him. He was now speechless, yet alive to a sense of danger which he read in her leering eyes. Isay I’m going to be your death!” she a ‘Do you know what death -is? tey?” ““ Woman, keep off! What fiend sent you here? What mean you?” A rage of hate turmoiled in the shrunken bosom of the hag. Perhaps she thought of her promise to Orle. But if so, thea that promise was burned out by_a dire, malignant flame. ; She advanced another step. Reginald was transfixed; her eyes, like the orbs of a serpent, held him spellbound, powerless to move. “Tm bound to take your life! I’m bound to take the life of all named Darnley!—of all who know a favor at the hands of a Pa Hear me, eh? You must die— e ” **Die! Woman, you are mad! You are possessed of devils! Keep off! God! what are you doing?” Meg Semper’s hands had sought the folds a ares pig tides by 5 oy Aga Stes / ; tS Be FP j i Late ‘mad '—mad glistening knife. Her eyes biazed like those of a tiger; her other hand worked convulsively, as if she longed to tear him to pieces. Pale and shuddering, he watched the knife as it ascended, and the hag seemed gathering herself for a spring. His heart was in his throat. Nearer she came—the dread steel flashing aloft. He would have cried out, but his tongue was paralyzed. *“T say I’m bound to kill you!”—in a shrill whisper. ‘‘It’s my oath; and I’m going to keep it! This knife istodoit! Hear? Ha! h—a!—the first blood in keeping with my oath—” but the last words froze upon her thin lips. There was a sharp, reverberating ‘‘ click” behind Reginald. Meg Semper took her eyes from her intend- ed victim, to look at the curtains. As she did so, the upraised knife fell from her grasp; her eyes seemed starting from their sockets; her red face actually purpled. That which she saw was a small, white wrist and hand, and in the hand was what appeared to be a single tongue of golden flame ascending from the center of the palm to the finger-tips—the lapping tongue evi- pad supporting it in that position. Only for an instant was the mysterious thing visible—seemingly surrounded by a faint, glimmering halo—and then it was gone. Simultaneously with its vanishment, the hag uttered a cry that was more like the a of a beast and sunk forward on the oor. The spell thus broken, Reginald Darnley paused to bestow one look upon the limp, prostrate form, and then, with a combined eeling of terror and superstition wrestling with his nerves, he rushed from the room, from the house, out into the tempest of wind and rain, Meg Semper was not insensible through fear or dread at sight of the Flaming Talis- man—nor was she insensible at all, except it be fora moment, and this was caused b the overwhelming reaction, the silent signi- ficance of the mysterious apparition, which forbade the deed of blood. So determined, so fixed was she upon the sacrifice of Reginald’s life, in keeping with some térrible oath, that the sudden check iced her seated veins; her vision swam in a rage of dhappointment; her Satanic heart leaped in casgrin at the failure before her; her limbs gave way, and sbe fell, helpless, She did not he in that position long. The young man had scarce gone, when she sprung to her ieet, and snatching up the knife,clutched its bong handle with an angry rip. . She glared about her, as it seeking for a object in whose flesh to sink the ade. Orle stood near her, and the hag’seyes fixed upon the girl in a savage, piercing gaze, while she fingered the knife uneasily. “You did it, Orle Deice; you did it, I say! Fiends alive!—what for? Eh, what for?” ad- vancing and grasping the other rudely, Orle shivered as the icy fingersclosed upon her wrist; but, with a wrench she threw off the hold and said, sternly: ‘You forget yourself, Meg Semper! You look as if you would like nothing better than to kill me!” . ‘And maybe I would—maybe I would!” slowly, and a devilish glitter in her eyes. ‘‘In payment for my having thwarted our intent toward Reginald? But, enough. t away your weapon. You dare not harm me; you know it—you who hold oaths so sacred.” ““Yes, Orle,” — submissively—‘‘I can’t harm you. And I won't. You needn’t fear of it. I'll stand by my oath; and in doing that,"—the eyes again kinding—‘‘I’ve_ got to kill Reginald Darnley!—and after him, = ide Darnley! Do you hear? 1 must do t!’ ‘‘Beware! I tell you, Meg Semper, he is mine! Remember—the Talisman!” “Yes, yes!” she screamed. ‘‘ And that’s another! Ha! h—a!—only three left now— . only three! It’s saved his life twice. Ugh! I feel sick when I see the thing; it makes me ~ !”

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4 ‘Never mind; we have had enough of this—”’ “What now? Your lovyer’s give you the | flickered and sputtered as it burned lower. Chris Crewley’s Winning Hand. Half an hour passed. Still he trod the car- pled, disfigured billet which, up to this time, pet with uneven steps, and the lamp-jet / he held in his hand, squeezing and fingering it as if it were a living thing striving to es- mit. There’s a row! What'll next?” Orle was looking down at the matted floor. ‘Cecilia Bernard must be taken away from Reginald,” she said, musingly. ‘‘ Right away!” acquiesced the hag, eager- ly. ‘* Yes: take everything away from him! —take his life, too!” ‘* Where is Nemil?” ** Gone to bed—surly dog! He’s tired out you do, At the expiration of the time named the servant reappeared, to say: “* He's come, sir.” ‘‘Good. I'm glad of it. I’m worn out. You have your orders—be quick, sirrah.” Another period of impatient waiting, and Reginald Darnley entered the presence of his father. His face was pale, his nerves were un: steady. Fresh fromthe ordeal of our previous chapter, his mind was not yet balanced in cape him, he sunk, with a groaning sigh, into the nearest chair, and remained silent, watching his waward son, while the latter perused the delicately - penned and half- | obliterated lines: “Mr. Mervin DARNLEY:— “It is with regret that I write to inform you that your son is indebted to me in the sum of one thousand dollars. It is a loan— can be proved, if necessary ; but I do not care running érrands.” : ees quietness; and the unusual circumstance of | to expose your son through the action of a ‘‘This must be done speedily,” thinking | Mervin Darnley renga | up, wishing to see | lawyer. He does not seem inclined to cancel deeper. him at that late hour, filled him with uncer- | this obligation, and I am forced to this course ‘“ Without delay!” Meg said, as if to clinch it. ‘‘No more, Meg. We must wait. You may go to bed. ark!—the bells. It is one o'clock. Do not forget, I want to talk with you and Nemil in the morning.” There were several doors leading from the salon, hidden by the rich draperies, and through one of these Meg Semper disap- peared, muttering as she went: tain conjectures, “Tam at your service, father.” “* Be seated, Reginald.” He drew up a chair before his son, and bent those keen gray eyes upon him sharply. He was, for the moment, calm. ‘“‘This is rather an unseemly hour to be roaming through the streets of Richmond, Reginald—midnight! I do not like it.” ‘“‘T was with friends.” by unlooked-for circumstances. Let me hope you will pay the money to\the bearer, whe can hand you receipt for the same. ‘* Respectfully, *ORLE DEICE.” / When he had read this, his brain was filled with incredulity. ‘‘Impossible!” he thought; ‘‘I cannot be- lieve it! Orle would not do it! When, in *“Oho! now—if she only knew! If she ‘¢Friends! Who?” the impetus of despair incident to my losses. yang 3 knew the little game I’ve been playing ‘¢Oh, old acquai—” at gaming. I borrowed that money of her, she to-day! If she orly knew of the mischief ‘Where are they? Where were you?” said she did not wish me to return it, If she T’ve done at the house of the Darnleys! But I’ve sworn to kill him! I'll do’t yet! Only three left—and if she don’t watch me close, then—he: he! he! Meg Semper knows what she’s about. Her Never t—beb who cares?” She left the beautiful girl alone and think- ing upon aplan to prevent Reginald’s mar- riage with Cecilia Bernard. “Oh, how I-have loved him!” was the warm, passionate utterance that fell from her lips as she walked the room in solitude. “‘ How I have learned toidolize him!—to look upon him as all mine!—all mine! And now he would desert me, would throw me aside, to return to that baby-faced girl! Never!— he shall not. do it. Reginald is mine, I have won him—he is mine!” CHAPTER II. THE ANGERED FATHER. “ And thus the frowning brow, the reckless Se eee ee ne eS ee ee et See ee Reginald Darnley hesitated. A new frown wrinkled the father’s brow; he started from his chair, ard ‘cried: “Look, now—you blush to mention the companions with whom you have reveled until midnight. Buti knowenough. You were with those who, of late, have become your sole associates—and what are they ?— the scum and dregs of the foulest who swarm in our midst—¢he despised, the vulgar, the blasphemous, the shameless!” The hot dlood rushed to the young man’s face. He dared not deny this. Prior to visiting Orle Deice, he had passed the eve- ning at the tables of a saloon whose notoriety as @ sink of guilt ad poe ial vice was wide. spread; he had staked and won, staked and lost, at cards, at dice, at monte; and betting with the wildest was his love, or hazarding the closest pleased him most. As Reginald crimsoned under the realiza- tion that his vile habits were known to Darn- ley, senior, the aged parent continued, grow- does want it, after saying that, why did she not speak of ittome to-night? There is some mystery here.” But he saw that his father was angered, saw that Mervin Darnley was set in the opinion that Orle Deice was not what she should be. He knew that an effort to con- vince Darnley, senior, of Orle’s good charac- ter, would be useless, and finally, he easily perceived that protestaiions of ignorance would not avail. Still, he ventured: ‘‘How came you by this infamous letter?” ‘Tt was brought me by a negro—an in- telligent fellow. but a miserable dog, never- theless! Now, then, do you marvel that I am aroused? Zounds! What have you to say?” ‘Yes, there is a mystery in this!” mused Reginald, inwardly. ‘‘A negro? Who, could it have been? Who sent him? [| cannot, wil! not believe it was Orle!’ then aloud: ‘* Well, and what did you do about form P And threatening glance, forerun domestic | ing warmer with his speech: it? ited has storm.” —CRABBE, “Yes, sirrah, you have beenat the gaming-| ‘‘Paid him. Paid him, and took a receipt *« If I can catch him once upon the ai I will feed fat the ancient grudge J bear him,” —SHAKESPEARE, Tux brazen tongues of city clocks were tolling forth the hour of one. From a window in the second story of a stately residence, situated near a mile from where our story opened, a glimmering light streamed forth to the pavement below. Within thé room an elderly gentleman paced back and forth restlessly. His mien was commanding, his features stern and rigid; his teeth were locked tight- ly, and as we mark the darting fire of the gray eyes, half hidden beneath the bristiing eyebrows, we can see that he is excited, that he is laboring under the severe tax of pent- up irritability. Presently he ped and pulled the bell- cord, with a quick, violent jerk. ‘‘Has he come?” to the bowing servant who soon appeared. “No, sir.” And, as there was no furtner question, the man withdrew. He whom we have introcuced was a man of means, position and influence—Mervin Darnley, a retired merchant, and father of ene e had separated from his wife many years prior to the events about to be related, and the separation was caused by heat of domes- tic. discord. That parting of man and wife, in a spirit of enmity, has much to do with our narra- tive. . The family now consisted only of himself, and Reginald, besides the numerous house- hold servants. Something has happened to mar his usual- ly calm exterior. Perhaps it, was the per- fumed billet he held in his hand, reading and rereading it, then crunching and crumpling it, alternately groaning and sighing as he continued his walk from side to side across the apartment. [uy bs fe j 1, j =) , ' oe rs. table! You have fallen into acircle accursed in the eyes of God and all honest men! What have you to say? I have waited here, for hours, to speak upon the matter, and to shame you! Ay, to shame you!” Then up and down, back and forth, to and fru, went the old gentleman chafing in the subject of his rebuke. ‘But, father, near me for a moment. Since you have discovered that which I had hoped to conceal from you, I at least in. sist—” “Insist, sir! What do you insist?” ‘That you hear my excuses.” ‘‘Excuses!”—pausing with an abruptness that said he doubted his ears; ‘‘ excuses, dev— What would you excuse? You fasten a slur to your character, willfully, head- strong; you carry the name of Darnley among gamblers, cut-throats, and the like— you are one of them yourself; you mar the reputation of one of the oldest families in Richmond—and now you cry excuses? No! There’s no weight in excuses; not a bit of 1t, sir—not a bit of it!” ‘‘You are severe!” said Reginald, calmly, though his face flushed and paled by turns at this tirade. ‘Severe? No!—I’m too lenient. Listen: I know more yet. .Who is Orle Deice?” ‘‘Orle Deice!” he repeated, quickly, half. arising, for the mention of the name was so unexpected that it startled him. “Yes. Orle Deice. Ha! I have you, Who is she?” “She is a pure and beautiful girl,” was the prompt, earnest reply. Darnley, semor, appeared momentarily dumb-struck. Then he cried, sneeringly: ‘* Pure and beautiful! Oh, yes—very pure and beautiful! But I wish I could believe it. You are affianced to Cecilia Bernard; yet you visit this girl—or, woman, I suppose; you are in love with her; you prove yourself a grand rascal; you— Read that, and then tell me what you think of yourself.” As he handed the young man the crum- ie ih i x Pod ek Mil Masta Sis tape ho My z iP —he had it, already written, in his pocket; then I kicked him from the house!” the last with emphasis. “Tn that you did wrong.” “Wrong? How wrong? mean by that? Wrong scoun—” ‘‘No; wrong in paying,the money.” ‘Explain, if you can. Dare you deny your indebtedness to this woman—this—” ‘“‘T can and do deny it. I have never met with a woman whose name is Orle Deice.” “What! Then why—how do you know she is ‘pure and beautiful’? Answer that.” ‘*Oh, mere rumor,’ with an attempt at nonchalance. ‘‘Therefore, it is impossible that I should have fallen her debtor.’ Reginald was playing close, hazardous— fatally. ‘*In short,” he added, after a pause, * the! whole affair is a piece of imposition.” Darnley snatched the letter from his son's hand, and glanced at it again, for the hun- dredth time. “No!” he exclaimed, vehemently; ‘‘ the chirography is natural, the wording is business like. To clinch the matter, I saw you, with my own aching eyes, only this night, enter a gaming saloon. The more [| think of it, the more [— By Heaven! Regi- nald, I believe you are both rascal and hypo- crite!” Reginald frowned; but it was lost upon the irate parent. ‘“«That letter is a fabricated lie!” declared the young man, with an effort at self -pos- session. ‘‘If my denial does not outweigh your prejudice, I can say no more.” i: «You deny all knowledge of thiswoman? |} —of this debt?” ae | OAs But Mervin Darnley was too familiar with the page-print of a human face to be so easi- ly deceived. He read the lie that came — from his son's lips. ae What do you in kicking a SN a

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f ‘ ‘ > “‘T have no more to say. brief, blunt, positive, significant. Reginald; without another word, quitted the room, glad to escape the embarrassment that was fast coming upon him. Mervin Darnley jerked the bell-rope for perhaps the sixth time within two hours and resumed his striding. ** Tell Reginald Darnley’s valet that I wish to speak to him,” was the order. The valet came. Of medium height, strangely resembling Reginald in the outline of his features,though he was beardless; on one cheek an ugly scar bac A near three inches long; oily in voice, polite in manner, bending low before the manufacturer—this was Herwin Reese, valet to young Darnley. ** Sir, you sent for me,” bowing and paus- ing near the center of the apartment. “Yes. Are you not with Reginald almost constantly ?” ‘‘Unfortunately, yes,” was the hesitating reply. ‘‘Ha! Unfortunately? Why unfortunately ?” ‘‘ For many reasons. First”—he stopped short and glanced uneasily at the door. Darnley was in no mood to waste time. ‘*There’s no one there. Go on—quick!” “‘T fear I am not at liberty to expose Mr. Darnley’s affairs,” demurred the valet. ‘Liberty, the devil! I am his father; I have aright to know. Now, out with it— why unfortunately ?” “ First, because I have witnessed habits of carelessness and vice.” Darnley groaned. *‘ Answer me this: does he know a woman named Orle Deice?” we ae Reese bowed again and replied: ac es. ” The valet’s eyes glittered singularly as they bent upon the carpet. Evidently, this cate- chising afforded him a secret pleasure. “Ts he intimate with her?” ‘*Oh, very! I have accompanied him often on his visits to the girl, whom, I know, he loves deeply.” Darnley buried his face in his bands and groaned again. Then, looking up: ** And do you know whether he owed her any money?” **A thousand dollars.” | The answer was prompt. **Oh, God!” wailed the old gentleman, as all was herein substantiated, his son provena liar, his whirling senses sent half-frantic— for it cut deep, deeyi to his heart. ‘That willdo. Go—-leave me,” he said at last, in a broken voice. Herwin Reese, as he departed, was secret- ly jubilant. He had, with affected unwill- ingness, added fuel to the flame of quarrel between father and son. As he turned his back upon Darnley, the subtle gleam of his eyes betrayed a brim- ming exultation; the smooth lips curled ina sardonic smile. ** Ah!” he thought; ‘‘all works well. Our plot starts finely, Meg Semper. Now, if it will only go on!—how mueh better to destroy him in this way. Thisis not an end of the quarrel. I'll wager, upon what I know of Mervin Darnley’s temper, that Reginald’s prospects are dark! Another day will show! —another day! This scar upon my cheek still burns and smarts, Reginald Darnley! I have not forgotten, in a short year, how to hate! Meg Bonner would keep her oath! But how much better to follow out my penal Ha! h-a!”—an inward chuckle—‘‘ your doom is closing in fast!” The entry lamps had been extinguished; a thick darkness prevailed, and as the valet emerged from the room, he shivered invol- untarily. Whether he imagined a lurking presence ready to seize upon his flesh, or a hiding spécter about to glide out from one of the numerous by-passages or branching stair- ways, to dog his footsteps—which, we do not venture; but, from some cause, he felt anxious to reach a’ place where there was light. Not a dozen steps were taken, when he came in contact with something which Now I have it! brought him to a sudden, jarring halt. 4 a raised his hand; it touched a human You may go,” pe SSS Chris Crewley’s Winning Hand. Herwin Reese was no coward, but he re- coiled from this unpleasant encounter. A hand clutched his collar; a voice said: ‘* Come!” Reese was bewildered; and, in this be- wilderment, he was pulled, jerked, hur- ried along the dark entry at a breakneck rate. When they reached the main hall, he ut- tered an exclamation that contained more than astonishment. ‘Why, Master Reginald, what can you— can this—” ‘* Silence, wretch!” still urging the other onward. ‘*But what have I—” ** Silence, I say!” Passing the portly servant, who dozed unconsciously in his large arm-chair, Regi- nald Darnley continued out to the balus- traded steps, and there released the valet. “Master Reginald—” began Reese, for the third time; but he was again inter- rupted. “Wretch! Villain! Scoundrel!’ cried the young man, ina rage. ‘‘So you’ve be- trayed me, have you? You’ve turned in- former?” ‘“Sir—Master Reginald—no, I~” “Liar! Iheard you. You substantiated all my father’s suspicions!—miserable dog!” ‘* Ay, Master Reginald, I am a dog,” but his eyes kindled as he bowed in mock hu- mility. “Tl heard all—I stood outside the door. Rascal!” “Call me rascal, too, if you will; you have done it before.” ‘‘Andif I hada knife, I’d lay open your other cheek!” pursued Reginald, boiling with passion. ‘‘I’d give you another scar like that you received at my hands a year ago!” Harwis Reese was silent; but his breast was firing, his breathing was hard. ‘You are dismissed. I'll have you no longer near me. I owe you a@ small bal- ance —come to-morrow and get it, and take away your wardrobe at the same time. Now go, before I kick you from the steps!” “Kick me—” ‘* Yes, scoundrel!—kick you!” and he dealt the valet a fierce blow, accompanied by a kick, Herwin Reese spun round like a top; then tripped and rolled down to the pavement, where he lay half-stunned. When he recovered his senses the front door was closed—silence reigned about him, ** So!” he broke forth, grinding his teeth till they seemed ready to snap; ‘‘ you'll kick me? Iamdismissed? So be it. 1 don’t care much, J’ll triumph yet. There are other ways to strike at you, since lam no longer in your employ. will have my-revenge for this knife-cut on the cheek—and it shall be sweet—sweet! Adieu, Darnleys, both; father and son, you are doomed! Meg Semper lives to keep her pledge to the creole beauty! Doomed are you; and Herwin Reese can aid! Ha! h-a! beware!” He shook bis fist at the gloomy building, his eyes dancing like the embers of a hearth. Then he turned away. Striding rapidly along for several squares, he at last entered a broad alley,or court; from this, he turned into another alley, running af | angles, narrower, much darker. Through the unlighted avenue, through a sickly atmosphere, his bare head wet and cold tn thestorm that now was lulling gradu- ally—on went Herwin Reese. Presently he halted before the back basement entrance toa large edifice—the house in which lived Orle Deice. Advancing to the door, he gave a peculiar knock. Ina moment he heard the shuffling of feet; in another moment the bolts were drawn, and the cracked, harsh. snapping voice of Meg Semper cried: ‘Well, now, who’s this? What’s the matter at this hour of the night, when I’m just going to bed, eh? It’s you, Herwin ese?” “Yes, it’s me,” answered the valet ‘‘It’s Herwin Reese, drenched, soaking wet, and in arage! Let me get in here, and ask your questions afterward.” : J ‘ CHAPTER III. THE UGLY CONFERENCE. A—more of mystery— The solemn hour Of morning's night Saw foes convened in power; To plot the blow of rival’s hateful guile— To rob a lover of a lover’s smile, —A. P. M., Jr. As Herwin Reese spoke, the hag’s manner altered, somewhat, to a blunt welcome. He brushed past her, and, without wait- ing until she had closed the door, continued on toa room beyond, where he threw him- self into a chair. The apartment wore an aspect of comfort and luxury combined, with every conceiv- able appurtenance to the furniture of a thor- oughly arranged bedchamber, t was the sleeping.room of Meg Sem- per. When she had rebolted, relocked and barred the door, she joined him. “Ha!” she cried; striding up to him, aud bending down to peer closely into his face; ‘*what brings you here now? Do you know it’s long after midnight? You're’ gloomy, too, You vwon’t speak. Tell me what's wrong? Hey?’ and her voice, at first loud, harsh, chattering, settled to a low hiss of in- ah & ‘What's the matter, I say? And you came in bareheaded! Devils! speak out.” **T am driven to madness!” suddenly cried the valet, with such vehemence that Meg Semper started back from her stooping pos- ture. ‘“‘Heigho!”— distending her eyes, and throwing her brows into the shape of an inverted triangle—‘‘ you’re mad, eh? So— you look like it. Now, what are you mad about?” Reese began pacing the room. ‘« Everything!” he muttered, between his grinding teeth. “Oho! ‘everything’ is a good deal. Now, sit down. What is it?” He resumed his seat, and said, more calm- y: ‘* Nemil delivered the letter to-da ‘He did! He did! Yes—and Ive got the money.” ‘‘Father and son have had a quarrel, in consequence—” ‘*Good! Ha! h-—-a! That’s what we want.” ‘‘Mervin Darnley, it seems, has learned much of his son’s recent habits, and the letter was asa lighted match to the maga- zine. I was called in to-night to give testi- weg *'That’s good, too! Well?” ‘* Of course I told all I knew.” His eyes glittered venomously, and Meg Semper chuckled lowly. ‘* But,” he added, ‘‘ the culmination of the affair is, I’ve been discharged.” ‘‘Eh? That’s bad,” she frowning. ** More—I was kicked from the house.” **'What!” yelled Meg Semper, the frown upon her wrinkled forehead deepening to a scowl. “Ay, with a kick and a blow I was knocked from the steps to the middle of the street. O-—h! curses! curses!” and his — clinched till the nails sunk in the esh. “Who did it? Who did it?’ hissed, cried, snarled the hag, her eyes snapping fiercely, and her features distorting with ex- citement. “*Reginald Darnley—curse him!” ** Reginald Darnley!” she fairly howled; **and he did it?—he kicked you? By Satan! —and I had him at my knife-point only this night!” ** What do you mean?” ‘“‘He was here—came to see Orle. I would have killed him then; but the Talis- man saved his life, as it has done twice be- Weta I’m mad with thinking of the ’curst thing.” **Orle used it?” ““Yes. Whoelse? But there’s only three left now—only three! When they’re gone, too, nothing can prevent me keeping my oath! And I'll keep it sooner, unless she watches me close!—I will.” ‘*] think’ it’s better to follow my plan, Meg,” he said, studyingly. commented, ee >» * Lb Aa ces —— were ae ae pe Ed 7 aie Sa.

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“But it may take too long—that’s all. the man you have given your whole heart to Devils a-loose! my oath was to kill him. you want to do it out of my sight. but killing him, when I see him!” If | deserts you—basely proves himself unworthy ee way, then keep him! even of your friendship—l am ready to can’t think of anything } kneel and plead again for a love I should never have lost. Will you not let me win Her mouth twitched nervously, her eyes | you back?” were ablaze with a demon look. ‘Don’t work yourself into a frenzy.” “‘T can’t help it. Ill have his life—I will! —it’s my oath—” ‘*Not if I can prevent it!” interrupted a ; weak within me. voice. Orle Deice stood in the doorway. “Thought you’d gone to bed!” screamed the hag in surprise. ‘*T heard a knock,” said Orle, advancing, ‘and was curious to know who it could be. Besides, you are talking in a voice to rouse the dead. It is fortunate that this house stands alone, and again fortunate that the walls are thick—or you would have some one searching out the cause of such disturb- ance. What brings you here, Herwin Reese?” ae Orle—” His eyes were fixed upon her in a passion- ate gaze; his mien softened. ‘*’Tell me what. brings you here?” she re- peated, as he hesitated while studying her charms. ‘‘Tam discharged.” “ Discharged ?” ** Yes, Orle; and have been kicked from the house of the Darnleys.” ** Kicked!’ What for?” “* Because—” A quick, warning glance from Meg Sem- per checked him, and the hag spoke. ‘*Yes, Orle Deice, Herwin had to tell of our lover’s bad habits—that’s all. And gel has kicked him out for ’t.” Here she burst into a loud, sepulchral laugh, but added, immediately: ‘*And, Herwin, her lover, ’s give her the mit! He’s left her! Ha! h—a! There’s a row now. She hates him some, I guess. What are you going to do, Orle Deice—” ‘No, Meg Semper, I do not hate him, I stilllove him. He is still mine. But, stop this. You ask me what I shall do. It is sg that question which brings me here. ou say Nemil is in bed?” ‘*Nemil? Yes—obstinate tiger! he wouldn’t stop to take his wine, he was so tired when he came in.” ** Wake him up.” ‘*Ho! Wake him up? But you'll have him mad!” “No matter. I must see him at once, while my bosom is warm with hate for this girl— Cecilia Bernard!” ** Well, if you want him—now, devils alive! ‘what can you want him for?’ “To assist in striking a blow at Reginald Darnley,” answered the beauty, using this as an impetus to the hag’s movements. It was sufficient. Meg Semper hurried from the room. ** Orle.” Herwin Reese uttered the word in his gen- tlest tone when they were alone. ‘‘Well?” tossing her head with a half- imperious gesture and flashing an impa- tient look upon him from those deep, dark eyes. For a few seconds he gazed at her in silence. “Orle, why do you love Reginald Darnley so?” he asked. “Why do I love him? That's a strange question, Herwin Reese.” ** Yet it is natural. You once loved me.” , An expression, part scorn, part contempt, dwelt for a moment in her beautiful face. “‘True, I did,” with a slight shudder; but she added, without pause; ‘‘I did not know your miserable nature then. When a wo- man loves, she seeks for golden attributes in the object of her affection, You have none.” ‘* And is Reginald Darnley perfect?” ‘Par from it; but the veins of gold in his character are numerous as the dross in yours and the latter is great.” He winced under this. “And has all your love for me died out?” *« All,” emphatically. **Orle Deice, why permit this change? ‘You once said you were mine. We have been long together—long trod life’s path as _ brothe “a xr and sister. I love you more now never before; and in this moment, when ite we oes L¢@ pe riis S mre J A 7th , Same ent ee He arose and took a step toward her. She waved him back. **TDon’t come near me, Herwin Reese! Say no more of this: Even toleration is A hypocrite is the mean- | est of men—even meaner than the thief who would boldly rob a church altar, and after- ward join the congregation in prayers. You are a hypocrite. { know you hate Reginald Darnley; yet you have, for over a year, held the position of his valet, bowing before him and executing his wishes as a very slave. What for?—to gluta vengeance; a vengeance Satanic, because you fear to strike him like a@ man; and like an assassin who lurks with- in a gloomy forest, to waylay the uncon- scious traveler, so do you wait to vent, from concealment, the venom of your hate! Say no more to me of love, or—I shal despise you! Hush!—here they come.” Meg Semper returned at that juncture, ac- companied by the party called Nemil. He was arn African of towering build, bristling, bearded front, scowling, hang- dog visage, and muscular frame. His face was black as lamp-smoke, and of yengeful expression; his eyes were bloodshot and of brutal glance; his voice was of a guttural baritone. In no very good humor at being aroused from a sound sleep, he preceded Meg, with long strides, and glared at the two who seemed awaiting his coming. ‘* Well,” he snarled, *‘ what do you wake me up at this time for?” ‘*A matter of business, Namil,” returned Orle, authoritatively. But her tone was far from quieting, for he exclaimed, with a savage growl und a grunt: “Business be cursed! I’m tired. Can't keep on my feet for all time—nor can any- body else! D'you know that?” ‘© Tush, Nemil! you're an ass!” cried Meg, ‘Talk better to Orle.” ‘‘ But,” spoke the valet, who—though he had not the remotest idea what Orle wanted of the African, yet, despite her recent treat- ment of him, was eager to sustain her--- sought to soothe him, ‘‘we thought you were fond of money.” ‘‘Ha! money!” quickly ejaculated the negro, while his eyes shone greedily. Meg Semper, with a grin, placed her fore- finger against her nose. ‘* Yes, Nemil; of course, where there’s busi- ness, there’s money,” glancing at Orle. **T have a piece of work for you to per- form, Nemil,” Orle said; ‘‘a plan in which you must assist. If you are ready, it will pay you. If youare not ready—then go back to bed.” But the mention of money had thoroughly awakened Nemil; he was now of a pliant mind. ‘‘That’s another matter,” he grunted, with satisfaction. ‘If there’s money, I’m ready enough. Now, what is it?” ‘* Yes, what is it?” put in Meg, shrilly. ‘*T want to hear the plan to rob Reginald Darnley of his intended bride. Out, now!” ‘© You sball hear it, It is simple,” returned the girl, her ripe lips compressed and dark eyes flashing with thought of a rival whom she was about to crush. They grouped around her to discuss the plot by which the marriage between Regi- nald Darnley and Cecilia Bernard was to prevented; and the tableau was a weird one, CHAPTER IV. THE MYSTERIOUS CARD-PLAYER. ** Alas! I have no hope nor health, Nor peace within, nor calm around.” —SHELLEY, REGINALD Darnuey, after having dis- charged his valet, strode hurriedly past the hall servant—who had caught just sufficient of the angry dialogue to make him wonder and FA ate seeking his rooms, he cast himself mechanically into the nearest chair, where he sat silently gazing down at. the ft. His father knew all—knew that he was a gambler, a card-player, mingling with h tet we Mesilla anti siralge an s > tie Chris Crewley’s Winning Hand. ee het, g herding wretches who comprise the flashy, dare-devil portion of a community—only one grade above the common ‘‘ rough,” and with no aim, no ambition, beyond the excitement of ‘‘ Tiger.” The note purporting to have come from Orle Deice had fed the flame of irritation;. though he could not believe the beautiful girl, who professed such iove for him, would thus create so dangerous a discord. The affair was one of mystery to him. His handsome face flushed, paled, then flushed again, as he meditated upon the prob- able consequences pending. What action would his father take? He was too stern,too sensitive in the family honor, to calmly brook the casting of a stain upon it. Then the young man’s cheek whitened as he thought of another thing: what if Mer- vin Darnley should disown him? If such happened, what had the future in store?--- poverty, degradation; for Reginald’s win- nings at the baize table were equibalanced py his losses, and, therefore, a meager, if any, resource lay in this? Though educated for society, he was with- out a trade. Would his friends aid him? Were there those among his ‘‘ Bohemian” acquaintances---his card-tricking, dice-ban- tering, ‘‘sharp”-playing associates — who would lend him a helping hand? Thus ruminating, he fell asleep. He did not awake from his sound though restless slumber until nine o'clock next morning, and would have slept much later had there not been & loud rap at his door. A servant presented a note. Trembling with agitation, he read the epistle. As he perused the lines, all color fled from his cheeks, he staggered and clutched the mantelpiece for support, his knees grew weak and his brain dizzy. His worst fears were realized. The note rar thus: ‘* REGINALD DARNLEY:--- ‘*Not content with sullying the name of Darnley by your infamous course, you have proven yourself an unprincipled liar! It is my duty to maintain the honor and dignity of our house, at every sacrifice. Therefore, understand: I no longer consider you son of mine, and bid you, now and forever, quit my presence! Go---go to those whose vile surroundings you preferred to the home [ have striven to make pleasant for you; go, where a Darnley never went before! And this is the ending of a parent’s fondest hopes ---hopes of seeing you an upright man, hon- ored among men---a mere shadow. My heart bleeds!---but the justice of my course will heal it. Do not seek an interview; I would be spared its pain, and shall not waver in my purpose. ‘*MERVIN DARNLEY.” And by this act did the manufacturer seek to cleanse the sullied page. ‘‘Disowned! Disowned!” groaned Regi- nald, hoarsely. ‘‘God! what am [ to do?” An hour after learning of his home-exile, the young man was seated in a quiet restau- rant, at breakfast, He had immediately left the house, col- lecting what ready money he could count, and, with a desperate spirit, braced himself to face the world, alone, without that shelter which had opened to him always, from birth to manhood. As he sipped the warm coffee, his fine dark eyes seemed to have lost much of their wont- ed brilliancy; his face was pale, dejected, in expression. After securing rooms, he walked out to the busy street, and turned---he cared not whither. The noisy hum of business on every side did not arouse him from his meditations} as, with head hung, he pursued an indefinite course. Unknowingly, he wandered from the live- liest sections---presently he became aware that he was followed. Glancing back, he saw an aged woman a Seem, mething in He halted. Ina few seconds she came up. . ‘Ha! h---a! Reginald Darnley, we've met again, eh?” There was no mistakiug that v the ae neline hag, Meg Sen > She drop | the bask ; her DER A ae oice; it was , with a basket. on her arm, her appearance struck him. ~— hrs |

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the murderous knife that was secreted in the folds of her dress. Shuddering, he glanced quickly about him; not a soul in sight. He was almost in the suburbs of the city. The thorough- fare was lonely, deserted; and on _ the ominous stillness arose the hum of the dis- tant market. ‘*T told you I was going tobe your death!” cried the*hag, advancing upon him. How strange the fascination of those basilisk eyes! They held him riveted in a horrible magnetism. ““Ha! h---a, you’re doomed. My oath!---my oath!” Phrills of ineffable horror, quick and startling to the nerves, flashed through his system ; his mouth twitched, his hands worked convulsively, great beads of sweat started out upon his brow; alarming chills shot through his veins; his eyes were fixed staringly on the creature who menaced nim, while ali strength froze upon his muscies— left him powerless, dismayed. Was it to be a murder, in broad daylight, upon the public street? *‘foomed, Reginald Darnley!---doomed.” another step; the shining knife glistened it her hand. Suddenly there was the rustle of a dress, the wind of a swiftly passing figure, some- thing quivered for an instant before the hag’s eyes—a small white hand and wrist, with the single tongue of flame—the Talis- man! Meg Semper uttered a half-smothered how] of rage, and wheeled around in time to see the figure of a woman, with long, dark hair floating in waves about her shoulders as she sped away. Reginald was released from the horrible charm, and, with an indescribable feeling of dread, he turned and fled from the spot. Meg Semper gazed after the female figure, and if she had had teeth, they would have been pulverized in the fierce working of the inoutli, as she muttered: “By Satan! I thought the girl was safe at home. How’d she get on my heels so quick, eh? She said last night she’d prevent my do- ing it, if she could. She watches me close. Only for the ’curst Talisman I’d had his life. And I will have his life—if he’s in the house, or on the street, or anywhere. It’s my oath! But now there’s only two left. Ha! h—a! only two more! And when they’re gone, then —ha! ha! ha! he must die, anyhow! WNoth- ing can save him.” And with this, she recovered her basket and moved away. This occurrence, this miraculous escape from a death that seemed inevitable, increas- ed the fog of mystery which hazed and per- plexed the young man’s mind, Why was the hag so persistent in her re- solve to take his life? He had never done her injury—never saw her until the night previous. Ay, and through what interven- tion had he been preserved on these two ae- easions, when the fiend, with murder in her eyes and a deadly blade in her hand, was so near accomplishing her dire purpose? Thus trained the thoughts and questionsin his mind as he slackened his gait to a slow, meditative walk. On neither occasion had he seen the Talis- man; so oblivious had his senses been to all save the shuddering realization of a pending doom and sight of the hideous being who would mete out that doom. ; “*Hello, Rex! How d’you do?” Reginald looked up. He stood before the identical gambling-saloon in which he had spent several hoursthe night before, Two acquaintances stood near the steps; one of these had saluted him. He hesitated. Then, fired by a reckless re- solve, he hurried past the two men, merely nodding, and entered the establishment, The general saloon was closed—being only thrown open to votaries of the ‘‘Egyptian King” at night—but to a partially private room he continued on, and soon stood amid a blaze of light reflected from prism-hun chandeliers, for the room was kept darkeben to screen the interior from prying eyes on the foie side of the street. ‘Seated at a large table in the center of the saloon were a few flashily-attired “bloods,” who eercocsly greeted him. _._. Who is playing?” asked Reginald, _ bluntly. Prepare! ns sn 7 Chris Crewley’s Winning Hand. ‘* Cards?” dent. ‘* Yes, cards.” And he added, to the others: ‘Who plays? Come, gentlemen, I have money to lose, or, perhaps, luck to win.” ‘* Who will play?—some one?” urged the superintendent, His challenge met no answer. No one there cared to venture a game with him; he was too well Known as an adept. Reginald tossed down the pack of cards that had been handed him, and withdrew to one of the curtained alcoves that lined the side of the room. He had scarce sought this retirement, when the door again opened and a stranger appeared. An old man of about sixty, with a frosty | mustache, that drooped in twirls, and heavy whiskers of a like color; of sallow com- | plexion, and wearing green spectacles. His | garments were tight pants, buckle-gaiters, | loose vest, gray frock coat with tight-fitting | sleeves, that gave his arms a very thin ap- pearance. His hat was a very large, broad- brimmed, black slouch, which, as he held it in his hand, and seemed to bend with the weight of years, touched his ankles. ““Day, gentlemen,” said this personage. ** Are you playing?” ‘Hey, old mustachios!” bawled a young sprig, whose brain was tipsy in the contents of his stomach; “I say (hic!) you ain’t goin’ to play?” For which the, superintendent tapped him on the shoulder, and said: | ‘* Hold your tongue, or I'll kick you down- stairs!” Then he addressed the new-comer: ** How will you play, sir? You are a stran- ger here, I see.” “Yes,” in a peculiar, bland voice, ‘‘a stranger, but my ‘papers’ are not fresh. Two at cards, if you please.” ‘‘Yes, sir. Who plays? Two at cards. Will any play?” The curtains of the nearest alcove were thrust aside, and Reginald Darnley an swered: **T play!” The old man’s eyes gleamed strangely be- hind the spectacles as Reginald presented himself. Both parties were soon seated at the game. “Wine!” called the young man after gath- ering in the first stakes. An eager group intently watched the players. Reginald’s aptness to trick an opponent was well known. The young man’s antago- nist was a stranger. ould the latter soon see with whom he had to deal, and back out? They smiled as ph swept in his first winnings; they smiled again when the second stake followed the first. They played for five dollars. was raised to ten; then to twenty. ‘Do that again, sir, and I’ll throw up my hand,” remarked the old man, in his low, mild voice. Reginald bit his lip. He had been detected in a favorite piece of cheatery. ““Ah, young man, you play exceedingly well, You have won two hundred dollars from me, But Iam not discouraged. Shall we double?” ‘“‘ Triple, if you like!” was the warm an- swer. The wine and the game gradually con- sumed Reginald in excitement. Tke old man was cool and calm as an autumn breeze, with its slight crispness and easy vibration. he lookers-on increased. Finally, there was no other game in progress in the room, interrogated the superinten- See ee Se eee ee ae Soon this _— EE Ee ee Se as PE a eee CHAPTER YV. IN THE SNARE. “ Well, I Mt know the worst and leave the : Ww To drift or drown the venture on the wave.” ‘**Oh, what a weight is in these shades!” — WoRpDsWORTH, Ir was the morn of the day succeeding the night of storm. n the suburbs of the city, nestling in a vernal grove that echoed with the carol of birdling vocalists, was a Cottage, whose | Gothic windows pooped from beneath a. purple screen of wisteria. _ - ; ov. “ ; ah ’ : 3 ab ty, sin : e we syle 4 “a eee 4 the ne bel irk 3c Says Val ACs ee ee ; ae ch lee kak Bo 8 Surrounding the house was an extensive garden, whose varied hues of bloom were glistening in the crystal damp of the recent rain. It was the residence of Lacy Bernard, @ retired merchant, who sought the fairy re- treat to pass his wintering years in quiesude, with a fond wife and beautiful child. This child was Cecilia—a blonde of houri-like form, hair of sbimmerirg gold, face to vie the beauty of the bright, ‘* pro- verbial rose,” and deep blue eyes that danced like the ripple of a lake beneath a silver moon. At the moment, Cecilia was walking in the miniature Eden of her home, arm in arm with a tall, handsome young man, whose complex- ion and manner at once betrayed that he was a Northerner. Their conversation was of the flowers— what language more beautiful?—and his many gallant speeches seemed of more than passing import, for, anon, the cheeks of his fair companion crimsoned at his words, like timid clouds that hover near the half-open portals of Aurora. ‘*Miss Bernard, you must feel ineffably happy in your lovely surroundings.” ** Perhaps,” she returned, absently. ‘‘ You know one’s inward self is not always happy, no matter what the surroundings.” “Then you are not happy?” ‘Why do you ask? You have changed the subject of our conversation rather abruptly.” ‘* Your words imply that there is a some- thing within you not to be rested by the gorgeous picture that here abounds. Phere is a cloud; you cannot deny it Would I had the power to dispel that cloud.” Looking up into his face, she detected him in a fixed, ardent gaze upon .the golden tresses at his shoulder. Quickly averting her eyes, she said: ‘* You draw too abrupt an inference.” The evasive words were lost upon him, ‘Your hand trembles on my arm—Ce- cilia.” ‘* Trembles—” ‘* Yes. I amsatisfied now. Come—TI have fixed my resolve; listen—” ‘Let us return to the house, Mr. Wald- ron.” ‘‘And disappoint the birds that sing now, for your special pleasure? How ungenerous that would be! Here isa seat. Sit down; I beg.” She yielded to his request, though seeming anxious to avoid what was pending. She knew what was eager to escape his lips, knew that he would whisper words of love and devotion; the quick perception of x cul- tivated mind had discovered this. ‘Miss Bernard—Cecilia,” he said, present- ly, ‘‘it’s now over six months since I became a visitor at your father’s house. During that time, I have learned to love you. It is of that love I would speak.” ‘*Your love, Mr. Waldron?” with a slight start, and voice not so even as it might have been. ‘* Yes,” he interrupted, fervently. ‘‘ Now, will yon not let me plead this love? My every hope is centered—” ‘‘ Hush!” her voice low, and manner that of one ill at ease—*‘do not speak of this, Mr. Waldron—do not.” ‘Nay, listen, while 1 tell you how dear you are to me; while I tell you what life will be to me without you—” ‘No, no, no; cease. I cannot—I have no right to listen!” ; - Their gaze was one; their eyes volumed that sweet, subtle power which links hearts in a bond of mutual affection. But there was an unrest in her glance; something marred the pleasure of her thoughts. Then, yielding to the warmth that swelled each fiber of her system, she pillowed her head upon his breast. ‘‘ Let me know my fate, darling. But why should I ask?—I see you are already mine— speak; am I right?” ‘‘J—I do love—oh! no, no; what am I saying? I must not love you.” ‘*Must not! In Heaven’s name!—have I asked too late for that which I so fondly hoped to call my own? Unsay those words, . Cecilia.”’ - ‘* No—no; I must not love—and yet~—” “Ab y te?

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_ resisting form closer to him, and felt the fair “tun Cecilia.” -- twined gute. 8 ‘“‘T do love you, for my heart will have it | Cecilia stood, for a long time, solitary and so!” weeping. Her words were quick, short-breathed; the From the interchange of loving words, the luster of her eyes was dimmed; there was a | soft sigh, the fond caress, the magnet touch sob in her voice, which only a painful effort | of lip to lip—from these we know that her could restrain. heart was given to Henry Waldron. Given Ina passionate impulse, he drew her un- | wholly? Wait. frame quiver in his embrace. regained their former luster, and the heaving Quickly; however, she disengaged herself, | bosom was schooled to cease its throbbing, asif asbamed of the part she had acted, and | she glanced toward the gate, half-expecting , to see him lingering there, waiting for asign, | started to her feet. ‘I forgot myself!” she exclaimed, in con- | 8 murmured ‘“‘come,” that would recall him. fusion. ‘‘Let us retire to the house at | But he was gone. once.” Slowly, sadly she turned from the spot and ‘‘No, not forgotten yourself, but told me | entered the house. that I have won your heart. I am not fully Alone in the privacy of her room, the an- answered yet. Your hand now, Cecilia— ! guish of a fettered spirit asserted itself. will * ase give it, also?” Sine advanced to a small casket on a table “Do not press this subject, Mr. Waldron. | near her bedside, and drew forth two da- guerreoty pes. sobbing grew more violent. *“Oh, God!” she moaned, ‘‘tell me my own heart. Tell me—tell me, which of these do I love best?” They fell from her hand, and, sinking back upon her bed, she buried her face in the downy pillow, as if Come; please return to the house.” ** Will you not give me a definite answer?” he persisted, mildly. ‘You are cruel. Cesist.” As they retraced their steps along the gravel path, he asked: ‘Why do you evade me in this, Cecilia?” ‘** Because it is my duty.” “Duty? Why, if your beart is given, do you refuse the answer which I believe is just- ly due? Will you tell me this?” ‘‘No.” The reply. was low, but firm. ‘Will you not confide in me? Tell me why, how you love, and will not plight a lover’s troth,” “‘T have nothing to confide, Mr. Wal- dron.” ‘*But you love me?” “Yes,” was the soft, impulsive answer, and the weight on his arm grew heavier. A thrill of joy passed over him; but it was doomed to an abrupt dispellment, for she added: ‘It must end there. mitting it, and you must forget it. never be your wife.” For a second he was dumb. ‘* Love me as you do!” he exclaimed; ‘‘ and cannot, will not be my wife? In the name of Heaven!—what mystery is this?” ‘*Mr. Waldron—cease—show mercy, Do not rend my heart by continuing this conver- sation.” ‘But, tell me what you mean, Will you not give me a hope?’’ **T cannot! I cannot!” Hie was silent. How strange it seemed to him, that he could possess the fair girl’s love, hear her, in unmistakable syllables, declare a reciprocation of his affection, yet hear of an impediment to their marriage. What mysterious power limited the heart and action to attest a love, while it com- pelled the lips to utter impossibility of holy unl on. When they reached the steps leading to the vine-clad porch, she would have retained his arm; but he halted. ** Cevilia, I must bid you good-day ” ‘*So soon?” —quickly, and surprised. ‘ [have already stayed too long. Pleas- ant dreams by day and night, until we meet again,” though his voice was broken, dis- pi ited. She must have seen how keen his disap- p ‘utment; she must have felt anxious, for she detained him, to say, while she looked yenrningly up into his face: ‘Harry, we part friends, do we not? You will come again—soon? Oh! if you did but know how terrible it is for me to learn your love, to’ return that love, yet be uandle to bestow my hand!—you are not auery ?” ‘ { cannot so’ far forget that I am a gentle- I have begged you to her misery. and Reginald Darnley—the latter her affi- anced; though she knew not the true char- acter of the man to whom her hand was pledged. Her heart leaned equally toward each—she loved both Waldron and Darnley in that depth of Heaven-wrought passion alone con- woman, And this her misery: knowing that a little less than when she had given him a lover’s promise. At the dinner-hour, Lacy Bernard and his wife missed the sunny presence of their child. A servant was dispatched up-stairs, who returned with the information that Cecilia felt unwell. Mrs. Bernard sought her daughter. She saw that the rosy tinge was gone from her cheeks, knew she was not well. Cecilia would not speak her secret: A mother’s caresses were not sufficient medicine for a torn and aching heart, such as hers; it was a yearning for—she could not say what—perhaps a liberation from her vows to Reginald Darnley? And how could even that benefit her? The choice would be to be made again. She kneW their love was great, she knew she loved both in the same throbbing of her heart. Even the sweet commune of prayer served but to increase her knowledge of the wrong spirit which ruled her, despite her efforts to decide and be at rest. The gentle whisper of her mother’s voice seemed a mockery; the birds that caroled in the foliage near the house seemed to sing the louder, as if rejoiced at her unhappiness; not a perfumed breeze ruffled the curtains at her window but what contained a murmur of de- rision. The day wore on. A new choir joined in the melody that had enlivened the golden day ; enchanting vespers arose from the green depths of the garden bower without, as evening gradually drew its mantle on the skies, Alone, lying there upon her bed, half- asleep, yetawake to the surrounding changes and the.cadent air of approaching night, Ce- cilia remained. Beyond a far woodland, rich with the ver- durous canopies of summer growth, the sun shimmered its parting rays oe the cottage home, when Cecilia aroused from her wake- ful dreams, Her features were calmer; but a glance at her mirror told how marked were the effects of that day’s agony. Mechanically she arranged her toilet; the tea-bell was tinkling in the lower hall. There was arap at her door. A note was ee her. Tearing open the envelope, she read: Iam wrong in ad- I can An emotion worked within his breast as he list ned to her words—so full of love and yet so ounding. His lips moved, as if to plead an w the cause which seemed hopeless; he would have clasped her to him. But, witha mility effort, he refrained. A: other parting word, a bow that was dis- tan’. even icy, and he departed. A few steps, and he looked back. She stood where he had left her, her face buried in her hands, and a low sobbing reached his ears : eld he return? Irresolute, he paused; the next instant he passed on, out at the rose- ‘* DEAR Cucrmra:— ‘‘ Unlooked-for circumstances have arisen, which compel me to leave townat once. I ————— Ships aS df { ae aay . “om be rie ne bit os ’ Aly i Bin Uist damit beeh poe taunt MT ae RY pce CN SE Ie i ur wave a Pies Chris Crewley’s Winning Hand. | When the tear-dimmed eyes had partially As she gazed upon them, her | The man she saw was Nemil. | with all the politeness of his rough, wild The two pictures were Henry Waldron | | ** Yes; lead on. am so busied, I have not time to call upon fi you. But I would see you beforeI go. If | denness. Instead of winning, as at first, he you can—come, Follow the bearer of this began to lose. \ » “- ‘ 7 Wace Ry oe ey ee eee) Se | a. 4 Se Pasa ee: 4 2) Ser Aceh. be , Rit Yo e See BNE note, who will conduct you tome. J am not ' at home. REGINALD.” This was strange! How unlike Reginald’s ' way of wording a note did this one seem; but | the handwriting wascertainly his. Then she | read it again. | “T must go. Imust see him,” she mur- mured, after a spell of thought; and address- ing the servant: ‘ Tell the bearer of the note | I will come directly.” 4 Love is strong. Despite the singularity of | the request, and the fact of its being worded | sO unlike those she bad received from him, often, there was a charm in the name of the man she loved, which prompted her to grant | the writer’s wish. “ | Hastily throwing a shawl over her shoul- | ders, and snatching up her hat, she descend- ed to the hall. He was well-dressed; deported himself nature, | ‘*Did you bring the note?” she asked, the | African’s visage causing her a feeling of dis- | trust. to shut from her vision that which caused |} ‘‘Yes,” he answered, briefly. ‘Reginald Darnley sent me. Go?” She hesitated. ‘Go?’ repeated Nemil. Is it far?” ** Not far.” | Mr. and Mrs. Bernard were at tea, and, un- noticed, the two left the house. | Twilight was deepening; already dark | shadows were settling in the streets. | 7 ‘ sonant with the fervor of a pure, guileless | She scanned her conductor's face. Per ‘haps its fierce mold forced suspicions in her | mind. Why should Reginald employ such she loved one as the other—perhaps Darnley | , person, rhe there were familiar servants | at his house? But the note said he was not ;at home—she had momentarily forgotten this. | **How much further?” she questioned, as ' they hurried through several remote streets, and night was upon them. ‘* Not far,” was the blunt answer, ' Her heart fluttered. Where conld he be leading her? “Turn back! Turn back!” whispered a voice within her, She slackened her steps — would. have | paused, irresolute. | ‘©ome on. "Most there,” said the Afri- can. | A few more blocks were gone over; still , that inward voice cried: | “Turn back! Turn back!” r It was now fully dark. The teins | were casting their first faint glimmer on the | pavements. ' Cecilia stopped short. A conviction that | all was not right now fixed upon her, ‘*See,” urged Nemil; ‘‘only one square more. ‘There’s the house.” She saw a large, gloomy structure looming up in the darkness ahead. — Again her thought of Reginald conquered : her-doubts, “He’s waiting there,” added Nemil, per- suasively; but his eyes were aglow with a fiendish light. She started forward with her guide- and again came the whispering voice: ‘“Taurn back! Turn back!” The mysterious warning was in vain. The house was reached. “Enter!” he said, as some one swung open ' the door, in answer to his pull at the bell. She obeyed, and found herself in a large hall, where evidences of wealth glittered on every side. | Nemil stepped quickly in after her, and as ‘he shut and locked the door, he placed his back against it, while a low, guttural, savage laugh issued from his thick lips. Before Cecilia, her radiant charms dazzling in their show, stood Orle Deice; and the dark orbs of the beauty flashed a fire of hate as she contemplated her entrapped rival. CHAPTER VI. THE TEMPTER. “ And, thirsting for revenge, I ponder still On pangs that longest rack and latest kill.” —BYRON, Wirn the raising of the stakes, Reginald Darnley’s luck changed with singular sud-

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- more and more excited. your pocket. ‘I have read it. deeper. ed, inquiringly: that? Yor “Mine is Henric Three successive games went against him. The old man seemed to win with marvelous ease, If Reginald could stack the cards, so, also, could his opponent; if he could cheat a little—the old man was foremost in that; and those who were looking on, bound, in honor, to silence, smiled as they saw each player warily hold a good card on the knee beneath the tabie. Young Darnley brought to bear his most telling plays, favorite tricks—all of which were promptly met and defeated by his an- tagonist. e of the green spectacles played on, with a calm, unruffied exterior. Reginald grew ‘‘Enough! I am drained!” as the old man drew in the last stake. ‘*T am sorry, indeed. You have a watch, I perceive.” The last suggestively. The watch was staked—and, lost. ‘“You wear diamonds, sir,” with oily per- suasiveness. : The diamonds were staked—and lost! rings and studs. **I bid you good-day, sir,” and the for- tunate stranger, after paying table-fee, de- parted, leaving Reginald penniless. A low murmur came from the crowd who gazed after the lucky winner. | For some time the young man sat in speech- less despair; then, arising hurriedly, he made his way through the group that discussed his misfortune and passed out. Near the entrance, as he left the steps, some one tapped him on the shoulder. It was his late opponent. “Well!” he exclaimed, bitterly; ‘‘ what can you seek now? You have ruined me! Do you wish to mock me?—a beggar!” ‘My friend,” said the mild voice, “ you are wrong. No—I would not mock you. My intentions are far different. You say you are ruined?” ** Ruined!” groaned Reginald. ‘*Then I would befriend you.” ‘“* Befriend me?” ‘* Yes. See—as I was leaving the table, I picked this up.” : Reginald snatched the paper which the other extended. It was the note in which Mervin Darnley had disowned his son, An- other moment, and it flew in bits out to the gutter, _ ‘ How came you by it?” he asked, redden- ing. “In using your handkerchief it fell from It is a serious thing. You need a friend. I am the one who will befriend you.” The red dye of Reginald’s cheek grew Who, till now, would have dared ‘say he needed a friend to sustain him before the world? It was a stinging utterance, and his first impulse was to resentit. But the hot blood that mantled his brow receded as he realized how much truth there was in the words. He looked searchingly into the speaker’s face, and said, with evident emotion: —_ ‘‘Look!_ You have made me a penniless wretch! Now, you proffer friendship. Think well of your words, forI am in no mood to trifle. I am desperate. Do not Tee bes a desperate man. Do you mean what you say?” _ **Come with me, and you shall see. No, Iam not trifling. Penniless!—yes, it’s enough to make any one desperate. “I regret that I beggared you at the game; but, come along, come along, and let us see whether I am sincere Or not,” nie is voice was of pious depth and sym- pathizing tenor. As Reginald locked arms with him and the two moved away, he add. 4 ts pit is Reginald Darnley?” ___ “Did not the note you picked up tell you rs?” 3: q—Gerard Henricq.” _ And your business?” f “ce 2 ‘a profession, — I live wholly by it. Few can pla better t a the busine = te did ou. sid Sut , "youn you. play a close, shrew no. y Or An—ver . Yes, [have made it a study, y, 1 grant you). ae," Chris Crewley’s Winning Hand. “Ay,” said Reginald, with a bitter accent; ‘‘he is wealthy, and I, his only son, am re- duced to absolute poverty.” “Ah, young man, you must profess, if you do not actually possess, a wider know!l- edge of the world than to give ’way under such an occurrence as this.” ‘*Your meaning, sir?” ‘*Oh, tricks, schemes, battles, like.” “IT do not understand.” ‘Schemes to recover that which you have lost,” with low emphasis, while the eyes glistened behind the spectacles, Then he added, before Reginald could speak: ‘*Let us get off the thoroughfare, and in a place where we can talk privately.” Entering a restaurant, they ascended to the second story, secured a room, and ordered refreshments. Gerard Henricq’s bland, polite carriage and profession of friendship had already won the confidence of his younger com- panion, and it was not long before Reginald poured into his ear minute details of his situation, : When mention was made of the summary dismissal of the valet, Henricq’s sallow face colored slightly, his eyes filled with fire, and a peculiar smile wreathed his lips. But this was only for a moment. ‘‘Tam now more than ever interested in your welfare,” he said. ‘‘ Besides, your story makes me regret the deeper that I should have played against you at cards—” ‘“‘Say nothing of that!” interrupted Regi- nald. ‘‘What you have won is fairly yours.” : ‘*But,” pursued the old man, “ you will oblige me by accepting your watch and studs. A gentleman looks awkward with his shirt bosom loose,” handing over the articles, Reginald did not refuse them. ‘‘T said I would befriend you,” spoke Henricq, slowly, after having seemed to weigh something in his mind; “‘ and, as you are pinched, I will begin at once. You have no money ?” ‘* Not a dollar,” was the dejected reply. ‘‘Here are fifty. I’m going to be your banker.” ‘“*Can you mean it?” bewilderedly. ‘*There is the money. Do you want more proof?” Reginald received the amount with a grate‘ul heart, and thanked his new-found rieod forthe generous gift. **T will supply you with money whenever you are in need,” added that winning, subtle voice. ‘‘T am under obligations that I fear I shall never be able to cance,” said Reginald, now looking upon his benefactor almost as a messenger from Heaven. ‘*T shall expect you to return all I lend you,” This speech was stunning. Reginald looked at him blankly. How was it pos- sible to pay him anything back, without resource? . ‘“That I cannot promise, Gerard Hen- ricq. You had best withhold your proposed bounty.” ‘‘Stop—you can safely promise, if I read you aright,” were the strange words, in- tended to relieve the young man’s embarrass- ment. A whispering silence followed. The men looked steadfastly at each other. What could Gerard Henricq mean? What significance was there in those mild sentences —those confident. assertions? His manner was, pe den sel growing more oily, more engaging; his words were singularly forcible in the calm utterance, “ Gerard Henricq, explain yourself. How am I to repay you?” The old man turned his gaze to the carpet and hesitated. Presently he said, while he smoothed his beard thoughtfully: and the two remarked, is a desperate one.” “Ay, desperate!” was the prompt re- an J; and very many old hands | joinder shave been beaten as cleverly * ae «e BS + mn hy 7 “And: et be to place yourself above positio ti ‘ Loker “«Mr. Darnley, your situation, as you have | you do not consider how easy a | ee Another pause. Reginald was silent. The old man arose, and going to the door, locked it, after which he returned to his seat and said, in a voice still lower: ‘Speak guardedly now; I’m going to tell you something.” “Hurry, then.” Reginald’s curiosity was burning him, ‘As I said, you are desperate—” ‘** Enough for anything.” “Ha! tow Ihave my reins. Then, why allow yourself to be barred from the luxury of a fortune, when a little—so little—deter- mined action will adjust things to your benefit?” ‘** You speak in riddles.” ‘** Has not your father already made out a will, in which the bulk of his wealth is be- queathed to you?” ‘*He has; how do you know it?” *‘I do not. know it; I merely judged the likelihood—you being the only child—” ‘“*And how do you know Tan the only child?” For a brief space Henricq seemed’embar- rassed. “You told me so just now.” “Perhaps I did,” admitted Reginald, musingly, though he had no recollection of having done so. . ‘* Would you suppose now,” the old man continued, “that your father had destroyed the will and made out a new one?” ‘* Having disowned me, it is reasonable to suppose the will has been destroyed in which I was to be benefited.” ““And has there been time to make out another?” ‘“‘T think ‘it hardly possible,” answered Reginald blindly. It would seem as if Henricq was gradually exercising a sort of mesmerism upon _ his younger companion. ‘“‘Then”—the low voice sunk lower— ‘‘why permit anew one to be made out at — all?” “Ha! what—” “Stay!” lower still, until he spoke in a whisper; ‘‘is it not possible that Mervin Darnley might die before another instrument could be made out?’ ‘Gerard Henricq!—you mean—” ‘‘Stop, stop,” he interrupted, as he per- ceived that Reginald was staring and excited, for the hint was understood. ‘‘ Stop, now; this is a weighty subject, and you must re- tain your wits.” ‘But, you have hinted—that—my father —must—” he was articulating breathlessly. ‘‘He is not your father, Mr. Darnley,” smooth, oily, and two rows of white teeth— unusually sound for a man of his age—glis- tened behind the parted lips. ¢ ‘** Not my father!” Reginald’s breath came short and quick. 4 ze ‘‘Has he not disowned you? If you are not his son, then, certainly, he is not your father? He is but a barrier between you and — your means of support.” Reginald’s eyes were dancing in excitement; a red haze hovered in his vision. His cheeks were scarlet in a feverish glow; the blood in his veins was boiling; a subtle coil was. gathering round his heart—the serpent had struck! ‘*You would have me kill him!” he cried huskily. , “Otherwise poverty escorts you to the grave.” ; with. ** Ah! you command a trade?” ‘* Why do you ask?” “You evade the question. learned a trade?” ‘ ‘*No—but—” fore another will is made out, an s “You forget I have a good arm to toil | Have you — Do what I suggest, Nets cP

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10 Chris Crewley’s Winning Hand. 2 ; | . - Gerard Henricq quietly eased back in his | voluntary tremor of a guilty conscience chair, drew forth a penknife, and leisurely | twitched the muscles of his handsome face— began paring his nails. CHAPTER VII. THE SECOND “x * * * * Into what abyss of fears And horrors hast thou driven me; out of BLOW. which I find no way, from deep to deeper plunged!” — MILTON. ** Shades of departed joys around me rise, With many a face that smiles on me no more.” —ROGER. SuppENLY Reginald Darnley paused before the wily tempter. ‘‘Gerard Henricq, how is done?” His voice was broken, as if by a choking at the throat; his face glowed with an un- natural heat. ** Very easily, Mr. Darnley, very easily, if you will obey my instructions,” the last with affected humbleness. ‘* T will do it!” *« You have determined wisely.” The gray head nodded approvingly; then he continued: ‘* Now, be firm in your determination.” ‘As a rock!” hoarsely, ‘‘ He has cast me off, and but for you I would now be hunger- ing fora meal. It is his life or mine—and it shall be his!” ‘* Very wise—very,” smiling in a patroniz- ing way. ‘I foresaw that you would conclude properly, and your firmness of purpose makes me more your friend than ever.” Satan triumphed through Gerard Hen- ticq. The first work of this seeming friend Was to urge a desperate man to heinous crime. Reginald sunk again into his seat. Hen- ricq drew his chair nearer. “The next thing, Mr. Darnley, is to ar- range our plan of operation.” ‘* You may do that,” absently, his thoughts wandering. The young man was gazing along the un- certain corridor of great ‘‘To Be.” He looked upon the different paths before him— one of poverty,the other blazoning in wealth; the latter attainable through a fiendish deed. As he meditated, he did not ask himself why this serpent friend should take so great an interest in him, or why he should propose an act so horrible. Had he done so— ‘*O—h, n—o,” protested the old villain, hypocritically; ‘“‘ you are granting too much. ou may think I am interested beyond your welfare.” **No, do as you please,” in a steady, indif- ferent whisper. 5 ‘* Very well, very well; if you will leave # to me, I'll attend to it—arrange for you, that is. But you will see that the thing must be done quickly; there is no time to waste.” ‘*Yes, it must be done quickly,” still in that abstracted mood. ““Come here this evening, Mr. Darnley, and |’ll communicate a feasible plan.” “*This evening,” assented Reginald. “* Let it be eight o’clock.” ** Eight o’clock.” ‘Then I'll bid you good-day. Remember —eight o’clock.” th a low bow, another exhibition of the white teeth, asasmile of hidden meaning curved his lips, and prepping noiseless as a cat, Gerard evvica withdrew. As he de- scended the stairs, he rubbed his hands to- gether and muttered, hissingly: ‘‘How much better is my plan! —how much better! He will destroy himself! Matters are working finely. Disowned—penniless— desperate. 1t is well! Ha! ha! ha!” a low, devilish chuckle issued from his lips. Canceling his check at the bar, he passed out to the street and hurried away. Reginald Darnley sat long alone, er of the shades that were gathering like fate clusters around his life. He went over again, in mind, the scenes of the last twenty-four hours, the brief space in which he was cast this to be _ from the waves of peace and luxury to the barren sands of anguish and poverty, He meditated upon the act he was about to _ perpetrate; and, in oblivious revery the in- the slightest rustle startled him. ** Murderer!” : How that fearful word kept ringing in his ears, even before he stained his soul with the crime! Full an hour passed. A footfall in the entry roused him, and, starting up, he hastily left the room, left the scene of plot with the man who was weaving his destruc- tion. The fresh air of the street calmed him somewhat; but a queer, unmatural feeling weighed upon his heart, which caused him many an anxious start as some passer-by looked him in the face. A man walking slowly along on the oppo- site side of the street attracted his attention, It was Mervin Darnley. Their gaze met; but, in an instant, the manufacturer looked in another direction, and Reginald, following him with his eyes, muttered: ‘*Curse him!—ay, curse him! for he is no longer my father, but the would-be destroyer of my future. He avoids notice of me, as*if I were a mere dog! Gerard Henricq, you have served me well!” and with quick steps he resumed his way. Ah! how totally was the past erased. He would not recall those days in which a doting parent had supplied his every want and looked hopefully forward to & man- hood that should perpetuate an honored name, The flame of hatred and malice so adroitly kindled by the old man was, by this meeting, fanned to a consuming blaze. Reginald sought his rooms. There he fell again upon that meditation of his situation, and to his thoughts came a vision of Orle Deice. Long he revolved the matter of the letter in his burning brain; long he tried to believe that the beautiful girl could not have sent a messenger to his house on such a mission, when forethought would have shown the result. But, at last, he could not resist the creep- ing conviction—with all its mystery, it, did seem probable, and, finally, he concluded it must be so. And then, in his belief, he cursed her for the deed. A distant church-bell echoed the notes of its clarion tongue upon the drowsy air, and broke the spell which had held him silent, thoughtful, for hours, in his chair, He descended to the street. How strange everything appeared—how very lonesome! Sensations unfelt before seemed to fasten upon him from the surrounding atmosphere. ‘* Seven o'clock,” he mused, consulting his watch. ‘“‘I have an hour yet Ah!”—a thought struck him—‘‘T’ll devote that hour to a good purpose.” He hailed a cab, and directed the man to the residence of Lacy Bernard. Twilight’s dusk had vailed the thorough- fares when he reached that gentleman's house. The servant who opened the door to him betrayed an agitation that was mysterious. A sound of commotion reached him from within. What was the matter? This question he asked himself, and then asked the girl. ** Cecilia!” was the one word stammered forth in reply. ‘What is it? What of her?” he cried. But she made no answer, and began to weep. An indescribable dread shot through him; he pushed her aside and hurried into the parlor, where he found Mr. and Mrs, Ber- nard—the latter in tears, This scene increased the agony of suspense within him. Had anything happened to Cecilia? If there was one honorable link in the sullied chain of Reginald Darnley’s char- acter, that exception was his love for the daughter of Lacy Bernard; and the forebod- ing tableau which met his gaze, the utter- ance of his loved one’s name—these com- bined to fill him with acutest fears. ‘*Mr. Bernard—has anything happened— to Cecilia?” ; His voice faltered as he put the question. Bernard had arisen upon his entrance, and stood looking at him. There was a strangeness in the old gentle- man’s gaze, which tended to augment Regi- nald’s uneasiness. ‘: Yes, sir; something has befalien her.” The answer was cold, distant, The questioner paled. ‘* What—what has—” **No matter, sir.” What meant the brief, icy tones in which Lacy Bernard addressed him? He trembled. A strange awe seized him. ‘Mr. Bernard—” ‘“‘T say it is no matter, sir. Be kind enough to leave me, Reginald Darnley.” ‘* But, sir, what means all this? Where is Cecilia? Why do you treat me with such coldness? Mr. Bernard’”’—and his speech warmed—‘‘ considering what Cecilia is to me, you mock me. I would see her.” ‘My daughter is nothing to you.” ‘Nothing to me!” he cried. ‘‘She is everything!—life, hope, idol—” ‘I say she is not!” fairly thundered Lacy Bernard, taking a step forward. ‘‘ My child is nothing to a gambler and libertine like yourself! Do you understand me, sir? Your engagement with her is broken—I here break it. More: I desire that your visits to my house cease.” The young man staggered back, A cloud swept over his vision. His brain reeled, NEES are—”’ ‘“Nomore, sir! Youhaye heard. Merwin Darnley visited me this afternoon, and, thank Heaven! that visit has prevented the sacrifice of Cecilia to a man whom I can but despise! One who must be disowned by a father gen- erous as yours, sir, is no fit mate for my child, no fit guest at my house. Now, let me hope you will begone!” Crash! crash! like thunderbolts struck those words upon the breathless listener. Cecilia lost to him! All standing gone! The grave were welcome at such & mo- ment! Half groping his way, Reginald fled from the house, The cab awaited him at the door, and, like one whose actions were governed by a me- chanical influence, he threw himself in upon the cushions. A loud whip-crack, and the vehicle sped away. “*Dong!—dong!—dong!” the three-quarter stroke of a near clock. Quarter to eight. The outcast, as he sat gazing down at the carpeted floor of the cab, seemed dead to all around. The driver, in obedience to the brief direc- tions he had received, ‘drew up before the restaurant where Reginald was to meet with Gerard Henrieq. 4 The young man drank deeply of wine which he ordered, as he sat at a side-table, endeavoring to calm his turbid senses. Disowned! An outcast! The woman he loved torn from him! she for whom he felt he had imbittered the life of Orle Deice—as he thought of Orle, he frowned, and a dire anathema came whisperingly from his lips. She had poured this gall upon his existence by writing the telltale letter! “O-h! Orle Deice, may all the pla es of the earth seize you for this! lay your nights be sleepless as mine will be! May every breath of life be a poison to you, and every dream a torture to rack your mind!” His nervousness was intense. The clammy paleness of his face was now succeeded by a feverish glow; the liquor burnt his lips. He glanced restlessly at the clock. One minute to eight. “Will he never come?” he muttered, im- patiently, : Bernard — stop! Heavens! you ———- ‘CHAPTER VII. THE BEAUTIFUL FIEND. —before whose blast the voice of song, And mirth, and hope, and happiness, all fly, Nor ever dare re —KIRKE WHITE, CrciiiA BERNARD gazed upon the lovely girl before her as she would look upon & Snape inspiring awe—silent and wonder- ng. Then, as she marked the flash of the beau- ty’s eyes, the excited heaving of her bosom, as inexplicable thrill pervaded her motionless orm, The few seconds’ silence which reigned. was teeming with dread whispers—strange,

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'_. break a band ofiron, as to throw off the g _ which held her. Then one long, loud shrie ccs inde Se y's Winning Hand. 11 invisible things murmured a warning of dan- ger in her ears. Involuntarily she turned her head to look at Nemil. He stood with his back placed firmly against the door; a vengeful gleam was in his leering eyes; a fierce expression rested on his coarse lineaments. ** You can leave us together for a few mo- ments, Nemil,” Orle commanded, and the negro retired. Aguin Cecilia looked at Orle, and strove to speak; but’some palsying power sealed the lips in trembling surmise. **So, Cecilia Bernard, yon are my rival?” Orle’s voice was not now of a low sweetness, but,in the excitement of triumph, it was sharp, even piercing. ‘“‘What do you mean?” panted Cecilia; finding breath at last. ‘‘ Where is Regi- ald?” ‘*Ha! ha! ha! Reginald!” with mocking sarcasm, ‘‘ You ask me where he is? Hated rival!—he is anywhere but here.” The red blood suffused her cheeks; even her pure forehead was crimsoned, Cecilia’s face was pale as death; an acute terror fastened on her every nerve. “Woman!” she cried, ‘‘ what means this? Why am I brought here?) Who are you?” “Did you not expect to see the man you love?” quick and short. ‘Yes, yes; but he is not here.” ‘‘No. Instead, you see one who loves him twice, thrice as much as you!—one who would move the very earth to keep him from the caress of another! I am Orle Deice! Reginald Darnley is mine! Do you begin to understand?” There was a frenzy of resentment, a fiery emphasis in her words, and Cecilia recoiled before the gaze of those black, flashing orbs, as they riveted upon her. ‘*T am deceived, then? Reginald is—” **Deceived?—yes. Reginald Darnley is not here.” ** And what is your motive?” ‘Can you not see? Are you _ blind, girl?” “‘T cannot see. Your words are ill and strange.” ** My object is to keep you from him, He 3s mine! No woman on earth shall have him but me; and I have sworn—wo! wo! to any one who shall strive to win him from me!” Orle was becoming more excited with each moment; her lustrous eyes glittered like twin stars through the scarlet of a Northern sky; her neck, and the peeping marble of her bosom, were also dyed by the warm mount- ing of the blood. n hate, in triumph, in the fever of an un- controllable passion, she gazed upon the shrinking férm of her captive. Tottering dizzily, an abject terror whiten- ing her features, Cecilia gasped: “*What—what do you intend to do with me? My God! What horrible snare have I fallen into? Woman—if -you are a woman— will—would you murder me?” ‘‘Murder you?” cried Orle, and she seemed struggling with some words which were al- feady at her lips’ verge. ‘‘ No—I have other use for you. Your life is of more value to me than would be the satisfaction of your death. But Ieould kill you!---I could, Ce- Cilia Bernard; for I h-a-t-e you!” “* Have---pity!” breathlessly. ‘Pity? Pity for one who would take my idol from me!” A sense of utter despair crushed the help- less girl; things seemed swimming in her sion, What fearful doom was in store? What dreadful torture at the hands of her Tival awaited her? she asked herself, as Ne- mil at that moment reappeared. ** Pity,” she moaned, her tender nature sinki under horrible fears, for she realized how completely she was at their merc Suddenly, Orle Deice, as if by a, mighty effort, dispelled her excitement. “Bring her, Nemil,” she said, calmly, «and follow me, 5 Sea !—she is falling!” Cecilia staggered forward, and would have fallen but that Nemil quickly caught her in his muscular arms and lifted her up as if she ‘were but a mere child. At his touch aspirit of loathing roused her and she struggled wildly. As well a trial to 7 | ) EEF a AS EEE ee Se eS ee issued from her lips as she was borne up , orbs sparkling. ‘‘Get up; turn to this the staircase, Orle preceding them. As they ascended the stairs, a door on one side of the broad hall was opened, and Meg Semper came upon the scene. Cecilia was carried up, up, through an un- lighted entry, into a back room in the third story, all the while lying unconscious, help- less in the hands of the huge African. This apartment was destined to become a prison, and, in this instance, it would serve admirably. There was n) carpet, no furni- ture save a rude straw couch in one cor- ner, and a table at one side, on which was pen, ink and paper. The walls were panel- ed. Ata height of about eight feet was a small square window with the sash re- moved, ‘*This won’t do,” said Meg, as she struck a match and lighted a lamp. ‘‘ This isn’t the place for her. Better put her in the cellar.” ‘‘ Never mind; it will answer for the pres- ent.” ‘But, hadn’t we better put her in the cel- lar?” persisted the hag, whiningly. ‘*Cavil on’t, now, and I'll drop what I hold,” interrupted Nemil, frowning. Meg Semper said no more. Atasign from Orle he deposited his burden on the straw couch, and then drew back as the two women bent over her. ‘*She’s fainted,” said Meg. Orle was silent. She was gazing down into the fair face of her captive, while strange, fierce thoughts were chasing through her mind. ‘* Maybe she’s dead,” grunted Nemil, fold- ing his brawny arms, drawing a deep breath and stepping further back. For a brief space unbroken stillness ig sth he hag sprinkled water in Cecitia’s face, and when the latter showed signs of return- ing consciousness a cup of the cool beverage was placed to her i ‘Come, now, wake up. Wake up, I say. Ha! you’re coming to at last—well, now?” Cecilia wearily opened her eyes and looked at the hideous countenance above her. Then she saw Orle; and, pigs adark figure on the opposite side of the room, was included in her wandering, bewildered gaze.° *« Where am 1?” ‘“Oho! safe enough,” yelped Meg, shrilly, her sharp tones echoing in the apartment like the scream of a bird. ‘* But, where—where?” asa picture of what had happened slowly burst upon her. “Tn prison, my chick.” Orle spoke at this juncture. ‘‘Imprisoned and in my power, Cecilia Bernard.” A low moan came from the helpless one. ‘*Prison? No, no; let me go from this! I never did you harm!” ‘‘Ay, but you have,” eSooune 4 rejoined Orle. ‘‘ You love the man whom I love. In that you have sinned against me.” **Oh, Reginald! Reginald!” Cecilia buried her face in her hands, to shut out sight of hy who, she felt, were resolved to do her ill. ‘*Look up,” commanded the beauty; and she ig othe African: ‘‘ Wheel the table, Nemil.” He pushed the table close to the bedside. “Look up! Look up!” screamed the hag. **Do you hear, eh? Devils aloose! she’s go- ing to faint again.” ‘ cilia had started to a sitting posture; her body was swaying, one hand was ex- tended, waiving, as if a mist was before er, But Meg Semper’s shrill cry preyented the threatened swoon.. Straightening berself up, sbe cried: ‘‘Inhumans! what are you going to do with me? Do you propose to kill me, Orle Deice, because my love has been more valued than yours? Cowards!—three of you—and one a powerful man—to mock me, single, weak, helpless as lam! Speak your inten- tions. Sooner death than suspense like this. Speak, demon in the form of beauty! ares vile woman; what. i-'e you going to te) ’ A new dye crimsoned the brow of Orle Deice. It was not now the color of excite- ment, but a warm, weakening blush, oc- casioned by the cutting words of her rival. _, ‘*You shall see,” she hissed, her dark i table.” ‘**For what?” “Do as I say,” in a tone of fierce com- mand, Cecilia hesitated. ‘* Get up,” snapped Meg. ‘Ay, get up,” growled Nemil. Trembling, the girl obeyed. Awe, fear, an unnatural something made her comply. ‘*Now, what—what shallI do?” The in- quiry was scarce audible. ‘*Take up the pen and write as I dictate,” said Orle Deice, leaning over her. “Well?” *«These words: ‘To Reginald Darnley— ” ‘Hal what would—”’ “Obey me, girl,” frowning, while Meg Semper scowled darkly. * Yes—obey;” another growl from Nemil. ‘‘Reginald Darnley,” repeated Cecilia, as she wrote. ‘‘ What next?” ***T have been aware of your intimacy: with another—’ ” ‘© Well?” her hand trembling nervously. ‘¢* And, as it seems you have proven false—’ ” Cecilia dropped the pen. **T will not write it!” ** You will.” ‘I say I will not,” she cried, determined- ly. § ‘Refuse, at your peril.” “Do your worst! He is not false! I will not pen such words!” and her resolution seemed to give her strength, for she started up and faced her captors with an air of de- fiance. “‘I say you will.” The voice was Meg Semper’s, rustling in the quiet atmosphere of the room like a serpent’s hiss, and the speak- er slowly advanced, with her eyes fixed pierc- ingly on Cecilia, fy No: I will not write it, though you rend me limb from limb.” ‘Yes, you will!” the hag drew nearer. Nemil’s face was blacker than a thunder- cloud. Orle Deice, as she now became a looker-on, watched the hideous contortions of the hag'’s face as she approached the de- fiant girl. : “You'll write it?—eh? Yes, you will— yes!” nearer she came. “Never!” “Choke you if you don’t. I'll choke you!” a ferocious gleam in the flaming eyes and the talon-like fingers working convul- a: “*Do your worst.” With a quick, sharp cry, Meg Semper leaped forward, and, in a second, Cecilia was strangling in the murderous clutch of those snaky fingers. **You’ll write it?—eh? You'll write?” **Nev—urg-g-r! Never! Kil-g-ug—h-e-l-p! M-u-r-d-e rl” Hard and desperate struggled the frail form; loud that cry for help rung along the halls and entries of the large house, and Meg, uttering a ipa oe oath, stopped the mouth of her weak victim, with one. hand, while with the other she continued to stran- gle her, Nemil looked stoica!lly on. But Orle, un- used to such scenes, bent forward, her lower jaw fell, her eyes fairly started; the fearful action of Meg Semper caused her heart to stand still. *‘Don’t kill her!” cried the beauty, gasp- ingly. No answer. Tighter, tighter, that terrible hold. Cecilia’s face purpled; the blue eyes were filming. Orle’s bosom thrilled with horror as she saw the body relax, limply, in the hag’s arms. . CHAPTER IX. CREWLEY SMELLS SOMETHING, ** Gird thee, and do thy watching well.” —TUPPER. HENRY WaAupRON, after his parting with Cecilia, was gloomy enough as he walked slowly tow his “aoe BE, wef for a frown darkened his brow and his mind was perplexed with melancholy ph pein aving graduated at one of our Northern + colleges, Waldron had started on a tour. through the Southern States, partly for en- oyment and partly in curiosity to familiar- ze himself with the scenes, centers, and

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12 general geographic map of the late Re- bellion. _ While ia the city of Richmond, he formed the acquaintance of a rather eccentric ind vidual who roomed in the same house with him, and this acquaintance shortly ripened to a warm friendship. Through this friend, he was introduced at the house of Lacy Bernard, and was at once drawn toward Cecilia by that subtle, sweet attraction which ‘¢_- Rules the court, the camp, the grove, i And man below, and saints above.” The attraction was intensified with the lapse of time, and soon his love grew to bea silent worship. Already had he deduced suf- ficient from her speech and action to know that she was not totally insensible to his passion, and, at last, he felt he had but to ask to receive. How bright everything seemed to him, when he reasoned that a declaration of his love was sure to meet with most favorable reception! He conjured, in imagination, a blissful future—dwelt in hallowed reveries upon glad scenes in which Cecilia pictured as his cherished wife. But the crisis had come—had passed. Where now were those fond hopes, those gilded castles of joy which buoyant thought had built? All had faded. Refused, but . loved. Oh, unaccountable mystery! Hesaw ~ no explanation; and hence the gloomy aspect of his brow as he thoughtfully traversed the streets. Reaching his rooms, he found his friend and room-mate walking to and froin an ex- cited manner, vagy oe wildly and ad- dressing himself to a pillow propped up on the table, while, with frantic vehemence, he rattled off something like this: | ‘Yes, your Honor—that an especially ac- cumulated twelve, whose impartial considera- tion of prominent facts, evidences, affidavits and heterogeneous concomitants to undeniable statements whose authenticity is unquestion- : able, should, for the briefest particle of a moment, hesitate in arriving at a justifiable verdict of honorable acquittal, is, yotr Honor, I say, astounding, sir—astounding? sir, it is ridiculous, unprecedented, and im- plies a glaring incompetency to decide at all in the present case, where it is clear] proven” (hitting the table a thump with his fist, the pillow toppled and fell, and, read- -justing it with a savage jerk, he continued) “that my client’s cow has no horns, and, therefore, demonstrates the pe awe he of its having horned complainant’s cook-maid! And, your Honor—” ‘Hello, Crewiey, another case?” aldron advanced suddenly, and broke into his peneiice of a speech. ; Yes, it was Christopher Crewley; and there, in one corner, stood the white um- brella, and on its handle was hung the worn silk hat. The lawyer now wore a thin, faded linen duster, the sleeves of which were short, and ee the tail of which reached nearly to his x ‘heels. Waldron’s unceremonious entrance discon- ---— certed him somewhat, but he replied with a nod, then restored the pillow to its place on oe the bed and resumed his excited walk to and 4 fro across the apartment—mumbling inco- ___ herentiy about hornless cows, perjured cook- RY. maids, belligerent clients, damages, acquit- tal, ete., ete., continually whisking over the leaves of a copy of ‘ Blackstone,” which he flourished spasmodically. Occasionally his steel- gray eyes were raised in pious solemnity to the ceiling, as if dwelling with pathos on pecial | mage or committing passages to eS! _memor, ‘rom the book. a. se or a oe Tate Sant Pe ee SA “ —— Wuoety a ae 3. ‘eo Chris Crewley’s Winning Hand. | The clock indicated the hour of eight pre- mt ‘Tl say—dinner!” repeated the lawyer, forcibly. **T do not care to dine, Mr. Crewley.” ‘Pah! Get out! Who ever heard of such a thing? What—aren’t you hungry? Sir, your digestion is out of order. Hear?— come on.” ‘* Excuse me, Mr. Crewley.” Crewley looked at him blankly, as if he could not understand how a sane man could resist the temptation of a substantial repast; then, not caring to be last at table, he vented a contemptuous *‘’Umph!” and strode from the apartment. When the lawyer returned, half an hour later, he found Waldron seated where he had left him. “‘IL say, you know you're hungry!’—in a | Reginald called a waiter. ‘Room 8.” “Do nut speak so loud,” cautioned Hen- ricq; and the two, locking arms, followed the waiter up-stairs. As Darnley and the old man passed within a few fect of the lawyer, the first said, inter- rogatively: ; “*Gerard Henrico, you have arranged for me?” ‘* Yes, Mr. Darnley. But wait—prudence, One whisper might betray us. I must insist . that you---” They were out of Seite Be hearing before the sentence was completed. “** One whisper might betray us,’” he re- peated to himself, placing the handle of the umbrella to his lips and gazing fixedly at the high key. floor. ‘‘ Betray what, eh? Now, I wonder? ** No, Lam not.” Something’s up. A conspiracy, no doubt. ‘* Wonderful! Well, I can’t help you; bi- | There’s mischief afoot---bet my best hat on carb, of soda do you good.” (Picking up| it. Room Eight, he called for. Shall I? Guess I shall. Why not? Room Six adjoins. Crewley, wake up—crawl, slip, jump! After "em, now.” : Wheeling round, quick as thought, he summoned a waiter. the book and resuming his study.) ‘‘‘A cow without horns, to willfully horn a cook-maid, when’—I say, Harry, better go oo eat some dinner!—‘ is proposterous, and i ak ” ‘*What fhave you got hold of this time, ‘Hurry up, now—rascal! Room Six. Crewley ?” | Hear? Fly! Up you go, Tread on your “Oh! why, that same fellow—rascal!— | heels, presently—shoot! Room Six.” Rooms Six and Eight were connected b folding-doors, which were closed and locked. A convenient keyhole pleased him as he caught sight of it. “Liquor, sir?” The waiter lingered for an order. ‘‘Nary liq. Get out, now; maybe I'll call you directly.” Dismissing the man, he locked himself in. who—who brought a case up before, where a thief stole his wife’s tea-kettle, and then struck him over the head with it—retaining risoner till result of wound was ascertained. ecollect? Meet him, to-night, at T 8 restaurant. Hasn’t feed me yet. Fat goose, though—plenty of feathers. Court won’t de- cide—blockheads! Clear case. But I'm off now. Better go down to dinner, you. Idea of a man refusing dinner!—hem !—bad sign. Try Duffy’s Pure Malt— But good-by, now,” and Crewley, slapping on his hat and grasping his umbrella, put Blackstone under his arm, and swung out of the room with those familiar two-yard strides, Christopher Crewley had an engagement with his client at eight o’clock that same evening. hee Returning to supper, he found Waldron still in that careless, abstracted mood, and, for the first time, imagining that something had crossed his friend, he ventured a few questions in his own inimitable bluntness. But his inquiries met. with no satisfactory reply, and then he began to wonder. $ wonderment, however, was an after- consideration, just then, and he started forth to fulfill his engagement. Crewley was punctual—as he always made it a point to be in everything—and retty soon the party Maton him, Over a riendly glass, they held a very satisfactory consultation. The man had departed. Crewley was lingering yet, to ‘‘finish ” the malt beverage he Tad ordered, when Reginald Darnley en- tered, As the Jawyer observed him, his brow CHAPTER X. THE HOT TRAIL. ‘‘ And now, whate'er thou art, thou umseen prompter That in the secret chambers of my soul Darkly abidest, and hast still rebuked The soft, compunctious weakness of mine eart, I here surrender thee myself.” —MILMAN, Wuen Gerard Henricg and the young man were alone in their fancied security from eavesdroppers, the latter was first to speak; the quick, sharp intonation of voice betrayed how great was his impatience, ‘Now tell me your plan.” “Directly,” returned the old man, quietly. £* First, seat yourself. Second, take my ad- vice, and curb this impatience which unwar- rantably consumes you—it’s bad, Mr. Darn- ley; it may thwart our project. Cool pur- poses alone can be carried out successfully; therefore, I say, keep cool. Drink some wine.” He had ordered wine of the waiter, and Reginald, at the invitation, imbibed a heavy draught. Gerard Henricq avoided the liquor, and | as the young man set down his glass, he asked: ‘Why don't you drink?” — knit, ‘“ That’s inwardly. Logic: not knowing, can’t say. _Report don’t nald Darnley,” he mused, ‘‘Now, what’s he doing here? speak well of that young man. Loose habits, “*T never touch it,” ae late hours, questionable associations, etc.,| ‘‘ Well, proceed, now, quickly. What do — ete. Know his father well. A nice 1d gen- | you propose?” Bee pa tleman, Son isn’t like him—not a diminu- ‘Easy, now,” in a voice of tantalizing — tive bit. Plays cards, and all that. Some-| calmness. ‘Is your head cool?” thing’s the matter with him—so, drinks claret, ‘‘Cool enough, sir. Will you come to the and calls for it by the bottle. Bad sign— | point?” aNd. very bad!” ‘‘Are you sure, Mr. Darnley, very sure, Involuntarily, the lawyer found himself.| that you are equal to the task ead? Have you braced yournerves? Is yourdetermina-_ tion strong as ever?” ‘‘T am equal to it, and I am eager. I passed him on the street, after we ed,, this morning, and he turned his gaze from me as he would from a—a— O—h! I am maddened! Tell me what to do, and how it may be done. I would have taken his life, to secure that which will keep the grim shad- ow of poverty from my heels!—since that meeting, I would do the deed in the strength © of hatred! I hate him now!” ane _ Those dark eyes, whose expression was sO cunningly concealed behind the green spec- tacles, seemed given to strange, notable deeply studying the young man. As he watched, he marked that Reginald was extremely uneasy; saw his restless glances wander, anon, from the door to the clock and again to the door. : nis shook his head. He thought it a bad case, “What a fine old ‘pop’-he’s got, too!” ruminatingly. ‘‘I wonder if he knows the dare devil son he’s supporting? Bad man- agement in earlier youth—evidently very bad. He’s waiting for some one.” ; Presently Gerard Henricq came in. ive | cisely. xk ange ; As the young man started up to meet his any th ; for again, as on former occasions, == Bes supposed friend, the jig ted with a glitter likethe orbsofa | | ‘ bastli sk, : {f ‘| Remember,” said He whis er; ‘you are ab6 a hissing

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14 ing of curiosity, he hastened to light the as ‘‘From Lacy Bernard,” recognizing the old gentleman’s handwriting. In a second he had torn open the envelope; in another second he perused its contents, and, with a half-cry, half-exclamation, he crunched it in his hand and gazed vacantly, like one struck dumb, The note was as follows: ‘* DEAR WaLpDRON:—Cecilia has disappear- ed. We are in great fear for her safety. Come to me. I would like to see you at once. Lacy BERNARD.” In five minutes he was bounding down the stairs, On the street he hailed a cab and or- dered the driver to go at full speed. Upon ‘arriving at Bernard’s house, it was fully after dark; Reginald Darnley’s cab was just then dashing awav down the street. Striding past the servant who opened the door, he entered the parlor, and found Mr. and Mrs. Bernard seated there, lamenting their loss. “‘Waldron— Waldron, I’m glad you’ve come! This is terrible!” “But, Mr. Bernard, in Heaven’s name! explain, Your note was just sufficient to torture me. Do you know nothing at all of Cecilia? When did you see her last?” @a A negro came to the house, about two hotirs 4g6, with a written message of some kind. Who it was from, or what it was, I know not; but the girl who carried it to Cecilia says she has not seen my child since that moment.” am “This is strange, indeed,” commented Waldron, thoughtfully. ‘‘And is there no- thing more—no clue whatever?” ‘‘None,” groaned the anxious parent. Mrs, Bernard here left the room. ‘« But,” suggested the young man, after seeming to deliberate for several moments, ‘““why grow uneasy so soon? Cecilia may have gone out upon some little errand of her own. She may be, even now, hastening home,” It might be expected that the father would grasp at this thin straw of hope; but he did not, “No,” he moaned; ‘‘if it were so, she would have let us know she was going. I know my child too well, to think that she would cause us such uneasiness. She would not do it. And to’ be upon the streets, at night, alone?—no, no, Waldron.” ‘Let us have some hopes,” he urged, though his own heart was sinking within him. . ‘Alas, I can find room for none. No— she is lost! lost! Oh! God! my child!—my poor Cecilia.” He sunk back upon the sofa and sobbed as only a apie man can sob ig when he feels his very soul crushed by a mighty woe. “Stop! do not say all hope is gone. For- bear, or you will drive me mad! Let us be strong together. Something, surely, can be done—” ‘“‘What? Oh! if you could but answer what. We are blindfold.” ** But, I tell you, we shall find her!” cried the young man, desperately. ‘‘Move the earth, if need be! Not one trial shall be left undone. By Heaven! I begin to feel, my- self, there has been some treachery!” He was excitedly pacing the room. ! Cecilia was too dear to him to be lost. } Despite her discouragements of his love, his affection for her was inflamed to such a de- yo. gree by this occurrence, as to border close upon idolatry. If he had lovea, he now felt i that her presence ‘was reievany, * to his exist- ence, At thought of Jusing her, his brain fairly whirled in a blind dizziness; his frame was quivering in excitement. If treachery had enticed her away, if she—so pure and gentle—had enemies, and those enemies were now detaining her, then, not a house in all Richmond but what should open its doors to a search for the missing one. + When he bad enforced a reasonable calm- "© ness upon himself, the two discussed various Br: ‘plans of procedure. But no way seemed | lear; nothing offered a light to their gloomed agony of mind. An hour had passed, when there came a pull at the ane hella ee so quick, jerk- vage, that it nigh sundered the wires, | Christopher Crewley, Bp Ve aa fo eee ees — ay hes. wal : Siege ge Naam eo Chris Crewley’s Winning Hand. The lawyer's sleeves were rolled up; his forehead was bathed in perspiration; his. hat, so. far on the back of his head that it threatened to fall off as he strode in, jostled and slipped with the spasmodic nodding of his thin head; he gesticulated frantically, flourished his umbrella, and seemed so out of breath as to render him incapable of speech Without a pause, however—sudden as a streak of light from behind a water-cloud— he darted forward and grasped Lacy Bernard by the arm, while the two men looked at him in astonishment. “Bernard—your child!” he gasped, with an effort, his eyes fearfully distended in ex- citement. ‘“My child!” cried Bernard. ‘ What of her?” ‘“‘ Where is she, eh?” sharply, and panting the words. “TI do not know—gone! My God! I’ve lost her! 1 don’t know where—” ‘But Ido!” He nodded so emphaticall that the hat slipped over his brow and half- closed his eyes, imparting a rather comical climax to his speech. “I say I do!” he repeated, shoving the hat up and hitting it a terrific slap on the crown. ‘What's that, Crewley?—speak, man— again. Quick!” Waldron was by his side. ‘“You know where she is?—Cecilia!” “Didn’t I say so?” The reply so loud that it came near being a yell. ‘‘I know. Captured | Abducted! —no doubt of it! sip ee got her—” “They! Who?” ‘« Don't know who—but I do know where. Isn’t that enough? Come, now—jump! Fly! Shoot!—after her!’’ The lawyer wheeled about, and_ started tcward the. door. For a second, Bernard and Waldron looked at each other; then they sprung forward after Crewley, whose coat- tail was just whisking out of sight at the front door. “Tell Mrs. Bernard we’ve gone after Ce- cilia. Tell her to cheer vp.” Bernard ad- dressed a domestic in the hall. Christopher Crewley dashed on, and close behind him, with hearts palpitating in anx- iety and hopefulness combined, hurried the lover and parent. “Come on here, you!” exclaimed Crew- ley, as he found that he was distancing them. At the nearest station the lawyer stopped to procure a search-warrant (he was fond of doing things systematically), and, their party increased by two policemen, they pressed for- ward again. ‘‘Are you sure you know where she is, Mr. Crewley ?” asked Bernard. “Sure? Ever know me to tell a lie, sir? I’m just as sure of it, as] am that a horn without co—no, a cow without horns—can't horn a cook-maid. I may make you jump, when I tell you I’ve seen her.” ‘* Seen her!” “Yes, sir, seen her—s-e-e-n, seen! Now, hurry up, or they’ll scalp her before we get there. What a wonderful night this has. been. Poison!—ten drops! Leave town!— here, come this way,” and he slid around a corner, bis crank¢ body bent with the length of his strides, and the white umbrella rattled and thumped on the pavement at a rate, On went the rescuers, with Crewley in their lead. Pretty soon, the gloomy resi- dence of Orle Deice loomed up before them, its oy exterior boding anything but the comfort, luxury and wealth that reigned within, ‘‘Here we are, and here's what we're after.” “Where?” exclaimed Waldron, glancing about him expectantly. ‘‘ Jackass!—here, in this house. Quiet, now. Hang it! don’t make a racket, or they'll scent a smell and shoot! There’s a door at the back—one of you fellows go round there, and don’t let.’em get out that way.” ' al of the policemen started for the back entrance, and Crewley ascended the steps. « “Now, let the warrior wave his sword!’ —we've got ’em—sure|—” Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! went the ferule of his umbrella against the door-panel, and an ominous stillness ! URE ‘her, He went for a divoree—but, the impt CHAPTER XII. THE POISONED CHALICE. ‘* Now wield me Thine instrument of havoc and of horror, Thine to the extremest limits of revenge.” —MILMAN, Tue Jarge house of Mervin Darnley was wrapt in silence. Even at that early hour, before the man stores had ceased to flash and flare their brilliant lights upon the streets, there reign- ed an awing stillness in and around the old time mansion, as if the very air that moved in its proximity were murmuring strangely of what was to come. The numerous servants of the household, free from the duties of their several posts for the day, had—some of them—returned to their homes, and others were holding low converse in the kitchen—subject: young Mr. Darnley. Through the “‘up-stairs’”’ domestics, news of Reginald’s dismissal was conveyed to brother and sister servants; and now, when relieved of work, they grouped together, near the open basement window, to diveuss the affair and float opinions. henry “Tt’s areal shame!” exclaimed one of thé females,, whose prejudices were strongly against the action of Mervin Darnley. ‘*T don’t believe he deserved it at all!” indorsed one of her companions, who, by the toss of her head and emphatic expression, betrayed how much Reginald was in her es- teem, "aE “That's a fac’, girls,” said Jerry, the gar- dener, thoughtfully. ‘‘ Master Rex allus: treated me like he ought, an’ no gentleman cud do better. But, then, ye see, p’r'aps there’s somethin’ ahind it, after all; an’ meb- be Mr. Mervin Darnley knows a-better what he’s doin’ than we think on—” “ But, ’tain’t right; and I won’t believe he done right in sendin’ Mr. Reginald away!” interrupted one of his listeners. ‘“‘Tt’s mighty queer to me,” continued Jerry, half-musing, as he puffed vigorously at his short clay pipe and looked soberly down at the floor; ‘‘ there seems to ’a’ been a y little somethin’ wrong’ in the house of the Darnleys ever since—since—” “Since what, Jerry?” inquired both the females, interestedly. ‘*Well, ’e see,” removing the pipe from his mouth, and watching the smoke as it. ascended from the bowl, ‘‘it’s been a long, long time ago; but I was a-with them when they first married—” ‘Mr. Mervin Darnley and his wife?” They were listening eagerly to the gardener’s words. ‘“Of course. Isay I was along ’ith them from the first, an’ I knew they wasn’t made. for each other; but then I didn’t say nothin’. I on’y e’u’d keep me mouth shut an’ me eyes. open—an’, girls, it's been many the hard word Jerry Doan heard betwixt them.” oe O—h ad “‘Ye see—now, mind, she was an elegant Creole, as they call’em, an’ when Reginald’s father marri’d ’er, she was ie one of the lovingest creetur’s ever winked at the stars in the blue sky. But, then, it didn’t last— it didn’t last.” ‘*Go on, Jerry; go on.” Jerry Doan appeared to be thinking while fearful | he recovered the fire in his pipe, and, pres- ently. he resumed: “Well, as 1 said, it’s many the hard word came from the two of them, an’ it’s many the row they had. Missus’s temper was like the boil of a voleany, an’, mind now, human natur’ couldn’t put up’ith it. I tell ye, girls, she wasa devil on the face of the earth! an’ I seen her big eyes, a-sometimes, when they lookt like the sputter uva pin-wheel. So master he wouldn't live no longer this way, an’ he told her to clear out.” “Told ber to go away, Jerry?” “‘That’s it; he told her to clear out from him, But then, the divil “knows why she wouldn't go—”’ Jerry frowned and _hesi- tated. ‘Well, Jerry—well?” ‘She wouldn’t go out of the house at all.” «And what then?” “Gad! he put’er out. But, then, do think that was the last? Shrivela bit! She hung around for a'month or more, an pester. . ed him till’is hair was gray with seein’ of > 2 A eee PS ahs —

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Chris Crewley’s Winning Hand. 15 she went. too; an’ the judge, he said, as they seeaied of the same mind in that, they c’u’d be of the same mind in other things, an’ there- fore might as well stay man an’ wife. So blank’s the divorce he got. An’ that’s the reason he’s never marri’d again; for ’e don’t know if his wife’s a-livin’ or not.” ‘ ** But, what else, Jerry? What became of er?” ‘*Hold on a bit—there’s the bell a-jump- > } in. A summons at the door-bell broke in upon | their conversation, and one of the girls start- | ed to answer it. ‘* Does Mervin Darnley live here?” inquired | a policeman, who stood on the steps. ‘* He does, sure,” ‘*Ts he in?” ‘* He is, sure.” **Will you give him this, then? Be sure he gets it at once. It is a matter of life and leath.” And, with this admonition, he de- parted, It was a small piece of paper with penciling on it, and asthe girl passed the entry light, on her way up-stairs, she turned it over and | over in her hand, as if impelled by curiosity to strive to decipher the words. When she had delivered the missive to | Mervin Darnley, in his library, she returned to her companions in the kitchen. Jerry at once took up the thread of his mysterious recital. ““Now, ’e see, as I said, this woman— meanin’ the Creole—was of the devil’s own humor sometimes, an’ it’s a bit of a wonder to methat she didn’t do her husband some harm, at night, while he slept, for, I tell ye, irls, she did hate him, if ever a woman knew ow to hate.” “But, you said he’d got rid of her?” “Well, an’ it would seem he did, at last; but, mind, afore she went away for the last time, she met’im on the street one day—I was with ’im, carryin’ of a lot of shrubs— an’ the way them eyes of hers fired up, an’ the way them lips of hers spit at ’im—well, it made old Jerry’s heart kick some, now, I teil you.” What did she say?” | ** What was it? ‘‘Now, I don’t remember exactly—that she’d be even ‘ith him, an’ the like. Yes, an’ I heard her say, ’at the day would come When every one who bore the name of Darnley, or knew a favor at the hands of a Darnley, should die—die an onnatural death!” ‘c O—h!” “Yes, she was fierce enough. But then, that ain’t nothin’ to do with this affair, now, I guess. Girls’—a new idea seemed work- ing in the aged head of Jerry Doan—‘‘ye know that snaky chap what’s been playing valet to Mr. Regiaald?” “Yes!” they answered quickly. ‘Now, then, did ye’s ever remark how much he looked like Mr. Reginald?” ‘Yes, I have!” they exclaimed in chorus. *“An’ so have I. They look amazin’ alike; enough to be brothers, It’s me own | wits Pve puzzled a bit, thinkin’ on it, and—” | “Dong!” A small gong-bell at one side of | the room interrupted him. } * There’s Mr. Darnley’s bell. Get me the ) ale, Sary, an’ 1’ll take it up to’im, an’ then | I'll go to bed—” As he finished his speech, his mouth opened, and he gazed vacantly at | the window, as if amazed by some sudden apparition. *« What on airth is the matter, Jerry?” hur- riedly inquired one of the girls, wiurking the half-wild stare of his eyes. “Sary—” breathlessly. “What is it?” **Did you see ’im?’ “Him? Who?” “Mr. Reginald ” “*Mr, Reginald! No, Where?” “At the windy.” “ You’re dreamin’.” “* Divil a bit! 1 saw ’im, Sary.” “Maybe something’s happened to him,” stammered the second female, with a shud- der; “‘andit’s ourtalkin’ of him that’s brought his ghost to look at us.” A simultaneous shiver crept over them. For several moments they waited, watched, listened. Not a sound or sight. * Get the ale, Sary.” said Jerry, at length. The vardener’s face was, naturally, very sober in expression, and it was twice so now. He felt sure that he had seen Regi- ben fie gi 23 . fact j Pray hee 7 R f : : M - act ¥ " Oca . GI ithe iM pe sp tig’ sy + q me + - e WO oa By nald Darnley at the window, which opened toward the garden, and, not being entirely free from the influence of superstition, the occurrence caused him much perplexity of mind. When the maid had procured the ale— which it was Mervin Darnley’s custom to drink, every night, before retiring—Jerry | started up-stairs with the waiter. As he neared the staircase leading to the upper story, he halted in dumb astonish- ment, Reginald Darnley was leaning against the balustrade, as if awaiting his approach. ‘“Come on, Jerry. Do I frighten you?” said and asked the young man, ‘*Ts it you, sure enough, Mr. Reginald?” “*Yes—don’t I look like myself? But, stop a moment, Jerry—I want you to do me a favor. I’m very dry; I,want a glass of ale. Won’t you bring me one? I was near the house when I first felt that I wanted it; and I knew if I saw you, you’d give it to ‘Take this one, Mr. Reginald, an’ I'll go get another for up stairs—” **Oh, no; go get one forme. It will only take you a minute; and here’s a quarter for you. I'll hold the waiter till. you come back.” Eager to serve one for whom his esteem was not yet shaken, and not pausing to con- sider the singularity of Reginald’s presence, Jerry handed over the waiter, and started to procure another glass of the beverage. When he returned, Reginald drank the ale, thanked the faithful old servitor, and with- drew from the house. Five minutes later, Jerry stood before his employer, extending the waiter that Regi- nald had held for a few moments in the hall. **Close the door, Jerry.” “Yes, sir,” promptly obeying the order. Mervin Darnley took in his hand the glass containing the beaded liquor, and looked long into its amber depth. Once he raised it slowly before the light, then lowered it again; once he put it to his lips, and withdrew it without tasting. “Can it be?” he murmured, lowly; ‘‘would Reginald do such a thing?—no, no; I cannot believe it. I'll drink —I—” he had, for the second time, placed the glass to his lips, yet paused, hesitated, sipped not one rop. Jerry watched him, with a mixed feeling of wonder and astonishment, ‘* Wait, Jerry.” Darnley whistled, and, in obedience to the familiar call, a pet spaniel came from behind a large easy-chair, showing pleasure at its master’s notice. **Come, Snap—come, my little fellow. Jerry, watch.” ‘Yes, sir.” No need of the command— Jerry was straining his eyes. The spaniel caressed its master’s feet, and seemed joyed that it was called. Darnley smoothed its glossy hair, absently, as if hesitating in some course he had resolved upon. Suddenly he forced open the dog’s mouth, and poured the entire contents of the glass down its throat, Jerry’s eyes grew wider; his lower jaw fell a little; he was too amazed to speak, as he ' watched the spaniel slink away after such harsh, unexpected treatment. “That will do, Jerry. No ale to-night.” The gardener related the singular occur- rence to the other domestics. All wondéred what it meant; and he was not the only one who dreamed strangely that nigh , in con- sequence of taxing the brain in an effort at solving the problem of Mervin Darnley’s action. But he soon learned what it meant, or partially so; for, about noon, next day, the maiufacturer summoned him. Under a solemn pledge of secrecy, the serving-man was led into the library, and his employer pointed toward a far corner. There lay the spaniel, curled in a glossy heap, seeming to slumber. But the dog did not now come at the call of its master; not a muscle moved when Darnley whistled and coaxed; and Jerry, going up to it, saw that it was dead. “‘Jerry’’—the voice of the speaker was awfully sepulchtal—‘‘?o you understand what that means? The we you brought, last nicht, was poisoned! Had I drank it, 1 would now be dead as that dog!" TRY Pe CHAPTER XIII. FLINT AND STEEL. ** Tn all her lovely grace she inthe ee —BAILLIE, CHRISTOPHER CREWLEY’S summons at the door of the gloomy edifice seemed not to have been heard by the occupants. ‘*Umph!” grunted the lawyer, impatiently, fidgeting about; ‘‘ guess they’re in bed.” The others half-stayed their breaths in the sensations of eagerness and expectancy which worked upon them. Thud! thud! thud! thud! again the um- brella rattled against the door, and this time with savage vehemence. ‘« Fine chance to cool off, this!” muttered Crewley, with a pucker of his lips, a scrape of his threat, and resuming his uneasy move- ments, Presently, a faint step sounded in the hall. Some one was approaching. Crewley straightened his hat on his head, adjusted his umbrella under his arm, and fixed hig eye on the keyhole. “Madam, good-evening — yours forever, much. Crewley—Chris Crewley—L. L. D., Iam; come with power of law. No fooling; saw it—saw it, not an hour ago, at the bac window. Cave! No use to growl; you’re boxed. See? Come in here.” The last to those who accompanied him. He pushed past the one who opened the door—closely followed by his friends—and when they stood in the broad hall, he turned about to speak again. He saw a slender, beautiful form, drawn to its full height; a shapely head, poised in a way that bespoke defiance; a pair of black, lustrous eyes, which fired with an angry look; and a mouth whose ripe lips were com- pressed in a stern expression of feature. It was Orle Deice. Her soft cheeks flush- ed, and her bosom heaved; she contemplated the comers with a haughty glance, and her manner was that of one who awaited an ex- planation of what might be considered an unwarranted intrusion. Her beauty engaged Crewley’s attention. Her carriage set him to thinking. For sev- eral seconds, he looked at her in silence. ““My name’s Crewley,” he said, at last, pausing after it, as if he expected his words to produce some remarkable effect. ' “Well, sir?” she inquired, in a cold voice, carrying her head haughtier than before. The ice was broken, though; and Crewley, with a nod of satisfaction, immediately pur- sued : ‘‘ Aba! yes—well? Now, then—you've got a girl in this house who doesn’t belong here. .She’s been abducted. I Saw her at a back window. We've come with power of law—correct system—and there’s no use in equivocating. See? Business. Trot her out. Give her up. Hand her over. Sur- render. Put you in jail, if you don’t. Fact!” ‘“Your words, sir, are simply enigmatical,” was the calm rejoinder. *‘ You have rather overstepped bounds, I think, by entering my house in such an unceremonious manner. It requires further expianation than what you have given. and I demand it. I cannot com- prehend what you mean,” ‘Superfluous magniloquence, madam — I repeat, very superfluous. Take me for a flat? Um!—won’t do. Lower your head, Come to the point. Can’t fool with me. The A a raidigs ih she, eh?” ; ““To what girl do you allude?” Crewley gazed at her, studringly. Ber: nard and Waldron began to despair. Had Crewley met his match?” ‘* Poh!—stuff! Good actress. Fine chance in New York for good actresses; but we’ve pot sufficient of that regiment, madam, bere n Richmoad, without looking for them in private houses, Come—stop this nonsense, and bring out the girl. You’d better!” he concluded, with a pucker of his lips, and a peculiar intonation of voice, that told he was ibe tired of cavil; and one of his fore- ._ ngers was leveled significantly at her. * wirl- ing. the. while. rle Deice colored deeply as the lawyer continued to address her in his sharp, brief a part, and, — ,an style. But she was playing proved herself, as Crewley had asserted slmirable actress. ‘‘IT do not understand you fully, sir,” she said; *‘but I may infer that you seek some > we Mv = 1a %

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16 one in my house who, you suppose, ] am forcibly detaining.” ‘‘ Exactly! Now, bring her out.” ‘“‘Then you have made a great mistake. There is no one in this house but me.” } ‘*Madam, you ]—excuse me, I mean to say, I know better, See?” *‘If the word of a lady is insufficient to satisfy you, you had best look for yourself, a you say you come with power of aw.” “Precisely what we'll do,” he snapped, with another emphatic nod. Then to his companions: ‘‘Go to work. Search. Ran- sack. Open every closet. Sound the walls. Pull the window-curtains. Climb out on the roof. Garret to kitchen. Be- ware of trap-doors! fumery.” **T will accompany them in the search.” Orle moved toward the staircase. “*Excuse me, but you won't,” interposed Crewley, placing himself before her. ‘‘ Now, see—l don’t want to be too impudent; but, it re me, I ought to keep an eye on you —fact!” Orla expostulated. / **It is my privilege, sir, to—” **Oan’t help it. Won't steal anything— be assured, Besides, the place to commence is right here. There’s a cupboard—see—be- hind the stairs. And just throw your eye into that room over there, while we go in here. Now, madam, you’ll come in this room, with me, and there you'll stay till they find her—” ** Sir?” ‘Tut! Paregoric. You'll find me the most agreeable company you ever met with —fact|—” Orle interrupted him. ‘Cease this, sir. Your language is in- sulting. I am accustomed only tothe society of gentlemen. No matter what your mission, it does not so far privilege you that you can, with impunity, indulge in the language of a ruffian,” She spoke short and quick, and the red flush of indignation suffused her cheeks. But Crewley replied at once, and his words were shorter, quicker than hers. ‘I’m a gentleman, madam—not of leisure, either. When I meet a lady, I’m courteous enough. But let me tell you”—and the steel-gray eyes seemed trying to sparkle— ‘*a true lady never sullies her lips with the utterance of a deliberate lie. Now, maybe I’m putting it on too strong, but as it was not an hour ago that I saw, at the back window of your house, four persons, I know that you utter a falsehood when you say yon are the only occupant of the house. Smells suspicious—per- “You will anger me, sir,” she ex- claimed, biting her lip till the soft skin would almost burst. ‘‘I will admit there have been others than myself in the house to- night—” ‘* A-ha! I knew it.” ‘But that does not prove tha they are still here.” Crewley started. He hesitated. Perhaps she spoke the truth. Perhaps they had = lg their object—arrived too late; it might be that Cecilia was, even then, being borne away toa more remote place of cap- tivity. Orle saw her advantage, and her eyes flashed upon him sternly. “Tf you’re right and I’m wrong,” he said, at last, ‘‘then you may box my ears, madam, till the skin peels off, as a merit of my impudence. Meantime, we'll wait and sce. Step in here.” Deeming it advisable policy to obey, she entered one of the rooms that sided the hall, and he followed her. When he had wheeled up a chair for her, and seated her, with a bow, he threw himself into another chair near her, placed his umbrella between his knees, hung his hat upon the handle and eyed her steadfast- ly. Aliens} had Harry Waldron and Mr. Bernard, in company with the policeman, | _ finished their search of the adjoining room, and were ascending the stairs. Crewley, as he sat like a statue before his prisoner—for such Orle indeed was—heard his friends in the rooms overhead, and, occasionally, the voice of Lacy Bernard calling his daughter’s name, 4 ~~ ane ft Ips F Vv te ph ‘% at the Tig: es cd Chris Crewley’s Winning Hand. At the expiration of half an hour they re- turned with the intelligence that there was no one in the house but themselves and Orle Deice—every nook, corner, shadow or con- ceivable place of concealment had been probed in vain. Lover and father were despairing. Crewley appeared greatly perplexed by the result. rle looked at the lawyer in triumph, Her lips curved in a sarcastic smile. ‘*Madam,” he said, presently, ‘‘as agreed, you are at liberty to box my ears—” ‘*T desire nothing more than that you leave my house,” interrupted she, quickly. *So be it. Come—we’ll go. You'll let us out the back way, please—back basement entrance, you know. See? Haven't looked down-stairs yet.” Orle made no objection to this request. She conducted them to the egress named, and, when they were well out, shut the door upon them with a spiteful bang. ** Pax vobisceum!” said Crewley, nodding toward the dvor. ‘‘Those hinges won’t last long at that rate, madam.” He glanced about him for the policeman who had been dispatched to guard that por- tion of the house, It was some time before his eyes used them- selves to the surrounding shadows occasioned by the angles of the bui ding. When, at length, he could discern objects more plainly, his gaze caught a prostrate form, lying face upward, just on the verge of the shadows, and the moonlight discov- ered the blue coat and shining buttons of the man they sought. With an exclamation of surprise, he sprung forward. OHAPTER XIV. THE PROOF, *€ Can it be true?—or lie of fancy wrought? And are his love-words, after all, but eo —ANON, WE left Cecilia Bernard in a fearful situa- tion. Insensible, limp, powerless in the clutches of the ferocious hag, her life seemed to have faded. Meg Semper’s basilisk eyes were ee blazing in their fierce, Satanic stare, and bot hands were now tenaciously twining about the throat of her victim. Orle Deice trembled ineyery muscle. She would have stayed the horrible proceeding; her hands were outstretched and her lips moved, but not a word could she utter; a torturous power riveted her to the spot where- on she stood. She could not, though she would, bound forward to prevent the mur- der. But, there was another actor. The sound of an approaching footstep fell upon their ears, and Nemil, with a malediction: on the comer, sprung to the door, his brawny arm raised to strike. It was Gerard Henricq. In the doorway he paused and quickly took in the scene, while Nemil, upon seeing who it was, vented a grant and retired across the room. At the first intimation of an intruder, Meg Semper dropped her half-dead victim, and, like a tiger at bay, she faced about, flourish- ing her long, glistening knife. Orle tottered back a few steps and mur- mured a thanksgiving. Murder was prevented by the opportune arrival of a fifth party. ‘‘What’s this?” demanded Henricq, frowning. ‘‘What are you doing, Meg Semper?” ‘‘ Merwin!” gasped Orle, pointing to the motionless form that lay upon the floor. «Murder! i me,” snatching up the pitcher of water and kneeling at Cecilia’s side, ‘Let her die!” scrermed Meg. ‘Let her die! I did it! I choked the life out of her! She was loved by Reginald Darnley, and so it was a favor; and I’ve sworn to kill all who know a favor at the hands of a Darnley. Let her—” But he pushed her aside and hastened to assist Orle. : On the throat of the unconscious girl were the hag’s i ae eo. and dis- figuring the fair skin—and, Orle feared that Meg had done her devilish work thoroughly. But there were signs of life, which grew ja Ar aes ere more and more apparent as she and tie bogus old man applied themselves to her re- covery. ‘‘Oh, Herwin! is—is she alive?” Orle’s tone was one of keenest anxiety, and she bathed and sprinkled the pale tem- ples of her helpless rival, with a trembling hand. ‘* Yes,” replied Henricg (as we shall con- tinue to have him figure in this title); ‘‘ but the room’s too hot. She needs air. Here, Nemil, pick her up. Let’s carry her down to the cellar, Meg Semper, you’ve nearly committed a foul murder—” **T don’t care!—do you hear?” she yelped, savagely. “They punish murderers with the hang- man’s noose,” ‘“‘T say I don’t care!” more savage than be- fore, and glowering fiercely at him. He turned from her with an expression of disgust he did not attempt to conceal. ‘Come, Nemil, bring the girl.” When the African took Cecilia in his arms, Meg Semper—who suddenly relaxed into a sullen silence—snatched up the lamp and led the way. The cellars of the house were dry and cool. Their atmosphere tended greatly toward re- suscitating the unfortunate girl. When. Cecilia opened her eyes—like one awakening from a frightful nightmare—she gazed slowly around upon the stony sides of her paison, and soon discovered, by the dim light of the flickering candle, the beautiful being to whom she knew she owed her mis- ery. Orle was alone with her rival. The beauty’s head was bowed in thought. She appeared not to notice Cecilia’s recovery, but gazed fixedly at the hard earth floor. Starting to her elbow, and brushing back the wavy tresses that disheveled upon her brow, she pondered upon the lovely pic- ture. ““Woman—” The word broke upon her lips. Orle started. The look she now fastened upon Cecilia was not what it was when the mastering emotions of an encouraged hatred burned within her bosom; there was a mild, unspeakable expression in the large, lustrous eyes; the face was calm, and her mien gentle. “Cecilia Bernard,” she said, softly, ‘‘I have nearly killed you.” ‘* What has happened?” The inquiry was ore of bewilderment, ‘ I cannot remember all—yet—that woman-fiend! where is she? Oh, yes, yes—she choked me. I was dying. But lamalive. You have brought me here —what is this silent place?” ‘““No matter, Letit pass. You are saved. Your escape was very, Very narrow.” Cecilia shuddered. Then she arose, with difficulty, to her feet. She felt very weak; one hand, almost involuntarily, sought a pro- jecting stone in the wall for support. Orle advanced to her. ‘*Qecilia Bernard, would you try to win Reginald Darnley from me, when you know how much I love him?” The mildness in which she put the ques- tion was peculiar; there was a strange some- thing lurking in the low accents, and Cecilia, studying the face and form of her lovely rival, hesitated. ‘Reginald Darnley ?” ‘Yes. Would you do it, knowing how desperate I am in my love for him?” ‘*Do you, then, love him so deeply?” ** Yes,” she cried, with eager fervency, ‘the is my idol! Next to my God do I wor- ship him! I have been harsh with you— even too harsh, But itis past now; I was controlled by passion. You see me calm— see me humblerin that calmness, appealing to your heart. I can kneel to you, to beg that you leave him tome. Promise me you will not marry him. You cannot love him as much as Ido; I know you cannot. There may be others—yes, Iam sure of it!—who could make you happy; but not so with me —there is no one on the wide earth but him, who can give me happiness! I plead—shall I kneel?” | How great this change in Orle Deice! No ge blind, in the fiery impetus of hatred, but calmed and suffering, pleading favor of a rival, Hers was a quick-tem- pered blood; yet her nature was clad in the untarnished gold of purity. And when she

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saw how near fatal had proved her ungov- erned animosity, her conscience struck out the vile demon which, for a time, had en- tered her heart, and left her herself—gentle, loving, beautiful in spirit, as in face and form. Her lustrous eyes were dimming with half- checked tears, as she thus appealed. She took Cecilia’s hands in her own, and waited for a reply. Cecilia was thinking deeply. She, too, loved Reginald; but was that love as deep-set as in Orle Deice? Did she feel that her whole ; existence was bound up in an affection for this man? Could she be generous? Would she relinquish him in favor of another? And 4 —as she pei in this way, she also % thought of Henry Waldron, and wondered if she had, at last, concluded that she loved the latter best. ‘Reginald is very dear to you?” she said, musingly, while her blue eyes wandered to the floor. “*More so than my own life!” ** And—does—he—love—you?” “Oh, yes! But it was his pledge to you that drew him from me—he said it was noth- : ing but that.” B ** And not love?” ‘*No, no; his love is mine. me so.” **How can I believe that he would so de- ceive me?” The words were a question, put to self, and Cecilia was weighing what the other said. “Indeed, it is true. Reginald Darnley loves me before all women, and honor, . alone, to allegiance due you, robbed me of He has told **If you could prove this—” - ie can—I will,” interrupted Orle, hope- ully. A point seemed decided in Cecilia’s mind. **Do it,” she said; ‘‘ prove what you say, and I will give him up.” But, even as she promised, her faith in ve Fewer constancy was great. She doubted if Orle could prove q what she agreed, . “Oh! thank you. You haye made me happy, do you know it? For I can and will prove that Reginald loves me, and then you'll give him up.” ‘* Yes—--I'll give him up,” absently. “Then listen. You must trust me; you must be ome entirely by me. I am going to leave Richmond to-night, and you must accompany me—”’ “How? I cannot do that—my father— -mother—” “ Adlay their fears by a letter, which, I. _ promise, they shall get before we go. Do - not refuse me this, My whole future de- _ pends upon it.” : **But where would you take me?” **To Washington.” **To Washington!” “Because Reginald leaves for Washington to-morrow morning.” . “Ah!” interrupted Cecilia, thoughtfully; the note I received said he was called ‘ones fa he - T wrote that myself,” exclaimed Orle. ~ ME 2 Se Bhat ro ong to do with it. When I | penned the lines, [did not know that they | were part truth. It was only a little while ago that I learned of his proposed departure, and his destination, Will you go?” , After a few moments’ reflection, Cecilia ~ aeceded, though it was with hesitancy. ____ A-sound of numerous footsteps on the stairs Jeading to the cellar, broke in upon their con- -versatiom, and Meg Semper, with Gerard | -Henricq and Nemil elose at her heels, dashed , . fie’ tponthescene,. , ‘ At deh of the hag Cecilia shrunk back, trembling, Orle pressed her hand tightly, y _ assured her that she had nothing to fear. By Satan!” screamed Meg, immediately, “they're after us. Quick, Orle Deice!|— | up-stairs and see who it is. There—hear a _ 7em knocking. Will the girl go ’long with yg?’ me) ae Yes, BG, Fi be consented—” cae Py + looked on in wonderin ‘| that he | essay Chris Crewley’s Winning Hand. her by the hand and led her after Meg Sem- per and the African. Cecilia, with a fluttering heart,- and _be- wildered, uneasy mind, followed him, while Orle hurried up-stairs to answer the sum- mons at the front door. The hag swung open the basement, door, and darted out—into the grasp of a police- man. She uttered a fierce oath, and clinched for a struggle. Meg Semper was, in herself, a match for the man; and when the African, quickly joining her, lent his own powerful strength and ax-blows of his enormous fist, the officer reeled backward, blinded by his own blood, and sunk insensible to the sward. The encounter was a brief one; so brief that Cecilia had not time to comprehend what it meant. And, in a moment, Nemil’s gruff voice said: ** Come.” Meg Semper had started forward, and was now some distance ahead. Her hand still held by Gerard Henricq, Cecilia moved after the African; and the large, gloomily-silent house was soon out of sight ia their rear. CHAPTER XV. JUST TOO LATE, CHRISTOPHER! “Sweet Hope! celestial influence round me shed Waving thy silver pinions o’er my head,” —KEATS. Tue officer who had suffered at the hands of Meg Semper and the African, was, when our friend discovered him, just returning to consciousness. His face was bloody, his clothes were torn, his hat was missing, and his head ached in consequence of the terrible blows Nemil had bestowed upon it. Crewley knelt by his side and peered into his disfigured face, while the others clustered around him. ‘I say,” exclaimed the lawyer, ‘‘ what’s the matter?” A low moan was the only reply he re- ceived. ‘*Poor fellow! He has been roughly handled,” said Waldron, while Mr. Bernard silence. ’ ‘Say, George, how’d you get in this fix?” inquired his brother officer, solicitously. nother groan. ““ Here— See you aren’t quite dead yet, are you?” interrogated Crewley, bending lower to look into the pale, bloody counte- nance. ‘‘I’m killed!” blurted the man, with a moan. ‘‘He has been fatally injured in some way,” spoke Lucy Bernard, in a sympathetic tone, ‘Hold on,” admonished the lawyer. ‘‘If ren talk in that style, he'll think he’s got is last sickness, and we’ll have an opossum corpse on hand. Strikes me, he isn’t within’ considerable of being done for, yet.” Then to the man: “‘T say, where are you hurt most?” “lm killed!” seemed to be the only re- ply he could make, and the words were half- choked, : ‘** But, whereabouts, eh?” ““My head—it’s split!” ‘‘Nary split,” declared Crewley, pay the head, and soon pronouncing it in a solid. condition. ; “Tsn’t it cracked?” now venturing to o. his eyes, and appearing hugely aston- is “No, sir. Been stabbed?” ‘*I don’t know,” in a voice so dismal as to be ludicrous. 4 ‘*Been shot?” “*T don't know.” “Um! Sum and substance of the whole: t your nose punched and laid down to die. ou'll do; consider yourself engaged. Now, get up—jump! Who did this? you get mawled?” Thus commanded, and — e: was not yet killed by half, the ed to ni te edb rC How did | artly convinced 17 ceeded in standing before them, rocking un- steadily, and with features most woeful in expression, After repeated questions, the story of his encounter, defeat and condition, was told. When the particulars were arrived at, Crew- ley turned to his companions and said, dryly: *‘Just in time to miss ’em! Hang it! Well, can’t do anything more to-night—ha!” —a thought struck him—‘‘ Yes, we can, too! Come—shoot, you! Back to your house, Bernard. Leave this to me—yours forever, much. I’ve got the clue. Business, No time to waste. You’re discharged.” The last to the officers; and he added, to the one with the ill-used head: ‘Find a pump at the corner; better renovate your phiz a little.” ‘What now, Crewley?” asked Waldron. ** What's to be done?” **Leave it to me, I say. You and Ber- nard gohome. I'll find her. Understand? Now then, no time to lose. I’m off.” And he was. Like a shadow, he silently, swiftly sped away across the adjoining lot, leaving them - to wonder what plan had entered his fertile brain, and upon what he based his hopes of stil. being able to find and recover Cecilia, The two policemen returned to their post at the station, where the man whom Nemil had punished created much sympathy by his sorrowful story, and the condoling sup- port of his comrade in the night’s adven- ture. Bernard and Waldron hailed a cab. The unhappy parent was for a long time silent, during the ride homeward, and Wal- dron, his own mind plunged in discouraging reflections, was silent as he. But, Lacy Bernard was, evidently, think- ing on else than his child, for he murmured, in a low voice, while his head sunk forward on his breast: ‘Reginald, Reginald—and I thought you so true, upright, worthy of her love! How I was deceived in you!” Waldron star from his reveries and looked at him. ; Bs **Did you speak, Mr. Bernard?” “‘T was thinking of Reginald Darnley,” re- plied Bernard, abstractedly. “‘T have heard of him—son of the manu- facturer, is he not? Report does not speak well of him.” * Ah! you know—” *‘T know him to be a gambler,” said Wal- dron, as his friend hesitated.” Bernard sighed. ‘What is the matter, Mr. Bernard?” ‘** And, to think that I was so completely deceived in him,” was the incomprehensive response. : ‘“You knew him?” questioned Waldron. Lacy Bernard glanced into the young man’s — face, then said, after a moment: ‘*Knew him?—yes. He was to have been my daughter's husband.” Waldron’s heart gave a greatthump. He repeated the words in a tremulous whisper. - Then, like a flash, came thoughts of Cecilia's mysterious behavior in the forenoon of that day. Waa this, then, the explanation? She was the betrothed of another when he had asked her hand. But, her father had said ““was”’—was to have been his daughter’s husband. What had transpired since morn- ing, to bring about the change? Had he iven way to his own surmises and excited — rame of mind as much asa second longer, calmness would have been impossible. ut, he asked: ‘“Was Reginald Darnley engaged to be married to Cecilia?” “Yes, they were to be wedded, soon.” “You say it wasso. Isit not so now?” _ ‘*No, no; thank Heaven! my eyes are opened. Reginald Darnley is a gambler, a libertine, everything that would warrant my breaking off the engagement, and forbidding him my house.” Henry Waldron’s heart was palpitating — fast; his breath was short. So, this wac the explanation; this was why Ceciiia could. not, would not pledge = her hand, even ane u ou t, he asked an- —

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18 “‘T learned all of him, early this after- noon. The intelligence came from his own father, and he also told me that, to pre- serve the family honor, he had disowned his son,” **Cecilia, then, is free?” eagerly. ** Yes, she is free.” ** Does she—know—this of the man she was tomarry?” ‘*No. Though, when she does, she would avoid him as a serpent,” **Yes, yes; she would. So pure a na- ture as hers would not tolerate so vile a pres- ence—” ‘‘Henry Waldron, you love her?” ‘*] do! Mr. Bernard, I worship the air she breathes! I can offer her a name as spotless as the fresh-fallen snow; I can bestow a heart unsullied by one drop of evil blood. In position, I am her equal; and, in the affection I entertain, Iam sincere as I am worthy-—” ‘‘But, if she would only return your **She will; she does. From her own lips I know she would be mine, but for the en- gagement which you now tell me is broken, Dare I hope for your countenance? Will you encourage this? If Cecilia is free, will you aid me?” Bernard grasped his arm in a warm hold. ‘‘Find her—find her, Harry, and she is yours! I shall feel proud in seeing her your wife, for I know you are all that you have said. But, I fear that she is lost—lost! Where can she be?” and, with the conclusion of his speech, he relapsed again into the mel- ancholy of despair, ‘Have faith!” cried the young man, hope- fully. ‘‘I have unlimited confidence in Mr. Crewley; and, evidently, he has some clue. Cecilia is not yet lost!” “I will be resigned; I will wait. aid me!” Heaven Christopher Crewley, after so abruptly leaving his friends, strode toward the depot. His object was apparent. ‘*t heard the rascal say,” he muttered, ‘‘that he’d leave town to-night. Washing- ton, D. C., eh? and Reginald Darnley—vaga- bond!—goes after him in the morning train, after poisoning his father. Dog! Guess my note will spoil that phase of the business. Wonder if the policeman delivered it in time —the note? That old villain was in the house, also dilapidated hag, also a big negro, also sparkling beauty whose impudence pretty nearly upset my equilibrium, also Cecilia Bernard—saw her distinctly. Crew- ley, you wretch! you're getting nervous— ha! will follow me, will you? Take that!” the last to a skeletoned canine which per- sistently dogged his footsteps, and which now skulked yelping away, having been treated to a forcible whack from the white umbrella. Gaining the street, Crewley quickened his pace. Soon he came in sight of the depot, and a self-satisfied look rested upon his comically-grave face. ‘* Just in time—” but, even as he spoke, there sounded a shrill whistle, a clanging gong—the buzz and hum of many voices reached his ear, together with the deadened rumble of the departing cars, A minute sooner, and he would have been in time. He stopped short before the en- trance, and, in a vexed way, completed the interrupted sentence with: ‘To miss ’em again!” He at once retraced his steps, in no very ood humor, facing for Lacy Bernard’s ouse. Suddenly recollecting that he was a long way from the residence of that gentle- man, he called a cab. “That's she with them, I’m certain,” he mused aloud, settling himself comfortably back in the cushious and placing the handle of the umbrella to his lips ina thoughtful way. ‘‘ That the old villain has gone on that train, is likewise indisputable—according to the programme between him and Rex. Darn- ley. That I’m ina momentary fix, I take it for granted. ony momentary, though. Look out, rascals! I’m after you like lock- And my cow case comes off for final 5 ee tee We ied ee 10 ha Ay nya ere f Mes Naty)! Mf 7 shit el Th SOAR FR ’ / the lawyer ‘ Chris Crewley’s Winning Hand. CHAPTER XVI. A BEAM OF LIGHT, ‘© T am giddy; expectation whirls me round.” —SHAKESPERARE. ** Should Disappointment, parent of Despair, Strive for her son to seize my careless heart!” —KEATS. Our friend, Christopher Crewley, stood in Wambole’s well-known restaurant in E street, glancing carelessly over the many theater bills that hung promiscuously from the litule screen near the door, and, occasionally, his restless gray eyes wandered about the long room, darting back to the entrance, and again to the programmes, He was waiting and watching. Being pretty well advised, through the conversation between Henricq and Darnley, which he had listened to at the saloon in Richmond, he had started immediately for Washington, and now awaited the appear- ance of the two, according to their engage ment for that evening. Reginald Darnley little suspected, when he seated himself in the car at the Richmond depot, that there were two steel-gray eyes watching him intently, marking his ever movement with cat-like patience; and this surveillance was closely continued through- out the trip. But, the lawyer had been thrown off the scent by a momentary relaxation in his vigil. As the train wound around before the Capitol, he glanced from the window, to look up Pennsylvania avenue—the scene of former adventures vividly impressed upon his memory. When he turned again to where Reginald had been sitting, the latter had disappeared. A day was spent in wandering about town, hoping that chance would enable him to spot the young man, but without success. He knew, however, that the old villain would meet his dupe on that night, at the restaurant aforementioned. The peculiar ‘‘ rig” of the lawyer attract- ed attention and excited remark—particular- ly with a well-known party—Captain Oszar —whose handsome face, flashy attire. and good-humored wit made him notorious there. The hands of the clock indicated ten min- utes to eight. Crewley had drank twice at the bar— lemonade—and was beginning to grow un- easy. “Hang it!’ he muttered. ‘*‘ Washington seems to be a vexatious place for me, any- how. Only last winter, I had my patience well nigh poisoned—ah—” a footstep sound- ed in the doorway, and some one entered. It was Gerard Henricq. The appearance of the old man relieved Crewley considerably. He followed him, ohana with his eyes, and his lips screwed themselves iuto a series of puckers, while the white umbrella was more snugly tight- ened under his arm. Henricq advanced to the bar, called for a light drink, then retired toward the cigar- stand. He had not long to wait. Reginald Darn- ley fulfilled his engagement promptly, The two held a whispered conversation of several seconds, and then went out. ‘“Two rescals, if such ever lived!” exclaim- ed the lawyer, nodding his head after them as he followed close upon their heels. ‘‘Somethin’s up,” whispered one of the loiterers near the bar; for Crewley’s signifi- cant movements had been noticed. ** Detective,” said Oscar, briefly, and a wise look settled on his face, as he smoothed his fierce mustache. It was a cloudy night, and through the un- certain gloom Christopher Crewley pursued the shadowy figures. city streei; up Ninth; down H—sud- denly, they vanished. But a pair of sha eyes marked the house where they entered, and the lawyer, with an exclamation of satis- faction, retraced his steps in the direction of the office of the W. U. Telegraph Company. ‘*Told Waldron I’d send after him. Now’s the time. Got’em boxed, sure, hum! So— so, my plotters, I’ll soon put a spider in your dumpling, or my name isn’t Chris Crewley!” Lacy Bernard and Henry Waldron had bid speed” when the latter in- u mer / “i i ¥ ie phos \ te) fs formed them of the clue he possessed, and then resigned themselves to patience. Both had faith in Crewley, and Crewley was confident. Mrs. Bernard ceased to weep, and joined her hopes with theirs, for the safe return of Ceclia. It was near noon of the day upon which Christopher Crewley started on the trail, when a note, addressed to Lacy Bernard, was delivered at the house. The chirography in which it was directed, was an unfamiliar one, and the anxious fa- ther hastened to peruse its contents. Waldron—who had remained at his friend’s house since the evening of Cecilia’s mysteri- ous disappearance—drew near, eagerly ex- pecting some tidings of his loved one, The lines ran as follows: ‘* Lacy BERNARD:—At your daughter’s re- quest I write to inform you of her safety, Strange events have called her suddenly from you, but the emergencies, though severe, por- tend for her no danger. She will return to her home shortly, and relieve your mind of that painful anxiety which must be incident to her shesaiied. absence. Again let me assure you of her safety and health. “* A FRIEND.” A deep silence reigned in the room after reading the letter, and lover and father gazed inquiringly at each other, ‘But where can she be?” fell, half invol- untarily, from Waldron’s lips. ‘God only can tell us!” replied Bernard, dejectedly. “‘“Oh, what is this feeling that fastens upon me, and tells me that she is in danger? for I cannot believe this note; I can- not believe that she is safe. This is not suf- ficient to relieve the torn heart of a parent. It does not tell us where she is—only assures us of her safety; leaves us in doubt as to its truth. If free as well as safe, why did not she pen the lines? I believe I wish—yes, 1 do wish it had not come at all. It worries me more than ever,” ‘*Let us accept it as a good omen—” be- gan the young man, perceiving that his friend was rapidly sinking to utter despair, But the old gentleman interrupted him with: ‘No, sir; it is otherwise. I believe its sole purpose is to deceive us, and stay our pur- suit. Don’t you see?—they who have her in their power, would deceive us to thinking she will return, and thus gain a greater ad- vantage by our inaction!” ‘‘ What are we to do then?” Waldron re- gretted his speech as soon as uttered, for he saw that it augmented the other’s suffering. “J know not! I know not!” groaned Bernard, dashing his hands to his brow, and bowing his grief-weighted head. ‘‘It would seem that fate mocks us. We are helpless. She must suffer while we wait.” “And it may not be for long,” Waldron said, encouragingly. ‘‘ We have an active agent at work. I know Mr. Crewley; he is as shrewd as any detective that ever lived. Our case could not be in better hands—” ‘‘Have faith in God!” chimed in a mild voice behind them. Mrs. Bernard had joined them unobserved; and the sentence she uttered was, truly, the whisper of a comforter. She had mastered the weakness of despair, and now set them the bright example of hope. ; When they showed her the letter, she shook her head sadly. ‘Build nothing on that,” she said; ‘‘1t is a false beacon. Our only strength is in re- signation.” earily the day dragged on; and as dreary was the night to those who mourned the ab- sence of a loved one. Another day came, but, with it, no new light to break the shade of melancholy. Lacy Bernard paced the parlor through- out the whole morning, seeming to have iven way completely to his woe. Even aldron found it difficult to quiet his un- strung nerves and harassed mind, and con- tinue his speeches of encouragement and condolence. Thursday evening set in; slowly the hours marched on. ; “We don’t hear from Crewley!” moaned Bernard, Geapending ly. as he and the young man sat alone in the dimly-lighted parlor. “T have not yet degtiaied: Mr. Bernard. Wait a little longer.” f deh Fo

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peated the old gentleman in tremulous ac- cents. ‘‘How much longer? Days are seme This suspense is eating at my life! shall sink under it, I cannot bear up—” A ring at the door-bell broke in upon his sentence, and he paused, Both started, There was something in the sudden sound which caused them an unspeak- able thrill. Like statues they sat; holding their breaths, they listened. ‘*‘ A telegram, sir.” Henry Waldron bounded forward and snatched the missive from the servant's hand; with trembling fingers he tore open the envelope. In another second, he uttered a glad ery. **Found! Comeon! Washington! Meet you at Willard’s. CREWLEY.” So read the dispatch and two hearts throbbed in joy. ‘“Thank God!” ascended simultaneously from those who had received the glad intel- ligence. CHAPTER XYII. A GUILTY CONSCIENCE. ‘“Pancy from comfort wanders still oe —BEATTIE, ‘* Hell hath no greater torments for the accurs’d Than this man’s presence gives,” —BaAILLIxz, In a secluded section—near the canal— Gerard Henricq had secured a house for his party, upon their arrival in Washington. Cecilia Bernard accompanied them, though her heart was not altogether freed of a feel- ing of distrust. But, something in the man- ner of Orle Deice had persuaded her to the course—something subtile, beyond the mere solicitation of the beauty that she might be allowed to prove Reginald’s inconstancy. Orle had joined them a day later. The note with assurance of Cecilia’s safety had been dispatched, she said, and the young girl’s mind was made easier on that point. ‘I wish I had written it myself,” Cecilia said thoughtfully, as she and Orle sat alone in the upper story of the weird house. ‘* Tt will not matter,” returned the beauty. “Tt is sufficient for them to know that you are safe—and the note will, undoubtedly, fix that.” “Did you tell them where I had gone?” “Oh, no; for, if I had, they would follow us without delay. And in such a case, I might not have time to prove what I desire.” ‘* When will you prove what you promised? —when can J return to my home?” ‘Both, very shortly. But, come—you are not so very uncomfortable with us?” ‘‘No, I feel that you strive to make it cheerful forme; Yet—”’ “What is it?” ‘**That fiend woman,” whispered Cecilia, lancing about her with a shudder; ‘‘I fear er. She is ugly and fierce, and I know, wishes me no good. I see but little of her; though, when she does come near me, her eyes ape wickedly—” ‘She will offer you no harm,” said Orle, compressing her lips. ‘I have arranged matters so that she will not dare to offer you an injury. And even if she did offer to mo- lest. you, I have Ca you that with which to defend yourself,” “But, why should she wish me ill, at all? 1 never wronged her,” “It is the keeping of a terrible oath—a vow to exterminate all who are named Darn- ley, and who know a favor at the hands of a Darnley. It wasa pledge given at the side of a death-bed.” A cold shiver crept over Cecilia, “This terrible vow would have been car- ried out long ago,” continued Orie, ‘‘had it not been for a talisman given me by the dy- ing woman—” ‘It was a woman?” aT oe. ““Who?” Orle Deice hesitated for a second; then, lowering her voice, she answered: io £ ald Darnley’s own mother!” Cecilia was struck dumb. ‘‘Yes, hisown mother. Were you living in Richmond at the time—but, no; you were hardly born when Mervin Darnley and his hp Oe ee tS YB DoT SAT Ce ee Pi *“A little longer! <A little longer!” re- | your father or moth Creole wife separated. Did you ever hear tion?” ‘**T—I think I have.” ‘This ‘fiend woman,’ as you Call her, is the mother of Mervin Darnley’s former wife, so, you may judge what that wife was, coming of such blood. At the time when the Creole married Mervin Darnley, her mother, this woman—Margaret Semper by name, was a hired woman, in a rich widow’s family, in New Orleans, though, of course, the fact was kept from Mervin Darnley. She made herself so valuable, that the wid- ow, in her will, bequeathed an immense sum of money to her. Margaret Semper, to get the money sooner, poisoned this widow! Going from New Orleans to Richmond, she there met the discarded wife, and having once stricken out a life, her heartless bosom was steeled for anything; she immediately urged the wreaking of a terrible vengeance, and her daughter, having in her much of the mother’s devilish spirit, consented to the ter- rible plot I’ve mentioned.” “Go on,” urged Cecilia, .whisperingly, completely wrapt in the strange detail. ‘*Tell me more, How did you learn all this? You said something of a talisman? Tell me who you are?” “« Tell you who lam?” repeated the beauty, in tones that were slow and sad, while her head, with its rich mass of jetty hair, droop- ed forward on her bosom. ‘* Yes, tell me this, for I—” ** Hush!” interrupted Orle. coming.” Nemil entered the room. ‘The cab is at the door,” he said, in his brief, guttural voice. “* But, I told you to order a barouche—” ‘OTis the same,” he broke in, with a snap. “What you want, is here,” and he turned abruptly away, “No more just now,’ Orie said to her companion. ‘1’ll answer thos@ questions when I come back. I’m going out for a ride; and I’d have you go with me, only I think it unadvisable that you should be seen on the streets. Strive to be content with tis brief imprisonment, and all will soon be well.” ‘*Some one is Reginald Darnley had engaged rooms on H street, near ——-; or, rather, Gerard Hen- ricq had secured them for him. Already had remorse begun its tortures, He bitterly repeated his rash course—repent- ed as it is only possible to repent when too late; and more than once in the privacy of his apartments, had he cursed the fate which led Gerard Henricq across his path. Bending under the dreadful weight of a murderer’s conscience, he could not sleep at night; the day was void of pleasure; his once handsome face had grown pale and haggard, until, in the altered features, there was scarce a vestige of his former self. It was in the morning after Reginald’s arrival in Washington when Gerard Henricg paid a call, ‘Ah! Mr, Darnley, how do you do, to- day? I have news for you—” that same soft, en aging voice which had tempted Reginald to his spiritual ruin. ‘‘News, Gerard Henricq? Nvo—there’s nothing to interest me, that I know of. I care very little for what happens about me.” “Tut! Tut! Come, you must be more cheerful. Why, you are wasting yourself away in idle broodings. You must wake up and take an interest in everything you see. Be alive. Be cheerful, I say.” ** Cheerful”—in a bitter tone—‘‘ you mock me. Would thatI could be! Do you realize what I am?—a murderer! Heavens! what an accursed existence! But, you have news —what is it?” The old villain drew from his pocket a copy of a morning daily, and, indicating an item in the ‘‘ Telegraph News,” read aloud: ‘RICHMOND, June, —, 1871.—Much ex- citement has been created in this city, by the sudden death of a Mr. Darnley, well known as one of our wealthy, retired manufactur- ers. The circumstances in connection with his decease are mysterious and suspicious; but, a post mortem examination has revealed nothing, and the verdict of the jury is one of doubt—” ‘“‘There! There!” cried the young man; Chris Crewley’s Winning Hand. ; er speak of that separa-| ‘‘read no more.. Sjiire me. At every turn, the horror of my€rime is blazoned before ® 19 me!—every hour brings something to con- front me with the heinousness of my guilt! —the very airs whisper of. retribution in store! And you, Gerard Henricq—wily, cunning serpent that you are!—why do you join in the host of burning reminders that make me so miserably wretched? Wkly have ou made me what I am?—for it was you.” Te concluded this speech with a searching warmth, as if he had just begun to question the cause of Henricq’s interest in him and his actions. “*Cease, cease, Mr. Darnley; al! I have done or urged was for your sole benefit.” “How much am I bettered by following your Satanic advice?” sarcasticaliy. ‘*A hundred thousand or so— perhaps more,” was the significant response. ‘You must have had some subtle purpose to serve,in driving me to this,” Reginald said, bending a thoughtful gaze upon the other’s face. ‘‘How could I accrue anything?” this with a deprecative motion cf the hands, and a solemn gravity of countenance; and he pur- sued: ‘*T met you, a stranger—you were beg- gared and hopeless. Through me, your fortunes have changed. You will gain pos- session of a goodly sum by the death of your father. if but for me, would you have thought—” “Stop! God! There itisagain. Always, always something to remind me.” ‘You are returning me poor thanks for my efforts in your behalf,” continued Henricq. ‘But, come, you must throw aside this ener- vating garb. Why, you'd confine yourself to these rooms until it proved your death! Let’s walk out. You need air.” ‘« And better death than life like this: Oh! were I not a coward—my own hand should rid me of this curseful ban!” Henricq paid little attention to this, It was not the first outburst he had witnessed, evenin the short period since Reginald joined him, ; On the street, tliey sauntered leisurely along; but, while the old man evinced a lively interest in noting the buildings, pedes- trians, etc., Reginald's head hung in random theditation, and he seemed to care little for what occurred in his surrounding. It was when they neared the fine smooth drive on Pennsylvania avenue, that some- thing attracted the young man’s attention —as it did that of many who were engaged in watching the flash liveries and handsome equipages which enlivened the drive. The day was a beautiful one, and fashion sought an early commune with the smiles of nature. A barouche, with gayly-caparisoned horses and fancifully-attired driver, was dashing past, and’ its occupant, a dark-haired, dark- eyed woman, was gazing steadily at Gerard enricq and Reginald Darnley. “Stop! Stop!” she suddenly cried, to the driver; and the mettlesome steeds were brought standing upon their hinder feet by the quick check of the rein which followed the command, = At sound of her voice, at sight of her face, Reginald turned abruptly and fied up Ninth street. ‘“‘Herwin, come here,” continued the oc- cupant of the barouche to Gerard ae who was looking up the street after Regi- nald. ‘* Well, Orle, what will you have?” he asked, going to her. ** When I asked you of Reginald eer yya last night, you said you knew nothing of his whereabouts.” ‘*T did,” he replied, with an uneasy move- ment, ‘I doubted the truth of your answer then, for I reasoned that if you had taken pains to learn of his departure, and would follow him, ou would also keep close watch upon him. ou told me a falsehood You have de- ceived me. Chance favors me; for here I find you walking arm in arm with him. Now, tell me where he lives—and speak the truth,” ‘“Orle, why will you keep this up? Let him go—” ** Answer me, Must I force you?” ‘* Force me?” ‘‘ Ay; would you have mesend youforever — from my sight? Would you have me vow —

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20 . Chris Crewley’s Winning Hand. that you shall never. the lawyer, until the latter’s fluttering duster another word of address from my lips? this I will do!— | was no longer visible in the throng, and then even my occasional company shall be denied he entered the Kirkwood. you.” Orle Deice was making use of a subtle CHAPTER XVIII. ower. She knew that the man before her THE SPIDER ON THE WALL. neg her to madness. This threat startled m. *«Tell me,” she said, after a pause, ‘‘ where does Reginald Darnley live?” The desired information was given, and, oe deigning to thank him, she drove 0. ‘yet, my pretty lady. It’s a favor that I haven’t choked you since we came here—and I might do it now if I wanted to; it’s a good chance. Take care how you grab me that way agair—you scratch-cat!—or you'll find out what I am.” “IT know well enough what you are,” Ce- cilia said with a shudder, as she retired to a further part of the room. *“And what am I, eh?” demanded Me Semper, with a harsh snap in her orhaked voice, and advancing toward the girl. ‘‘Keep off!” commanded Cecilia, sternly, retuining the fiery gaze of the hag with an unwavering glance. ‘‘But you said you knew what I was. Now, what am I, eh?” *‘T tell you to keep off. Leave this room—” **Oho! how long since you’ve been mis- tress here? Now I know you’re crazy!” still advancing, step by step, in a menacing way. ‘*You had best keep away from me, Meg Semper.” **'You’d better answer me!” hissed Meg, ' slowly producing her murderous knife, while ; her eyes glittered threateningly. : Hi ** Bear chy CAE he a few more days And thy hard trial will be past.” —ANDREW NORTON, Arter the departure of Orle Deice, Cecilia fell to thinking. Impressed with the awe of solitude, and the naturally strange feelings of one abrupt- ly taken from home and friends, to be sur- rounded by mysterious company—for those with whom she was thus thrown, were, to her, mysterious; and the more so, owing to the brief revelation Orle had made—her mind, confused by the excitement of her situation, wandered in shadowy channels which left her surmising, questioning, doubting. Thus she sat, when Orle had left her; her attitude one of deepest reverie, and her gaze resting riog tes on the sunrays that played through the half-open window on the figured carpet. The house was on Seventeenth street, and, as we have stated, near the canal. Beyond the tow-path shone the silvery waters of the Potomac, whose marshes were waving in the gentle breeze, like an overgrown woodland of the Naiads; and among the green trees that lined the shore, birds were reveling in the gay- ety of song. To Cecilia’s meditations wafted many a glad carol or murmuring whir, and cool airs winged across the trembling bosom of the river, fanned and played with her wealth of golden tresses. Over the scenes of the past few days, back to those loved ones in Richmond, who, not- withstanding all assurance, must long, heart- aching, for her return; to Reginald Darnley; to Henry Waldron; and the weird something that was to decide her choice in love; to the beautiful girl through whose solicitation she was there, and the singular story she had half told—at random, fancy flew, and the moments lapsed unheeded at lightning speed, Suddenly she uttered a cry of horror. _ Ather feet, in the sunlight, was a mon- strous spider—its horrible little eyes fairly snapping fire. It was an ugly thing; a large body of brownish color—like a tiny, inflated | bug—and head of bristled gray. Its numer- ous legs projected above the back, elbowing thence to the floor. It began to move toward her. Powerless to move—as if riveted by some irresistible magnetism; speechless, her gaze’ fixed upon it, she drew back till she leaned against the window-frame, and her features overspread with an ashen hue. It advanced; its two sharp pincer-claws struck rapidly together, as if in anticipation of a bloody feast; it crawled upon her slipper, then on to her dress; presently, it rose above her knee, and, pausing there for a moment, its body puffed out larger, and the poisonous mouth opened viciously. ; Cecilia scarcely breathed. Chained in a dread spell, her heart stood still, The spider moved again. Slowly, slowly upward; then it was upon hershoulder. The ** After all,” he muttered, scowling, as he started from the spot, ‘‘even if she Goes see him, he may send her away in contempt. The secret will be out; she will be astounded, will profess no knowledge of the letter, and, | ey at ina feeling of injured innocence, er love for him will cool. He will not be- lieve her denials; he will turn his back upon her. How I hate him—more and more, whenever I hear her speak his name. I almost incline to assist Meg Semper in an op- portunity to strike at his heart without wait- ing longer! It would rid me of a formidable rival. Aha! how I have tormented him. a revenge is growing sweet, indeed! Silly fool! Had he but looked at the paper, he would have seen that it contained no such notice. Only a trick of mine, to make him writhe pt the more. Ha! h—a! how sweet is revenge! ¢ My cheek is a to smart less. Soon the wound will heal, when I shall strike the final blow.” As the characters in this scene disappeared, y a man who had been leaning against a tree on by the corner whirled about and gazed after the F barouche. ; : He had been a sly listener and witness to all that passed. R: This party raised the handle of a white a umbrella to his lips and mused, aloud: “That’s the same black-eyed vixen I saw at the house in Richmond. Now, what the deuce is she doing here? ‘So she’s well ac- quainted with that old villain. What a nest . of ’em I’m unearthing. A regularly-organ- ized ring, it seems, of genteel, aristocratic | rascals—male and female. By George! where u < | | | | But the way Cecilia met this surprised the hag. From the bosom of her dress she, too, drew forth a sharp, glistening blade of steel, and, while the look of some deep resolve settled on her face, she togk aquick step toward her persecutor. q Unprepared for this, Meg Semper re- ; treated. Cecilia smiled sarcastically. She concluded from this that the hag was. a coward. ‘*Come, what's this?’ Are you at the girl again?” It was Nemil who uttered the growling words, and, turning to the African who stood in the doorway, Meg screamed: “*See, Nemil! she’s got a knife!” ee ‘*Then, let her keepit, She’ll hurt nobody ; without a cause.” ‘But, where’d she get it, eh? Where? ? Look!” : ‘“No matter. Let her keep 1t—and do you remain away from its point, and cease your torments, or I’ll stand guard over her, and w-r-i-n-g your n-e-c-k every time you come too near.’ ‘“‘ By Satan! you’re her champion—you’ll fight me, too!” ‘Rest your tongue—it makes my ears sore—” ‘*But we must take the knife away from i her!” persisted Meg, ‘*T tell you, no; and I say, leave off. Rat- ta-ta-ta chit-er-rit-arit, like a furnace-ham- mer, until I tire with hearing you talk so much, Put a stick in your lips, and die, if you Sih cease without. What brought you here?” “T came to see if she wanted some luncbh—” ‘‘And began with the threat of a knife? Bah!—go now!” And the black face wore an expression of contempt. _ “Do you want dinner?” addressing Cecilia — briefly. oo re You may — me a light lunch, if you will,” she answered. , He vented a grunt, and followed Meg Sem- ame per, who was moving sullenly away, ie | does she live? I must know that, and then T'll have ’em all netted.” j As this latter thought struck him, he lin- gered not another second, but sped away in pursuit. _ He pulled his hat tighter on his head, and clutched his umbrella with a firm grip. He could not help recalling to mind a former : race after a barouche, and the incidents con- nected with it. . “Now, if this one serves me as that one did,” he resolved mentally, ‘I'll give in, and never chase another vehicle as long as I live —don’t care who’s in it.” “The barouche proceeded leisurely along, and wher Crewley gained a position abreast of it, he experienced no difficulty in the chase. — The hat slid to the back of his head, to let more air play upon his temples, and he kept a bandanna handkerchief whisking spas- -modically around his throat and over his _ face. ; pf ; -- hat’s more like it,” he exclaimed, when he found it an easy matter to keep pace with the object of his pursuit. ‘‘ Dreadful warm, i) - though—hot!” flesh of the neck shrunk as that cold, clam-| As the hag passed the door, a small, dark ae ‘In frontof the Kirkwood House, at Twelfth | my, dragging object was felt upon it; yet, | object fell from the ceiling and struck upon | street, he met Waldron. — she had no strength, she could not, strike off | her head She jumped back, utteredastartled | Where to, Crewley?” asked the young | the fearful monster. | ; cry, that was half one of pain, then stamped 7 | - man, detaining him. : But, it continued to climb. Up, up—then | something beneath her feet. te ‘a “See that arcushs: there?” was the in- | it was upon her head. Wonderful preserva- ‘* Well, and what's the matter now?” de- manded Nemil, colliding with her. “Bythe ‘ tail of the ae ate always screeching © i like a hurt cat—and I tell you, I tire of it.” a es ‘* Nasty thing! It bit me!” “ Met, “* What?” } 7 “A spider! It bit me on the head tion!—it had left her, and was now crawling up the window-frame, - | The spell was broken. With a shriek she bounded from her seat, and, in the same in- stant the door opened and Meg Semper en- mae rane reply, pointing out to the street. " “ es- ” 7 _ ‘Well, I'm after it. Look at her good. Know her? Ever see her before, eh?” _ © The same girl we saw at the large house in Richmond,” said Waldron slowly, as he caught a momentary glimpse of the beautiful There!”—with a final stamp—‘‘it won’t — bite again, I guess. My head aches al- binge? ore - . ee “ Hunh!—go on,” As soon as they were gone, Cecilia restored her knife to its sheath. _ ina To think that I should ever have to haps; a head | handle such a weapon!” she murmured. | ., etc. Go back | the do you catch | ‘‘ Orle Deice was not wrong when she forced ] ; go-| it upon me and told me I might find ita — ieces? | welcome ally in her absence. How I trem t. | before that te ‘ible hag! And OW aes Bixatly. She's one of ’em,”” “One of who?” “The gan

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> _ by a goblin whose presence chilled why, before she went out. I will learn more of her when she comes back. What a cloud of mystery seems floating around me!” While partaking of a tempting lunch which Nemil brought, Orle returned. ‘‘V’ll join you in the meal,” she said, pleasantly, seating herself at the table. ‘«My barouche is at the door, and I must be off again at once.” ‘*This is unexpected, is it not?” “Yes, But I may not be gone over a couple of hours. When I come back, I want to talk with you.” ‘** You will finish the narrative you began this morning?” Yes. Were you disturbed at all while I ‘was away?” ** A great deal,” answered Cecilia, prompt- ly. ‘‘That fearful woman came here and tried to make me miserable by threats and menaces. But for the weapon you gave me, I fear I might have suffered much at her hands.” Orle frowned, and the dark eyes sparkled with angry thought. ‘She threatened you?” ce Yes.”’ “¢ What for?” *‘T really cannot imagine. I’m sure I of- fered no encouragement to her approach.” “Tl speak to Nemil. He’ll see to it that she does not come near you again,” Orle said, decidedly. Shortly arising from her seat, the beauty bantered: **A bracelet of gold that you cannot guess where I am going.” ** Where?” “To see Reginald Darnley.” Cecilia started. *‘T'll fix it so he shall come here to-night,” added she; ‘‘then you shall see if I have not told you the truth regarding his love.” With a further assurance that Meg Semper should not again annoy her, she left her. As she walked away from Cecilia’s room, Meg Semper came out of a closet on the epvesite side of the hall, and looked after er, _ ‘*Fix it so that he shall come here to- night!” she muttered, using Orle’s words to Cecilia. ‘And if she does come—now, may Satan seize me if I don’t sink my knife in his heart! Ill do’t before he can get to her, and before the cursed Talisman can stay me! I will! So, she gave the knife to the girl, eh? Now, Orle Deice, beware!|—don’t fool with Meg Semper; for, if ger do, though I swore to a by you and _ never offer you harm, I'll kill you, too! I will!” and she shook her fist savagely at the retreating form of the beauty. _ Then, as she moved along the entry, she pressed her claw-like hands to her temples, and continued, in muttering strain: “My head!—my head! It aches—it aches! Devil eat that spider! Its bite was poison- ous, I fear)” CHAPTER XIX. A WOMAN’S ARMS. “ Peace is the atmosphere I breathe And my calm rind goes to her dewy bower.” ; —Tupprr. REGINALD wished to avoid meeting Orle Deice. Satisfied, as he was, that she was the — gole cause of all his troubles, and that, but for her, he would not now be weighed down by the dreadful pon of a murderer's ne he hated sight of her—hated thoughts of her. re When he fled so abruptly—as if pursued . the veins ‘and balked the senses—he hoped to escape her entirely, and it was with a | of in- _ tense satisfaction he looked back and ascer- tained that she was not in pursuit of him. Half forgetting Gerard enricq—in fact, | careless as to that party’s movements, he re- | Chris Crewley’s Winning Hand. Early in the afternoon, a servant knocked at his door, and informed him that a visitor was in the parlor. ‘‘Man or woman?” he asked, gloomily, thinking at the same time it might be Orle Deice or Gerard Henricq. ‘“Woman, sir,” was the servant’s reply. Reginald started, ‘*Ts there no name?—did you not bring a card?” ‘*No, sir.” **Can you describe her?” frowning” dark- y. , ‘* A rather slender woman, sir, dressed in a5 very bright eyes and a han’some ace,” “It is she!” interrupted the young man, and he fell to musing. ‘‘By Heaven, she must have tracked me, after all. She follow- ed me,else how discover my residence? What to do?—have her sent away? Ay, but would she go? No—it is useless to deny her; she is spirited, and will persist until the people of the house begin to wonder. Fate—fate— why is this being brought up again upon my path? I had hoped that we were parted forever—” ‘What shall I tell her?’ fnquired the servant, who waited patiently in the door- way. ‘* Admit her.” Orle Deice was ushered in. Her beauty of face and form seemed even greater at this moment. The lustrous eyes sparkled doubly bright! the full lips, like half-open rosebuds, were moist in their dewy sweetness; her raven tresses were superbly arranged with jeweled pins; and, combining her costly and magnificent attire of gauzes, laces and illusions.the picture was of a new- born goddess, whose advent was heralded by breaths of dreamy perfume. “ Reginald!” She smiled and extended her dimpled hands. . ‘* Well, Orle—you here?’’ was the cold re- joinder, turning from her as he spoke. ‘Yes, I have found you. But I had a hard hunt.” : ‘**T would it had been longer and less suc- cessful.” She looked at him in wonderment. ‘Is this your greeting, Reginald?” ‘*T have none other to offer, Why are you here?” ‘“Whyam I here? Whata question! Why, to see you.” : - The bright beauty of her face was losing color, and her voice faltered. ‘‘And now that you do see me, have I altered much since we last met? I look ill, doInot? ‘ Well, Iam. But you see me, and I beg you to depart. You can have nothing to keep you here.” ‘‘ Why, how strangely you talk! You are not yourself.” “Strange? True, Iam not myself. Please begone, your presence is distasteful.” ud he seated himself near a window, carelessly turning over the leaves a novel. Orle contemplated him in astonishment, Was this the man she loved so deeply—the one who oft had whispered of an enduring affection, placed his heart where her own could feel its beating, snatched kisses in myriad from the lips she willingly yielded up to him? Could this be Reginald Darnley, whom she so idolized and whose warm ardor had vied with her own in vowing castled love? What meant this change? Why this distant bearing toward her? ‘ Reginald—what—what does this mean?” The large, black eyes were opened wide, and the music of her voice was tremulous. - He closed the book, wnd slowly raised his gaze to hers. , ‘** Orle Deice, will you leave me? You have already wrecked my life; why add to the gall by ¥ fou presence? Go!” er bosom heaved; something was cutting at her heart. Colder still. : 21 ‘*No, no, no—there is a mistake; there ig something wrong, some cruel misunder- standing! Reginald, you are stabbing me! Each word you speak, is a knife-thrust at my bosom! Ruined you? Deceived you?—never! In Heaven’s name! explain.” She hurried to his side, as she concluded this brief, passionate outburst, and would have thrown her arms around his neck. But he cast her off. *“Orle Deice, let me ask you what you mean by this hypocrisy? Dare you hope that there is one particle even of friendship for you in my breast, after what you have dove?” ‘‘Reginald, as Heaven is my witness, I have done nothing!” she cried, passionately. ‘Oh! tell me—tell me of what I am ac- cused!” His brow became stern; his eyes seemed lighting with their old brilliancy, and his lip quivered. A strange feeling crept over him as she made that declaration. ‘Done nothing?” he repeated; then grasp- ing her by the wrist, in a hold that was pain- ful, he hissed: “IT once borrowed a sum of money from you.” “Yes,” in a panting accent, while she trembled beneath his fierce glance. ““You said I need never return it, if I did not choose,” ‘«Yes, yes; and I meant it, Reginald.” “*Meant it! Did you not senda negro to my father’s house, a few days ago, with a — note bearing your signature?—and, in that note did you not demand payment of the money—” “Reginald!” she gasped, ect i him; ‘‘asI hope for peace in death—no, did not!” Reginald staggered from her, and clutched a chair for support. ** You did not do this?” *“Never! Do you believe me?” And now the arms that stole about his neck remained there. For some time the young man’s mind was in a giddy whirl. A strange noise seemed ringing in his ears; the lovely face that look- ed up to his, was but dimly seen. ‘ ‘*Can—can it be, I have so wrongly judged you?” he uttered, chokingly. ‘You have, Reginald!—you have!” cling- ing tighter to him. ‘‘ Tell me, now, what has happened. Let us clear away this ter- rible mystery.” When he had calmed himself, he told her all, Orle was dumb in amazement. She knew nothing of the letter, and—oh! a sud- den light flashed upon her; she guessed the source of all the trouble. But she did not impart this guess to Reginald. hen she appeared to be thinking upon what he had said. When he spoke of poi- soning his father, a shudder convulsed her frame; but she did not stir—her thoughts were fastened upon that very subject. Some- thing perplexed her. ‘Reginald, you say you tried to poison him, on Tuesday night?” ‘Sh! not so loud, Orle, Yes—I did not only try, but Idid poison him!” glancing a nervously around the room, as if fearful lest some eavesdropper should hear the dread confession. Z ‘And haye you heard anything of it since?” still in that thoughtful way. oe ‘Yes. To-day in one of thec ty papers: a telegram from Richmond spoke of it.” - “‘Yet I saw him on Wednesday afternoon, before I left Richmond, walking the street.” Reginald’s eyes were starting; his features" ie whitened; he cried, in a hoarse whisper: _ ‘You saw him, Orle?—you saw him on Wednesday afternoon? At what time?” “Tt must ‘have been nearly five o’clock, I Bs was on my way to the depot.” ‘* And he looked well?” ie The young man gasped forth his inquiry with a wild eagerness. - He remembered t turned straightway to his rooms and locked himselfin. ___ Solitude had many fascinations for him— y he could think, could brood upon the mis- hs, _ eries dd fate, with pictures and characters of | a . his mind’s creation to surround him; and | You hay nelancholy musings oft stilled the unrest s conscience with an indescribable in- | Pp ope ? Rts EA r ‘ new ee, i : OF . wet “ 4 - Ss ; ha

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22 Chris Crewley’'s Wi ‘‘Quite sure, Reginald; for I know your father well at sight.” When Orle Deice left him, he was an al- tered man. His form resumed the old car- riage of confidence; a flush was on his cheek; in his face was an expression completely banishing the dejected look which had settled there in the few days past. Her visit had served to drive away the somber clouds of despair, and leave him hap- py in the belief that a kind Providence had intervened in some way to save him. Some- thing told him he was innocent of the crime he had attempted. His brow was clear; his mind composed, as he walked to and fro; and suddenly he ex- claimed, with vehemence: ‘“Now, Gerard Henricqg—now get from my sight! No longer your slave, to be tor- tured and played with as you will, but once more a Darnley! And Orle—generous girl —made me promise to draw on her for funds. We shall soon bid adieu to these dark scenes, and seek bliss amid the sunlight of a foreign clime. For I love her best!— I love her best! I love Cecilia, too; but it is not such a love as that I bear Orle, and I would be sinning if I married her in those feelings, And J know she would be my wife, despite her father, if lasked it. Orle! Orie!— But 1 am thinking too fast. I shall see her to-night; she has given me her direction. Oh! once again those pleasant moments—how eager I am to welcome them! And why should I not be? Not a murderer! —ha! ha! ha!l—but a man!—a man! Ah! my brain—bow it whirls around!” CHAPTER XX. IN FOR IT! ** Curiosity! thy netting power Oft leads where reason should compel us back,” —ANON, CHRISTOPHER CREWLEY’S pursuit of the barouche was unobserved by Orle Deice. Tne driver turned his horses in at the Fif- teenth street gate to the Treasury Building, and continued leisurely on, past the grounds of the White House, finally emerging on Seventeenth street—Crewley, like a hound on scent, keeping close upon the ‘‘ game” he had spotted. The barouche turned to the left, toward the canal. The lawyer opened his eyes wider, and wondered as he followed. ‘* Now, where the dogs is she leading me to? Wonder if she knows I’m on her heels and means to rss a trap on me? If so, then hang meif there isn’t a broken head or two, before I get out of pickle!” and the way in which he grasped his umbrella plainly told that he meant business. ‘ Slowly onward went the barouche. Pres- ently it stopped before a three-story brick dwelling, whose crumbling exterior savored strongly of discomfort. Crewley raised his umbrella—for the sun had fierce play upon his head in this vicinity —and, halting, composedly struck a position against a near ak tail rg ‘*Got you boxed, too!” he soliloquized, as Orle alighted and entered the house. ‘‘I’d squeal—you little vixen!—if I could learn just exactly who and what you are, and ow the deuce you came to be mixed up in this little divertissement. Your party’s meanderings have brought me all the way from Richmond by telegraph!—they have! And you can build a palace on my word for’t, Im going to have satisfaction, Satis- faction—understand?” and he nodded his head toward the residence, as if the subject of his remarks was listening attentively to his spoken musings. , With one leg crossed, » shoulder braced against the telegraph-pole, hat on the ex- treme back of his head, eyes straining, and tongue in one side of his mouth, he kept close watch from beneath the edge of his umbrella. He had not long to wait. Orle Deice soon reappeared, and was driven off. e seemed hesitating as to whether he should continue to follow her. Then he ‘shook his head, and exclaimed, while he wiped the perspiration from his brow: | » “No, sir—too hot!” © He was about to move away, when an idea _ ‘seemed to enter his eccentric brain. a 7 ee Immediately turning, he walked leisurely past the house, glancing covertly up at the windows, ‘‘ Wonder if she lives there by herself, eh? All the windows shut—um!” another idea. He had passed the house, and, looking down along its side, saw a gate open. In a few seconds he was at the gate, and looking in. Then he glanced about him. No one was in sight. ‘*Rather burglarious, this,” he resolved; ‘*but there’s the kitchen, and the door is ajar, and, for a man of inquiring mind, the temptation is mighty. Chris Crewley—you ferret !—be careful.” Thus admonishing himself, he passed the gate and entered the kitchen, Plain it was, he had determined to ex- plore. The room was bare of everything; an ominous silence prevailed. His ears tingled as he listened for the slightest sound. ‘* Not even a rat!’ he whispered, taking a survey of his surroundings. ‘*Guess she lives alone: cooks her own meals, sleeps in the garret—rather singular circumstances, though, for one who ‘sports’ a barouche and livery. I think ’l— Eh? What’s that, now?” A slight, rustling noise startled him. ‘* Meow!” Crewley whirled round on his heel, and poised his umbrella aloft. ‘* P-i-z---spit!”” A dark object shot from the top of the range and whirred past him with a scratch and a scramble. His nerves, just then, being in a delicate condition, he jumped backward, with a half- suppressed cry—tripping over a loose plank and falling with a crash that shook the win- dows. His umbrella flew one way, his hat another, and, for a second, his feet wriggled in mid-air. At the same instant he heard a hasty foot- step descending the stairs. Hurriedly re- gaining his equilibrium, he grasped up his umbrella, and darted into a convenient closet, The comer was Meg Semper. The’ noise in the kitchen had reached her ears, and she came to see what caused it. ‘“‘ Lord! what a beast!” thought Crewley, as he gazed at her through the keyhole. The hag did present an appearance truly fearful; her head was beginning to swell— from the poisonous effects of the spider- bite—and her blear eyes were doubly red- dened and staring, in the acute pain she suffered. ‘*Tt’s nothing, after all,” she said, in an ill- humor. ‘‘ Perhaps a cat. Satan seize it!— the door’s open,” and she closed the door as she spoke. ‘* Yes, ma’am,” acquiesced Crewley, under his breath; ‘‘a cat—and it was a big black cat, a mischievous cat, a disagreeable cat, for it seared me considerable. Now, I wonder where such a picturesque devil as you ever landed from? You’re the ugliest piece of humanity I ever set eyes on—Bengal, ele- phant or pole-cat not barred! Eh? What’s she doing now?” Meg Semper had caught sight of the law- yer’s hat, which lay where it had fallen, in a far corner, With a spiteful kick she sent it whizzing across the apartment. ‘“My poor hat!—cost five dollars, three years ago,” groaned Crewley, within himself, as he saw the article demolished. ‘There has been an intruder here,” mut- tered the hag, as she glanced about the empty kitchen; but, she added, almost im- mediately: ‘‘ Whoever it was, they must be gone at my coming.” ‘‘Thank you,” breathed Crewley, with re- lief, for he feared that she would commence a search, in which event discovery was in- evitable. Suddenly a new, strange expression came upon Meg Semper’s wolf-like face; her eyes glittered with a devilish fire. — ‘* Look at ber!” exclaimed the lawyer, sotto voce, nearly tumbling forward and betraying himself in his eagerness to see. She was looking toward the door leading through the house, as if to make sure that no one was near. Her breath hissed through her shriveled lips; slowly she drew from her pocket a steel ring. nning Hand. To the ring was attached a piece of string, and by the string she held it off from her, contemplating it with a peculiar gaze. Another glance toward the door; then she produced the long, sharp knife she invariably carried about her person. ‘‘A lunatic, as sure as sin!” commented Crewley, while his hair raised a little. ‘‘If she finds me out, she’ll try to puncture my jugular vein! [ll have to fight like mad— and I will! skin me if I don’t! What is she going to do with that ring?” Meg Semper went to a far side of the room, and suspended the ring from a nail, Carefully steadying it, she retired several steps, muttering: Yes, I’ll do it!l—I’ll.do it! And T’ll do it this very night, too! No more of the ‘curst Talisman—no more thwarting when I have Reginald Darnley at my knife-point! One good thrust will be a stroke toward avenging my daughter’s wrongs! It will be Mervin Darnley next! Both shall die!— and die soon! Orle Deice, you’ll no more come between me and the fulfillment of my oath! I swore to stand by you, and you swore to stay with me till death parted us! —but, you’ve crossed me ”’—hissingly—‘‘and ao one shall cross Meg Semper. ‘The ’curst Talisman has made me mad!—mad! It pre- vents me keeping my oath to my injured child! And I’m going to banish it. I'll kill you to-night!” ‘Bless me! she’s going to kill somebody,” thought the wondering lawyer. ‘‘ Talisman? What Talisman? What does she mean by that? Look!” The hag had turned her face away from the ring on the wall, and now she was grad- ually backing toward it, grasping the knife mary and holding her arm stiff at her side. “‘T haven't forgotten how to strike; no— no—but it’s been a long time since I prac- ticed. IfIcan hit the center—” quick as a flash of lightning she whirled about, and the gleaming blade hissed through the air. It struck the very center of the ring, burying itself deep in the hard plank. A look of devilish satisfaction settled upon her swarthy features. “No, [ve not forgotten! That ring is your heart, Orle Deice!—your heart, [ say. And as the knife pierced the plank, so shall it pierce your bosom this night! You're doomed— Ha! Devils a-loose! my head!” She clapped her hands to her temples, as a sudden pain there’wrung a cry from her lips. The poison from the bite was circulating rapidly in her heated veins; her head was swelling larger each moment. When she had calmed herself, she recov- ered the knife, and repeated the experiment with the ring. Twice, thrice she went through the significant programme, and at every blow the knife-point struck the cen- ter. care” Meg Semper, what mummery is this?” Nemil had silently approached, and was viewing her actions from the doorway. ‘* It is no business of yours; so begone.” ‘*You'll find me as surly as yourself, if you choose to make me so,” growled Nemil, not satisfied with her words. ‘‘Tell me what you are practicing? What means that ring?” Best leave me alone!” returned the hag, snappishly, the unexpected interruption and the pain in her head combining to augment her savage humor. Just then there was a noise in the closet. The lawyer had, in his desire to get a good look at the African, stepped on some uten- 9 which rattled and scraped beneath his eet. In a moment Meg Semper sprung forward. ‘*Now, then, hang it! here’s the devil to pay!” he exclaimed, as he clutched his um- brella determindedly. He frowned, and gathered his energies for a desperate encounter, for he fully realized that he had to deal with two bloodthirsty _ fiends. CHAPTER XXI. A STRANGE MEETING, ** Out of my sight, thou serpent!”— MiILton. Reermatp Darn ey paced his room with thoughtful strides. tis brow was knit in a amy +

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a _ panted for breath, frown, his teeth hard set, and in the flashing Chris Crewley’s Winning H and. 23 “The world would have lost nothing had glance of his eyes was something that told of | I done so,” said Reginald, in contempt. stern mental resolve. **But youamazeme! What can you mean It was near five o’clock when a rap at the | by—” door aroused him. Gerard Henricg entered, smiling, rubbing | his hands together and bowing. The change in his victim at once struck him, and though he marveled, he said: “Ah, Mr. Darnley, you look better than you did,” **Do 1?” returned Reginald, bluntly, while he eyed the other steadfastly. “*Oh, very much; very much; and, believe me, I am glad to remark it.” **Tndeed?” with sarcasm. ““Why, yes; it made me feel bad to see you so wholly given to melancholy.” “T doubt it. To the contrary, I think you regret this change.” ** What!” in a reproachful tone; ‘‘think I ‘was pleased in seeing you miserable? Why, what could introduce such folly into your ideas? I assure you, this discardment of your gloomy face is very pleasant to me, very; though I cannot guess at its cause;” the last with a faint accent of inquiry. He had come to note the effect of Orle’s visit. He knew, when he gave her Regi- nald’s address, that she would seek the young man at once. This, while it kindled fresh flames of jealousy and hatred, he could not prevent. e was eager to ascertain in what spirits his victim would be, after being inter- viewed by the party who, to all appearances, had caused him so much trouble—established the basis of his entanglement within the hor- Tible meshes of murder—so eager, that he could not bide his time till next day. Reginald’s reception was enigmatical, “Gerard Henricq, what brings you here?” The young man was regarding him with a searching sok, one which the old villain strove in vain to read. “‘ What brings me here? Whata question! Are we not so closely allied, that the society of one is necessary to the other?” This was spoken with emphasis. ‘‘Perhaps,” returned Reginald, while a peculiar expression swept over his features, and his lips curled. ' ‘Perhaps! Ay, but there’s no doubt «f t , **You are conceited,” ‘* And you are too bold,” retorted the oily voice, significantly. “You talk as if you thought I feared ou. Gerard Henricq was growing more per- lexed. ‘ “Do not forget, Reginald Darnley,” he said, with a slight sternness, ‘‘ that you are a murderer!—a penniless outcast and mur- derer who, but for me, would now be beg- ging for bread in the streets of Rich— Ha! what would you?” Reginald had him by the throat.’ Tightly, mercilessly pressed those fingers; and the young man’s face was scarlet as he cried: ‘‘ Villain! Wretch! Vile serpent, and would be destroyer of my soul!—take back —unsay those words! ‘Take them back, 1 say, or, by the Heaven above me, I'll strangle out your life!"—tighter—tighter closed the fingers. ‘‘Reginald!—Mr, Darnley—you are chok- ing me!” gasped Henricq, with difficulty. ginald was mad with passion. The blue veins stood out upon his forehead like cords, and his strength, naturally great, was dou- bled by the excitement of rage. His blood was fevered cit the other’s words, which cut him like a knife. “Poisonous snake that you are! will you unsay those words? You charge me with murder? By Heaven! my crime shall be doubled—” ‘Don’t kill me!” sputtered the old man, white with fear, as he struggled for breath in that frenzied hold. Suddenly, Reginald released him, and he staggered back, dizzily. f “*There!” said the young man, caluing himself; ‘‘I regret, that I sullied my hands with touching you. But, haveacare, Gerard Henricq”—in @ meaning, half-fierce tone— “if you tempt me too far, I’ll crush out your life!” **You’ve nearly killed me!” brokenly ar- ticulated Henricq, as he held to a chair and ‘‘I mean, that it is dangerous for you to be nearme. You disgust me with your bland voice and bypocritical professions—I hate sight of you! You are a venomous reptile! There is some object hidden beneath your disinterested exterior, which has been the in- centive to all you have done. I know this; I read it plainly, now that lam myself again. I repeat, you are not safe within reach of my hands! Begone!” ‘* Dangerous to be near you?” and the eyes behind the spectacles were glittering like the orbs of a suake when about to strike. “Yes; so be warned,” ** You forget, when you say that, that my money is essential to your comfort—yes, es- sential to your life. If we part, how long would you exist without money? Answer me that.” *‘T have all the money I want. Begone, now; leave me alone.” Gerard Henricq started as he heard this. ‘* All the money he wants!” he repeated, mentally. ‘‘ Where did he get it? Who is his new banker? Ha! can it be, Orle Deice has won him to her again, and given him the strings to her purse? ’Sdeath! was I so far wrong in my conclusions as to the result of their interview?” Then aloud: **May I ask whence comes this new supply of money, Mr. Darnlev, and why it is more acceptable than what I offer?” **’You may, and—I shall not answer.” “You are playful,” with a half-sneer. ‘*Then it is the play of the tiger,” Reginald said, quickly; ‘‘so, be careful that you are not bitten while encouraging it.” - ‘What if I expose you, Reginald Darn- ley? What if I set the bloodhounds of the Jaw upon your track, and say to them: ‘There is the murderer of Mervin Darn- ley!” and his eyes fired with a malicious gleam, An indefinable look settled on Reginald’s face. The blood mounted to his temples. Again the frenzy of passion was heating bis Veins. Gerard Henrieq saw this, and, fearing a repetition of the strangling-scene, he said, hastily : ‘* But, I sha’n’t do that; no, I am too good a friend of yours, to think of doing it. You are in a bad state of mind this afternoon, for all you look better; and youll regret it, some time—I mean when you think more over it.” There was a significance in his closing remark. It evidently required a great effort to speak calmly, as he did; he was smothering some terrible feeling in his breast. Reginald vouchsafed no rejoinder. He crossed over to the window and gazed out upon the street, ‘‘Tam going, Mr. Darnley.” The young man mesons some inaudible words in reply. Shaking his fist toward his rebellious dupe, Gerard Henricq withdrew, gritting his teeth. As he hurried from the house, he hissed, in an undertone: “‘It were better had I not striven to revive his spirits—curse him! He would cast me off, now that something has transpired to make pemntel gets = in pocket, And what is that something?—who? Is it Orle Deice? Satan! how that girl sticks to him; when he cares nothing for her, and I would sacrifice an arm to possess her! He! h—a! he called me ‘serpent!’ Andsolam! I’ve not done biting yet, either, Reginald Darnley! This scar upon my cheek still smarts a little! I shall wait no longer! I'll have my revenge! The detectives will be on your track within twenty-four hours! Ha! Ha! Ha! Then you'll find out how much more the ‘serpent ' can bite!” Reginald saw the form of his. tempter moving away veh the street, anf a mean- ing smile wreathed the corners of his mouth as he looked after him, “How near I came to choking out his miserable life!! His words stung me to the | al and when he uttered them, he little reamed that I no longer feared him or his threats, He will not confront me with an more such reminders, I guess. Your coils and webs are thrown off, Gerard Henricq. ~~ t eh Se : ypc ato pe aie) i ee % —— eee aa “ Your victim is now the master. You are dealing with a Darnley!” He had promised to call uvon Orle at eight o’clock that evening. It was with a light heart and elastic step he left the house, when the bells of. St. Aloysius were tolling seven, and turned westward, At the corner of New York avenue and Fifteenth street, he suddenly collided with an individual who turned the corner as he neared it. “Beg pardon, sir, I did not see you— why!” he recognized Henry Waldron. “* Your apology is accepted, sir.” “This is Mr. Waldron, is it not? We have met before, in Richmond?” ‘Tam making no new acquaintances, just at present,” Wa’dron said, s‘iffly. : Reginald regarded him for a second, then, whecling abruptly, he continued on. “*So,” mused Waldron, gazing after him, “it is Reginald Darnley. I wonder where heis going? Now,I am curious to know more of this man who seems tangled in my affairs lately. The lawyer's absence is un- accountable. He said he would return to the hotel very shortly, and here it is after dark. I'll follow you, Reginald Darnley,” uttering the last as if it were the framing of a sudden resolution, and, with the words, he began, at a safe distance, to dog Reginald’s steps. CHAPTER XXII. THE SILENT WARNING, ‘The heart alone Is Pity’s dearest, holiest throne, And when the tale of woe sbe hears, Her softest answer is in tears,” —Da.E. ‘* A troubled, dreamy maze Of some unearthly horror * * * Of some wild horror past, and coming i ye —DANA, OrLE DerIceE sought Cecilia, immediately upon her return from Reginald Darnley’s rooms. ‘*] have arranged everything,” she said, as she joined her willing captive. ** Arranged everythipg? What?” asked Cecilia, looking up from a novel, with which she had been passing her time since Orle left her. The beauty drew a chair near to her, and continued: ae Reginald Darnley will be here this eve- ning.” ** Ah!” ‘Yes. Would you see him?” ** Would I see him?” Cecilia repeated, in- quiringly. ‘*Would you not like to exchange a word with the man who has so cruelly deceived ou?” This with a slight flavor of triumph, which she could not conceal. ‘** No,” was the icy reply; “‘ he has not yet deceived me that I know of.” ‘But he does not love you.” “You are to prove that to-night.” ** And if I do prove it?” “Then he is nothing to me. I would not wed a man whose love is divided.” Orle’s dark eyes lighted with pleasure— with satisfaction, She knew she could prove that Reginald’s love was hers. ‘‘He will be here at eight o’clock,” she said. ‘‘I will have itso that you may hear every word of our conversation.” For over an hour they talked of trivial matters. Orle sought to entertain her rival leasantly, She was now confident that no urther obstacle would arise to her undis- puted right to Reginald’s affection. It is strange how a woman will sometimes center the softest ae of her heart upon a man who discourages it in every way, and is, really, not deserving of such abiding love —holding fast in that ardent passion through ills, crosses and denials; yet such cases are not so very rare, and it. is a common oc- currence, in an equal zest, among the sterner sex, To a woman of passionate impulses, like Orle Deice, the retention of Reginald was a triumph. Its unmaidenly features did * socie ” might denounce them. ved;. actiag lo that love, once set, was She as a mighty rock, against which the coldest — SRS ES (AE a q z S _ Steer. ; ee ed . i Fd _— a ee not appear to her as indelicate as an ex- .

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tide or direst blast could accomplish naught; it remained immovable, and gath- | ered fresh strength with every moment of | existence. ‘You were to tell me something of your- self,” said Cecilia, after a pause, during which Orle gazed down at the carpet. ‘‘Of myself?” absently. *“You remember, you were telling me why this woman, Margaret Semper, so hated Reginald Darnley, and why that hatred ex- tended toward me—the fearful death-bed oath,” shuddering as she recalled what Orle Deice had told her in the forenoon. Ic But Cecilia was curious to know more of the dark mystery which the beauty had pardy unfolded to her. " ‘*T asked you what there was about the Talisman. You know you said it had pre- served his life.” “Yes, it has,” thoughtfully. ‘‘ When Meg Semper, mother of the Creole, swore My for the supposed wrongs of her child, the Talisman was given me—” “*And how happened you there? Why were you involved?” interrupted Cecilia. ‘‘Ah, yes; I'll explain. You wanted to know who I was?” ‘* Yes,” in a tone that bespoke a great and increasing interest in her companion. Orle smiled sadly. “‘T can tell you that in a few words—I don’t know who I am!” 5k Cecilia looked at her in surprise; and she continued: “‘T have no recollection of a father or mother. I-only know that, from the time I was old enough to remember anything, I was with the discarded wife of Mervin Darn- ley, who tenderly cared for me. She often told me, opt that she was not my mother; and if she did know aught of my parents, I guess the knowledge died with her. She had money of her own when she died, and a portion of it was appropriated to my educa- _ tion. You know as much of my identity, now, as I do.” ** And are you happy?” asked Cecilia, soft- ly. ‘‘Do you not yearn for a brother, or a sister—” ‘*Oh, yes,” broke in Orle, and her mind seemed to be wandering back over the mazy past, with its uncertainties and mysteries re- garding her life. ‘‘ 1 often long for the sur- Toundings you name.” : ‘Then, Orle, come and live with me.” Cecilia spoke in a low, tremylous voice; the dew of tears glistened in her sweet blue eyes; her loving heart was open in an ab- oak sorbing sympathy, a sister-like interest in | ._ this strange, beautiful girl. Wasit pity for one who knew not father, mother, brother, = sister, with all the joys of their protecting ove? - “Come and live with me,” she repeated. ‘*We will be sisters—we will love each other dearly.” Orle, too, was not without a warm emo- tion at this offer; but, forcing back the weird influence of the other’s words, she said, quickly: “No, no; you forget, I have other plans _ for my future. I know that you are sin- cere; I know that we could be very _ happy together, despite the fact of our rivalry; but you know Iam to py Regi- nald soon, and our home will be far, far from here”—her dark orbs sparkling with a glad light. ‘‘And, even putting that outside,” she added, ‘there exists a bond between Meg ‘Semper and myself which will not permit a separation.” . ee ““ A bond ” ; ‘Yes; an see oletge ven at the bedside of a dying woman. When the Creole was om yin breathin her last, she made Meg Semper and I i always to remain to- gether. I disliked Meg; but the Creole had ever been kind to me—and I think she loved me dearly—so I gave the promise. The hatred of these two women toward the Darn- eys was intense’ Meg Semper vowed she would destroy the whole line, child and all. But in this vowing she had to make an ex- An exception?” - tly after the estrangement. The child loved, although it was a Darnley- ie : rasenied ‘in the! oath of ‘Yes; for the Creole had. another child : - He saw a disturbance in p . he inevitab] a Te Chris Crewley’s Winning Hand. ‘*Ts that child alive?” ‘*You have seen him. He does not bear the name of Darnley.” ‘¢ What is his name?” ‘* When I say you have seen him, I mean I think you have. He was lately Reginald Darnley’s valet.” ‘The man called Herwin Reese!” claimed Cecilia, in astonishment. “* Tt is he.” ** And does he know that the one he served is his own brother?” ‘‘He does not. I only Jearned it under solemn promise of secrecy—and I shall con- sider that you are likewise bound. Don’t ever breathe anything of what I have dis- closed.” ‘* You have my promise.” ‘*Let us say no more of him. You wanted to know about the Talisman?” ‘*Yes. Tell me what it means. it preserved Reginald’s life?” ‘* When the oath was registered, to exter- minate the Darnleys, something—I know not what—prompted me to intercede in behalf of the intended victims. I was but a little child, yet I found eloquence to plead, and I remember well,. with what earnestness [ strove to persuade them from the bloody scheme. They were too resolute, however, to be deterred from their purpose by my rayers. ‘The Creole cherished a deep love or me, the little waif who was destined to be independent through her bounty, and it was a whim of hers to please me, in some way, though she could not grant my request to spare the lives—” Orle Deice was interrupted by a knock at the door, ‘*Come in,’ she answered, in a voice in- ex- How has ‘dicative of displeasure at the intrusion. lt was Meg Semper. She bore a large tray, on which was spread a light, tempting repast. ; “Tt’s near Juncheon,” she said, with a sul- len accent; ‘‘and I’ve brought that miss her supper.” Orle was struck with surprise as she no- ticed the swollen condition of Meg Semper's head, The blear eyes were half-closed, and burned with a strange, unearthly look; and her countenance, of repulsive ugliness, was disfigured by a severe cut which extended across the mouth, from nose to chin. o Meg, what ails your head?” Slowly the hag raised her gaze to the speaker. Orle felt an involuntary shiver in her veins as she marked the fierce gleam in those bloodshot orbs; and a singular twitch- ing was about the corners of the shriveled mouth. “What ails your head?” repeated the beauty, breathlessly, while Cecilia looked on, wondering. ‘* Poison!” said Meg, huskily, ‘*Poison! How—what mean you?” ‘*A nasty spider!—it bit me! See! I’m swelling ue Soon, I shall burst! I’m go- ing mad, I think—mad!” she was staring idiotically, her voice sunk to a choked, hiss- ing whisper. ‘And that cut across your face?—how came you by it?” A peculiar grin, savage and significant, settled on the distorted visage, and the tongerios 3 eyes seemed to shoot out sparks; ut, there was no reply. Orle arose. She was beginning to feel un- easy. Meg Semper’s actions mystified her, and boded something ill. At that instant, the beauty’s attention was attracted toward the door. Nemil stood there. A meaning look was upon his black face; one hand was raised aloft, while the forefinger of the other was placed to his thick lips. His attitude contained a silent warning; and Orle Deice, with her*eyes riveted upon him, stood, spellbound. CHAPTER XXIII. “A QUEER LADDER... ‘Is there no god” (Chris Crewley) ‘‘to be- iia: | ee { No power to avert his miserable end?” ; _—Popr’s Homer, N the door wished to co 3 oka As M mper sprun toward the closet, | Ae Mee es yl beliin dhim. Zz. whi ene With a wring and a jerk, Meg tore open the closet-door, uttering a how] at the same time —for something whizzed in her face—some- thing sharp struck her in.the mouth, and she felt the warm blood oozing froma fright- ful gash. It was the white umbrella. It shot out and hit its mark before a movement could be made to avoid it. Simultaneously with her howl, Christopher Crewley vented a defiant yell, and, with hair half-standing in nervous ex- citement, dashed forward. **Look out!” he cried, as the hag staggered back before the terrific blow. ‘‘ Dangerous, Iam! Chris Crewley—yours forever, much! Rascals, both—ha!” Whiz-z-z-z! circled the umbrella, quick as lightning-streaks, and the lawyer darted and danced about, as if a glowing coal was in each boot. Meg Semper, with a fearful oath, leaped at him, her glistening knife-blade cutting the + in flashing circles as she had tried to reach im, The contest was only between the hag and Crewley, Nemil biding his time, and gathering his enormous strength for an opportune mo- ment when he could throw himself upon the lawyer. Whiz-z-z! went the umbrella; and whir-r-r! went the knife from Meg’shand. Bestowing a whack upon her head, he turned. to escape. But, quick and firm, two brawny arms glid- ed around him, and the African laughed gut- turally as he pinioned him and held him tke a vise. The lawyer was supple, activ strong and courageous, but now he wriggled, twisted and kicked in vain, to release Stimself from the giant grip of his antagonist. ‘*Be quick! Meg Semper!” growled Ne- mil, frowning when he discovered that he was not prea) with an ordinary man, ** Quick, I say! bind his feet!” Meg snatched up a piece of clothes-line that lay near and started to obey the order. She was met half-way by a terrible kick that sent her sprawling to the floor; and Crewley’s face reddened his veins swelled as he re- doubled his frantic struggles. Tighter closed the embrace about him; like | the deadly coils of a snake,the African’s arms locked in on him, and a deeper scowl settled on the black visage. _ ‘Be carefull” the negro snarled. ‘This — man is no baby. Come guardedly.” ‘“‘ Nary baby!” hissed Crewley, as he strain- ed and fought. . Meg gathered herself up and approached from behind. In a —,. & noose was slipped around the lawyer’s legs, and soon they were firmly bound. Then Nemil jerked him to the floor,and not without a great deal of trouble, turned him face downward. In this position his hands were tied at his back, and they stood off to view their captive in triumph. Chris Crewley was never so sorely tempted to be blasphemous as then. But, being a man of strong principle, as well as eccentric _ spirit, though he might have thought some pretty hard things, his teeth were clinched. Even in that moment of defeat and sus- pense, his gaze wandered to his umbrellato — see if it was injured. ‘Now, then!—now!” screamed Meg, bending over him with a savage glare in her devilish eyes. ‘‘ What do you think now, eh? You'll eavesdrop, will you? You'll steal in- to other caught! You can't help it!—you can’t!” pas age homes? And now you’re Crewley made a desperate attempt to kick | her with his two bound feet, but having had a taste of that thing before; she was wary and a nimbly avoided it. | ‘pose we kill you,eh?—what then? ‘*T say, you, let me up from here!” whined rf the lawyer, in a doleful voice—so doleful that it amused the ped pes 3 African, for the frown left his brow and a road grin yawned his |

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— - Chris blood out, you'll die. Aren’t you afraid to die? Take that!” And she scratched him more severely with the needle-like point. Endurance has its limit, The lawyer had maintained a heroic silence during her brief torture; but, with the last spiteful thrust, he opened his mouth in a prolonged squeal. The grin on Nemil’s face broadened. ‘‘T say, now, look here, you'll spoil my clothes if you punch holes that way. Now, qui—ouch! Why don’t you quit—a-e-h?” another squeal. Suddenly, Meg clapped a hand over his mouth. If he could squeal, he could also ery aloud for help, and this might endanger them. P ** Quick, Nemil, that piece of wood yon- er—” “Take this ’kerchief; it’s best,” he inter- rupted, as he saw her intention. greasy ’kerchief was forced into Crew- ley’s mouth, much to his disgust, and under vehement protest. A few turns of the rope, from the jaw to the top of the head, secured the gag; and he nearly choked with the un- pleasant morsel. ** Now, what to do with him?” said Nemil, ingeney: as they arose from their task. Cy) “ Yes—how’ll we fix him?” asked the hag, “T’m already fixed, I think!” groaned Crewley, within himself. ‘‘They’ll play ‘Forty Thieves’ with me, presently, no doubt—quarter me and hang me along the fence, as a warning to burglars! Lord bless me! Whata ‘box!’ And if they knew what brought me here, they’d—” He was interrupted in his mental surmises by an exclamation from the hag. ‘The cellar, Nemil!—the cellar! there and let him rot! from here—h-a!” Again the acute pain from the spider-bite caused her to bow her swollen head, and press her hands against her temples. “‘The spider!|—the spider!” ske moaned, rocking to and fro. “« Spiders!” thought Crewley, as he caught Put him We'll soon be away the word. ‘Lord! are they going to put me in among spiders? There—I’m done for! Spiders? Horrible! Good-by to my cow- case in Richmond—plaintiff will get dam- ages, sure, and I'll die with a ruined reputa- tion!” “Good,” grunted Nemil, to the hag’s suggestion. ‘‘ We'll put him down-cellar. Your head is swelling like a bubble, Meg Semper.” “| know it!—I know it!” she howled, in ain, “The nasty thing was poisonous! veins are on fire!) My whole body aches! It will drive me mad! Ten thousand curses upon it!” «« Put water on it that it may be cool.” *«T did; I bathed the wound with ice till my flesh froze. It availed nothing. Soon I shall be crazy! I feel the fierce twitching of madness at my nerves, even now! Watch me well, or I'll bite you as would a dog!” e regarded her steadily for a moment, and knew that her words Were truth. The venom from the spider’s fang was eating through her blood; and the heat of excite- ment was an auxiliary to its rapid diffu- sion. “Come,” he said; “ put this meddlesome dog down-cellar.” They lifted Crewley and carried him through the narrow passage beyond the kitchen, thence down a rickety stairway, finally depositing him somewhat roughly in one corner of the cellar. The expression on Crewley’s face, as he found himself dumped in an ash-heap, was comical in its extreme of gravity and despair. . emil gave a grunt of satisfaction; and _ Meg, after shaking her fist threateningly at _ their captive, followed the negro up-stairs, | put to starve! muttering as she went: f “Now, then, eavesdropper! thief! sneak! you'll lig there until the rats, and ants, and worms, and lizards come to feed upon your body! Rot! Rot like a dog that has been The world won’t miss you!” The lawyer was left tu his reflections; and uncomfortable these reflections were, (too, for he believed his captors fully in earnest, eect saw grim death staring him in e face. ! e cellar was very damp, in some places Crewley’s Winning Hand. 25 wet, and this, in addition to his feelings under the circumstances, caused him to shiver. It was not an actual fear of death that made him so very miserable. A brave man does not fear to die, though he may shudder and hesitate; and elements of courage were not lacking in Crewley’s character. ‘* Hang it!” he thought, as he cast adespair- ing glance around his prison; ‘‘I’m afraid I’m going to bu’st like a soap-bubble, at last. Here’s the unexpected end of Chris Crewley— if he'd lived longer,which he didn’t, he might have known more, which he doesn’t; which the same living less, and, being cut short be- fore he knew enough to keep out of difficulty, thus forms the sad tale of his most foul and unnatural decease! If Ionly had a pencil between my teeth, now, I’d try to scribble my epitaph, somehow. Let’s see—” shifting his position: “* Stranger, pause: in this ash-heap Chris Crewley he doth lie— The toughest lying e’er he did To gain Eterni—’ —‘‘no, no, no; that won’t do—that won’t do! Go off with a ruined reputation, sure, if any- body— Eh? Hello!’ To his infinite astonishment, he drew one hand from behind him and held it in front of his face, viewing it with widened eyes. How that hand got loose he could not imagine; nor did he pause to question his miraculous release, but, in a trice, he had torn the gag from his mouth and freed his limbs. Ten minutes after the departure of Me Semper and Nemil, he was striding to an fro, trying to devise means for escape. At one side was a square window; but this was too small for him to pass through, and besides had an iron bar across it. On tiptoe be ascendetl the stairway, The door here was fastened securely. At first he resolved to force it, but on second thought he shook his head and glided noiselessly back to the cellar. **Won’t do! If I make a racket, they’ll be on me like a regiment of elephants! And that son of Ebon is as strong as seventeen giants!” As he once again walked up and down across the earth floor, a brilliant idea entered his brain. He stopped short; his gaze rested on the chimney-place, Another moment, and he was looking up the sooty flue at a little square natch of bright blue sky. “Tl do it!” he exclaimed jubilantly, while one of those very rare smiles puckered his lips; and then, relapsing to a sober mood, he added: ‘*Some people prefer riches and ‘clover:’ some are content with reason’s share of life’s goodies. But, as for me—give me a first- class chimney-flue, with the smallest particle of a chance for liberty at t’other erd of it! If I only had my umbrella now, I’d be a happy man. And my hat’—feeling his cranium—‘‘ that’s lost, too. Chris Crewley, wake up; you want liberty, and a diabolical vengeance on the wel ney of your ward- robe!” and as he concluded, he vanished up the chimney. The task he had undertaken was no easy one; nor was it without innumerable dis- couragements, First, he discovered that the chimnoy was remarkably small. Next, as he scratched and scraped his way upward, the soot and dust vibrated and settled in a suffocatin cloud, causing him to choke, cough, spit ant squirm in a desperate search for air. It was slow work, too. Once his hold slipped, and he sunk downward a few feet, when,to his dismay, befound himself jammed tight and helpless. he atmosphere thickened; he was nearly smothered. “‘Haugh! Haugh!—ph-e-w-ugh! What’ll I do now?” he gasped. ‘‘Chris. Crewley, you'd never make a chimney-sweep in the world! Bless me! I’m tight. I’m fastened up! Can’t budge an inch”—even as he sput- tered the words, his long, lank limbs sudden- ly loosened, and, but for a timely movement, he would have fallen with a crash to the bottom. Again, through the dirt and grime, he be- gan his way upward. - “Hang it!”"—mutteringly—“ who'd ever thought to see me in such a pickle? And, there’s my umbrel—haugh!—brel—haugh!+- » 4 a Vk eens: Met ee a Sr. Vie. ee OM ina! ie Te ye Ae i Rina cer a a la RTPA TEA Rp = brella—hachew /—and hat gone! Expect Ill find myself choked to death when I get out of this!” : He ventured a glance above him “Most up! Courage, Crewley, you vaga- bond! You’re’most out.” With many slips, another jam, continued coughing, and occasional words of self-en- couragement, the lawyer at last placed his hand.on the topmost brick. ** Now, we'll rest a minute,” he resolved; and the settled himself, by attractive pressure, to recover breath. The fresh air just reached him in his cramped position, and he snuffed the welcome draught with pleasure. But, while thus resting, a most singular idea entered his head. ‘Bless me!” he exclaimed, in trepidation of mind, ‘‘ what if my pressing in opposite directions this way shouid split the chimney! Crewley—look out!” He raised himself to the chimney’s edge and leaned over. As he did so, he gave vent to a prolonged groan—one that told of new despair. he roof was a slanting one, and rather steep, and he was at least eight feet above it. To make that jump was to incur the risk - life; and Crewley’s heart sunk as he realiz- ed it. CHAPTER XXIV. THE TALISMAN. ** My soul is hushed within me, and a dread Of what I know not, chains mine awe-struck thought.” —DUGANNE, A STRANGE, unspeakable feeling crept over Orle Deice during the few seconds’ stillness that reigned in the room. Cecilia glanced from one to another, of the beauty and the hag, in conjecturing wonder, and her heart palpitated faster and faster. She remembered that once, in company with her futher, she bad visited an asylum for the insane, and gazed shudderingly on its shriek- ing, howling, groaning inmates; and as she marked the baleful glitter of Meg Semper’s eyes—her distorted face, with its bloody scar, the trembling nervousness of arm and limb, the crouching poise of the body, and steadfast, burning gaze—she thought of the moaning lunatics who rattled their prison bars, and cried aloud in maddening ac- cents. What meant this horrible figure? What did it portend? Such questions flitted through her brain, and awed her more and more, Just then she, too, saw the tall form of the African in the doorway—noted the upraised hand and silent admonition of the finger. Meg took a step forward; her half-closed, reddened orbs, that fairly scintillated in their unearthly stare, were fastened upon Orle Deice; and her jaw worked as she chewed upon her gums, her talon fingers twitched convulsively. Nemil left his position at the door, and noiselessly drew near. Not a movement of the hag escaped him. ‘Meg Semper,” cried Orle, as she recoiled a step, ‘‘ what means this fearful exhibition? Explain!—are you mad?” **Mad!—mad!—mad!” repeated the hag, slowly, crouching lower, as if she meditated aspring; and then an incoherent mutterin issued from her thin lips, the hands wutkel faster, her nervousness momentarily in- creased. Cecilia now became thoroughly alarmed. “‘Orle, take care—you are in danger!” she said, in’a low, faltering voice. The beauty seemed suddenly to perceive this, and immediately a deep blush mantled her face, her recoiling form straightened, the lips were compressed, and one hand sought her bosom. Nemil paused, raised his hand, and gave hér a meanin g look. ‘* Beware!” said that look. ‘‘If she sces our knife, it will add to her madness! She is half crazed now!” ; Meg Semper tok another step, but, as she did so, an arm stretched toward her, a strong hand closed upon her wrist. She uttered a quick, sharp cry that was half yelp, and started back. But there was no struggle, no resistance to that hold; she : -e > — iow Ne v \ Bee ie ade Reh ae

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2 : nd come at me n the fury of her 1 eset Mio aS eee 26 stood erect, and gazed at Nemil in an inde- finable way. ‘*Come,” he said, and the guttural voice was lowered to its mildest tonation. ‘‘ Come away from this. You don’t want to stay. Come, Meg Semper—come.” Her head drooped; with passive steps she was led from the room, and Orle and Cecilia were alone. The beauty sunk into a chair and buried her face in her hands. ‘‘She has frightened you,’ said Cecilia, going to her side. ** No, no; not so much that,” returned Orle, without looking up. ‘‘I could meet her, Had she leaped upon me, I would have stricken her with the daggerI carry But I feel strangely now—I feel that. this is not the last. She said a spider had bitten her, did she not?—yes; I remember. It must have been very poisonous. She is nearly insane from its effects. She means me harm.” ** Are you not safe while the negro is with ou?” ‘*Nemil thinks a great deal of me, if he is surly sometimes. But heowes much to Meg Semper—she picked him out of the street when he was a boy. He has been with her ever since, living well, and doing nothing, save to perform her errands and mine.” ** Would he not protect you, in case of necessity ?” ‘I fear not, if he had to harm Meg in so doing.” **But she is out of her senses.” ‘*T krow that—I see it; and Nemil must see it, too.” ‘* What is to- be done?” To this inquiry Orle made no answer. Cecilia was about to repeat it, when Nemil reappeared before them. Orle’s quick ear caught the sound of his footstep, and she raised her head. ‘* Nemil?” He had closed the door when he entered, and now glanced toward it to see if it was still shut. Satisfying himself on this point, he said, addressing Orle: ‘* You had best get out of this.” “What do you mean?” she asked. “Do I ‘not say what I mean? You had best get out of this.” ** But why, Nemil?” ‘You are in danger.” “e Ha face”? ‘°?Sh!*— another glance at the door— ‘*Meg Semper seeks your life!” Orle started to her feet. ‘‘Seeks my life? Do you say she seeks my life? She dare not harm me. She has sworn to stand—” ‘ty African frowned as he interrupted her with; ‘She is crazed; and crazy people care lit- tle for oaths.” ‘*She would kill me?” Orle seemed not to comprehend, **T tell you, yes! This afternoon I came upon her in the kitchen; she was practicing with a knife and ring—” “‘T have seen her at the same practice, years ago!” Orle exclaimed, breathlessly. ‘The ring, she said to herself I heard—was your heart!” Orle Deice was, for a second, speechless, “*T can’t go to-night, Nemil,” she said, at length. *“In the morning, then. The sooner the better for you. I care not when, nor how, nor if at all. You’ve paid me_ honestly, though, for a long time, and now I put you on your guard.” **Can you keep heraway from me to-night? I will be gone in the morning.” “One can promise to try—no more,” an- swered the negro. ‘I will try.” “Do so, Nemil; I'll pay you twenty dollars if you succeed. ou’ll find the money here, on the mantelpiece, when I am He nodded his head and withdrew. “T knew it!” Orle cried, uneasily. “I told you something was pending that boded no good! You see? That woman would take my life.” Cecilia shuddered. “Are you braye?” suddenly asked the beauty, as she paused in an excited walk be- fore her companion. \ at repeated Cecilia, in a tone of in- 4 eg: if Meg should escape from him, madness, na sign ok Chris Crewley's Winning Hand. would you help me? Have you a stout heart? Would you help me to fight for my life?” ‘“‘T am not a coward, Orle,” Cecilia said, calmly. The answer was that of a brave girl—one | who realized danger and could face it. But, almost before that reply died out, she | added: ‘‘Don’t you think it’s very chilly for a | summer night? The air seems to have changed—” ‘*Oh, po; you are affected with what has passed. ‘That’s all. The room is very close, tome, Wait till I light the lamp; it is very dark,” Orle strove to appear calm. Though, while she spoke, her bosom was heaving— her lovely face glowed with an unusual color. When she had lighted the lamp, she re- sumed her seat, and Cecilia drew near. “So you will flee this place to-night?” “‘ Yes,” answered the beauty. ‘To re- main is to court death.” For a long time neither spoke. The tea- tray, with its spreading of delicate viands, | was forgotten, and the two girls sat in si- lence. ‘“You were speaking of the Talisman,” Cecilia said, after a while. ‘‘The coming of that womun interrupted you. Will you | finish now?” ‘*Yes; I want you to know all, since I have told you a part, Let me see—where did I leave off? I am confused.” “You were saying that the Creole sought some means to please you, though | she would not undo the fearful oath to ex- terminate—” | ** Ah, yes; I remember,. There is little | more for me to tell you. It was a fancy of hers to grant me something; so she created a | Talisman. She said: “**T give you, my little pet, a Talisman, which you may use five times. Meg Sem- per will swear to obey it, and whenever it Fegan desist from anything she is about to 0.” ‘‘Then she took up the candle that burned at the bedside, and, for a second, held her hand in the flame. ‘¢<That is it,’ said she, ‘Know it as the Flaming Talisman. Whenever your hand shall appear, with a single tongue of flame | in its palm, Meg Semper shall stop at once, in soythine she may be doing.’ ‘* And Meg swore to obey. Toa child, as I was then, this was pleasing in its weird- ness. The Creole little dreamed—nor did I | —that it was to be of so great a value to me, in saving the life of the man whom destiny | had chosen for my love. I have used the ‘Talisman three times.” ‘‘How have you used it?” “Immediately afterthe death of the Creole, I had a small piece of wood carved and gilded to resemble a single tongue of flame; and that is alwaysinmy bosom. See—here it is,” and: as she spoke she adjusted the article in her hand and held it aloft. 4 ‘* What a strange story,” commented Ce- cilia, musingly. a : A romance that hasits tragedy,” returned tle. Time slipped by. They heard the half- hour stroke of a distant bell. ‘‘Nearly eight o'clock. Reginald will be here soon now.” ‘* Where will you secrete me?” ‘«Tn that closet,” (pointing across the room). | ‘you see, it has a ventilator; so you will not | be uncomfortable.” Another hour was to decide Cecilia Ber- nards love. And as she pondered on the ap proaching interview between her rival and the man who held her woes of marriage, a vision of Henry Waldron rose before her, with a picture of that morning when he plead- ed in vain, and left her in suchsorrow. His soft entreaties seemed, then, to be whisper- ing in her ears; the short moment in which he had drawn her to him in a warm embrace of love, and the strange answers she had been compelled to give his ho questions—all was passing in her mind like a panorama; | until at last she felt that, were he before her now, she would have pillowed her head upon his breast and spoken any words he desired. Orle did not break her reveries, for she, aléo, was thinking deeply. Her meditative i oe ve : rea es ab Roam Oe aie We maa tds Be iti dream was of gay scenes when she saw her- self mingling with the votaries of pleasure, leaning on a husband’sarm, and that husband Reginald Darnley. he two were aroused by a summons at the front door. “It is he!’ Orle ex¢élaimed, arising. ‘‘There—hide in the closet... | will go my- | self,” and she hurried away. CHAPTER XXYV. GERARD HENRICQ UNMASKS. ‘** T have search’d my soul within, And find naught but pride and scorn.” —CAREW. ‘* The passions of the mightiest shell That ever rapt the choir above Were all too weak and cold to tell The warm extravagance of love.” As Orle Deice descended the stairs, to ad- mit her expected lover, the door of & room near the apartment she had just left, slowly dike and a shadowy figure glided after er. As the specter-like form passed the window at the head of the stairs, where the dim light of the stars shed an uncertain glimmer, we see that it is Meg Semper. Her head was just twice its natural size; on the searred and bloated face dwelt a mold of feature that was ferocious; in one hand listened the knife she had sworn to sheathe n the bosom of the beautiful girl. Where was Nemil? How had the hag es- caped his vigilance, when he had promised to keep close watch upon lier? We shall see, anon. Orle must have felt the presence of danger, for, as she groped in the darkness of the hall below, she clutched her sharp dagger, as if preparing to repel the attack of an enemy who lurked, unseen, near her, But, she reached the door, and threw it open. A man stood upon the steps. “Reginald,” she said, lowly. . ** It is not Reginald!” exclaimed a familiar voice. ‘*Herwin Reese!” the name was stammered forth in surprise, and she retreated before him as he entered, ‘Yes, it is |—Herwin Reese.”’ Closing the door after him, he took hold of her wrist, and started to grope his way up the stairs. ‘‘Unhand me, Herwin Reese.” ‘*T fear to,” was the significant response. “ You might elude me.” ** Elude you?” “Yes; run from me and defy me.” |” “You speak and actin riddle’. Explain yourself.” ‘*Come with me, and see. I want to talk with you.” Hardly knowing why, she permitted him to lead her, without further remonstrance, and his hold perceptibly tightened as he ascended to the second story. Conducting her toa side room, he closed and locked the door, and withdrew the key —just as the crouching, skulking form of Meg Semper approached to within a few feet of them. On the mantel-piece was a lamp, and this he proceeded to light. He no longer wore the disguise which had enabled him to be near Reginald Darnley, and, as Gerard Henricq, to plot the youn man's ruin; but, with bis smooth face an tasty attire, he stood. before her, and for a few seconds contemplated her in silence. ‘‘IT do not understand this. Unlock that door, sir,’ Orle said, at last, in an imperative tone. Reese smiled grimly and retained his posi- tion, while his eyes were riveted burningly upon her. “Will you unlock that door, sir?” ‘* No,” calmly—so calm that it thrilled her indefinably. She felt strangely, now, in this man’s pres- ence. There was that in his manner to cause her much uneasiness. Not for a moment did his gaze turn from her, and bis silence added to the gloom which gradually crept round her heart. ‘‘Herwin Reese”—she drew herself up and returned that gaze with a flashing lance—‘‘if you have nothing to say to me, et me depart. You look at me, as if you bad never seen me till now, bring me here—” Mais i al A Tene oe oe Why did you, a ‘

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“*Orle, I want to talk with you. 1 want | to convince you by reasoning, if I can, that you are throwing yourself away.”’ So, it was out. Her keen perception at) once discovered his intent. ‘“‘And you thought it necessary to make me a prisoner, while you plead a love I de- spise?” sarcastic and disdainful. ‘“‘Beware! men grow desperate, some- times.” : “When a man grows desperate, I fear him; | but a coward—doI tremble? ‘Your threats | are lost, sir.” He was ae sorely; but, controlling an ane that would have made him hasty, he said; ‘*You who are so proud, so beautiful, so gifted, should not become the wife of a man who is unworthy even the friendship of his fellow-men. Reginald Darnley does not de- | serve such a gem as you are—” ‘Stop, Herwin Reese!—stop right there! | You have used such language before now, and it will avail you as little asin the past. Have I not told you, I will not hear him slandered ?—especially by you!” the last with a sarcasm which he well understood. His temples reddened; but he persisted: ‘‘Tam advising you for your own good. This man-—” ** Cease. I will not listen.” ‘*But you shall listen!” he cried, fiercely, while his fist clinched, and he took a step to- ward her. ** ‘Shall,’ did you say?’—taller grew the lovely form of the speaker, her cheek paled, and the dark orbs hardened in their sparkle as she eyed him from head to foot. Then, with a gesture of contempt, she added: ‘‘I think you forget yourself.” “No, Ido not,” was the quick reply. ‘I say you shall hear me, and hear me through. Your ears shall listen to something I have not yet told you of the worthless dog who has insnared your affection.”’ A sharp, barbed retort was upon Orle’s lips; she half-started forward, as if she would strike him, and indignation brought back the crimson to her face. She checked herself, however, and Reese went on: **You know, I presume, that he is penni- less? His father disowned him,” this with a sneer, se af do.” ‘‘He told you so, this afternoon—youcalled on him, without delay, after 1 gave you his address?” “You are a good guesser.” ““Yes? And, perhaps, he also told you that he was a murderer?” maliciously. *« Again you have eget correctly.” Orle embarrassed him with her calmness. She was cold as ice. “Orle Deice, would you marry a murder- er?—an outcast?—a man for whose punish- ment the law thirsts? Would you link your life with such an one?—swear, at the mar- riage altar, to love, honor, and obey him?” he was warming with his subject; and it was contagious, for, advancing to within a few feet of him, she cried, in a quick ac- cent: “Yes, Herwin Reese—yes! Were he a murderer, an outcast, all that you have so basely pictured him, my place would be at his side! 1 would wed him, though the law were to sacrifice him within the same hour! I woul wed him, though all the world pointed’at him and h him as he walked along! I would wed him—because I love him! Are you answered?” and, fairly panting with the heat in which she delivered this speech, she drew back, and flashed a withering glance upon the astounded villain. Astounded? Yes. Herwin Reese had never, till then, known the full depth of this passionate girl’s love for his hated rival. Her words took him aback; he seemed hardly able to realize. “You are crazy, Orle Deice!” he ex- claimed. “No, I am not crazy! But, let me re- t, this will avail you rg Reginald not @ miuttirer—2 know he is not. Nor is he an outcast, though he may be penniless. And I, Orle Deice, have money enough for us both.” __ What do ros mean?” he demanded, a dark frown knitting his brows. ‘“‘ You sa he is not a ee ai know better. He _ poisoned his father, that he might inherit . That is why he left Richmond.” * ¥; ie Sai ** You contradict yourself. now, that he was disowned. You said, just If such were , the case, how possible to inherit wealth at his father’s death?” Reese bit his lip. ‘*No matter. I say he did do it. That is sufficient.” ‘Who drove him to the deed?” asked Orle, suddenly, as a strange thought entered her mind. ‘“‘T did!” was the prompt reply. ‘‘I lured him on until he became what he now is. I furnished him the poison. That poison was administered the night before he left Rich- | mond.” “Are you sure of this?” Reese hesitated for a second. The low tone, the searching glance of the questioner struck him as peculiar. ‘“‘Sure. Mervin Darnley was a corpse, beyond doubt, within twenty-four hours af- terward.” ‘*Ha! ha! ha! ha!— Ha! ba! ha! ha!—” ““ What does that mean, girl? What are you laughing at?” Reese was out of pa- tience; he scowled, he ground his teeth, for he felt that she was playing with him in some way. ‘*Ha! ha! ha! ha!—” “‘Orle Deice!” He advanced toward her, with hand out- stretched. But, quickly recovering from her mys- terious outburst of humor, she waved him back. “Keep off! Don’t dare to approach me! You ask me what I mean?—ha! ha! ha! I am laughing at you, Herwin Reese; it pleases me to, know that your foul scheming has been in vain! Your game has been blocked by a kind Providence. Ha! ha! ha! ha!” ““Orle Deice!”—if it were possible for a man to foam at the mouth, then Reese was in that condition. Suddenly her manner sobered, and she said, with marked emphasis: “*T left Richmond a day later than Regi- nald Darnley. I saw Mervin Darnley on the street the evening of my departure, and he was a; well as you or I! Now, what think you?” He started back. This was unexpected, and, to him, impossible. He asked himself if she spoke the truth. ** You do not mean it? ‘You trifle?” “Ay, but I do! Wait. You will see, ere long, whether I speak the truth.” Just then there was another summons at the front door, and an expression of inquiry dwelt in the face of Herwin Reese. Orle smiled. ‘Unlock the door, sir.” “Do you know who that is?” he asked. “Yes; it is Reginald Darnley.” ‘* Perdition catch him! He is here to see ou!” ‘*What else could bring him? Unlock the door at once, lest I raise my voice in a ery for help. If he hears me, he will force his way in here, and you know well enough he is no coward.” Reese strode tothe door and wrungit open, Orle lost no time in gliding out. When alone, the villain strode to and fro, with folded arms and bowed head, reflecting upon what he had heard. He could not understand or imagine how it was possible that the poison should have failed to destroy Mervin Darnley. It was a subtle, deadly rug. which Meg Semper her- self had compounde ceived it from her, it was with the assurance that, once administered, no antidote on earth could counteract its effects. ‘* Has Reginald Darnley so completely de- ceived me, after all?” he muttered, ‘‘ Can it be that he did not put the stuff into the ale? No—yet it is perplexing to me; I cannot ac- count for it. I cot Orle would not have spoken so confidently, had there been any doubt about it! I am in a maze,” and the cloud upon his brow drew darker, as he stood there thinking, marveling, conjecturing. CHAPTER XXVIL Nor yur! nov yer! Acatn Meg Semper followed after Orle Deice with ghost-like stealth, as the latter started to answer the second summons at the front door, 4 4 ri ine ihe Dac? dar gir oe 47 3 J -§ -. d, and when he had re- From the lips of the hag came a gibbering Chris Crewley’s Winning Hand. 27 sound that was smothered to an incoherent articulation, and then she muttered, in @ whisper that resembled the sibilant hiss of a serpent: ‘This time!—this time! I’ll be sure to do *t now! She’s doomed! She shall die! I'll have no more of the ’curst Talisman! My knife is newly sharpened for ’t! So they thought tomake me a prisoner, eh? Ha! h-a! I know I’m mad! but I’ve not forgot my cun- ning. Ono! my cunning.” Orle Deice screamed not how near death hovered, as she moved along the dark passage of that deserted house. When the girl threw open the door, it was to meet the embrace of her lover. ** Reginald.” ‘*Orle!_ My queen!” A fervent kiss accompanied the embrace, when, extricating herself from his passionate caresses, she led him to the room where Ce- cilia, in a suspense that is indefinable, await- ed the interview which was to contain so much of import to her future. When the two entered the apartment, all was still; a weird fascination seemed to hover in its atmosphere. ‘*Once more, Orle, my beautiful, beautiful Nera Once more the sweet meeting as of old!” ‘And once more, Reginald, Iam happy; for | know you will not now prove recreant to the many vows which made you mine.” She seated herself ona lounge, and beck- oned him to her side. Te was not loth to obey the call, and while he showered kisses on those lips that had so often turned to his with an ecstatic pressure, he cried, ar- dently: ** Prove recreant, Orle? Never! How can you think it? As before, I am now, your slave. It isa glorious captivity. Will you hold me forever?” ‘Forever, Reginald. Oh! you never can know what I have suffered since we last met —in Richmond, I mean.” Her words were well calculated to arouse inquiry regarding her mysterious disappear- ance on the night of the opening of our story; but, under the circumstances, it was forgotten. “And Ihave caused you this suffering!’ he said, in a tone of self-reproach. ‘‘ How unmanly I have acted! J ought to have seen that you were the only one I could love; I should have argued with myseif how un- reasonable to marry ® woman whom I love less than I do you. My duty was to go to Cecilia Bernard, and tell her, honestly, that the best love of my heart was not for her. She would have released me—I know she would; for she is a good, a noble girl, - Orle.” ‘*Yes, she is a noble girl. I have seen her,” and Orle thought of her who listened to their conversation. When the first happy transports of their meeting lulled—a meeting that proclaimed them inseparable for life—the voice of the girl changed somewhat from its whispering music to a business strain, paar ‘‘ Reginald,” she cried, ‘‘I must leave this house to night.” * “How!” the word was questioning. ‘“‘T must escape from here—” ‘Escape! Are you a prisoner?” and he looked at her in surprise. ‘No, not a prisoner;§\but I am in dan- ger.” ‘Danger? Explain, Orle—what do you mean?” “I cannot explain fully, dear Reginald; but I must tell you that every moment I re- main here I imperil my life.” He drew her closer to him, and gazed won- deringly into her Jovely face. “‘T had hoped we might spend a long, joyful evening ie peat she added. “We cannot, though. If you place any value on my life, go at once fora cab. In the morn- ing we can leave for Richmond, where I will hurry my wardrobe together. We will go from there to Charleston, thence—” “To Richmond, Orle? I cannot go .there.” ‘“Why not? There is nothing to fear. Besides, all the money I possess is in that city. Without money we can do a ae Our marriage can be consummated with patch; when we go from Richmond, we will go as man and wife.” Reginald appeared to be thinking. : i? Vn ‘ se Wy : ‘vaya ~ a> bid

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28 } ask?” persuasively. ‘This is all very mysterious,” he mused, aloud. ‘‘How is your life in danger? I cannot understand.” “Tf you love me, Reginald, do not stop now to ask questions. When we are safely away, I will tell you all.” _ He arose from the lounge. || **Your wish is my law, Orle.” _ ' And every moment is precious. I would not die in this hour, Reginald, when life is doubly dear to me.” “You set my mind in a whirl by your fearful words!” “‘ There, there--go and get the cab. Save The singular change in Orle’s manner— jhe sudden, mysterious announcement that . a violent death threatened her, filled his _. mind with turbid wonderment and conjec- ) > ture. But she had besought him not to pause for questions; on his value of her life, she had begged him make haste, and, in a state of excitement impossible to describe, he clasped her to him in a final caress, then hurried away. She followed him to the entry, again adjured him to make haste, and when she heard the front door close, she re-entered her apartment. Cecilia stood before her, with pale face and | old, gazing eyes. La ‘Well, you have heard?” asked the beauty. ** Yes—all.” . “«You are convinced, then, that Reginald bc tis me more than he does you?” iy ce ves.” “And you relinquish all claim upon him?” } “Yes, As I have said, I would never wed a man whose love is divided.” "bank you!—thank you!” Orle threw her arms around the other’s necx and kissed her. aisy were startled by a catlike step be- ‘ound chem, Cecilia uttered a cry, and Orle wheeled round to find herself face to face with a demon shape —a thing hardly human— which crouched down nearly to the floor, and glared upon her with eyes that were b.) Scarce discernible but for their snaky glit- _y ter. 'g ‘*Meg Semper!” i ; % ese’ ot —_ . > Peta: a ; eat ag Orle recoiled before the terrible being that confronted her. __ puffed, cushion-like, and peng in the erocious knife, whose blade-was fresh and keen from the whetstone—all this was a picture suf- ficient to terrify stouter hearts than throbbed | in the bosoms of the two girls. | _-Orle and Cecilia exchanged a quick glance. §imultaneously a shining dagger appeared _ inthe hand of each, and, with ashen faces, and compressed, bloodless lips, they dared to brave the Satanic form. “Meg Semper —ybegone !” cried Orle, wa though her voice faltered. ‘‘Begone, I » say !’ : Meg glided nearer, nearer; a hollow h lau , that told but too well of her in- > v | Quick as a flash, se and reeled toward them with a drunken mat: PStrike, Cectlial—strike!” and as Orle uttered the words, two springy blades cut ie deep in the hideous Visage of the ‘With a yelping tone that told of pain and rage, the wounded hag stage’ red back- d—but only for a second. Gathering he strength of a maniac fury, she at them, though her vision was : = the warm li i wo ¢ oe D 7 alin ohn = .¥ struck the ' “You do not hesitate to grant what I and Orle retreated, with an ugly cut upon sanity, issued from between her grinding | she straightened up, s-tide gushing from ee. : her snowy arm. The hag followed them up closely. Her long knife fairly whizzed as she madly circled and plunged it at them. Suddenly Cecilia uttered a shriek of hor- ror. Orle had tripped and fallen to the floor, and the dagger—her only hope—fiew from her grasp. : Meg Semper, with a savage cry, threw herseli upon the prostrate girl, and Uecilia, overcome by the bloody prospect, swooned away. The knife was poised on high—in an- other moment it would descend to its human sheath. Orle closed her eyes, and, with a prayer on her lips, awaited the fatal blow. CHAPTER XXVIII. THE TRAGEDY OF THE ROOM. ** Most my wretch! whose rage-burnt bosom seethes In‘hateful fires, nor will to reason bend; While reeking knife tells of the hell she breathes Through Fury’s network, and—is this the end?” —ANON, From his elevated perch, Christopher Crewley took a surve of his surroundings, Then he contemplated himself. His duster was torn and dirty; his hands were blackened with soot; and he felt that his face might be anything but clean. ‘Well, well, well!” he thought. ‘‘If this don’t beat all conscience! Never was in such a ‘box’! Shall I slide down again, and ac- cept a period to my existence, in that slimy cellar?—‘like one who wraps the mantle of his couch about him, and lies down to sweet repose!’ Hardly! Shall I jump to the roof, and break my neck with a 2:17 1 4 sail to the ground? Scarcely! Crewley, you’re beat!” and the last was dolefully whined forth, as he glanced, fora second time, north, south, east and west. ‘*‘ No use!” groaned the despairing lawyer. ‘**T can’t make that jump, if I have to han on here till doomsday, and I won’t go bac to that cellar, if I have to live on bricks and mortar, meantime. Think I'll hang it out on this line ‘if it takes all summer!’ ” He closed the sentence with a determined nod, and again settled himself, by pressure, in the chimney. Just as he did so, he heard a sound be- neath him that resembled the growl of a bear. So sudden was it that it startled ae and he came near slipping from his old. ‘* Bless me! what’s that?” He glanced downward, between his knees, and, straining his eyes, he man- seee to distinguish a face. It was a black face, and the voice was Nemil’s that growled: **Come down!” “What for? ‘Suits me better up here.” “Come down!” and the growl was a snarl, ‘You don’t want me to scratch through all that soot again, now, do you?” __ “Come down!” repeated the negro, with a threatening accent. **Sha’n’t do it! Now you've got it, flat!” “‘Shoot you, if you don’t come down!” warned the guttural voice, Crewley heard the cocking of a pistol. ‘Bless me! you wouldn’t plug a fellow in that style—” **Come down, or I fire.” ‘* Fire away, then—hang it!” The chimney was a double one, and as the lawyer uttered this defiance, he scrambled, with remarkable alacrity, over into the ad- joining flue—nearly losing his equilibrium and going headlong downward. From his new position, he thrust his head over the partitioning brickwork, and squeaked: : ‘Fire away, you son of Ebon! Where are we now? Chris Crewley—yours forever, mur—” _ “Bang!” a pistol-bullet whistled close to hand to the organ named, under the im- pression that it was gone, _ “Try it again!” he yelled, this ore cautiously y a his nose, and he involuntarily placed his time look- owe to where bs enemy Chris Crewley’s Winning Hand. Following the negro, after he and Meg had left their captive in the cellar, we find him, an hour afterward, standing alone in the lower hall of the house, his woolly head hung in thought. ‘What good?” he ruminated. ‘‘ Will it better us to have this man’s carcass tell a tale upon us when we are gone? None. I mar- vel why he came here. He’s no thief—I know the faces of such too well to misclass him, Curiosity, I guess; an idle meddler, with no object. So, if he go away, what harm is done?” He retraced his way to the cellar. But Crewley had disappeared. At first, his thick brain was at loss. Soon, however, a kind of instinct drew his atten- tion to the chimney-place, and he glanced up it. The discovery he made was followed by a summons for the lawyer to descend; with what result, we have seen. Cursing himself for not having knotted the rope tighter, he ascended the stairs, carefully locking the door. He continued on to the roof of the house, and, with a grunt of satisfaction, securely fastened down the trap-door. ‘‘Let him stay where he is!” he muttered. ‘“*If he escape now, I'll brain myself for a dolt! I would have set him free—fool!” When Meg Semper started for the room in which were Orle Deice and Cecilia, the African observed that her condition was growing dangerous. He saw that, with every moment, the poison from the spider- fang made her wilder—and that wildness was the more to be feared because of her un- usual, moping silence. “She is getting devilish,” he muttered, as he followed her with a thoughtful gaze. ‘*She means some harm to Orle Deice, for I heard her sayit. I want no blood spilt here; I’m not minded to sit behind prison-bars, with a stale crust tomunchupon. I'll watch you, Meg Semper,” and he stole noiselessly after her. When he had persuaded her away from the frightened girls—as shown in a previous chapter—she sought her room. Nemil fol- lowed. ‘* What ‘do you want at my heels?” she snapped, turning suddenly upon him. “IT want sleep,” he answered. ‘‘There’s a& rug in your room that rests my bones mar- velously whea I lie upon it,” ; Instantly she suspicioned that he was watching her. *“Come on, then.” He failed to perceive the cunning gleam that fired her half-blind eyes, and cast him- self upon the rug he had mentioned. — In the same moment, however, he arose, and returned to Orle Deice with the warning. of her peril. ; Rejoining the hag, he found her seated near the window, her hands in her lap, and gaze bent absently on the floor, But she had been active during his absence. In the folds cf her dress she now held a small vial, and though she seemed lost to her surround- ings, she was quietly noting his every move- ment. When Nemil stretched himself out full length on the soft rug, he pretended to fall asleep. But this artificial repose was fatal to his intentions, Night’s shades were creep- ing into the room; a drowsy air, combined with the increasing dark, and it was notlong ere he actually slumbered. + Then the hag arose from her chair and stealthily approached him. He snored loudly; and a diabolical grin wrestled with the stiffness of her face, as she’ slowly uncerked the vial. She held the tiny bottle close to his nose. A peculiar odor began to float in the at- mosphere of the room, He writhed and groaned in his sleep; but the drug had al- ready commenced its work, he was fast yielding to its powerful influence. When she deemed him helpless, she re- corked the vial, and with a dizzy head (for — she had inhaled much of the stuff herself) ggered to the bed. In a twinkling she ore the quilt into strips and proceeded to bind his arms, wristsand ankles, — ® \

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ye Crewley’s Winning Hand. 20 a curse that was deep and dire spoke his chagrin at being outwitted by the hag. He strained and tugged at his bonds; but Meg had knotted them with no novice hand, and his struggles went for naught. After repeated desperate attempts to release him- self, he gave it up, and lay there, foaming curseful anathemas. Then he heard some one at the front door —voices—footsteps—silence. Pretty soon, the footsteps again, followed by another closing of the door. Suddenly a piercing shriek echoed through the house; and roused to a desperation bor- dering on madness, he centered his enor- mous strength in one final, mighty effort, and snapped the bonds. Without delay he loosened his limbs, and dashed away in the direction of sounds that told him of a fearful struggle going on. He reached Orle’s room, just in time to see Herwin Reese reeling backward, with a mur- derous wound in his throat. Meg Semper, blinded by her own blood, and that of the man who had felt the keen point of her weapon, now turned upon the African with a mad, furious yell. CHAPTER XXVIII. A DROP SCENE. Ir was now growing dark. Long shad- ows had stretched their last length beyond the trees of the White House Lot, and the music of the band that discoursed to merry promenaders, at the grounds of the Presiden- tial mansion, floated in dreary cadence upon the still surroundings. A head, disordered and dirty, was just visible above the edge of a chimney on one of the houses near the foot of Seventeenth street. Poor Crewley! If man ever perspired in torture, the unfortunate lawyer was one. When the dusky shades began to deepen, ye ventured one more survey of the locality, shaking his head and groaning, as his eyes rev red, after their wandering gaze, to the TOD. it may appear that eight feet above the ro’** ~r 4 house was not so elevated a ‘‘ berth, after all, and that a man of Crewley’s elon- gated limbs might easily ‘‘hang and drop,” the hazard being hardly two feet, But, when we consider the slant of a real old- fashioned gable, the fact of moss-growth on the shingles, and the nervous temperament of the individual, we must allow for’ his timidity. ‘‘Hang it!” he exclaimed, why can’t I build myself down?” When Christopher Crewley smiled, that smile meant something, and the self-satisfied expression which lit up his besmeared coun- tenance as he uttered these words, indicated the conceiving of a brilliant idea, What he meant we see at once, for he im- mediately tore off a brick and hurled it over into the air. He was unbuilding the chim- pe hile thus working—a slow, difficult task, for the bricks stuck pretty firm, not- withstanding the decay age had wrought upon the mortar—the murmur of voices veached him. It came up the flue into which he had scrambled to escape Nemil’s pistol shot. “Thought so,” he muttered. ‘‘ Now, see, if I'd gone down, as I was tempted to once, I’d have come out in some room or other, and landed right on topof— Blessme! how they stick. ‘The fellow must have nailed ’em fast! They won't — (wrench !)— won’t— (wrench!)—-c-o-m-e!”’ finally disturbing a stub- born brick and casting it, with a spiteful twist of the wrist, away from him. Just then he paused. Hé-saw a man com- *, ing toWard the house. ref knew him wel “T've'a good notion to sing out and let him know ’m— Eh? Well, now! Why, hang it!—what’s he doing here?” Fle had recognized Herwin Reese, and as the valet of Reginald Darnley. ‘‘ Well!—of all the gangs I ever did come across! Now, here’s another. I know he’s going to stop here—yes—there! I said so.” Reese disappeared, and Crewley heard the door-knocker rap sharply. This circumstance set him to thinking. He wondered what Reese could have in com- et mon with the parties he was tracking. How long he was idle in mental conjecture, he knew not, but he was aroused by seeing some one else approaching. Again there Was an exclamation of sur- prise on the part of the lawyer, for he dis- covered this second comer to be Reginald | win Reese clutchin Darnley. The young man had no sooner entered the house than another form, that had evidently been following close behind him, crossed the strect, and stood leaning against the fence of the White House Lot. It was now so dark that he could not dis- tinguish the features of the last party, who stood over the way, silent and motionless as a statue. Crewley was a little mystified. ‘‘What’s he got to do with it, I’d like to know? Wonder who he is?” Suddenly, acting upon a resolution he had framed, he raised his voice to a key that broke in an unmusical squeak, and cried: ‘*T say—you—over there!” The figure started, moved back a pace, but made no reply. ‘““T say—you! way from Richmond, up a chimney! you help me out? Then there was an answer to this cry—an answer that made the lawyer’s heart thump. ‘‘Ts that you, Mr. Crewley?” ‘‘Me? me?” he screamed, in delight; ‘‘of course it’sme! Bless me, where did you land from? Come here, Waldron—round the edge of the house, where I can talk to you. Come on. Hang it! look what a fix ’m in. Can you see me?”—waving his arms so as to dis- cover his exact situation. Henry Waldron, with mind mazed in astonishment, went around to the side of the house, and looked upward at his friend, who was hanging half-way over the chimney- edge and gesticulating in frantic earnest- ness. ‘“‘Where did you drop from, Waldron? There!—I’m ready to howl! Look at me— I’ve been playing chimney-sweep! You ought to see me once! Can you make out where Tam? Look—up here.” ‘*Mr. Crewley!” Henry Waldron was lost in amazement, ‘* Yes, it’s me; Chris Crewley—yours for- ever. Say, can’t you help me out?” ‘* How on earth came you up there?” cried back the young man, ‘* All through following that actress girl! Had a fight this afternoon—a big negro and a devil of a i Lost my umbrella, too!” ‘* But, how did you ever get into sucha fix as—” ‘* Beat me at # fair stand-up scrimmage !— fact! Knocked me lopsided—put a hole in the only hat I had, and then chucked me down in the cellar, right in the ash-heap! I’m all over dirt! Been up here since—but, I say, you’ve got to get me out, Hurry yp? Y’m Chris Crewley, all the Can't ‘“‘T'll enter the house at once—” “No, no, no—no!” interrupted Crewley, excitedly. ‘‘That won’t do; they’d scalp you in a pair of seconds!” ‘* What’s to be done, then?” ‘* Police!” was the laconic instruction, ‘‘Ah! yes; I see,” and Waldron turned quickly away. ‘*Fly! scoot! jump!” sung out Crewley, after him. ‘‘ There’s businessahead, Bring a whole posse—he's gone, Now, then”—long- ing to jump and crack his heels—for he for- got his gravity in the extreme exuberance of spirit which ensued upon his prospect of speedy deliverance—‘‘1'll soon be out of this. He'll bring the police; then, down I go, into Ps oa. Bs dormitory, like a sput- ter of gunpowder. Crewley, you vagabond, ou’re in forit. Wish he'd hort. Sakes! ow my limbs ache! If I only had my um- brella, now, I’d try to break a nose or two when I—” He was cut short by a piercin g shriek that half-curdled the blood in his veins, and slip- ping from his hold, he shot downward, while from his lips fell the usua! exclamation: ‘* Bless me!” In that unexpected transit his alert mind was made up to a course. The cry told him of some one in danger; he knew the voice was a woman’s. Striking the bottom with an unpleasant thump, he gathered himself for any emer- gency ahead, and, with a tremendous kick, ‘ ‘ ee a hn sent the fireboard whizzing out into the apart ment, He saw the insensible form of Cecilia lying near; he saw Orle Deice in the act of spring- ing forward to recover the knife which had been knocked from her grasp; he saw Her- a chair for support, while from a ghastly wound in his throat the life-torrent was oozing, despite his efforts to stanch it; he saw Meg Semper struggling fiercely in the armsof the African—and as Nemil marked the lawyer’s advent, the look on his black face seemed to say: “*Quick!—help here or I shall be worst- ed!” All this he took in at a lightning glance, and then, with his heart in his throat, eyes distended, hair standing, and whole system fired as if by an electric flame, he dashed for- ward, **Give me a hand!” he yelled, throwing himself upon the hag, and twining himself around her with the elasticity of an eel. Nemil wrenched the murderous knife from the madwoman and hurled it across the room; then, like a mighty vise, his arms closed around her. Crowley was tied, arm and limb, with their howling antagonist. It is impossible to describe the way in which he coiled up and clinched Meg Semper in his hold. She cursed and raved in her wrath; spit- ting, scratching, kicking; and, occasionally, from those shriveled, bloodless lips issued a st like the yelp and bark of a savage wolf, ‘‘Down her! Down her!” shouted Crew- ley, as he forced her chin up and placed one knee in the center of her back. Nemil threw his whole enormous weight upon her, and all three went to the floor with a crash. ‘Hold tight! Hold tight!” screamed +3 lawyer, as that convulsed and quiver®,. form, not yet subdued, fought still with ~. the desperation of her three-fold strength ‘‘Sheismad!” snarledthe African, ‘‘ Take care, or she will bite!” ‘Considerably man, I think!” Crewley sputtered. ‘‘But—I can’t— heip—that— hold still, now; hang it!” twisting one hand in her matted hair, and pinning her head down. ‘Reginald! Reginald! Quick!—your as- sistance. It is a madwoman!” Reginald Darnley stood in the doorway. It was Orle Deice who cried out, and as she did so, she pointed: toward the combatants. ‘Pitch in!” was all the lawyer could find time to utter, for Meg nearly sent him roll. ing over, by a sudden contraction of her body. Reginald waited not to ask questions, but threw himself at once into the struggle—and none too soon, for the hag had loosed one arm from the negro’s grip and struck Crew- ley a blow that half-blinded him. ‘Hang it! if [had my umbrella, I'd ram it down your throat!” squealed the lawyer, as he buried his fingers in her scalp. Hark! more to come yet. There was a sound of hurrying feet, and Henry Waldron, with two policemen at his side, bounded in among them. But, he did not pause to aid those who were striving to conquer the crazed being; a pale, ric a face had met his gaze, and, a a groaffof fear, he sprung toward Ce- cilia, Tenderly he raised her fair head, with its wreath of golden tresses, to his knee; gently he whispered to ears that were just then opening to sounds of life. ; “Darling!” A smile, a loving look answered that one passionate word. ‘*She’s done for!” exclaimed a voice, and, glancing up, Waldron saw a group standin before a motionless body that lay aretcher y upon the floor. Meg Semper spasm, But, two parties who had figured in the tragical tableau were missing. ‘“Where’s Rex Darnley ? where’s that queen of deviltry?’ Christopher Crewley spun round and looked in vain for those whose names he had uttered. had exptred in a horrible Pa 7 a | In the exciting moment of Meg Semper’s) a death, the lovers slipped out. Thecab Regi. © nald had brought was at the door, and in it they were soon speeding away. _

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Chris Crewley’s Winning Hand, 30 A physician was immediately sent for, to dress the dangerous cut in Reese’s neck, When he arrived, the wounded man had fainted from loss of blood. It was only af- | ter weeks, of dread uncertainty that he was pronounced safe, and so near had death hov- ered during his confinement-to bed, that a wonderful change was worked in him, There is a quiet, respected clerk in one of the leading mercantile establishments in Rich- ; mond, whom we will call Herwin Reese; but, it is a vastly different man from the one who has acted throughout this narrative. He does not know, to this day, that, in attempt- | ing to destroy Reginald Darnley, he aimed at the life of his own brother! The cold clay of Meg Semper was for- | warded to Richmond, where it received private burial; Nemil paying expenses out vice with deceased. Then, finding himself alone, he counted over the greenbacks which his long, faithful obedience to the hag had enabled him to accumulate, and with a heavy ocket, struck a line for the American El orado, There was a wedding a short time since, in Richmond, and, though the marriage no- | tice might not have =e ‘*Henry Waldron to Cecilia Bernard,” still it was this couple —under their proper names—and both are ineffably happy. Christopher Crewley was presented with a bran new hat and duplicate white umbrella, before he left Washington, and became thor- oughly satisfied with the general disposition of things. Perhaps, aa we slacken the pen on this, the last page of our narrative, Reginald Darnley is amid the sparkling dews, sunny landscapes and beguiling airs of a foreign clime, with the beautiful girl by his side, whose passionate love, at last, triumphed, a> made her the wife of the man she wor- aided, Meivin Darnley never learned to whom h_ -wed his preservation from the poisoned glass—the lawyer, in an eccentric modesty, refrraoing from mention of his knowledge of the fiendish plot. As yet, it is clothed in mystery. Whether the manufacturer will ever re- voke the edict of his son’s banishment, time has yet to show; but, if he did, it would be well; for, with one like Orle Deice to coun- sel and advise, it is safe to infer, that, the Reginald of years to come will be another than the once wayward votary of unbridled pleasure. And now—but, wait a moment: one thing more. Christopher Crewley reached his na- tive city in time to look after his ‘‘ cow case,” and, of course!—he won it. THE END. Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. » BY GEORGE ©, JENKS. AS6 Git Thar Owney the Unknown. 492 Git Thar Owney’s Pledge. 518 The Demon Doctor; or, Deadhold, the Kid Detective. 581 Double-Curve Dan, the Pitch Detective. 5S Flute, the Singer Detective; or, Owney in a New Role, 608 The Pitcher Detective’ Foll; or, Dan’s Double Play. 616 The Ocean Detectives or, The Last Cruise of the Black Bear, 681 The Pitcher Detective’s Toughest Tussle. 86 porre ue Tpeoreughpred’ or, Beaten on Every Side. 779 lron Hand, the Charmed Detective. 854 Uncle Sam’s Detective In Chicago. BY EDWARD 8. EFLIS.D ' 6 BIL Biddon, Trapper. 8 Seth Jones; or e Captives of the Frontier, 510 Nat Todd; or, The Fate of the Sioux Captive. 41 Tne Frontier Angel. 98 The Boy Miners; or, The Enchanted Island. 182 The Hunted Hunter; or, The Strange Horseman, 254 The Walf-Blood; or, The Panther of the Plains. 271 The Muge Munter; or, The Steam Prairie Man, BY ALBERT W,. AIKEN, The Two Detectives; or, The Fortunes ofa Bowery Girl, Abe Colt, the Crow-Killer. Sol Ginger, the Giant Trapper. Joe Buck of Angels and His Boy Pard. 447 New York Nat, A Tale of Tricks and Traps in Gotham. 458 New England Nick; or, The Vortunes of a Foundling, 464 Nimble Nick, the Circus Prince. 498 Taos Ted, toe Arizona S: 510 Cool Colorado, the Hall-Breed Detective. 518 Cool Colorado in New York; or, The Cowboy’s Figh.t BY CAPTAIN FRED, WHITTAKER, 15 The Sea-Cat; or, The Witch of Darien. 29 The Domb Page} cr, The Doge’s Deughter. 48 Dick Darling, the Pony Express Rider. 1020 Lance and 3 or, The Children of the Chaco. 154 The Sword Hunters ; or, The Land ofthe Repeat Riley 159 The Lost © im $ or, Skipper Jabez Coffin’s 200 The Boy Solestes or, The Brothers of the Plumed Lance 214 Wol the Robber of the Mhine. 9 Milo roy | the Animal King; or, Round the World. r Tamer; or, The League of the Jungle. The Hine Nici, te Bag Trail. ee BY CHARLES MORRIS. 118 WII Somers, the Boy Detective. 122 Phil Mardy, the Boss Boy. 126 Pleayune Pete 3 or, Nicodemus, the Doz Detective. 180 Detective Dick; or, The Hero tn Rags. 142 Handsome Warry, the Bootblack Detective, 147 Will Wildfire, the Thoroughbred. 152 Black Beas, Will Wildfire’s Racer. 157 Mike Merry the Harbor Police Boy 162 Will Wildfire in the Woods. 165 Billy Baggage, the Railroad Boy. 170 A Tramp Card; or, Will Wildfire Wine and Lyses 174 Bob Rockett; or, Mysteries of New York. 179 Bob Rockett, the Bank Runner, 188 The Hidden Hand, or, Will Wildfire’s Revenge. 187 Fred Malyard, the Life Boat Boy; or, The Smugglers, 189 Bob Rockett; or, Driven to the Wall. 196 Shadowed; or, Bob Kockett’s Fight for Life, 206 Dark Paul, the Tiger King. 212 Dashing Dave, the Dandy Detective. 220 Tom Tanner}; or, The Black Sheep of the Flock. 225 Sam Charcoal the Premium Darky. 235 Shadow Sam, the Messenger Boy. 242 The Two “ Bloods”; or, Shenandoah Bill and His Gang. 252 Dick Dashaway ;: or, A Daketa Boy in Chicago. The Young Sharps: or, Rollicking Mike’s Hot Trail, 274 Jolly Jim, the Detective Apprentice. 289 Jolly Jim’s Job; or, The Young Detective. 298 The Water-Hound; or, The Young Thoroughored. | 805 Dashaway, of Dakota; or, A Western Lad in Quaker City, of money he had hoarded up during his ser- | § » Ralph Ready, the Hotel Boy Detective. Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective. | 868 The Reporter-Detectives or, Fred Flyer’s Blizzard, | BET Wide-Awake Joe; or, A Boy of the Times. 8379 Larry, the Leveler} or, The Bloods of the Boulevard. Firefly Jack, the River-Rat Detective. 428 The Lost Finger}; or, The Entrapped Cashier. 428 Fred Flyer, the Reporter Detective. 482 Invinelble Logan, the Pinkerton Ferret. 456 Billy Brick, the Jolly Vagavond. 466 Wide-Awake Jerry, Detective; or Entombed Alive. 79 Detective Dodge; or, The Mystery of Frank Hearty. 488 Wild Dick Racket; or, How He Fought for Honor, Boots, the Boy Fireman : or, Too Sharp for the Sharper, 566 The Secret Service Boy Detective. 596 Jimmy the Kid; or, A Lamb Among Wolves. 627 Tom Bruce of Arkansas; or, The Wolf in the Fold, 655 Pincky Paul, the Boy Speculator. 667 Bob and Sam, the Daisy Detectives. 709 The Curbstone Detective; or, Harry Hale’s Big Beat. T5T Detective Frank’s Sweep-stakes. 860 Ned Norman, the Gamin Broker, BY T, C. HARBAUGH. Nick o’ the Night; or, The Boy Spy of ’76. The Hidden Lodge}; or. The Little Hunter. Nightingale Nat; or, Toe Forest Captains, Dand ack 3 or, The Outlaws of the Oregon Trait. Kit Harefoot, the Wood-Hawk; or, Old Powder-face, 4 Midnight Jack; or, The Boy Trapper. Old Frosty, the Guide; or, The White Queen. Kiowa Charley the White Mustanger. Judge Lynch Jr.; or, The Boy Vigilante. 5 Gol Trl er, the Sport; or, The Girl Avenger. 69 Tornado Tom; or, Fnjun Jack From Red Core. 188 Ned Temple, the Border Boy; or, The Mad Hunter. 198 Arkansaw ¢ or. The Queen of Fate’s Revenge. 207 Navajo Nick, the Boy Gold Hunter. 215 Captain Bullet; or, Little Tovknot’s Crusade. 231 Pineky Phil; or, Rosa, the Red Jezebel. 241 Bill Bravo; or, Tie Rougha of the Rockies. 255 Captain Apoli:, tne King-Pin of Bowle. 67 The Kuekskin Detecttve; or, The King of Road-agents, 279 Old Winch; or, The Buckskin Desperadoes. 294 Dynamite Dan; or, The Bowle Blade of Cochetopa. B02 The Mountain Detective: or, The Trigger Bar Buily. 816 Old Eelipae, Tromp Card of Arizona, 826 The Ten Pards} or, The Terror of Take-Notice, 886 Bie Benson; or, The Queen of the Lasao. 845 Pitilessa Matt; or, Ked Thunderbolt’s Secret. 856 Cool Sam and Par’; er The Terrible Six. 8866 Velvet Foot, the Indian Detective. « 886 Captain Cutlass; or, The By ceaneer’s Girl Foe. 896 Rough Rob; or, The Twin Champions of Blue Blazes, 411 The Silken Lasso; or, The Rosec Ranch Robin. 418 Felix Fox, the Boy Spotter; or, The Gold Gang of New York. 425 Texas Trump. the Border Rattler. : 486 Phil Flash, the New York Fox; or, The Mystery of Room 21. 445 The City Vampires; or, Red Rolfe’s Pigeon. 461 One Against Fifty; or, The Last Man of Keno Bar. 470 The Boy Shadow; or, Felix Fox's Hunt. 477 The Exceisior Sport; or, The Washington Spotter, A499 Single Sight, the One-Eyed Sport. 502 Branded Ben, the Night Ferret. 612 Dodger Dick, the Wharf-Spy Detective, Ram Renae geese cues 1 1 1 1 1 621 Dodger BPick’s Rest Dodge; or, The Gotham Gold Gang, : 528 Fox and Faicon, the Bowery Shadows. 588 Dodger Dick, the Dock Ferret. 5148 Dodger Dick’s Double: or, The Rival Boy Detectives, 558 Dodger Dick’s Desperate Case. 568 Dodger Dick, the Boy Vidoeq; or, The Gang of Three. 578 The Two Shadows; or, Dodger Dick’s Stop Game. 582 Dodger Dick’s Drop; or, The Man from Jersey, 594 Little Lon, the Street-Singer Detective. rele 610 Old Skinner, the Gold Shark; or, Tony Sharp on Gard. 626 The Champton Pards; or, The Lucifer of Silver Bar, 687 Dick Doan, the Dock Boy Detective, 645 Kit, the Pavement Sharp. Jersey Jed, the Boy Hustler; or, Shadowing the Shadower. 655 Happy ito ye Boy. Musician Detective. 0 f red, the Camera Sharp. uaker City Ferret. ‘ etective; or, Trapping Big Game. 4 54 Billy Winks, the Poss Boy Shadow. 6 ie BY JO PIERCE, B97 Rob o’ the Bowery ; or, The Prince of Mulberry Streety 415 The Vagabond Detective; or, Bowery Bob's Boom,. 452 Hotapur Bob, the Street-Buy Detective. : 460 The Lawyers Shadow; or Luke’s Legacy. 472 Jaunty Joe, the Young Horse-King. 494 Surly Sim, the Young Ferryman Detective. 504 Five Pointa Phi), the Pavement Prince. 509 Jack Jagwers, the Butcher Boy Detective. 516 Tartar Tim; or, Five Points Phil’s Menagerie. 526 North River Nat, the Pier Detective. 588 Wrestling Rex, the Pride ofthe Sixth Ward. 641 Jeff Flicker. the Stable Boy Detective. 551 Nick Nettle, the Boy Shadow; or, The Old Well Mystery, 559 Harlem Jack, the Office Boy Detective. 569 Brooklyn Ben, the On-His-Own-Hook Detective. 5TT Pavement Pete the Secret Sifter, 588 Jack-o’-Lantern, the Under-Sea Prospector, ROR Wide-Awake Bert, the Street-Steerer. 614 Whistling Jacob, the Detective’s Aid. 623 Buck Bumblebee, the Harlem Hummer, 689 Sunrise Saul, the Express-Train Ferret. 649 Gamin Bob, the Bowery Padger: or, Scooping « Slippery Set, 658 Sky-Roeket Rob, the Lite-Saver, 688 Saltpeter Sol, the New York Navigator. 694 &pley Jim, the Only One of His Kind. 706 Tom Thiatle, the Rond-House Detectives T1T Mosquito Jack, the Hustler Gamin. 726 Dennta Duff the Brown Sport’s Kid. 744 Dick of the Docks, the Night-W atch. 765 Flipper Flynn, the Street Patrol. $a; Fexy Fred's O44 Pard; or, Tho Keener’s Huge Hustle. 81 Cast-Of Cahe, the Scapecont Detective, 8 Rowery Bfily, the Bunco Rouncer, S87 The Big Four of the Bowery. ose Bucks the New Vork Sharper. 0 The Grand Street Arab. 855 The West Broadway Gamin. | 860 The Boat-Club Mascot; or, Dan Decker’s Double Deal 864 The Union Square Baggage Boy. = REL CES ee | BY COL, A, F,. MOLT. $17 Wideawake, the Train-boy Detective. S11 Headlight Harry’s Flyer; or, Duke Derby. 678 Headlight Narry’s Nazard. 691 Headlight Marry’s Haul; or, The Railroad Paris. 27 Headlight Harry’s Stren; or, Mad Madge. 759 Headlight Harry’s Heritage. . 794 Headlight Harry’s Hunts or, The Cache of Gold. 899 Black Buckskin; or, The Masked Men of Death Canyon. 419 Kenneth, the Knife-King; or, The Doomed Six. 485 Littie Lightfoot, the Pilet of the Woods. 528 The Dandy Sporty; or, The King Pin Conspirator. BY BUFFALO BILL (Hen. Wm, F. Cody), 8 Kansas King; or, The Red Right Hand. 19 The Phantom &py: or, The Pilot of the Prafrie. 565 Deadly-Eye. the Cuknown Scout; or, The Banded Brotherhoog 68% Border Robin Hood, or, The Prairie Rover. , 158 Fancy Frank of Colorado; or, The Trapper’s Trost. BY OLL COOMES. 146 Kit Bandy, Detective; or, Silver Star, the Boy Knight. 168 Kit Bandy tn Texnea; or, The Young Mustanger. 208 Kit Bandy’s Cateh; or, The Boy Hercules. 422 Kit Bandy’s Right Bower; or, Baby Sam,the Boy Giant 444 Kit Bandy’s« Swoop; or, Little Buckskin, toe Centaur. 478 Kit Bandy’s Slick Scheme; or, Old Tom Rattler. Kit Bandy’s Deliverance; or, Banner Ban. 680 Kit Bandy’s Pard; or, Dauntless Dan, the Freelance. 791 Kit Bandy Rattled; or, The Intant Giant. 795 Kit Bandy tn Red Ruin; or, The Young Whirlwind. 799 Kit Bandy’s Big Ruatle; or, Saddle King Sam. 804 Kit Bandy’s Brigade; or, Dan, the Mountain Guide. 158 Jack Drew, the Nemesis; or, Eagle Kit. the Boy Demon, 182 Jack Drew’s Drop; or, Little Hurricane, the Boy Captain. 202 Jack Drew In Deadwood; orpProspect Pete. 27 Keen Knife on Guard; or, Avtélope Abe, the Boy Guide, 81 Keen-Knife, the Prince of the Prairies. 5 Vagabond Joe, the Young Wandering Jew. 18 The Dumb Spy. 41 Lasso Jack, the Young Mustanger. 58 The Border King; or, The Secret Foe. 71 Delaware Dick, the Young Ranger Spy. 74 Hawk-eye ena the Young Trapper Ranger. 88 Rollo, the Boy Kanger; or, The Heiress. 184 Sure Shot Seth, the Boy Rifleman. 148 Sear-Face Saul, the Silent Hunter 178 Old Solitary, the Hermit Trapper. 218 Tiger Tom, the Texas Terror. 224 Dashing Dick; or, Trapper Tom’s Castle. 228 Little Wildfire, the Young Prairie Nomad. 288 The Parson Detective; or, The Little Ranger. 248 The Disguised Guide; or, Wild Raven, the Ranger. 260 Dare-Devil Dan, the Young Prairie Ranger. ; 272 Minkakin Mike, the Boy Sharpshooter. * 290 Little Foxfire, the Boy Spy; or, Old Caleb Arbuckle. 800 The Sky Demon; or, Rainbolt, the Ranger. 884 Whip-King Joe, the Boy Ranchero. 409. Hereules; vr, Dick, the Ranger. 417 Webfoot Mose, the Tramp Detective. 457 Wingedfoot Fred; or, Old Polar Saul. 468 Tamarac Tom, the Big Trapper Boy, AX2 Stonewall Bob, the Boy Trojan. 562 Blundering Basll, the Hermit Boy Trapper. 652 Don Barr, the Plains Freelance. 670 Norway Nels, the Big Boy Mountaineer. 77S Highiand Harry, the Wizard Rifleman. 828 Poker Jack, the Detective Sport. BY J. W. OSBON. 469 The Rival Giants of Nowhar’. 498 Cactus Burr, the Man from Hard Luck. 687 Old Buckeye, the Sierra Shadow. . 564 Powder Phil, the Boy Miner, or, The Man Withouts Pas! 609 Bolly Dorrit, the Veteran Detective. : 620 Little Lightning’s League; or, The Mystery oftne Islane 688 Pluck nul, the Boy Prospector, 751 Gold-Duat Dan, the Trail Patrol. 755 Gold Dust Dan’s Oath; or, Keckless Roy, the Regulators MISCELLANEOUS AUTHORS. 4 The Wild-Horse Hunters, By Capt. Mayne Reid and Frederick Whittaker. 9 Adventures of Baron Munchausen, 18 Gulliver’s Travels. By Dean Swift, 14 Aladding or, The Wonderful Lamp. “ 16 Robinson Orusoe. (27 Illustrations.) ‘ 18 Sindbad the Satlor. His Seven Vovanea, ¥ S Sea Serpent; or, The\Boy Robinson Crosde. By Juan \ 8. - 88 Ocean Bloodhound; or, The Red Pirates of the arribees, By 8S, W. Pierce. ; £6 The Boy Clown; or, The Arena Queen, By # 8, Finn. BS Ned ylde, the Boy Scout. By Texas Jack. 51 The Boy Biflea: or, The Underground Camp, By A. C. Irons. 95 The Rival Rovers; or, The Freebooters of the Mississippi By Lient.-Col, Hazeltine. 98 Robin Heod, the Uutlawed Earl; or, The Merry Men of Green- wood. By Prof. Gildersleeve, 105 O14 Rube, the Hunter; or, The Crow Captive. By Captain Hamilton Holmes. The Mad Hunter; or, !heCave of Death, By Burton Saxe. Ripvy, the Texan} or, The Young Champion. By George 128 The Youn Privateer; or, The Pirate’s Stronghold. By Harry Cavendish. 148 Sharp Samy; or, The Adventures of a Friendless Boy. By J Alexander Patten. : ; or, The Green Ranger of the Ye} 227 Dusky Darrell, Tra Pssne a pe, ep segh on ex aes aaa 261 Fergus Fearnau e New Y irk Boy. . L, Aiken. 266 Killb’ar, the Guide; »r, Davy Crockett’s ked Trail. By Ensign C, D, Warren. 298 Red Claw, the One-Eyed Trapper; or, The Maid of the Cliff, By Captain Comstock. 817 Peacock Pete, the Lively Lad from Leadville. By Lieu- tenant Alfred Thorne. B28 The Sky Detectives or, A Boy’s Fight for Life and Honor, By Maior Mickey 5 850 Red Ralph, the River Rover; or, The Brother’s Re- venge. By Ned Buntline. ore Ren the Bootblack Detective. By A. P. Morris. B74 Gold-Dnat Tom: or, Ben’s Double Match, G H. Morse. 876 Californian Joe’s Firat Trafl. By Colone! Thomas 418 Bille Hombchell, the CliftClimber. By F. 8. Winth ombehell, the mber. By F. nthrop. TS The Black pain. By John S_ Warner. ’ Comanche Dick and His Three Invincibles. By Henry J. Thomas. B82 The Cowboy Duke. By Edwin Brooke Forrest, By David Droid. 841 a awwce Charlie, the Cat’s-Paw Sport. By Marnir uke wv. ‘ 848 Ban, the River Sport; or, Foiling the Frisco Sharp. ayne. R61 Billy Brine, the Swamp Fox. Py Chas, F. Welles. 875 Detective Dave’a Close Call; or, Farrel Fox, the of Many Faces, By Dan Dunning, (ol the Secret Service Cc A New Iasne Every Tuesday. The Half-Dime Library ‘ tor sale py 2)l Newadealers'"\~ oonte per copy, or sent by mal! on receipt of aix conta sace. 7 BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New Yeouk. >

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BY JOSEPH E. BADGER, JR. 928 Old Sobérsides, the Detective of St. Louis. 925 White-Horse Wheelef, the Revenue Detective, 918 The Double Edged Detective. 907 Maverick Mark. the Man from Nowhere, 898 Silicy Steele, the Stay-in Sport. 884 Tne Spotter-Sport’s Neck-Tie Party. 870 High-Water Mark; or, Silver-Tip Sid. 862 Riata Rob, the Range Champion, 855 The C .whoy Chief’s Sure-Shot. 848 The Rival Red-Hat Sports. 837 Ourly Kid, the Cheyenne Sport. 824 The Soft Hand Detective, 815 The Soft Hand’s Clutch, 809 Dan Dunit. the Soft-Hand Sport. 796 The Frisco Detective’s Thug-Tangle, 789 Sam Cary, the River on ort. 780, The Dead Sport’s Double. 771 Prince John, Detective Special, 763 Dandy Don, the Denver Detective. (54 ihe Man from Texas; or, Dangerfield, Doctor Detective, 744 Sweepstakes Sam, the Silver Sport, 720 The Secret Six; or, Old Halcyon, 712 The Man of Silk. 705 Bantam Bob, the Beauty from Butte. 693 Kent Kasson, the Preacher Sport. 683 Bob Breeze, the Rounder Detective. 675 Steel Surry, the Sport from Sunrise. 668 Solemn Saul’s Luck Streak 661 The Get-There Sharp. 651 Silvyertip Steve, the Sky Scraper from Siskiyou. 645 Gopher Gabe, the Unseen Detective. 636 Dandy Darling, Detective. 627 Mossback Mose, the Mountaineer, 617 The Grip-Sack Sbarp’s Even up. 597 Big Bandy, the Brigadier of Brimstone Butte. 588 Sandy Sands, the Sharp from Snap City. 576 Silver-Tongued Sid: or, Grip Sack Sharp’s Sweep. 564 The Gtip-Sack Sharp; or, The Seraphs of Sodom. 555 Grip-Sack Sid, the Sample Sport. 47 The Buried Detective; or, Saul’s Six Sensations. 541 Major Magnet, the Man of Nerve. 5385 Dandy Dutch, the Decorator from Dead-Lift 527 Dandy Andy, the Diamond Detective. 514 Gabe Gunn, the Grizzly from Ginseng. 504 Solemn Saul, the Sad Man from San Saba. 495 Rattlepate Rob; or, The Roundhead’s Reprisal 488 The Thoroughbred Sport. 474 Daddy Dead-Kye, the Desvot of Dew Drop. 466 Oid Rough and Ready, the Sage of Sundown 458 Dutch Dan, the Pilgrim from Spitzenberg. 443 A Cool Hand; or, Pistol Johnny’s Picnic. 438 Oklahoma Nick. 433 Laughing Leo; or, Sam’s Dandy Pard. 426 The Ghost Detective; or. The Secret Service Spy. 416 Monte jim. the Black Sheep of Bismarck, ys Rob Roy Ranch; or, The Imps of Pan Handle. MS ‘The Nameless Sport ; Eo Devdly Aim, the Duke of Derringers. ? Dirk Durg, the Ishmael of the Hills. 372 Captain Crisp, the. Man with a Record. 867 A Royal Flush; or, Dan Brown’s big Game. 360 Jumping Jerry, the Gamecock from Sundown. Stormy Steve, the Mad Athlete. 351 Nor’ West Nick. the Border Detective. 345 Masked Mark, the Mounted Detective. 339 Spread Eagie Sam, the Hercules Hide slunter. 331 Chispa Charley, the Gold Nugget Sport. 817 Krank Lightfoot, the Miner Detective, 292 Moke Horner, the Boss Roustabout. 238 Pistol Johnny; or, Ove Man in a Thousand. 283 Sicek Sam, the Devil of the Mines. 257 Death Tra Diggings; or, A Man ’Way Back 249 Elephant om. of Durango. 241 Spitfire Saul, King of the Rustlers. .233 The Old Hoy of Tombstone. 201 Pirate of the Placers; or, Joaquin’s Death Hunt 7 i ae ~ The Amant of Arizona, Sweet William, the Trapper ive, 165, Joaquin. the Terris er eetve 154 Joaquin, the Saddle King, 141 Equinox Tom, the Bully of Red Rock, 419 Alabama Joe; or, The Yazoo Man-Hunters. 5 Dan Brown of Denver; or. The Detective. Big George; or, The Five Outlaw Brothers. "1 Captain Cool Blade; or, Mississippi Man Shark. 67 The Boy Jockey; or, Honesty vs, Crookedness. “50 Jack Rabbit, tne Prairie Sport, “si BY WM. G. PATTEN, 10 Fire-Eye, the Thug’s Terror. fs Old Night-Hawk, the Crook Shadower. 768 The Prince of New York Crooks, 756 Old Burke, the Madison Square Detective, 747 Double-voice Dan's Double Disguise, 715 Double-Voice Dan on Deck. ; 702 Double-Voice Dan, the Always-on-Deck Detective 696 Double-Voice Dan, the Go-it Alone Detective, 689 The Sparkler Sharp. 676 Hurricane Hal, eho Coney Hotspur. » 669 Oid True Blue, the Trusty. 663 The Giant Sport; or, Sold to Satan, 656 Old Ping Ugly, the Rough and Ready. 648 Gold Glove Gid, the Man of Grit. 641 Aztee Jack, the Desert Nomad. 631 Colonel Cool, the Santa Fe Sharp. 602 Captain Nameless. the Mountain Mystery. U71 Old Dismal, the Range Detective. ,$45 Hustler Harry, the Cowboy Sport. BY GEORGE ©. JENKS. °910 The Arizona Detective. 894 Silver Sam. the Shastg Sport. ~880 The Silver Sport’s Double. 868 The Race-Course Detective. The Hayseed Detective. 72 Captain Corden, the Twister Detective. . 45 Wild Pete the Broncho-Buster Detective. («3 Fearless Sam, the Grand Combination Detective. 19 Boston Bob, the Detective. the wae Jaunty Joe, i ie : arp, the stler 538 Ru et, the Tent Detective. 526 Death-Grip, the Tenderfoot Detective, e Drummer Detective. 432 The Giant Horseman. 898 Bye, the Pacific Detective. BY WILLIAM R. EYSTER. 916 Two Dead-Square Sports. 902 Soft Velvet, the Man from Sandrock. 891 Genteel Jim, Sport-at-Large. 881 The Clubman-Crook’s Cat’s-paw. 37 The Frisco Sport. 852 The Stranger Pos Shake-up. 828 Kirk King, the Man from Kirby. 818 Gentleman Dave, the Dead Game Sport 783 The King-Pin Tramp. 767 The Sport of Silver Bend, 718 Uncle Bedrock’s Big Bounce. 707 The Rival Rovers. 687 Double Cinch Dan, the Spert With a Charm, 677 Mr. Jackson, the Gent from Jaybird. 659 Gilt-Edge Johnny; or, Roldan and His Rovers, 650 Lucky Lester’s Lone Hand. 634 Old Handecart’s Big Dump. 322 The All Around Sports. 603 Desert Alf, the Man With the Cougar. 590 Gentle Jack, the High Roller from Humbug. 578 Seven Shot Steve, the Sport with a Smile. [he Dude Detective. 558 Hurrah Harry, the High Horse from Halcyon. 549 Belshazzar Brick, the Bailiff of Blue Blazes. 533 Oregon, the Sport Witha Sear. 8 The Dude from Denver, 478 Pinnacle Pete; or, The Fool from Way Back, 459 Major Sunshine, the Man of Three Lives. 429 Hair Trigger Tom of Red Mend. 402 Snapshot Sam; or, The Angels’ F!at Racket. 396 The Piper Detective; or, The Gilt Edge Gang. 375 Royal George, the Three in One, 356 Tbr e Handsome Sports; or, The Combination, 333 Derringer Dick, the Man with the Drop, 268 Magic Mike, ~he Man of Frills. 229 Captain Cutsiceve; or, The Little Sport. 214 The Two Cool Sports; or, Gertie of the Gulch, 182 Hands Up; or, The Knights of the Canyon. 160 Soft Hand, Sharp; or, The Man with the Sand. 145 Pistol Pards; or, The Silent Sport from Cinnabar BY NED BUNTLINE. 657 Long Tom, the Privateer. 633 The Sea Spy. 621 The Red Privateer; or, The Midshipman Rover, 584 Fire Feather, the Buccaneer King. 517 Buffalo Bill’s First Trail. 861 Tombsvone Dick, the Train Pilot. 122 Saul Sabberday, the Idiot Spy. 111 The Smuggler Captain; or, The Skipper’s Crime, 18 The Sea Bandit; or, The Queen of the Isle. 16 The White Wizard; or, The Seminole Prophet. BY JACKSON KNOX—‘' Old Hawk,” 838 Old Grips Still Hunt. 827 Detective Walden’s Web. 778 The Butler Detective; or, Old Grip’s Grip 77) The Showman Detetive. 762 Old Grip, the Detective. 740 Captain Clew, the Fighting Detective. 732 The Hurricane Detective. 643 Castlemaine, the Silent Sifter. 616 Magnus, the Weird Detective. 606 The Drop Detective. 595 Wellborn, the Upper Crust Detective. . 582 Joram, the Detective Expert. 574 Old Falcon’s Double. 561 The Thug King; or, The Falcon Detective’s Foe, 548 Faleonbridge, the Sphinx Detective. 536 Old Falcon’s Foe; or, The Detective’s Swell Job. 515 Short-Stop Maje, the Diamond Field Detective, 509 Old Falcon, the Thunderbolt Detective. 501 Springsteel Steve, the Retired Detective, 494 The Detective’s Spy. 485 Rowloeck. the Harbor Detective, 477 Dead-arm Brantit. 467 Mainwaring. the Salamander, 462 The Ciscus Detective. 451 Griplock, the Rocket Detective. 444 The Magic Detective; or, The Hidden Hand, 424 Hawk Heron’s Deputy. 886 Hawk Heron. the Falcon Detective. BY J. ©. COWDRICK, 752 The Suspect Sport of Daisy Drift. 626 Dueats Dion, the Nabob Sport Detective. 612 Sheriff Stillwood, the Regulator of Raspberry. 598 The Dominie Detective. 591 Duke Daniels, the Society Detective. 580 Shadowing: a Shadow. 565 Prince Paul, the Postman Detective. 557 The Mountain Graybeards; or, Riddles’ Riddle. 519 Old Riddles, the ge | spager 499 Twilight Charlie, the Road Sport. 473 Gilbert of Gotham, the Steel-arm Detective. 452 Rainbow Rob, the Tulip from Texas. ; 436 Kentucky Jean, the Sport from Yellow Pine. 422 Blue Grass Burt, the Gold Star Detective. 890 The Giant Cupid: or Cibuta John’s Jubilee. BY EDWARD WILLETT. 483 Flush Fred, the River Sharp. 368 The Canyon King; or. a Price on his Head. 348 Dan Dillon, King of Crosscut. , 387 Old Gabe, the Mountain Tramp. ae Terrapin Dick; the Wildwood -tective. L red’s Double; or, The Squatters’ - yer y Hank, Tough and Te ried veger Lem: or, Life in the Pine Wood 289 Flush Fred’s Full Hand. * 274 Flush Fred, the Mississippi Sport. 248 Montana Nat, the Lion of Last Chance Camp, 222 Bill the Blizzard; or, Red Jack’s Crime. 209 Buek Farley. the Bonanza Prince. 129 Mississippi Mose; or, a Strong Man’s Sacrifice, BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID, Wy The White Squaw, 234 The Hunter’s Feast. 218 The Wild Huntress; or, The Squatter. 200 The Rifle rs; Or, Adventures in Mexico, 74 The Captain of the Rifles; or, The Lake Queen, 66 The Barque. A Tale of the Pacific. 55 The Scalp Hunters, A Romance of the Plains, a, * BEADLE'S*] )IME*]IBRARY. Published Every Wednesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Ten Cents.. No Double Numbers. | BY COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM. 911 The Blue Btockader; or, The Coast Grayhound, 906 The Cuban Cruiser. 854 The Ocean Gipsy. 834 The Wild Steer Riders; or, Texas Jack’s Terrors, 819 The Rival Monte Cristos. 805 The Last of che Pirates; or, Doom Driven. 801 The Water Wolves’ Detective; or, Trapoing the Grave Ghouls. 791 The Coast-Raider’s Death-Chase. 748 Arizona Chariie, the Crack-shot Detective. 704 Invisible Ivan, the Wizard Detective. 685 The Red-skin Sea Rover. 679 Revello, the Pirate Cruiser; or, The Rival Rovers 672 The Red Rapier; or, The Sea Rover’s Bride. 662 The Jew Detective; or, The Beautiful Convict. 640 The Rover’s Ret ibution. 635 The Ex-Buccaneer: or, The Stigma of Sin. 625 Red Wings; or, The Gold Seekers of the Bahamas, 615 The Three + uccaneers. 610 The’'Red Flag Rover; or, White Wings of the Deep. 605 The Shadow Silver Ship. 600 The Silver Ship; or, The Sea Scouts of °76. 593 The Sea Rebel; or. Red Rovers of the Revolution, 587 Conrad, the Sailor Spy; or, True Hearts of °76. 581 The Outlawed Skipper; or, The Gantlet Runner, 560 The Man from Parice. 553 Mask Monte, the Mutineer; or, The Branded Brig. 546 Trey Doomed Whaler: or, The Life Wreck, ~ 530 The Savages. of the Sea. 524 The Sea Chaser; or, The Pirate Noble, 510 El Moro, the Corsair Commodore, 493 The Scouts of the Sea. 457 The Sea Insurgent: or, The Conspirator Son. 446 Ucean Ogre, the Onteast Corsair. 485 The One-Armed Buccaneer. 430 The Fatal Frigate; or, Rivals in Love and Wag 399 The New Monte Cristo. 893 The Convict Captian. 877. Afloat and Ashore; or, The Corsair Conspirator. 369 The Coast Corsair: or, The Siren of the Sea. 864 The Sea Fugitive: or, The Queen of the Coast. 341 The\Sea Desperado, 336 Tne Magic Ship; or, Sandy Hook Freebooters. 325 The Gentleman Pirate ; or, The Casco Hermits, 318. The Indian Buccaneer; or, The Red Rovers. 807 The Phantom Pirate; or. The Water Wolves, 255 The Pirate Priest; or, The Gampbler’s Daughter, 246 Queen Helen, the Amazon of the Overland, 235 Red Lightning the Man of Chance. 224 Black Beard, the Buccaneer. 220 The Specter Yacht; or, A Brother’s Crime, 210 Buccaneer Bess, the Lioness of the Sea. 205 The Gambler Pirate; or, Lady of the Lagoon, 198 The Skeleton Schooner; or, The Skimmer. 184 The Scarlet Schooner: or. The Sea Nemesis. 104 Montezuma, the Merciless. 103 Merle, the Mutineer; or, The Red Anchor Brané. RY PHILIP 8S. WARNE, 802 Dan Dirk, King of No Man’s Land. 583 Captain Adair, the Cattle King. 567 Captain Midnight, the Man of Craft. 544 The Back to Back Pards. : 522 The Champion Three. 502 Bareback Buck, the Centaur of the Plains, 472 Six Foot Si; or, The Man to “ Tie To.” 431 California Kit, the Always on Hand. 404 Silver Sid; or, A “‘ Daisy ” Bloff. 380 Tiger Dick's vas of or, Tne Golden Serpent. 359 Yellow Jack, the Mestizo. 338 Jack Sands, the Boss of the Tewn. 299 Tpree of a Kind; or, Dick, Despard and the Sport, 251 Tiger Dick vs. Iron D j 207 Old Hard Head; or, rlwind and his Mare. 171 Tiger Dick, the Man of the Iron Heart. 114 The Gentleman from Pike. 80 A Man of Nerve; or, Cakiban the Dwarf. 54 Always on Hand; or, The Foot-Hills Sport. 29 Tiger Dick, Faro King; or, The Cashier’s Crime, 4 The Kidnapper; or, The Northwest Shanghal, BY CAPTAIN MARK WILTON, $28 Hotspur Hugh; or, The Banded Brothers, 811 Heavy Hand; or, The Marked Men. 305 Silver-Plated Sol, the Montana Rover. 291 Horseshoe Hank, the Man of Big Luck, 285 Lignin Bolt, the Canyon Terrors 276 Texas Chick, the Southwest Detective. 271 Stonefist, of Big Nugget Bend. 266 Leopard Luke. the ng of Horse-Thieves 263 lron-Armed Abe, the Hunchback Destroyer 258 Bullet Head, the Colorado Bravo. 237 Long-Haired Max; or, The Black League. 227 Buckshot Ben, the Man-Hunter of Idaho. 223 Canyon Daye, the Man of the Mountain, 219 The Scorpion Brothers; or, Mad Tom’s Mission 202 Cactus Jack, the Giant Guide. 194 Don Sombrero, the California Road Gent. 176 Lady Jaguar, the Robber Queen. BY OLL COOMES. 9 Kit Bandy & Co, the Border Detectives. 148 One-Armed Alf, the Giant Hunter. 99 The Giaxt Rifleman: or, Wild Camp Life. 43 Dakota Dan, the Reckless Ranger. BY COL. THOMAS H. MONSTERY. 236 Champion Sam; or, The Monarchsof the Show 150 El Rubio Bravo, King of the Swordsmen. BY DR. NOEL DUNBAR, 919 The Sea Scout; or, The Patriot Privateer. 885 The King of Crooks. 858 Number One, the Dead-set Detective. 70 Duk Le prot gee vie bler Duelist. ike , the Gam 604 The Detective in Rags: or, The Grim Shadowen 500 The True-Heart Pards. : 4 new issue every Wednesday Beadie’s Dime Library is for sale ab Newsdealers, ten cents per copy, or sent by os receipt of twelve cents each. BEADLE AND ADAMS, PustrsHers, 98 Witai4M St-, New Yorum

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BREADLE'’S*| )IME*[IBRARY. Published Every Wednesday. Each Isswe Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Ten Certs. No Double Numbers. BUFFALO BILL NOVELS. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham, 964 Buffa'o Bill’s Invincibles. 960 Buffalo Bill’s Blue Belt Brigade. 956 Boffalo Bill’s Volunteer Vigilantes. 950 Buffalo Bill at Bay. 943 Buffalo Bill’s Block Game. 936 Buffalo Bill s Black Parad, 927 Buffalo Bill’s Bluff; or, Dusky Dick the Sport. 921 Buffalo Bill’s Quandary: or, Velvet Bill’s Vow. 915 Buffalo Bill and the Surgeon-Scout. 909 Buffalo Bill’s League; or, Red Butterfly. 904 Buffalo Bill’s Tangled Trail. 900 Buffalo Bill’s Rough Riders, 895 Buffalo Bill’s Secret Ally. 890 Buffalo Bill’s Life-Stake. 88 The Three Bills: Buffalo Bill. Wild Bill and Band- box Bill; or, The Bravo in Broadcloth, Buffato “ill’s Buckskin Braves. Buffalo Bill’s Road-Agent Round-up, Buffalo Bill’s Death Charm. 7 Buffalo Bill’s Royal Flush. Buffalo Bill's Double Dilemma, 845 Buffalo Bill’s Redskin Ruse. Buffalo Bill’s Bovs in Blue. Buffalo Bill’s Sharp-Shooters, Buffalo Bill’s Best Bower. Buffalo Bi'l’s Red Trail. Buffalo Bill’s Death-Knell. Buffaio Bil’s Winning Hand. Buffalo Bill’s Dead Shot. Buffalo Bill's Brand. Buffalo Bill’s Spy Shadower. Buffalo Bill’s Sweepstake. Baffalo Bill’s Dozen; or, Silk Ribbon Sam. Buffalo Bill’s Mascot. Buffalo Bill’s Double. 750 Buffalo Bill's Big Four; or, Custer’s Shadow. Buffalo Bill’s Flush Hana. Buffalo Bill's Blind: or, The Masked Driver, 735 Buffalo Bill and His Merry Men. %31 Buffalo Bill's Beagies: or, Silk Lasso Sam, Buffalo Bill's Bodv Guard. Buffalo Bill on the be Ea pend Buffalo Biil’s Scout Shadowers. 710 Buffalo Bill Baffled: or. The Deserter Desperado. 697 Buffalo Lill’s Buckskin Brotherhood. ~ 691 Kuffalo Bill’s }ilind Trail; or, Mustang Madge. 7 Buffalo Bill's Swoop; or, The King of the Mines. 658 The Cowbsv Clan: or, The Tigress of Texas, 653 Lasso King’s League; or, Buck Taylor in Texas. 649 Buffalo Bill’s Chief of Cowboys; or, Buck Taylor 644 Buffalo Sill’s ltonanza; or, Si ver Circle Knights, 362 or, Oath Bound to Custer. Buffalo Bull's Grip: Buffalo Bill’s Pledge: or, The League of Three. ‘ild Bill's Gold Trail; or, The Desperate Dozen. 7% Wild Bill’s Trump Card; or, The Indian Heiress, Wild Bill, the Pistol Dead Shot, By Buffalo Bill. Texas Jack, the Lasso Kin~, : The Ranch King Dead-Sho.. 820 White Beaver’s Still Hunt. 807 Wild Bill, the Wild West Duelistx 800 Wild Bili, the Dead-Center Shot. 639 Buffalo Bili’s Gold King. bd 599 The Dead Shot Nine; or, My Pards of the Plains. 414 Red Renard, the indian Detective. 401 One-Armed Parad; or, Borderland Retribution. 397 The Wizard, Brothers: or, White Beaver’s Trail. 894 White Beaver, the Exile of the Platte. 319 Wild Bill, the Whirlwind of the West. 804 Toxas Jack, the Prairie Rattler. 243 The Pilgrim Sharp; or, The Soldier's Sweetheart, 83 Gold Bullet Svort; or, Knights of the Overland, 52 Death-Traiier, the Chief of Scouts. By Leon Lewis, Ned Buntline, ete. 773 Buffalo Bll’s Ban; or, Cody to the Rescue. 682 Buffalo Bill’s Secret Service Trail. 629 Buffalo Bill’s Daring Role; or, Daredeath Dick. 617 Buffalo Bi'l’s First Trail; or, The Express Rider. 158 Buffalo Bill, Chief of Scouts. 117 Buffalo Bill s Strange Pard; or, Dashing Dandy. 92 Buffalo Bill, the Buckskin King. BY HAROLD PAYNE, 883 The Man from Mexico in New York. 872 The Xing-Pin Shark; or, Thad Burr’s Ten Strike, 861 The Tenderloin Big Four 853 The Quaker City Crook. $44 Tracked to Chicago. 836 The Policy Broker’s Blind. 829 The Frisco Sharper’s Cool Hand, 821 The Tramp Shadower’s Backer. 813 The Sham Spotter’s Shrewd Scheme. 806 The Grand Street Gold-Dust Sharpers, 798 Detective Burr’s Luna ic Witness 792 The Wall Street Sharper’s Snap. 784 Thad Burr’s Death Drop. 742 Detective Burr Among the New York Thugs. 734 Detective Burr’s Foil; or, A Woman’s Strategy. 728 Detective Burr, the Headquarters Special, 713 Detective Burr’s Spirit Chase. 706 Detective Burr’s Seven Clues. 698 Thad Burr, the Invincible; or, The ‘*L”’ Clue, 690 The Matchless Detective. 680 XX, the Fatal Clew; or, Burr’s Master Case, BY LIEUT. A, E. SIMS. 914 Snowflake Sam’s Double. 897 The Six-Shot Spotter. 887 The Stranger Sport from Spokane. 873 The Sport Detective’s Colorado Clew. 860° The Spangled Sport Shadower, 843 The Crescent City Sport. 832 Gid Gale's Block Game. Toe King Pin of the Leadville Lions. 86 Chicago Charlie’s Diamond Haul. 776 Chicago Charlie, the Columbian Detective. 758 The Wizar! King Detective. 723 Teamster Tom, the Boomer Detective. 709 Lodestone Lem, the Champion of Chestnut Burr. ‘695 Singer Sam, the Pilgrim Detective. 688 River Rustlers; or, the Detective from’ Way Back 673 Stuttering Sam, the Whitest Sport of Santa Fe, 666 Old Adamant, the Man of Rock. 618 Kansas Karl, the Detective King. 552 Prince Primrose, the Flower of the Flock, _ 828 Huckleberry, the Foot-Hills Detective, BY CAPTAIN HOWARD HOLMES, 929 Gentleman George, the Showman Sport, 912 Genteel Joe’s Lone Hand, 908 The Train Detective. es oe sen we Mos mapa Nightshade in New York. 733 Dick Talbot. the Ranch King. 879 Falcon Flynn, the Flash Detective. | 729 Dick Talbot’s Clean-Out. . 871 The Crook Cashier, | 725 Dick Talbot in No Man's Camp, 859 Clew-Hawk Keene’s Right Bower, 354 Dick Talbot; or, The Brand of Crimson Gross 847 Hiram Hawk, the Harlem Detective, 36 Dick Talbot; or, The Death-Shot of Shasta, 840 Major Bullion, Boss of the Tigers. Aiken’s Fresh of Frisco Series. a Se the London Detective. 17 Plush Velvet, the Prince of Spotters, 803 The Bogus Broker’s Right Bower, 825 Fresh, the Race-Track Sport. 788 The Nizht-Hawk Detective. | 660 The Fresh in Montana; or, Blake's Full Hand, 779 Silk Ribbon’s Crish-out. 652 The Fresh’s Rustle at Painted City. 766 Detective Zach, the Broadway Spotter, 647 The Fresh at Santa Fe; or, The Stranger Sharp. 751 The Dave Lantern Doteatinn 556 Fresh, the Sport: or, The Big Racket at Slide Out. 736 The Never-Fail Detective. 537 Fresh Against the Field; or, Blake, the Lion, Reynard of Red Jack: or, The Lost Detective | 798 Joe Phenix's Siren; or, The Woman Hawkshaw. 512 Captain Velvet's Big Stake. | 700 Joe Phenix’s Unknown; or, Crushing the Crooks 505 Phil Fox, the Genteel Spotter, H six’ F ; j 496 Richard Redfire. the Two Worlds’ Detective. —_| G37 Joe Phenix in trasy Compe ne eetive 487 Sunshine Sam, a Chip of the Old Block, ! 682 Joe Phenix’s Master Search. 480 Hawkspear. the Man with a Secret, | 6288 Joe Phenix’s Combine ; or,the Dandy Conspirator 458 Coldgrip in Deadwood. : 620 Joe Phenix’s Silent Six. : ALBERT W. AIKEN’S NOVELS Dick Talbot Series, 741 Dick Talbot’s Close Cal: 737 Dick Talbot in Apache Land, Aiken's Joe Phenix Series, | 965 Joe Phenix's Mascot. | 959 Joe Phenix’s Double Deal. 954 Joe Phenix in Chicago, 949 The Doctor from Texas; or, Joe Phenix’s Clue, 944 Joe Phenix’s Right Bower. ; 865 The Female Barber Detective; or, Joe Phenix in Silver City. | 799 Joe Phenix’s Great Blue Diamond Case; or, The. | New York Sport at Long Branch. 793 Joe Phenix’s Decoy; or, The Man of Three, 760 Joe Phenix’s Lone Hand, 749 Joe Phenix’s Big Bulge. | 745 Joe Phenix’s Mad Case, 460 Captain Coldgrip, the Detective, 601. Joe Phenix’s Shadow; or.the Detective’s Monitor “4 : ‘ Pw) . 5 3 . J 453 ae yt p's Long Trail. 419 Joe Phenix,, the King of Detectives. 447 Volcano, the Frisco Spy. 161 Joe Phenix’s Great Man Hunt, ' 112 Joe Phenix, Private Detective; or, The League, 79 Joe Phenix, the Police Spy. Aiken’s Miscellancous Novels, ‘ _ 940 Captain Jack, the Scalper 935 The Hawks and Wolves of New York 932 Detective Gordon’s Grip. 926 Old Sunflower, the Silent Smiter, | 928 Old Sunflower. the Hayseed Detective. | 901 The Hotel Swell-Sharp; or, The Siren Shadower, : $92 The Country man Detective. ' 876 Gold Button Sport; or, The Miner Sharps, | 842 Teton Tom. the Half-lood. , 835 The King-Pin Detective. | 814 The New Yorker Among Texas Sports. 775 King Dandy, the Silver Sport. 753 Gideon’s Grip at Babylon lar. . 717 Captain Pat MeGowen, the Greencoat Detective, 674 Uncle Sun Up, the Born Detective. 670 The Lightw eight Detective. : 665 The Frisco Detective; or, The Golden Gate Find, 613 Keen Billy, the Sport. 607 Old Benzine, the * Hard Case” Detective, 594 Fire Face, the Silver King’s Foe. 586 The Silver Sh arp Detective, : 577 Tom, of Calif ormia; or, Detective’s Shadow Act. 570 The Actress Detective; or, The Invisible Hang 562 Lone Hand, the Shadow. 520 The Lone Hand on the Caddo. | 490 The Lone Hand in Texas. - 475 Chin Chin, the Chinese Detective, 465 The Actor Detective. 440 The High Hor:e of the Pacific. 423 The Lone Hand; or, The Red River Recreants. Doe Grip, the Vendetta of Death. 881 The Gypsy Gentleman: cr. Nick Fox, Detective 876 Black Beards; o1, The Rio Grande High Horse 870 The Dusky Detective: or. Pursued to the End. 863 Crowningshield, the Detective 320 The Genteel Spotter; or The N. Y. Night Hawk, 252 The Wali Street Plood; or, The Telegraph Girl, 203 The Double Detective: or,The Midnight Mystery. | 196 La Marmoset, the Letective Queen. | 101 The Man from New York. ) 91 The Winning Oar; or. The Innkeeper’s Daughter, 84 Hunted Down: or, The League of Three. | 81 The Human Tiger: or, A Héart of Fire, r | % Gentleman George: or, Parlor. Prison and Street, | 72 The Phantom Hand: or, The 5th Avenue Heiress, 441 The California Sharp. « 434 Lucifer Lynx, the W onder Detective. 421 Father Ferret, the Frisco Siiadow. 413 Captain Coldgrip in New York, | 407 Captain Coldgrip’s Nerve; or, Injun Nick. 400 Captain Coldgrip; or. The New York Spotter. 392 The Lost Donanza; or, The Boot of Silent Hound. 382 The Bonanza Band: or, Dread Don of Cool Clan. 374 Major Blister, the Sport of Two Cities. 365 Keen Kennard, the Shasta Shadow, 352 The Desperate Dozen. 347 Denver Duke, the Man with “ Sand.” 340 Cool Conrad, the Dakota Detective, 335 Flash Dan, the Nabob; or, Blades of Bowie Bar, 821 California Claude, the Lone Bandit. ‘ 294 Broadcloth Burt. the Denver Dandy, 941 The Shadow Sport from Frisco, / BY WILLIAM H. MANNING. 948 The Red-Gloved Detective, 931 Frisco Frank at Glory Gulch. 920 The Montana Miner in New York. : 908 The Doomsday-Den Detective. 899 The Double-Quick Detective. / 893 Yellow Gid, of Dark Divide. 845 The Expert Detective’s Shake-up, ) 875 Trapping the Race-Track Judge, 864 The Police Special’s Dilemma, / 849 The Genteel Sharper’s Combine / 841 Graydon’s Double Deal. 838 The Sport Detective’s Sn i 828 The Athlete Sport About Town. } 808 TheCrook-Detective’s Pull, } 790 Plunger Pete, the Race Track Detective. 782 Royal Rock, the Round-up Detective, 774 Steve Starr, the Dock Detective. ! 764 The New York Sharp’s Shadower. 738 Detective Claxton, the Record Breaker, 714 Gabe Gall, the Gambolier from Great Hump, 703 Spokane Saul, the Samaritan Suspect / 692 Dead Shot Paul, the Deep-Range | 655 Strawberry Sam, the Man with the 646 Dark John, the Grim Guard. ! 638 Murdock, the Dread Detective. l 623 Dangerous Dave, the Never-Beaten Detective. 611 Alkali Abe, the Game Chicken from Texas, 596 Rastler Rube; the Round-Up Detective. 585 Dan Dixon’s Double. 57o Steady Hand. the Napoleon of Detectives | 563 Wyoming Zeke, the Hotspur of Honcty suckle. 551 Garry Kean the Man with Backbone, 539 Old Doubledark, the Wily Detective. 531 Saddle-Chief Kit, the Prairie Centaur, 521 Paradise Sam, the Nor’-West Pilot. 513 Texas Tartar, the Man With’ Nine Lives, 506 Uncle Honest, the Peacemaker of Hornets’ Nest, | 498 Central Pacific Paul. the Mail Train Spy. / 492 Border Bullet, the Prairie Sharpshooter, 486 Kansas Kitten, the Northwest Detective. 479 Gladiator Gabe, the Samson of Sassajack, 470 The Duke of Dakota. 463 Gold Gauntlet. the Gulch Gladiator, 455 Yank Yellowbird, the Tall Hustler of the Hills, 449 Bluff Burke, King of the Rockies. lorer. irthmark, 56 The Indian Mazeppa: or, Madman of the Plains, 49 The Wolf Demon; or. The Kanawha Queen. 42 The California Detective; or, The Witches of N.Y, ; or, The Flash of Lightning, 81 The New York Sha ork, | 27 The Spotter Detective; or, Girls of New NEW ISSUES. , 917 Cyclone Pete, By Wm. B. Eyster. 978 Monte Cristo in New York By J, C. Cowdrick, ' 979 Buffalo Bill’s Relentless Trail. By Ingraham, | _ 980 The All-Around Athlete. By A, W. Aiken. 442 Wild West Walt, the Mountain Veteran, , 981 The Gold-Lace Sport. By Jos. E. Badger. 437 Deep Duke; or, The Man of Two Lives, 982 Chris Crewley’s Winning Hand. By A. P. Morris 427 The Rivals of M Mill, e Rivals of Montana | JUST ISSUED. 415 Hot Heart, the Detective 8 971 “D;” or, Branded for Life. By K. F. Hill. 405 Old Baldy the Brigadier of. Buck Basin. 297 Colorado Rube, the Strong Arm of et ak 29 hound. ' 972 The Captain’s Enemy. By Col. P. Ingraham. 973 The Dread Shot Four By Buffalo Bill, The Gold Dragoon, ur, California Bl 974 The Man from Denver. By Jos. E. Badger. BY LEON LEWIS, Wind River Clark, the Gold Hermit. 975 Freelance, the Buccaneer. By Col. Ingraham, 976 Overland Kit. By Albert W. Aiken. 7 Pisto! Tommy, the Miner Sharp. A new issue every Wednesday. 785 Che Down East Detective in Nevada. 686 The On-the-Wing Detectives, 4 THE DIME LIBRARY is for sale Wy al f 624 The Submarine Detective: or, The Water Ghouls. 484 Captain Ready, the Red Ransomer, 773 Buffalo Bill's Ban: or, Cody to the Rescue, 481 The Silent Detective; or, The Bogus Nephew, Newsdealers, ten cents per copy, or sent by m: 699 The Cowboy Couriers. BEADLE & ADAMS, Publisherss _ 456 The Demon Steer. receipt of price. 428 The Flying Glim; or, The Island Lure, | 2 W street, New York,

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BUTTHLL SS BILL Ten Cents a Copy. The DIME } \ } \ } ) / \ ( ® ) ) } ) 979 Buffalo Bill’s Relentless Trail. By Colonel|820 White Beaver’s Still Hunt; or, The Miner|653 The Lasso King’s League; or, The Tigers of \ Prentiss Ingraham. } Marauder’s Death-Track. By Buffalo Bill. Texas. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. | ‘973 The Dread Shot Four; or, My Pards of the %16 Puffalo mill's Red Trail; or, The Road-Rider! 649 Buck Taylor, the Saddle King. Buffalo Bill's | Plains. Ly Uol. W. -F. Cody.” Renegade’s Run Down. By Col. P. Ingraham. Chief of Scouts. By Col. P. Ingraham. ) 964 Buffalo Bill's Invincibles: or, The Sable Shad- $12 Puivalo Bill’s Death-Knell; or, The Red Hand 644 Buffalo Bill's Bonanza; or, The Knights of ; ¥ e Sable Shad ower’s Sublime Sacrifice. By Col. P. Ingra- Riders of the Rockies, By Col: P. Ingraham. the Silver Circle. By Col. P. Ingraham. ) Han. 7 Will Bil, the Wild Wes. Duelist; cr, The Girl 639 The Gold King; or, Montebello, the Magnifi- 989 Buffalo Bull's Blue Belt Brigade; or, Sun-| Mascot of Moonlight Mine, by Butfalo Bill, cent. By Buffalo Bill, 4 flower Sam cf Shasta. By Col. P. Ingraham, 807 Wild Bill, the Wild West Duelist; or, The Girl! 629 Buffalo Bill's Daring Role; _ or, Daredeath 4 955 Buffalo Bill's Volunteer Vigilantes; or, The | Grande Ralph, the Cowboy Chief. By Buf- Dick, King of the Cowboys. By Leon Lewis. | Mysterious Man in Blue. By Col..P. Ingra- falo Bill. 599 The Dead Shot Nine; or, My Pards of the ham. 794 Buffalo Bill's Winning Hand; or, The Masked Plains. By Buffalo Bill. 959 Buffalo Bill at Bay; or, The Gold Seeker's Woman of the Colorado Canyon. By Col. P./ 517 Buffalo Bill's First Trail; or, Will Cody, the Docm. By Col. P, Ingraham, 787 Yay a Dead Shot The Skeleton $ t Pony Express Rider. By Ned Buntline, 943 Buffalo Bill’s Block Game; or, The Mounted)“ AERO ENS ee aan oeiaae BO re Bae keleton Scout) 444 Red Renard, the Indian Detective; or, The Miners “of the. Gvarland, ty- Col. P. ingra-|. of S22. Cobreeh By Col. Srentine er Gold Buzzards of Colorado, By Buffalo Bll. ( ham, ; | 781 Buffalo Bill's Brand; or, The Brimstone) 49) tye One-Armed Pard; or, Red Retribution in { 985 Buffalo Bill's Black .Pard: or, The Goldl,,- Brotherhood. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, Borderland. By Buffalo Bill. ) Boomers of the Big Horn. By Col. P. Ingra-| ‘'‘ Buffalo Bill’s Spy-Shadower; or, The Masked 897 The Wizard Brothers; or, White Beaver's | ham. Men at Grand Canyon. By Col. P. Ingraham. Trail By Buffalo Bill. ~ ) ) 927 Buffalo Bill's Bluff; or, Dusky Dick, the| 77 Buffalo Bill's Ban; or, Cody to the Rescue.) 394 white Beaver, the Exile of the Platte; or, ) \ Sport. By Col. P. Ingraham. 769 iat Gh Hare ’ . ; tective. 3y Col. Prentis# Ingraham. r — x : - 004 Buffalo Bill's Tangled Trail; , Gentl ; . 804 Texas Jack, the Prairie Rattler; or, The ‘ Jack, the Man of “Many haute. By Col, P. | 750 Buffalo Bill’s Big Four; or, Custer’s Shadow. Queen of the Wild Riders. By Buffalo Bill, / ] Ingraham. By Col, Prentiss Ingraham. 243 The Pilgrim Sharp; or, The Soldier's Sweet- ) \ 900 Buffalo Bill’s Rough Riders; or, Texas Jack’s| 743 Ruffalo. Bill's Flush Hand; or, Texas Jack's heart. By Buffalo Bill, Government Scout { Sharp-Shooters. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. jravos. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. and Guide. } 895 Buffalo Bill’s Secret Ally: 4 Texan’s| $29 Buffalo Bill's Blind; or, The Masked Driver| 189 Wild Bill's Gold Trail; or, The Desperate ) Double. By Col. Prentiae bagritiene Se cath oe Death’s Canyon. By Col. Prentiss Ingra- Dozen. By Col. P. Ingraham. } ree st pots 1am. 175 Wild Bili's Trump Card; or, The Indian , 890 B 3 aife-Sti : » 4 ’ : : t arabe ae ’ Peeeteees Re: ES 735 Buffalo Bill and His Merry Men; or, The Heiress. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 269 aie . po Robin Hood Rivals. By Col. Prentiss Ingra-| 168 Wild Bill, the Pistol Dead Shot; or, Dagger 882 The Three Bills; Buffalo Bill, Wild Bill and ham, Don’s Double. By Col. Prent.ss Ingraham ( Band-Box Bili; or, The Bravo in Broadcloth. | _. ; 4 Ka 531) cent “a g By Col. P. Ingraham. 731 Buffalo Bill’s Beagles; or, Silk Lasso Sam.}| 158 Buffalo Bill, Chief of Scouts; or, The sex peel \ 97 rs 347)? ‘ By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Dozen. By Dr. Frank Powell. " | 874 Buffalo Bill's Buckskin Braves; or, The Card} _ ‘ 4 117 Buffal Bill’s S re Pard; Dashing ) ( Queen's Last Game. By Col. P. Ingrahamags| 727 Buffalo Bill's Body Guard; or, The Still Hunt Dandy, the Hotspur of the Hills.” By “aallon ) 869 Buffalo Bill's Road Agent Round-Up; or, The| ‘ of the Hills. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, D. Bart, ; } Mysterious Masked Man in Black. By Col. 722 Buffalo Bill on the War Path; or, Silk Lasso! 99 puer le 70° oe . e o - On eee Bie Me Gr ty e denae 697 Buffalo Bill's Buckskin Brotherhood; or, 2 } 6 . : i se = Opening Up a Lost Trail. By Col. P. In- NEW ISSUES TO COME. | $45 Buffalo Bill's Redskin Ruse; or, Texas Jack's graham. 981 T . * . \ Death Shot. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 691 Buffalo Bill’s Blind Trail; or, The Daughter} * ng eee rae oe. ape Poa! a ee The Ranch King ig pam or, Texas Jack’s of the Regiment. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. oa pe pigs sh “ebtaitia : ss x ger, ay Proxy. By Buffalo Bill. ih. : S82 Chris rewley's g and; or, | ot : 682 Buffalo Bill’s Secret Service Trail. By Major See le Pease : s (880 Buffalo Bill’s Boys in Blue; or, The Brimstone Dangerfield Burr. croaceee Valet's Double G@Me, By A. P. } Band's Blot-out. By Col. P. Ingraham. % bo mid ‘ \ go ' Shooters; or, The Surgeon 667 Buffalo’ Bill’s Swoop; or, the King of the| 983 Kid Glove Kris, the Sport. By J. C, Cow- 826 Pte 4 Ag pac By Col, Pp. Ingraham Mines. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. drick. Ready August 25. Scout to the s : « ts bgp 3 . > , : The Cowboy Clan; or, The Tigress of Texas,| 984 Buffalo Bill's Life Raffle; or, 892 Buffalo Bill’s Best Bower; or, Montebello the | 658 ¢ J 2 gh “ J pon Gold King. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. Three. By Col. P. Ingraham, Ready Sept. 1. 4 000000000 0000000080 000000000 000000000 —_ HE DIME LIBRARY is for sale by all Newsdealers, ten cents per copy, or sent by mail, pre-paid, on re- ceipt of price. BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 92 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. — | ( ( The Doomed , ( | ( | 0000000080 9090000080 se) 1S 5 i) S|s 21s s/s S|: s/s s/s es