Beadle's Pocket Library (no. 141) (1886 09 22)

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if Lf ed | Copyrighted, 1886, by Bravia anp Apans. Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., as Second Clags Mail Matter. Sept. 22, 1886. : a a ; Vol, er 82.50 Published Weekly by Beadle and Adams, Price No, 141, a Year. No, 98 W1LL1AM St., NEw YORK. Five Centa, == — 3 REARER—NEARER TO THE BOAT SHE PULLED, STRONGLY AND STEADILY,

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New York Nell, The BOY-GIRL DETECTIVE: OR, OLD BLAKESLY’S MONEY. BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, AUTHOR OF ‘DEADWOOD DICK ’ NOVELS, ‘‘ ROSE- BUD ROB” NOVELS, ETC., ETC. CHAPTER I. UNCLH BLAKESLY COMES TO TOWN. “ Papmwrs! papers! Herald, Times, Chronicle and Sun! Buy one, mister?” And the newsboy paused in his parade through one of the Market street cars, to hold a freshly rinted daily under the nose of Mr. Redmond lakesly, retired merchant, who chanced to be one of the passengers. “Well! well! my boy, I ecppee I might as well humor you,” hereplied, ‘‘ although I already have a pocket full. hat’s your name, my lad? You look like a girl.” ‘Phew! you're Ke gas sharp at guessin’, Goy- ernor. But, tra! la! I'll see you again.” And hastily out of the car the nimble news- dealer ski’ in time to jump upon the tender of a westward bound. “ dummy,” which was pass- ing. Cnet Redmond Blakesly put on his spectacles, went to the door, and took a long look at the re- treating car. ‘Well! well! well!” he muttered. old eyes!” : Vo at’s the matter, Cap? Didn't git took in by the little cuss, did you?” the conductor asked, with a grin; whereat Uncle Redmond shifted his goeze to him. “No, youngster, I did not. By the way, I look a little verdant, don’t I, compared wi’ the city folk?” ; “-Yes—that is, you look as if you had just come from up-country,” the man of the bell- punch replied, with a smile. ‘« S*pose I do,” the retired merchant assented ; “ but, for all that, my boy, just chalk it down that the old gent ain’t picked up for a fool, every day, an’ ain’t half so mas some of you city snobs who laughs at him. Who was the young- ster with the papers, my friend?” “She? Oh! that was a new one they’ve got on the forcee—a gal, by the way, just over from N. Y. Nell Niblo, she calls herself, and they do say she’s reg’lar smart.” ‘Oh! they do, eh?’ and Uncle Redmond scratched the bald portion of his head reflec- tively. ‘‘ Well! well! well! who ever heard of agirl dressin’ up in boy’s clothes, an’ sellin’ news- papers? Humph! it’s shameful what poverty will fetch folks to.” “ Why, old man, you talk as if you never had known want?” ‘No, I don’t talk nothin’ o’ the sort, young- ster, fer I’d be tellin’ lies, an’ them’s ag’in’? my honest, orthodox fg oa Thar uster be the time when ‘Red Black’ had hard luck, an’ slept. where night overtook him. Ye see, young feller, ’m Redmond Blakesly, from Hudsondale, “ Blast my New York Nell. up on the Rudson River, an’ I uster live in ther city, jes’ as well as you, an’ they called me Red Black. Times have changed, tho’, an’ nobody recognizes in the hale, hearty, and well-to-do country gentleman, the former ‘honest dealer nF Chatham street.’ Purty place, this Philadel- phia? ‘““The Keystone city of them all,” the condue- tor replied, now courteously, “Yes. JIuster run over heer when I did busi- nessin New York,” and something like a sorrow- ful expression came over his face, as the old fel- low stumped along back into the ear, and be- came seated. Uncle Redmond Blakesly did_look rather “ green,” taken at first glance. He was of me- dium hight, and portly, his fat dumplings of legs, apparently inadequate to the task of sup- porting his trunk, ashe walked with a heavy cane. His face also was fat and florid, and good-natured in its expression, with a fringe of straggling white beard under his chin, and hair to match upon his head, except directly on the the top, where was a shining bald spot. His attire consisted of a pair of coarse boots, which had been polished; a pair of linen trow- sers, too short in the legs; a vest of the same material, too small to encompass his tgirths and an old gray overcoat, that had evidently seen years of usage, and that, in spite of the fact that it was now the sultry August weather. His head was ornamented with a broad-rimmed Panama hat, and his eyes shaded brepeet Taken ata glance, he looked a hale and hearty down-East farmer, and was the source of con- siderable amusement to a few of the ‘‘nobs” in the car, who were not careful in making re- marks about the country and its natural advan- tages. But, if Uncle Redmond heard, he heeded not, having the satisfaction of knowing that he suited himself and his friends, and was able to pull through life, despite these differences be. tween the city nabob and the country gentle. man. 7 Aboutan hour later he left the Thirteenth ang Fifteenth street line of cars at the P. w, Baltimore railway station, and entered the large and elegant depot which is one of the features of South Broad street. 5 The train had already arrived, and the wait. ing-rooms were filled with passengers—ojq_ middle-aged and young of both sexes, and many nationalities. ; Among them was a young man of effeminate appearance, faultlessly attired in payy-blue, with spotless white shirt, collar, vest, tie white silk hat, kid gloves, patent-leather way.’ ing shoes, and gold-headed cane—a very dan. dified personage of some twenty-one summers, with a fair face of attractive cast, light blue eyes, brown hair, and a faint mustache of g towy color. : He carried a sachel and duster with his right hand, while on his left arm leaned a lady, at. tired in a gray duster, pretty hat and vail,’ the latter being drawn down over her face, screen- ing it from view. : Both evidently were strangers in the city, for they paused, in seeming hesitation, until the young man's gaze rested upon Uncle Redmond omnes ft ae

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New York Nell. 3 Blakesly, when his face lit up with an expres- sion of recognition, and he led the way forward to where the countryman was standing. ““Excuse me, sir,” the young man accosted him, ‘but can it be. possible that Iam ad- dressing my jolly old dad, Redmond Blakesly?” Uncle Redmond stared a httle, and gave the young» man a critical. survey through his lasses, “Well! well! well! Idon’t know about that, sir,” he replied, taking off bis hat and scratch- ing his bald spot. ‘I’m Red Black, that’s sure —red when I’m angry; black when I’m mad, as the boys used to say. Yes, youngster, ’m Red- mond Blakesly, from Hudsondale, on the Hud- son. And, next to that, who in the world are your? fe: Your own son, Jack Blakesly, alive and well, after an absence of eight years,” was the laughing response, and the new-comer put forth his hand warmly, But Uncle Red shoved his down‘ into the pockets of his pantaloons with a quiet little laugh. “Just hold on, boy. The old man is jest as smart as he used to be, ef he is a little older, an’? he ain’t goin’ to be took in on sharps. You tell me you're my boy; Jack Blakesly—you?” “Why, certainly, niy royal dad—of course I am! Didn’t I write you I’d be here to-day—the prodigal returned, after many years? Of course I’m Jack, just the same as I was years ago, when I was kindly booted out, and told to go make my own fortune.” A “Well, have you made it?’ the proprietor of Hudsondale demanded, “Not a red! Every cent I have been able to gct hold of I have spent on education.” Blakesley, Sr., closed one eye obliquely. “ Are you certain about that?” he demanded. “ Positive!” the young man protested, ‘I can converse in seven languages, and am com- petent to handle the A eg ribs of a college.” “That settles it,” Uncle Redmond cried, slap- ping his thigh, delightedly, ‘‘ I recognize you, fer my Jack he was allus fer study! study! study an’ eddication, an’ allus would ruther loaf around town, at school, or in ther free readin’-rooms, than ter stay up-countr7 an’ hill pertaters. I uster gitso *tarnal out 0’ pa- tience, an’ when he told me he wasn’t goin’ to farm it, but was a-goin’ to shirk fer hisself, [ give him fifty dollars, an’ told him not to cum’ back till he hed. got all ther book larnin’ he wanted.” And seizing the young man’s hand, the old chap wrung it in a way that made his returned offspring wince. } “Yes, I’m thunderin’ glad you’re back to keep your old dad company, boy,” Uncle Redmond pursued, ‘fer ye see, ye can be a heap o’ com- fort tome. I ain’t a poorfarmer no more, by a long shot, nuther. They uster count old Red Black a sorter greenhorn, wi’ the barnyard clingin’ to his boots; but I went inter a leetle mercantile speckilation, an’ furst I Jmow’d, 1 went out ag’in, ownin’ a mansion up on ther Hudson, a city residence, an’ a plump leetle nest- egg, asides, So ye see ther old dad’s fixed, arter all, an’ thing’s is a-goin’ to be gay when we all git up at Hudsondale. To be sure, Prudence is | at. ittin’ old an’ vinegary, like-all old. maids. do, ut I reckon she'll ‘liven up, when she sees you back. But, see hyar, Jack, thar’s one pint Pd like ter ask ye about—can ye spel! ?” “Well, [ should presume so,” Jack replied, a little sarcastically. ‘“‘ Educated people generally know how to spell.” “Well! well! Is'’pose so. Didn’tknow about it, you know. You see yer old dad never had much success at wras’lin wi’ the spellin’-book, tho’ he ked allus leave off, ahead. as, I s’pose you must know how ter spell, an’ hev heaps of Parnin’ besides. Why, I'd near fergot it, boy; I see’d a trained hog down ter Barnum’s show, in Brooklyn, last year, what could spell, an’ tell the time o’ day, It’s astonishin’ what this world is comin’ to. But, come, boy, ye hain’t given me a knock-down tew the lady, heer. Who is she? Hain’t been gittin’ married?” “Oh! no,” young Blakesly replied, glancing around him, uneasily, and noting that Uncle Redmond’s hearty manner was attracting at- tention, And not only attention, but many curious glances, “No, I am not married. This young lady allow me to introduce to you as Miss Viola Ver- non. She is a homeless orphan, whose people were recently killed by a railroad accident out West, and being acquainted with her, and know- ing her circumstances, I took the liberty to bring her home with me, as a guest of Aunt Prudence, until she can get tidings of a brother, who lives somewhere in the East. Show him your face, Viola.” The young lady accordingly raised her yail, and turned her face full upon Uncle Redmond, who gave vent to a prolonged whistle of sur- rise. \ “Well! well! well!” you’re a beauty, and no mistake!” he ejaculated. ‘‘Durn my eyes, ef you don’t take the glimp off ’n any of our Hast- ern gals!” Miss Vernon was indeed remarkably pretty, with a fair face, dusky eyes, and brown hair, her power of attraction lying chiefly in a fas- cinating smile, which she knew well how to use. *‘T fancy she would resemble my poor little sister, who was stolen away, years ago, if we could find her,” young Blakesly said. ‘“‘ But, come! tell us wnat hotel you stop at, and we will seek it, after I attend to a little business, in town. Do not put yourself to any trouble to show us, as we can easily find it, if you give us the proper directions.” “IT put up at the Girard, on Chestnut street, boy. You will find me there Jater.” ““ Ah! yes. Thanks, We will soon join you there,” then bowing, Jack led his fair compan- ion away toward the carriage stand. After they were gone, Uncle Redmond shut one eye, and spat a volume of tobacco-juice at an unobtrusive fly which was crawling along on the floor. It was a fashion the honest. but illit- erate old gent had, when in a study. “JT wonder if I don’t smell a rat?’ he mur- mured, sia off his hat, and ig opea: his bold spot. ‘‘ Guess maybe the boy was a leetle ashamed o’ his old dad’s togs, an’ was afeard to be seen in my company, for fear ho’d get laughed Welll welll that’s the way the world wags.

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| the rip? Wasn’t the paper al 4 But, let it wag. Old Red Black’s honest, an’ hd ae an’ that suits him.” Still the master of Hudsondale seemed consid- erably ‘‘ cut” by what he had rightly drawn as a conclusion, and paced to and fro about the waiting-room, some time in deep meditation. He was thus engaged, when he was startled by a familiar voice crying: “Papers! Herald, Times, Chronicle, Sun. Star!” and turned quickly to see the same newspaper girl, whom he had seen a short time before on the Market street cars, just in the act of passing. girl she was, too, he discerned at a second glance, her face betraying femininity, In form she was scarcely of woman’s medium hight, but well rounded and graceful, and sprightly of movement. In face she was decid- edly girlish and pretty, her features being round and charmingly chiseled, the mouth in particu- lar bri: Be roguish, spirited expression, and the eyes a brilliant, independent flash, that be- trayed a nature at once gay and happy, yet bold, fearless, and scorning wrong and evil-do- ing. Bias hair was of a golden hue, and curled ina close mass about her head, which added to her pretty appearance. In the way of attire, she wore aslouch hat up- on her head, and rough pants, vest and jacket of coarse brown woolen, a checkered shirt without any collar, and a pair of rather coarse shoes up- on her small feet, which were much too large for them, Taken as a whole, and not forgetting that her face was somewhat dir‘y, and that she was smok- ing the stump of a cigar, she was about as good a specimen of a street Arab as one could have found in all the Quaker City, the importance with which she strutted about giving her the ap- pearance of one of the urchins she personated. What her age was no ordinary observer could pte probably, for while her form and manners e! longed to a girl of seventeen or eighteen, her face and its expression were those of ono less than sixteen. As he saw her passing him, Uncle Redmond put out his hand, involuntarily, and detained her. “ Hold on, my dear,” he said. ‘* Ain't you the one I bought a paper of this morning?” “You bet lam! There ain’t another gal what peddles papers, in this town o’ Philadelph’, as I know of,” ht?” ““T s'pose so; but, that ain’t what I'want, I want ter hey a little chat with you.” “Oh! that’s it, eh? Well, I'd just as lieve chir- | rup with you as any other good-looking feller. | What’s your name?” ‘“My name? Well, I’m Redmond Blakesly, of Hudsondale, up the Hudson. And who are you?’ “Me? Oh! I’m New York Nell, the news girl. Niblo is my name, when I’m to home, tho’ I don’t hear any relationship to Niblo’s Garden. Used to liye over in York, but had to skip out, be- | cause I p’isened a butcher’s bi ugly dog, an’ the cops was going to put me in the Tombs. Oh! I tell you I’m a tough youngster, for my age!” _ * Welll well! Tshould sayso. But, somehow, I kinder take to you Can’t you get more profi- New York Nell. was the roguish reply. _ “Why? whats }, rig) table employment than dressin’ up in boy’s clothes, and peddlin’ papers?” “Nix! it’s what suits me. I like the togs first rate, because a person can get around ship-shape, much better. If you want to play ball wi’ the boys, run a foot race, or do most ennything, these togs is enough sight handier than skirts, And as for sellin’ newspapers, I make a dollar or two a day, an’ learn heaps to help me in my biz, too.” “Your biz?” “ Yes, my biz.” “ What's that?” “That’s a secret of my own, but I'll confide it to you, as you seem to be a sort of honest pal, an’ I guess you won't give itaway. I’ma de- tective.” “ A detective?” «Precisely! Identically a detective. Oh! you bet I make a sharp one, too, What I can’t nose out, there ain’t many as can. I’m a rogues’ ter- ror, an’ they all know me by heart, over in York, and are beginning to find me out here in Phila- delph. Got any detective business you want ex- ecuted with neatness and dispatch? If so, I’m your ferret.” “No, I guess I haven’t any thing to be detect- ed,” Uncle Red replied. ‘‘ But I’d like you to dress in proper attire, and come up to Hudson- dale and pay us a visit.” “Get out. Dyes’ Td throw away my togs jest for one visit? No sir-ee! If I ain’t good enough to come a-visitin’ in breeches, I ain’t good enough to come at all.” “But, my gracious! Prudence she’d faint clean away if she’d see a woman dressed up in men’s clothes!” “ But I ain’t a woman; I’m only a gal. They call me a little cuss over in York, ’cause I allus hoe out my own row, an’ keer fer No. 1. Who's Prudence?” ‘* She’s my sister.” _ “ An old maid, ain’t she, sourer than pickles in the month of June?” ‘* Well! well! Blast my eyes ef you hain’t hit it purty straight. But did you see my boy, a bit ago?” “ What! tho sickly lookin’ feller with the gal a tinging to him?” “Yes. That’s my boy, Jack, whom I started out eight years ago, to make his way in the world,” ‘“Humph! Guess he hain’t never paralyzed any one, judging by bis looks. Kinder like me to come up to Hudsondale, an’ fall in love with, and marry him, wouldn’t you?” “Just my thought, my girl, sure’s I’m an honest but illiterate old chap!” the master of Hudsondale admitted, slapping his knee. “ How old are you, child?” ““Dunno. Guess I never knew. Uld mother Niblo never would tell me, and one day sho slipped her wind, and her spirit took a waltz. *Spect ’'m old enough to not marry sech a sick- looking squash.as that feller you be your son.™ Then you don't like the looks of him?” _‘‘Not much! I allus form my likes and dis- likes purty quick, an’ I set that chap down as & snide, the minnit I clapped my eyes onto him. - “Well! well! that’s strange. Dunno much about him, myself, You see, the boy’s been

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New York Neil. 3 away eight years, an’ I don’t know jest what he’s like. He was only thirteen when he cleared out, an’ his poor old dad never heard a word until a few days ago, when he writ fer me to meet him here. But he sez he’s spent every cent he’s made on eddication, an’ is awful smart!” : “Tl bet he is,” with a sarcastic grimace. ‘* He looks as if he know’d more than some hull book binderies. I say, unkle, ain’t you a little bit , an’ liable to be took in?” e old man locked grave, and at the same time scratched the bald spot on top of his head. ‘Well! well! well! I don’t know,” he mut- tered, slowly. ‘‘Mebbe I ain’t so smart as I used ter be, though I’ve allus counted old Red peck about as chipper as the average. Why, Ly “* Because it strikes me—but never mind. Tl give you my opinion some other time. In the meanwhile I’ll make observations an’ report by an’ by. Am goin’ back to N. Y. to-morrer. If you ever happen in town when I’m there, jest tell any o’ the b. b.’s or n. b.’s you want to see New York Nell, and theyll put you on track. Tra! la! la! Take care of yourself, now, and soe F aed that son of yours bleed your pocket- And then, with a laugh, she walked away. CHAPTER Ii. “CHAMPAGNE QUITE THE THING.” Oxp Uncle Redmond Blakesly had not guessed wrongly, when he concluded that Jack was ashamed of his sire’s rough-and-ready appear- ance, and had filled in the excuse of having some business elsewhere to attend to, in order that the old gent should not accompany him, for the young man had gone direct to the Girard Hotel. - “Ts there an old_ chap stopping here by the name of Redmond Blakesly?’ he asked, as he istered his name. Yes, certainly,” the clerk replied, politely. “You will find his name registered with to- day’s arrivals, Believe he is out just now.” “Oh! that does not matter. I have already seenhim. Just arrived from the West, and met him at the depot, and he directed me to stop here, at his expense.” “Ah! yes. Heleft orders to that effect,” and the clerk touched a call bell. ‘‘ This boy will show you to your apartments.” They were given an elegant suite of rooms upon the third landing, consisting of bedcham- bers and private parlor, all richly furnished. Jack Blakesly threw himself upon a sofa. in tbe parlor with a lazy yawn, while Miss Vernon was removing her wrappings, ‘Well, my dear, hew do you fancy the master of Hudsondale?” he asked, quizzically. ‘‘ Think he resembles his dutiful offspring any?” “T did not see any marked resemblance,” Viola replied, quietly. ‘‘I should judge, how- ever, that Mr. Blakesly would be a nice man to get along with—an easy, good-natured man, of beral and indulgent bab ts.” “You refer to the younger Blakesly?” ‘No; to theelder. You are not at all of the same nature as the man you introduced to me as your father.” “Thank heaven for that! He looks like a regular old codger more than the master to Hudsondale. Did you mind how nicely I got rid of him up at the depot? I was ashamed to have folks suspect any connection between us, and so shook him. Of course he was too thick- headed to know the difference.” ““Maybe, and again maybe not. I hope we' can keep on the right side of him. Have you seen Colonel Baxter?’ “No, He got off the cars at the first station out of town, intending to hire a cab and drive in. I guess he had no desire to meet the old gent at the depot, for fear a scene might ensue.” ““ What is the secret about this matter? Does Baxter fear Blakesly ?” “Tt would seem so. There is some old grudge between them, which I do not know.” “Then, tell me, truthfully,.and for the last ‘time, do you believe you are the son of this old countryman?’ Miss Vernon asked witha strange eagerness, the meaning of which it would have been hard to interpret. “Yes, I do,” Jack replied. ‘Up to the age of fourteen years, or ratber, previous to that date in my existence, I have ne recollection whatever. My first remembrance is of being in Baxter’s care, at about the age I named, and from that time up the present, he has ever taught me that I am the scn of Redmond Blak: - sly, who booted me out upon the world when young to shift for myself.” = Miss Vernon was silent as she gazed out of a front window upon the street below. Her preity brows were knitted in an expression that was inexplicable. “TY have no choice but to believe you,” sle said finally. ‘‘But I have sometimes been as- sailed with a fear that both you and Baxter were arrant knaves. How are you responsible? You might fail to fill your promises, and there would be a pretty state of affairs.” “Bah! you need have no apprehension on that | score, You have seen the old man, and taken a liking to—his coffers! Ha! ba! I have yet to meet the woman that gold will not tempt. Once we get eet to Hudscndale, your conquest will be easy with the old man, and, first we know, you'll be my step-mother irstead of my le- trothed, as you are now. By and by the cid gent will waltz off and leave you and I the mas- ters of the situaticn—and a very soft snap it is, too—much better than doing a song-and-dance for ten dollars a week at the Bella Union in Cheyenne! Ha! ha!” Miss Vernon scowled. She evidently did not not like the reference, “ Perhaps,” she said. ‘But, if I do not suc- ceed, either you or Baxter willhave to pay back the money you have borrowed of me, or. there will be another tragedy for the morning papers to chronicle.” And the young woman shut her lips tightly in a way that detracted somewhat from her beauty, while Jack Blakesly smiled vaguely to himself, as he tipped back in his chair lit a choice cigar. Uncle Redmond Blakesly arrived at the Girard just before dinner hour that evening, and in ac- cordance with a life-long custom, stepped up to

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the bar and took a glass of ale, ‘‘ just for an appetizer.” More than three glasses of any kind of drink never found their way down the sturdy old farmer’s throat per day, and it was one of his favorite boasts that no one had ever seen old Red Black when he could not walk as straight as a bee-line. “Well! well! Philadelphy is gittin’ to be a big town, I declare,” he said, as the barkeeper ‘was pouring out his beverage. ‘‘ The old man’s been takin’ a good look over it, you see, on foot, an’ is pretty well tuckered out. S’pose my boy Jack’s been around?” * Ah, yes. Quite a fine young fellow, and a good judge of champagne in the bargain.” “Champagne?” Uncle Redmond gasped, put- ting up his hands. ‘‘My Jack don’t drink champagne?” i “Ah! yes; certainly. It’s quite the thing among the young men of the day to take a couple of bottles just after luncheon.” “Oh! is it, eh? Well! well! things have changed since I was young. And you say my boy ‘Jack has been guilty of drinking cham- agne 2” * Merely two bottles—that’s all, you know. A friend came along whom he knew, and he sim- ply did the courteous.” ‘Hang the courteous! I'll have to see to this. He paid for it, I s’pose?” **No, not exactly—that is, he said just dot it down to you, and it would be all right!” Uncle Blakesly brought his cane down upon the counter with a vehemence that made things jingle. “Well! well! well! The impudence of tho boy is astonishin’!” he cried, gruffly. ‘* Mind you, sir, no more of this. If the young scape- e must pay feed wants champagne to drink, or it. How much for what he has had? Pil pay for it, and it*ll be the last you can set down to ther old man, an’ don’t ye fergit it. Up in the quarter of the globe where I was born, every feller paid for his own toddy, an’ ef they ain’t ‘ot uster them ideas down heer, it’s high time ey was a-l’arnin’. How much fer that cham- pagne, bark’er?” “Only five dollars to you, Mr. Blakesly. Six is the regular price for two bottles, but I will break the usual custom, since this has been rather an unexpected honor to you.” ‘* Six fiddlesticks! Here’s your money, bark’er, an’ now do ye mind not to charge anything more to Redmond Blakesly.” And the sturdy old ruralist slapped a five- dollar gold piece upon the counter, and walked away. So Jack be a drinkin’ chap, eh?’ he mur- mured, as he sauntered about. ‘ Well, well; it ain’t much more than the old man has expect2d these many year. The boy was allus a wild’un, an’ w’at’s born in the blood can’t be erradicated wi’ beech gads nor tongue-lashin’s. A nice fel- ler to rule Hudsondale, arter ther old man’s dead an’ gone! Humph! we'll see about et— es, yes! we will see about that, ef we aire get- in’ old and sorter off our track, like a played out plow.” About an hour later Jack Blakesly sauntered down into the lounging-room of the hotel, airily New York Neli. attired in a suit of spofles3 duck, with patent- mig slippers on his feet, and a silk hat on his ead, He purchased a choice cigar at the stand, and then threw himself into a great lounging chair before one of the open windows that looked out upon Chestnut street. He was hot long thus positioned ere he was tapped familiarly upon the shoulder, and a man drew a chair near by, and became seated. He was tall and of commanding figure, witha face in which was expressed cunning, self-con- ceit, and an ovil nature; and this face was orna- mented with a heavy black mustache which con- nected with a bushy crop of side whiskers; his hair was black, his complexion dark; even his attire was black throughout. Jack Blakesly uttered a grunt of surprise at sight of him. ‘So yowre back, eh?” he said. ‘‘ Soisthe old man Blakesly.” «So I heard,” the dark man replied. “Just heard about his raising the deuce over your champagne bill. You may as well dry up your fountain-head now. Nomore champy at his expense,” “Hal is ho angry, then?” “Yes. How does the coast lie, now?” “TH be hanged if I know. Guess it will all work out right. If it doesn’t, you are the loser, not I. Fancy your chagrin at a total defeat, Colonel Baxter!” fie dark man gritted his teeth, and scowled a ifle. “IT do not intend to court defeat,” he said, with an evil grin, ‘‘ Flem Baxter has played in dramas, before, and played in heavy glee too, in which he has always come out the victor. Consequently, he is not to be cast for any parts inferior, nor where there is not a moral certain- ty of his winning.” ‘“ But the old country elk isn’t so green as he looks. You’d best play low, Jack and sure,” young Blakesly suggested, knocking the ashes from his cigar. ‘‘ l’ve always noticed that the more carelessly you fool around a country bum- ble-bee, the more likely you are to get stung.” “Never fear on that score; I and Redmond Blakesly have met before. And, betwixt you and me, the old man dare not say his soul is his own, when I remind him. But I do not desire to approach him this way, unless he gets unruly, Always tempt a horse first, and reserve the whip for the emergency. How about Viola? Is she getting uneasy?” ‘CA little, I guess. She thinks there is some villainy in the matter, and that we are trying to swindle old Blakesly.” “Ah! this is bad. She must be disarmed of that suspicion, or our influence over her is at an end. One point is for you to arrange; Keep her at ease; another: Get packed off for, Hud- sondale as soon as possible.” “For what? The city is much preferable to the odor of rural barnyards,” “You mistake. Hudsondale is no such place as you imagine, They tell me it is one of the most charming resorts along the Hudson. It will be better for you there, where no one can interrupt you in soft-soaping tbe old man.” ‘“Well, you are the master—I the servant, I =

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New York Nell. fA vj must obey. I am none tco sanguine of success, however.” E “Bah! you are weak-minded. I have given you your lines, see that you act them well, or 11 no longer be responsible for your welfare, and keep the wolves from your door.” ‘*T will perform according to your directions. If the girl gets unmanageable, it will not be my fault.” “T will attend to her, myseif. We must get another deposit, and then, if she gets dissatis- fied, either let her go, or shut her up.” “Tt would not do to let her loose, She'd hunt up that hot-tempered Southern brother of hers, and the mischief would be to pay for a certainty.” “True, And were it not that heis already on the chase, I would. shove her in as Blakesly’s long-lost daughter!” ‘She wouldn’t hear to it. She is too scrupu- lously honest.” ‘Bah! Money and position are what she craves, or she would never have backed our little enterprise with ber fortune, in hopes of marrying the heir of Hudsondale. But I have not much time to talk on this subject, now, for there is danger in another direction which de- mands my attention.” “Where?” **In New York.” “From what source?” ‘From the Colorado mines,” “What! not the real Jack?” ‘Exactly! the genuine and original!” ** How did you learn this?” “From Sharky, whom I sent to ferret him out, ere Lcame Hast. It seems that he’s got his fill, up in the mines, and is coming on to see his father.” ** And is in New York?” ** Rather, is liable to arrive there, at most any minute. Sharky telegraphed me that he was close at his heels, in Chica; be ‘““Where are the others—Mose Barker and Johnny Fish?” ‘Laying low in N. Y., watching for him. Also for Monk, of Leadville.” Jack Blakesly grew pale. ‘What! is he coming on?” “Yes, But he’ll find he’s tackled game out of his sphere—tigers, instead of common prairie wolves. Ha! ha!” “What are you going to do with the other? He'll be dangerous?’ “Scarcely. He'll find New York too large for him, when he gots there. He must suspend ber rae as quickly and quietly as he arrives.” Blakes y shook his head, rather dubiously. “Tt looks to me like a desperate undertak- ing,” he demurred, “‘ and, ten to one, we lose.” ‘Fifty to one we do not,” Baxter responded, confidently, ‘‘ All that remains is to keep on the right side of the old man, and not let him get suspicious. If, however, he does get sus- picious, we must ud our heads together and work, I’m off to New York, now, to look out for the game. Get packed off for Hudsondale as soon as you can,” “T will see to it. Report soon.” ‘* Of course.” Then Baxter arose and sauntered away. But he was destined not to leave the hotel un- disturbed. In the bar-room of the hotel he came face to face with Uncle Redmond Blakesly, the two halt- ing at a respectable distance as if by a mutual impulse. The colonel gazed at the ruralist in his coolly cynical way. Uncle Red flushed angrily, a de- termined, belligerent light shining from his eyes as he grasped his heavy cane, ag 6 “ Ah! really! is this you, Uncle Blakesly? It is an unexpected honor to meet you,” Baxter said, putting out his band and adopting a pleas- ant smile for the oceasion. ‘Oh! it is, is it,” and Uncle Blakesly gave a im stare. ‘* Mebbe, by the time I tan yer in- ernal jacket fer ye, Fleming Baxter et won't be quite somuch of a pleasure. Do yewantI should try it, an’ see?” 2 *‘Oh! no, I won't put you to that trouble,” the other replied, sneeringly. ‘oT won't be no trouble at all, an’ blame me ef I wouldn’t do it, ef Lhad ye out somewhere, whar I could unloosen myself. But, never mind, Flem—the old man’s hale at sixty, an’ he’s goin’ ter live long enuff ter peel yer hide yet, an’ you recollect it. Ther day ain’t fur off, nuther,” “This is a strange greeting to come from an old-time friend and schoolmate,” and Baxter well feigned surprise. “ Friend?” uncle Red gasped, wiping the per- spiration from his bald spot, ‘‘ When were you ever my friend, Flem Baxter? Didn’t we allus uster be fightin’, an’ quarrelin’} Didn’t you steal away my poor misguided sister, an’ abuse her until she was <p ter lay down an’ die to git rid of you? Oh! Flem, ye’ll find ther old man hes got just as good memory as he had five-an’-forty years ago!” Baxter gazed round him with a quick, nervous glance, but gave asigh of relief, when he saw that their conversation had attracted no notice, ‘“See here, you accursed fool, do you know what you are saying?” he hissed, fiercely, taking a step toward the master of Hudsondale, ** You may have forges that you are afraid of me,” “T afraid o! as Uncle Blakesly retorted. “Well, that is the first I ever heard of it,” “You lie! Did Inot make you confess, five years ago, when I caught you in a very unpleas- ant situation, that you held me in absolute awe?’ ‘No! Flem Baxter—no/ I never told you I was afraidof you, nor will 1 ever tell you so. Listen! ye ain’t so keen as ye might be, or ye’d “hev learned, long ago, that the murderer 0’ the gal ye found me kneélin’ over, has since died over in Sing Sing, and confessed his crime < killin’ her, along wi’ several other deeds. So you see your little game is baffled thar. Baxter scowled, and uttered a fierce oath, ‘You are lying to me,” he growled, seragel) Q “No, I ain't—not fer a cent, Uncle Blake ly declared. ‘When ye go up ter Sing Sing fer a stay ye can find out all about it from the keeper.” nae of When I go toSin Ping it will be after you're dead,” Baxter gritted. “ Don’t think Pm {od old friend, because I am not. ‘You know I ai- ways wasfamous in getting the best of a bar- gain, and since we are to be enemies, I shall try to make you as uncomfortable as I can, seeing

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“a Um Oo ot New York Nell. 9 Instantly two boats nearest the vessel pulled spiny toward the spot where she had gone own. One boat contained Colonel Fleming Baxter and two low-browed ruffianly-looking fellows; the other contained two young men of some four and twenty years of age, respectively, one of whom was decidedly western in appearance, with his slouch hat, long hair, and tanned buck- skin hunting shirt. It became at once «goed that each boat was determined to reach the spot of rescue be- fore the other, and a single moment proved that the boat containing the long-haired chap and his companion was destined to be victorious, for the little craft seemed to fairly skim over the top of the water, so fast it went. Jolonel Baxter urged his men fiercely, a tor- rent of oaths escaping his lips as he saw that he ‘was not to be the rescuer of the brave girl de- tective and her companion. “Stop! stop!” he yelled, fiercely, ‘* Those are mine to rescue—mine to protect! Hands off, I command you.” “You go to—Mexico!” the man with the long hair shouted, just as Nell Niblo came to the sur- face, bearing her fainting or unconscious com- pes and both were hauled quickly into the oat. *‘ You see I have got them, my savage friend,” the long-haired man continued, turning and mockingly addressing Baxter, ‘‘and, what’s more, I intend to keep them for a bit. So just whistle a solo, for your pains, and go home.” The next minute the boat shot toward the piers rapidly gliding through the choppy waters, With smothered curses of rage Baxter ordered bis companions to pull ashore, which they did, landing at a pier further up the river. “My young lad, you are a hero!” the ee haired young man of the rescuing boat said, turning to New York Nell, who was seated in the stern with her charge lying across her lap. “How did you know the lady was in the ship, bo ” An the first place, you’re sucked in about my being a boy; and in the next place, it’s my own rivate biz bow I found out about the = Pein’ in the boat,” Nell replied independently. “Tf you want to exchange cogs, my name is Nell Niblo, alias, New York Nell, news girl, tter, detective and hard crowd generally. ow, what’s yonr eprelletixet ‘My name is Jack Carson, and I’m from up Leadville country,” the long-haired man re- pene tipping his hat. ‘My companion, ere, calls himself Val Vernon, I believe. We met below here just as the fire broke out, and became acqainted to the extent of jumping into a boat and pulling for the blaze.” “Correct! He’s Val Vernon, all right, no doubt; but I twig you allee samee, as the China- men say. ‘You ain’t Carson no more’n I’m John Jackob Astor or Tony Pastor. But it’s all right. It will keep with me.” “Well! if you ain’t the queerest gal in boy’s clothing 1 ever met, I’ll be shot!” the Westerner exclaimed in surprise. ‘‘ Of course my name is Carson. Do you suppose I am some criminal, sculling around under an alias ?” “You are liable to be made ’most anything to suit the fancy of a pair of scheming villains, if you don’t look out for yourself mig a8 sharp,” Nell replied. ‘‘Hold on! don’t pull ashore where all the crowd is, or the perlice will be nosing into what is none of their business, down-stream till I tell you to stop. The order was promptly obeyed, and the boat headed down the stream. After ten minutes’ ride, Nell gave the order to go ashore, and they pulled into an empty dock and tied up. ; The long-haired man took the girlish form of the rescued woman in his arms and sprung ashore, and Vernon assisted Nell to disembark, following ber example himself. ‘‘ Where do you want this lady taken, young lady?’ Carson asked, pausing and gazing into Nell’s face with a long, searching scrutiny, as if he were trying to read her purpose. ““Well, if you want the job of carryin’ her, come along and I'll show you,” she replied, flushing, and turning away. ‘‘I’m going to take her where she will be cared for, and don’t you forget it. So come along.” She Jed the way up the dark, narrow thor- oughfare which led from the river into the dense city. Carson followed his strange conductress, bearing the insensible lady, whose face was heavily vailed, and Val Vernon brought up the rear. In the course of fifteen minutes, they arrived before the door, or rather opening, of a staircase which ascended into a tumble-down, grimy- looking tenement building, which evidently had been one erected a half-century before. Up the rickety staircase the news girl led the way to a hallway in the third story. Here she paused, and gave a loud rap upon the door, and a few minutes later it was opened by a toothless, ugly-looking old hag, whose tat- tered dress and disheveled hair served to make her appearance akin to frigbful, , ‘Well, what d’ye want, gal?” she demanded, surveying the news girl sharply. ‘‘ Who’s them fellers, an’ what’s wantin’?” “Tf you'll hold your tongue a minnit, and let us in, you'll be apt to find out thequickest,” Nell replied, fearlessly. ‘‘Scat! now!’ The old woman growled something unintel- ligible about being disturbed, and threw the door m, admitting her visitors into—not a dirty, filthy hovel, as Carson and Vernon had expected, but a richly furnished parlor of con- siderable size, with f: walls and ceilings, rich plush ae stuffed furniture of elegant pattern and finish, luxurious sofas, a Steinwa grand pee Se fact, many and many attra ive and costly adornments that would not have disgraced a palace on Fifth avenue. Carson was not sorry, either, when he receiv- ed directions to deposit his burden upon one of the sofas, for her weight was beginning to tell upon him. “Well! well!” the old hag grunted, setting her hands upon her hips, with ber armsakimbo. ‘Now, what’s up, you, Nell Niblo? Who aire these two fine-lookin’ fellows, and who is the woman yonder with the vailed face?” “The lady is my charge,” New York Nell an- nounced. ‘JI rescued ber from the burning

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10 New York Nell. ship, and I’m goin’ to assume chargo of her for a spell. You musi keep her here, and treat her like a lady, and ses that no one gets a glimpse of her. Do you hear?—nobody, except yourself and I.” “T hear,” the old woman assented, with an odd smile. ‘‘No one ever come a-visitin’ to Mag Mink yet when she sed they couldn’t, and them as tried allus went away with sore heads,” “Yes, you're a good watch-dog, Mag, and have done me many a good turn,” the news girl said. ‘‘ These young gentlemen are Mr. Carson, and Mr, Vernon, who kindly volunteered to help me ashore with my charge. The long-haired feller is Kitopher Carson—t’other’un is Vernon. Come, boys, Jet’s take leave now. Mag, she'll take keer of the lady, and you can get back to ‘our hotels, carryin’ with you the thanks of ew York Nell for your services.” Thus dismissed, Carson and Vernon bowed themselves out, and Nell followed them to the street. “Pil show you the way out of this place,” she said, taking the lead. ‘‘Heaven only knows, there are traps enough to catch the un- initiated.” In ten minutes she had guided them out of the narrow place into one of the well-lit, principal thoroughfares, “There! you are now where you can go it alone. Better get to your roosts, too, for late *uns are allus s’picioned by the police. Whar'll I find you ter-morrer, Kitopher Carson?” * At the Union Place Hotel, miss.” “All right. Just you lay low there, until I drop in to seo you. S’pect I know somethin’ more about you than you do yourself. And, above all, avoid familiarizin’ with strangers.” Then, turning abruptly, she hurried away in an opposite direction. She at once sought her lodgings, in a teno- ment building in Baxter street—a single apart- ment in the fourth story, furnished neatly with a rag carpet, a stand containing a lamp and a few papers, a white counterpaned little bed, and a single chair. It was not much, but was all she could afford, after purchasing her meals, still was a home to her, which she often sought as a welcome refuge, after the toils and turmoil of busy metropolitan days. Early the following morning, even before the day was light, sho was abroad, with a large budget of morning papers, which she disposed of upon her delivery route, after which sue was again equipped with another armful, to sell upon the street. : Newsboys has New York without limit, but none of them stood a ghost of a chance in the business with cabin Nell Niblo, who invariably sold her papers as fast as she could hand them out, and make change. ‘he Bowery was her bonanza ground. Every one knew her, and admired her, and it was no trick for her to sell a hundred papers from sun- rise till seven, in summer time. The same success greeted her on lower Broad- way, and everywhere she went, many of tho * mashable” young men purchasing in the hopes of being rewarded by a smile, which they al- ways got, if gentlemenly and respectful, The policemen knew her along the whole force, and although it lay in their power to ar- rest her for masquerading in attire not natural with her sex, they seldom offered her molesta- tion, for she was ever modest, well behaved, and just independent enough to ‘to hoe her own row,” and defend herself from insult, and no one of an honest and honorable turn of mind ever let drop a word or hint that New York Nell the news girl was not in every way re- spectable. To-day, of which we narrate, her trade was good, and by noon she had disposed of over two hundred and fifty papers, on which she realized aout one dollar and fifty cents profit, so small is the margin on the dailies. It was now that her thoughts reverted to her promised call upon Carson, and she accordingly went to a deserted corner to sit upon a step, and count the contents of her pockets, The result was twenty-two dollars—all her own, which it had cost her two whole weeks to accumulate, Out of this had to come six dollars for rent, leaving her sixteen dollars, “ Jest enough to rig up in style fer one’t,” she murmured, eying the money. ‘ An’ I’m goin’ fer new togs, if I don’t never make another cent. Et’s good enough to go ragged a-sellin’ papers, but when one’s goin’ to call on sech fel- ers as thet ar’ Carson, good togs stand pre-emi- nent. Mebbe, too, he’s on the romantic lay, an’ T can ‘‘'mash” him, Ha! ha! fancy me a hero- ine of a love scrape! Bet I'd get laughed at. S’pose I orter put on gal togs, but I ain’t goin’ to, no-sir-ee! It’s just eight years ago since Mam Niblo put boy’s togs on me an’ lent me the front end of her gaiter, with the motherly in- Ponce to go sellin’ news for a livin’, an’ so *ve hung to my costume faithfully, an’ it’s too late now to try an’ play on sumthin’ I wasn’t brought up to. Bet [d trip in skirts first shot.” It had been a long time since she had been ex- travagant enough to invest in new wearing ap- parel, and she now was resolved to break the monotony of her appearance, for once, at least. To think, with her, was to act, and a visit to different furnishing stores soon put her in pos- session of what she needed. She then repaired to her Baxter street lodg- no arrayed herself the best she knew how, hen she again appeared upon the street, she was a picture, compared with her former origi- nal self. She was attired ina suit of nobby light-brown cloth, with noatly-polished ‘shoes upon her feet, and a jaunty straw hat upon her sunny, curly head. Her shirt front, ornamented with collar and tie, boasted of a large paste diamond pin, while rings of the same material graced her fin- gers and she twirled a natty little walking stick. As a boy she was a “ masher,” while in her femininity of graceful figure and roguish face, she ‘‘cauzht ’em all,” judging by the admiring glances she attracted, as she sauntered over into the Bowery, and thence wended her way to- ward the Union Place Hotel. “Oh, my! what a figger I cut!” sha laughed to herself, as she saw her shadow in the show windows, ‘‘S'pose half of my old acquaints won't know me, If I only could get along with:

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(eb Se New York Nell. 11 out sellin’ papers, I’d just like to play sport all the time, soI would! ut, now, I must call on that Jack Carson and see if he knows anything about danger in under them long hairs of his’n.” CHAPTER IV. JACK BLAKESLY HEARS OF A RIVAL. Mr. Jack Carson bad just gone out for a stroll, when she inquired for him at the Union Place Hotel. Would be in a-time for two o'clock luncheon, said the polite clerk, who fail- ed to revognize in the nobby inquirer the rollick- ing news girl who came regularly to tease kim to invest in a paper, which he never found time to do because she ‘‘chaffed” Lim, poked fun at the few sallow hairs upon his upper lip, and ad- vised him to go out West and buy a complexion. So Nell lounged about the waiting-room, smoked a cigarette to be fashionable, and waited for the long-haired son of Colorado to put in an appearance. Vhile she was waiting, she heard a familiar voice, and saw the dressy Colonel Baxter enter, accompanied by two companions, also well at- tired but evil-looking as any pair of knaves one could find photographed in the Rogues’ Gal- lery. The colonel spied our heroine about the same moment she spied him, and, dismissing his com- panions, he approached her, with a dark scowl, “ Aha! so it’s yon, is it?’ he satuted, taking a chair near by. ‘I’ve been searching all over the city for you. Where is the woman you res- cued from the burning boat last night?” ““ Where she'll keep,” was the cool reply. ‘Take care, my pert miss—for I’ve found cut that you area ail instead of a boy, and if you know when you're well off you'll use more cour- teousness in addressing.” “Will I, though? S*pose I do as I please— how are you going to help yourself?” “Tl show you mighty quick, my gal. I want you to tell me what you did with the woman you rescued.” . “Then Dll plainly tell you it’s none of your business, I’ve put her where she will ke in good care, and out of your villainous clutches.” “ But, you fool, that woman was iny wife. What busines; have you to shut her up, where I cannot find her?” “Your wife, eh?” ‘¢ Of course she is!” “What was she doing aboard the burning boat, then?” * Easily answered. The ship was to sail to- day, and I took her aboard to be ready, and was on my way to join her when I discovered her!” “Phew!” and NeJl Niblo took off her hat to give her curly head a dig. “‘ Thats too sha a yarn to swaller, old man—too transparent, What was the lady doin’ chucked away in the hold. bound hand and foot, if what you say is ‘true?’ “She wasn’t!” “She was!” ‘You lie, curse you!” *t You lie back again, curse you!” “ You impudent hussy, T'll strike you, if you contradict me.” **No, you won't, Baxter. Just close your valve and listen. Your little game is all known to me, or most of it, at least, and the whole will eventually come into my possession. And while the opportunity is offered me, I want to tell you thatif you hope to keep yourself out of Sing Sing, the best thing for you to do is to get rigit up and climb out of the city—go West. I ain’t fooling you, neither. The sooner you are fifteen hundred miles from New York the less liability there is of your being hanged. Doyou know what I am?’ , * An accursed idiot!” the colonel growled, not yet determined whether the eccentric creature was to be feared or not. “No, not an accursed idiot,” Nell repiied, proudly. ‘God gave me the usual gifts of hu- manity, and I have sharpened the same up by experience, until I am just ordinarlly smart. Professionally, heretofore, I have been a detec- tive and a news girl, the latter serving me in the former capacity. Professionally, hénce- forth, lama detective. I tell you this because I would rather battle with an armed villain than one unarmed. The victery is greater. the satisfaction keencr. Look at me. I ama mere cbit of a girl—seventeen years of age only —and never had the advantage of a common scbool education. Still, there isa heap of sense and understanding in my curly head, and I have eyes likea hawk. The detective business suits m>, as I always happen around just out of sight but in hearing, in time to hear important dis- closures. I was in Philadelphia a week ego, and heard a few things which J put on file, and shall use them when the proper time arrives.” Baxter scowled fiercely. “You evidentiy know nothing against me,” he said. ‘‘ But in case you do, I'll take good care you don’t do any one any particular harm!” “Hal ha! I am glad you take it so lightly. Open enmity is ten times easier to conquer than hang-dog sneakism. And about this rescue business; I strolled into a down-town saloon last night, where a lot of sailors were carousin, on the strength of a ten-doar note which one o them had received. Any idea whom he got it from?” “Not the least,” Baxter replied, without flinching. : “But I bave. The sailor said as how he had got it from a black-lookin’ chap, who had brought a lady aboard, and wanted her stowed away in the hold and taken out to sea on the Lady Julia, which sailed on the morrow. He didn’t want her barmed—only kept aboard dur- ing the out trip, and if she should. be acciden- tally let upen some desolate island, it would not have been a matter of much consequence, and it would be a matter of five hundred dol- lars deposited in the bank at the sailor’s dis- posal on his return. I heard this much, and waltzed down to the rescue. I saw your anxiety and concern, and rightly knew where to place you, after seeing you in the Quaker City. That's what about the lady. I rescued her, and have stowed her away until I get time to hear her case. Then I shall find what's the secret between you. I’ve a suspicion about the matter, tucked away, and maybe it ain’t fur out of the way. As for your Blakesly scheme, you take care! That’s all.”

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12 In his rapidly rising rage, Baxter’s face assum- ed a grayish pallor. Here were all his plots in the knowledge of a mere child—but a remarkably shrewd, keen child, as he was forced to admit himself. “Curse you. I’Jl fix you,” he said, with a ma- licious gleam in his eyes. ‘I’ve tamed canary birds for a living, and not lost my art yet.” ** Yes, but you never tamed a little New York bantam rooster—a regular little game-cock!” Nell retorted, as he arose and stalked out of the yoom, muttering baleful oaths. ‘ ‘* Bet a clam he feels as if he’d like to shut off my wind,” the girl muttered; ‘‘ Mebbo I hadn’t orter let him know’d I knew so much, but I couldn’t resist the temptation. But, neverthe- * jess, I’m goin’ ter get the fat of the game, Won- der just how I’m going to commence, anyhow? The first thing is evidently to see our long-haired Western coon.” It was the middle of the afternoon ere Carson putin an appearance, and came forward to be seated, and shake hands, “Sorry I kept you waiting,” he said, twisting his handsome mustache, ‘‘ but I got interested in a little game of faro, upon Broadway, and could not tear myself away, until I cleaned out the bank. But now I am at your service.” ** What’s become of your companion?” “Vernon? Oh! he’s up at Police Headquarters, instituting inquiries for a lost sister, who a with a precious rascal who was, at the time, her music-teacher. Vernon has keen searching for them, far and wide, witha vengeful vow to plant the aforesaid music-teachor, when he finds him.” “ Has his sister money?” ‘‘Yes. She and her brother each came into Leek ey of a large cash fortune, recently I be- ieve.” “Then, ve twigged the game, already. The music-teacher has coaxed her off with him sim- ply to get hold of filthy lucre.” “ Ah! have you seen her, then?” “Mebbe—mebbe not. ‘Spect I might lay a paw on her, possibly, if I was hit with a big in- clination.” “Well, this is good news, and Vernon will pay you well to tell him.” ** Perfeshional detectives ain’t a-goin’ ter shuck off p'ints, even fer money, sometimes, I trow. But, laying aside that matter, I want to inquire what business brought you to New York?” ‘Oh! I came East on a visit to some of my re- lates,” the Westerner confessed. ‘‘ You see, I’ve been gone some eight years, and got kind o’ hun- ery to gaze upon old friends.” ‘And your name is Jack Blakesly?” “Well, yes, though up in the West I was call- ed Jack Carson, because it was easier on the tongue. But, how did you know?” “Oh! Ive a peculiar faculty of gaining points. Was in Philadelphia, when old Uncle Redmond Blakesly arrived there to receive and welcome you back!” “What! are you crazy, girl? I have not yet had a glimpse of the old man. Indeed, I have been rather doubtful about seeing him, since he lent me the toe of his boot to start me on my own hook, over eight years ago.” “Ha! ha! that’s the same story the other fel- low told.” New York Nell. “© What other fellow?” “Why, the returned prodigal, Jack Blakesly, to be sure.” “*Pshaw! you speak in riddles. What do you mean?” “Well, Vil tell you, just for greens, Jack Blakesly, of Leadville, Col., arrived in Philadel- hia, last week, and was met by his father. ince that they have gone up to Hudsondalo, the old farmer’s country seat, to spend the heat- ed term—the old man, the young man, and the pretty orphan.” The real Jack Blakesly gave vent to a whistle of surprise. “*So, another Jack Blakesly has got in ahead of me, ch?” he said, reflectively. ‘‘ Well this is romantic—and not so very strange, either, for I'm told the old gent is worth a cool half a mil- lion, What for looking fellow is the other Jack?” “* Rather white-livered—like a hot-house plant w’ot ain’t been watered lately.” ““Humph! And he calls himself Jack Blakes- s ly, eh?” **(n course he does,” ‘But, does the old gent take him in all right?” **Reckon so. tways, he took’em down to Hudsondale.” ‘* You intimate that there is a third party?” ‘Yes, an orphan when Jack has under his charge until she can learn the whereabouts of a rich brother who lives in the East.” ““Ah! then judging by what you say, there is not much of a show for me. If the other feller’s Jack Blakesly, who the deuce am I?” “You're N. G., in that respect. You're left out. If you are the bona fide Jack Blakesly, you maybe have something, in the way of proof, that will establish your identity.” “‘T am sorry to say that I haven't, to my knowledge. I didn’t expect I should have a rival, or I should bardly have taken the pains to come East, for quarreling is not one of my ac- complishments. Still I opine I shall have to in- terview this rival of mine.” “Bully for you! Don’t give up such a little game, when there’s a show for winning. If you want help and want to pay for it, I’m ready for tha ken Nell, at your service, perfesh- ional detective, an’ ef I can’t win a case I take hold of, I don’t charge a cent.” “As you say,I shall not give up the little game, I care nothing for what little property may be at risk, as I am pretty well heeled, but, I don’t propose to let any usurper occupy a sition that is rightfully mine. And I Shall only too glad to enlist you in my service, for you appear to have all the qualities of a thorough detective. Youcan do the planning and light work, and leave the fighting. if any, tome. As for the pay, you may command your own terms, as I’ve got a gold-mine and a bank at my order. Perhaps you will want some money down? If so, here is a hundred dollars.” “Which I will accept only to purchase such things as will aid me in my labors for you,” Nell said. ‘‘ Now I will leave you, to allow you to think the thing over, and form an idea how itis best to go to work. But, look out for one Colonel Baxter, and a couple of villainous com- panions he has. He is the backer, I take it, of i.

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Ss New York Nell. i8 the usurper, and if he finds out who you are, will probab} attempt todo you harm, There- fore, it is well enough to keep on your guard.” “] know this Baxter by repute,” Jack Blake- sly replied coolly. ‘*He comes from up in the mines, also, and this is not his maiden attempt at villainy, Dll take care of myself, as far as he is concerned. I once had the pleasure of knocking him down for insulting a girl; per- haps I have occasion to repeat the oper- ation. New York Nell, after leaving the original Jack Blakesly, resorted at once to a well-known costumer and invested a part of her money in wigs, costumes and effects to match. il of these she ordered sent_to her lodgings, after which she strolled in the Bowery in quest of some one. This one she found in the person of a dirty young bootblack of some fifteen years —a stout fellow, witha face like a prize-fighter, and a pair of fists to match, while in his eyes there was a bold, yet drowsy expression, the meaning of which one was liable to mistake, He was papi ae, in front of a oggery, enga: in puffing away at a pi es Ercoiwere alternately with his puffs a a ig of smaller boys who were throwing peas at Fin which they had purloined from a neighbor- ing grocer’s basket. He eyed New York Nell in surprise as she ap- proached. “Hello! been a fire, Nibs? You're fixed up like a dandy i” “So lam, to be sure,” the young detective replied gayly. “*Who's got a better right?” ‘Dunno ’bout that. *Spect you’ve been cap- —— a bonanza, ain’t ye? Gracious, but you're y “Yes, and you might be, if you had any am- bition. Why don’t you brace up and have some style about you?” ‘* How in thunder’s a feller goin’ to brace up on a business of ten cents a day?” the boy de- manded, sourly. ‘‘Hain’t got but two cash shines to-day, an’ both o’ they was counterfeit nickels, the rest on tick.” “When you ketch old Niblo doin’ biz on tick, or gettin’ ro in on bogus, you sing the Dead March of Sal, will you? Know what I’m going to do with you, Sam Snicker?” ** No!” the boy replied, not manifesting much work fer me, on @ salary of twenty-five cents a day. Will zo accept?’ “What's to do?” “ Shadow—dodge, sneak—eavesdrop—in fact, do a general detective business.” “Phew! d’ye s’pose I'll do, Nibs?” “‘Of course you'll do! Ill give you instruc- tions, an’ when you comb your head once with a sharp-toothed comb, I’m sure you'll find wits enough to keep you afloat. If you don’t, I'l stir you up with the toe of my shoe.” “Allright. Ill do it!” “Then come along to my brown-stone front, and I'll give you your cue to work on.” The teotblack accordingly left his perch on the barrel, and followed the girl detective to her lodgings in Baxter street, where she took interest. “Well, Pll tell you; I'm goin’ ree to E ne him into her confidence, and posted him as to his duties, She was in no wise afraid to trust him, for she had known him for years, and always found him trustworthy and honest, and a fellow with a bulldog determination. CHAPTER V. AT HUDSONDALE, Uron the right-hand shore of the majestic Hudson in going up the river, was situated the magnificent estate of Hudsondale, of which Uncle Blakesly was the owner. It had a front- age along the water’s edge of about one hun- dred rods, and from the water rolled back and upward in a beautiful slope, to a sort of bench or tableland, whereon was erected a fine modern mansion, surrounded by spacious verandas; vine-draped arbors, and in the rear a mag- nificent garden, and carriage drives, ard out- buildings. The great lawn in front was divided by a broad flagstone walk which led to the water's edge, down over the numerous terraces, the left division, looking toward the water, being a dense park of gigantic maples, beneath whose outstretching branches lurked spraying four- tains, croquet plateaus, swings and arbors, to say nothing of a pretty little observatory that towered above the highest tree-tops, and ecm- manded a view of the Hudson for miles in eather direction, and of other beautiful homes acrcss tone lan aa i k sloped ny 6 land containing the 0) dua. from the mension, Salt ithe ditnnge to the river—then. by a sudden freak of nature rolled upward toward the water, terminating in a great wooded cliff, which broke off perpen- dicularly at the water’s edge. This wooded tract contained in all several acres, making a most lovely and picturesque feature of the grounds. On the opposite of the avenue there rose from the river to the mansion terrace after terrace of beds of flowers and plants and flowering bushes. Not a small assortment, but every known Amer- ican variety, and many foreign sbrubs, planis and bushes remarkeble for their beautiful bics- soms, perfume and foliage. It was now the time of the year when all of nature’s adornments were wreathed in smiles, and the view of the grounds was most enchant- ingly beautiful. t the foot of the lawn, a steam-and-sail yacht of diminutive size and graceful build rocked on the water at anchor ready for use. And it was to such a home that Uncle Red- mond Blakesly had brought the pseudo Jack and Miss Vernon and installed them. ‘‘Thar!” be said, after he had gone through the preliminaries of introducing them to Miss Prudence, a prim old maid of five-and-fifty, with a keen gray eye and a sour temper—“ thar they ar’, Prudence—my boy Jack and his lady friend, Miss Vernon, who has come East arter her brother. An’, d’ye mind, Prudence, they’re to take their ease an’ hev what pleasure the sit- tywation offers em; an’ ]’ll bet a chaw of Navy that Hudsondale beats any home they ever had before. Take care of ’em, Prudence. Thar’ll be an extra servant gal up on the evenin’ boat ter help Sally. An’ now I’m off fer a good nap,

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14 New York Nell. a which ther old man will be as lively as a lea. And so Jack and Viola were ieft to entertain themselves in the great mansion, with its com- Jement of many magnificently-decorated rooms Firnished with everything that the taste of a connoisseur could conceive. For in Miss Prudence there was not much cn- tertainment, as she seldom spoke except it was to sputter, find fault and scold. After making toilots in their respective rooms, the young people joined in the parlor and took a stroll down into the park, where there was relief from the heat of the day in the cool shade. “Well, how do you like it now?’ Jack de- minded, triumphantly. ‘Is this not all and more than I boasted of—a grand home, such as any person might be proud of?” “I6 is all very beautiful—too beantiful to seem true. Bat, Jack, is it yours—will it be yours? I have strange fears somietimes, after all your assurance.” “Bosh! You are silly. What further assur- ance can you ask, after [ have been openly as- sured a welcoms by my father?” “T don’t know, but—but maybe it is all right. It is a strange romance, anyhow, Jack. First, you were my music-teacher, and asked me to marry you. I hesitated, not because I did not like you, but because I deemed you a penniless wanderer. But one day you told me a strange story of having a grand home here, from which you had been alienated for many years, and could not return because you had not money to establish a recognition. You besought me to loan you a part of my fortune to help you re- gain your position, promising to wed and make me your wife. “Dazzled by your description, I was tempted, and finally consented, and eloped with you from my home and my poor loving brother, who even now may be blindly searching for me. You have brought me here, Jack, and I have found all apparently as you held forth. But there is still one thing puzzles m9: What became of the sum of three thousand dollars I have from time to time loaned you out of my fortune?” Jack was silent for a few moments, his fea- tures working nervously, and his eyes gleaming strangely. ‘‘ Well, I will tell you. Years ago I stole a diamond-set gold locket, which for ages had been an heirloom in my father’s family, and pawned it for drink. I was wild in thoss days, and ungovernable, For that theft my father kicked me from his house, and told me I never thereafter could be his son and heir until I re- turned the locket to him. The tavern-kesper had cleared out for parts unknown, and notb- ing was left for me but to go out into the world and search for it. For eight years I spent my earnings in putting detectives on the trail. But to no purpose. No trace of it could [ find, until one day, while yet your music-teacher, I read a description of a curious locket possessed by an Indian in Colorado. I got possession of some of your means, as you know, and set a detective on the track once more. The Indian was found, and had just sold the locket to a French trader, en route for Europe. : “Resolved not to give up hope, I dispatch:d the detective to eres in pursuit, and just be- fore we started for the East, I received a tele- gram that the locket had been found. I wrote my father, and explained, and asked if I could come home, on the strength of it. He tele- gapped on ia the affirmative, and we came on. left my matters in charge of my old friend, Colonel Baxter, and he met me in Philadelphia and told me that he had received a telegram from Morgan, my detective, to the cffect that the Frenchman was in possession of the locket, but would not part with it, short of five thous- and dollars.” Miss Vernon put up her hands, with a horri- fied little gasp. “The outrageous monster. He ought to be gibbeted. So you cannot obtain your rightful position? Oh! Jack! you were very cruel ever to entrap me and my means, this way. I shall never forgive you!” And she dropped into one of the rustic settees they were about passing, and burst into a pas- sion of tears. Jack bent over her with apparent tenderness. “Tut! tut! don’t ery, Viola,” he said. “TI have not yet despaired, and while I have hope you ought to have. Perhaps when I explain matters, father will relent, and give me the money to redeem the accursed heirloom.” “Oh! then letme go to him. I am sure I could prevail on him, if any one could. I will go at once!” “Stay!” Jack said, hoarsely, pushing her back ie oe seat, his face suddenly growing death- ale. 7 Not for the world would I have you to inter- fero with so much as a word, in this matter, You do not know my father. His opinion of women, viewed at a respectful distance, is grand. But he will not listen to advice or en- treaties from one. If you were to let fall a word, to give him an idea that you were inter- ested in my welfare, he would pronounce me a fool with a woman tied to my sionals and my hopes of a place in his esteem would be lost forever. In this respect he is unreasonable—un- movable.” : “How terrible. I took him for such a good, genial old soul.” ** Because you knew him only as he is when everything goes smoothly. Even I dread to ap- proach him with the plea for fear he will show me -the door again as he did eight years ago, Viola, you have the amount, have you not?— only think of it; just five thousand to place us the eventyal heirs to this grand estate, and a half-milli6n bank account.” “Jack! can you ask this? It is all I have left in the world, out of the little fortune I hada week ago.” “No! I will not ask it. I will suffer myself to explain to father, and stand the consequences. If I win, I am lucky. If I fail, I must go out into the world a penniless man, and try and earn the sum.” “You shall not! I will yield, and you shall send for the locket. But, stop, Jack. Listen! If it should ever come out that you have been ’ swindling me, God have merey upon you, for vengeance shal! be mine, and mercy for you |

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New Y-rk Nell. 15 shall not know. Come, We will go to the mansion and you shall have the money.’ That evening Jack Blakesly the impostor, took the boat for New York, with five thousand dol- | lars in his pocket, promising to return from New York by the morning boat. Megat 5, ‘Going to meet a couple of distinguished col- lege professors, you see, who are about to sail for Faroe, you see,” he explained, to satisfy Uncle Blakesly’s curiosity, And the old man patted him on the shoulder good-naturedly, bidding him godspeed. “Take keer o’ yerself, boy, an’ look ye don’t git peeled. It’s a great place fer greenhorns to git roped in, I tell ye. Cum back when you git thr’w’ wi’ your perfessors; an’ in the mean time yer old dad will spark around ther gal, just fer to see if sparkin’ seems as nice as it did fifty years ago. Ha! ha!” And after the oid servant had rowed Jack out a-stream, to meet the down boat for New York, the old farmer turned back toward the long veranda in front of the mansion, where Viola was standing, watching the departure with an eager, wistful, half-scared expression in her eyes. * Sech a boy fer book-l’arnin’, eddication, and refinement is that Jack,” he said, his jolly old face beaming with pleasure. ‘‘ At first he didn’t seem like as ef he was my son, but, by golly, I like him the more I see him. “Oh! Iam so glad,” Viola said. ‘I am sure we both love you dearly.” “‘Qho! then you an’ Jack ar’a leetle thick, eh?” the old man queried, quizzingly. ‘‘ ’Spect yous be hitcbin’ up in double harness one 0’ hese days, eh?” “Oh! no, sir. We have never thought of such a thing, even. Your son has always seemed to me more of a brother than a—a lover.” ee ages thunder, I reckon I'll court yeupa little myself, when I get the time,” Uncle Blakesly laughed, as he limped away. Jack Blakesly, the bogus, went to New York, arriving there in the early twilight, and found Baxter in his room at the Union Place, engaged in getting outside of several varieties of wine and cigars. The colonel was in none too pleasant a mood, but bowed graciously, and pushed forward an arm-chair with his foot. . ‘Sit down,” he said, lighting acigar. “‘ Here are cigars and some aaa wine. Help yourself. What brings you here?” “Money. I trumped up the locket story ac- cording to your plats, and succeeded in getting the last five thousand.” “Good. Give ittome. I know just where to put it to good advantage.” : ; “ So do I,” the younger man said, throwing a roll of bills upon the table. ‘‘ There is half of the amount. The other half I'll take the liberty of using as a lining for my own part “What! how do you mean? I am to have all the profits of the business the first year, for my services.” “Oh, no! You’ve got a wrong idea. ve played my part long enough for nothing, and either I bave a biz share of the spoils, or you can | ‘x4 another Jack Blakesly.” i “Curse you! But never mind. Ii we get the Blakesly estate it will be a fat thing for our kets. How does Miss Vernon feel about it?” ‘TJ think she trusts implicitly in me, in hope that I will get the property and m er,” ‘“*Humph! she'll rave if there should be a col- | lapse. How goes it with the old man?” ‘Outwardly allis serene. But, I trow, bo is watching with the eyes of a hawk, for something to confirm his suspicion that I am not genuine. If nothing arises to further arouse this sus- picion, all promises to work well. But there is one thing imperative.” ; “ What is that?” “The other Jack Blakesly must be put out of the way, before he has a chance to do any harm. Were the old man to hear a word that there was another person claiming the poste: my chan- ces would be knocked in the head.” “T am as well aware of that as you are, and have been finishing my third bottle of wine in endeavoring to arrange a satisfactory plan for his disposal. I think I have hit upon one.” “*Good! Let’s hear it.” “Ttis this. Blakesly, Jr., has been taking the girl detective into his confidence, and she, by some means unknown to me, has gained a pretty correct idea of our business. Of course, s' told him about our little games, and he will short- ly go up to Hudsondale to investigate. Ihave arranged to anticipate him, To-morrow he will be waited on by Sharky, in disguise, who will represent himself as an attache of Hudsondale, bearing a letter to Blakesly. Sit closer to the table, and take ink and pen, and indite what I shall direct you on the sheet of paperlying there, for your nerve and hand are a blamed sight calmer than mine.” Jack took the required stand. ‘Date the letter, and head it at Hudsondale,” Baxter said, “slinging a broad style of chiro- graphy. Then write as follows: “My Dear Son:—Through accident I learned of your presence in New York, and hasten to send you my trusty hand, to fetch you home ip my little steamer. Do not fail to come, for there's a grave matter, here at Hudsondale, to be settled. Another young man has come to me, claiming to be my son. I wish to decide on one, and boot the other out, Don’t fail to come, as 1 am confident you are my son, and the other an impostor. “* Your father, “*RepMonp BLAKESLY, © “**Of Hudsondale.’ “That will do,” Baxter concluded. _‘‘ Young Blakesly will be the recipient of the letter, to- morrow. He can have no doubts as to its orig- inality, and will accompany Sharky. A little steamer, I have chartered, will convey them up the river, after dark, and m two tools—you ow who—will surprise the heir in his cabin, and after binding and weighting him, will throw him into the river, so that we shall not have any more trouble from him.” “ A capital plan,” Jack agreed, with a sigh of relief—“ that is, if it works.” “Tt will and must work, After that I have another plan, a hundred times more diabolical, But, I will not unfold it now. It is best to work only one trap at a time.” Jack returned to Hudsondale—that is, the ad

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16 New York Nell. counterfeit Jack did. The genuine Jack re- mained at the Union Place, and waited for New York Nell to put in another appearance, where- at they could hold another consultation, During the course of the day, he was ap- proached by a seedy-looking individual, with red hair and stubbly beard, who doffed his hat and bowed ange “Sur, tha be afther tellin’? me at tha office, there, fot you be tha lad by the name of Carson, sur,” he said, in an unmistakable Irish brogue. ey ach Jack Carson, yes,” was the long-haired Westerner’s reply. ‘‘ Who are you?” “Sure, me nathe it is Andy, sur, an’ I’m tha hired mon, up at Hudsondale, fot does the work. An‘ tha old boss, he was afther sendin’ me down here to New Yorick, to tha Union Pallus How- tel to give a letther to a gintlemon by the name of Jack Carson, an’ wait for an answer.” ‘Well, give me the letter, for I am undoubt- edly the man you seek.” ecordingly the Hibernian produced the let- ter, which was addressed to ‘‘Jack Carson Blakesly.” **T_ wonder what now?” were Jack’s thoughts as he tore open the envelope. But, when he perused the inclosure, his countenance was the scene of many contending emotions, **See here, you Limerick,” he said, turning to the Irishman. ‘‘ Did you get this from old Red- mond Blakesly himself?” “Faith, shure an’ I did. Who would be afther givin’ it to me but the boss?” “IT don’t know. Maybe itis all right. How far is it to Hudsondale by water?” as A bit of a ways, sur—twinty or tin miles, I ess. “T dare say it is,” Jack replied dryly. ‘“‘ Have you a conveyance?” “* A bit of a stameboat, sur, belonging to tha masther, fot I can manage like a daisy.’ “Very well. Tell me what time you propose to return, and I will be on hand.” “The steamer lies at Pier No, —, Hudson River, yer honor, and will lave at eight this avenin’.” “Why do you pull out so late?” “Because I have business to attend for tha masther.” “Very well. Go attend to it, and look for me at the time and place.” The Irishman bowed and took his leave, while Jack lit a fresh cigar and pondered, ** How I will bounce out the usurper when I _ there! It will do me good, and secure me ‘avor with my dad, He admires muscle as well as brains, wonder why the girl-boy don’t come around. It must bo I’ve taken a fancy to her, for my thoughts wander to her most of the me. But Nell did not put in an appearance, and night drew on, rapidly. rranging to have his baggage left at the hotel, Jack took a cab, and in due time was landed at the pier where awaited the Hudson- dale boat, Andy was just getting steam uP. and yet found time to doff his hat, respectfully. ‘Ah! the top of tha avenin to yez,” he seid. “If you'll be afther goin’ into tha cabin, below | on you so nicely,” he said. ‘‘ Troth, es deck, you'll find a snug place, sure—an’ I'll have stame up an’ tha vissel movin’ direct, sur.” “Thank you. I prefer to remain on deck and catch the breeze,” Jack replied, and he accord- ingly seated himself by the lee rail, and lit a cigar for a quiet smoke, Any suspicion of danger or unfair play had quite vanished from his mind, as there were only two persons besides himself, about the boat, being the Irishman, who was firing up, and a rough, black-whiskered looking fellow in the pilot box. In due time the steam was up, and on, and the propellers began to vibrate, while the Sarah Jane, as the boat was named, glided out into the harbor, looking up-stream. Jack enjoyed the departing view of the city, as they steamed away at a rapid rate, and set- tled himself comfortably into his seat for a snooze. How long he snoozed he was not aware, for when he awoke, startled by some strange dream, the surroundings were enveloped in the mantle of night. The boat was still moving swiftly through the water, up-stream, and the picturesque shores were only dimly visible, as they drifted y. ‘““ Well, young man, I see you have had your nap,” a voice said, near by, and Jack saw a man attired as a police officer, standing only a few paces away. Impressed with a sense of impending danger, he now became thoroughly awakened, and dis- covered, for the first that his hands were locked in handcuffs. “Yes, I am awake, and fail to understand why it is that my hands are in limbo,” Jack re- plied, with flashing eyes. “That is an easy question. I have a warrant from Albany, for the arrest of a fellow of your description, for horse theft,” the policeman re- plied. ‘* At least that is the story I should have told you, to have secured your arrest, had I not found you asleep. Now, all Ihave to say is that you have been trapped by tools paid by your enemies, and in the course of a few min- utes, will journey off into a new world, whero there is a law permitting immigration, but for- bidding emigration.” se t! have I been tricked—duped?” “Roped in, as sureas you areasinner, M name is Fisk, and my companion’s name is Shakry. We are, professionally, border ruffians, but are a little out of our sphere just now, be- cause it pays. A party wanted your lease of life to expire. an’ we tuk the job of furnishin’ the desired effect, sine die.” Villain! Release my wrists. You are fool- ing with the wrong man this time. Free me, or I will call for assistance and have a quick revenge on you.” “Bah! Gall if you like, for only the waters will catch your vain appeal. The river is de- serted, the shores at this point are too wide apart aud too sparsely settled for you ever to make any one hear. Come, Sharky!” The Irishman advanced, a triumphant grin distorting his features. “Sure it was the divil’s own trick I 2 am @ os

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secs iy New York Nelli. 19 little ashamed of mesilf to take an advantage of sich a purthy young feller, but, sorry is the conscience fot won’t be appeased by its weight in granebacks. Eh, Fisky?” ‘“Sart’in,” the other replied. ‘* Money is the root of all evil, an’ the one who captures the root is decidedly the best feller.” ““ What do you intend doing?” Jack demand- ed, calmly. ‘‘ You surely do not contemplate murdering me?” “Oh, no! not exactly what one would call murder. You see, the world has long been in need of more sub-marine explorers who could bring about a revelation in regard to the bot- toms of oceans, lakes and rivers, and I being rather a scientist, proposed to fill the want. That's all. Believing you might unreasonably object, I caused your hands and feet to be se- cured and your body weighted so as to keep you down long enough to do some good. When you have succeeded in poking: any discoveries worthy of mention all you'll have to do will be to get some mermaid to release you.” “You devil! If I could get free I'd break your skull with the first thing [ could lay my hands upon.” “ But you see you can’t get free, so you may as well make the best of a bad situation. You have just five minutes to devote to piety before you passin your checks, and so you may as well get down to business.” Jack did not reply. He saw that anything he could say had no effect upon the ruffians into whose hands he had so easily fallen, and he resolved to give them no satisfaction over his weakness. Sharky’s companion took out his watch and stood where the light from the pilot-hcuse re- flected upon its dial. “‘The five minutes is up!” he said, presently, closing the watch and restoring it to his pocket. “Then, come along, an’ let’s get through with the job. Got any li’ker?” Sharky assented, and produced a bottle, from which they both drank deeply. Then they ap- proached Jack Blakesly and raised him in their arms, he powerless to help himself, and too brave to evince any horror he may have felt at his situation. “ Take him to the stern of the boat,” Sharky said, and they did so. Then bracing themselves, they swung the body to and fro between them, once, twice, three times and— “Srop!” a sharp, stern voice cried, ‘‘or you are dead men !” They did stop, and dropped Jack to the deck; then faced quickly around, with frightful oaths, About a half-score of feet away, stood New York Nell, with a pair of cocked Smith & Wes- sons in her gripe, the muzzles of which were turned menacingly upon the would-be criminals a smile of eraah: upon the girl’s face. “You are euchered!” she said, quietly, CHAPTER VI. THE GAME BALKED. Tr light from the reflector in the pilot-louse shone cown upon the tableau, giving it power and effect. “The devil! who are you?’ Sharky gasped, turning pale and red at the same time. ‘‘ What d’ye mean?” ‘‘T mean that you just cheese it, where you are, or ’ll bore a tunnel through your system quicker than an eyester ever slipped down a huckster’s gullet. My handle is Nell Niblo— New York Nell, the g’hirl detective, fer short.” “Furies! how did you come here?” “On the boat. Take care! don’t try to pull no weapons, if you don’t want to have your throttle forever closed. I’m just the to do the biz, if you don’t obey orders. Yes, Icumup on the boat. Overheard a little conversation that led me to believe my perfeshional services might not come amiss, so I slyly stowed myself away in the hold. You, Sharky, just be kind- enough to free Mr. Jack Blake-ly of those little incumbrances he wears.” The ruffian hesitated. “Go on!” Nell ordered, sharply; ‘‘ just sosure as you refuse, I'll let daylight through you.” Sharky saw that his best and only hope was obedience, and he accordingly knelt beside Jack and released his feet and hands so that he could rise. “ That's the kind,” Nell said, approvingly. ‘I like to see rough cusses like you knuckle under, Ido. Jack, while you give them each a good kick, apiece, I'll keep °em covered.” ‘*T have a better idea than that,” Jack assur- ed. ‘‘ Make ’em jump into the river. If they- *ve got grit and strength enough to swim ashore all right. If not, let em sink.” “* But hadn’t we better take ’em down to New York, and give them a trial for attempted mur- der?” Nell suggested. “No. Let them go on the terms I have said. The next time they cross my track I'll shoot them on the spot, sure!” ‘Then that settles it. Take a bounce, young men,” the little detective said. ‘‘ Start off at a regular go-as-you-please gait, six laps to the mile, and walk overboard.” “But, stop! stop! I cannot swim a stroke! I shall drown—I cannot swim a stroke,” Sharky protested. “But I can,” his companion answered, ‘and since we've lost the game, I’m goin’ to take the chance that’s offered, you bet. So come along and I'll try and help you ashore.” The next minute the two men had jumped overboard, and then struck for the eastern shore, Shar! his back, and causing Sharky to do so, also. ‘Now, then, we'll pull for New York,” Nell said, accepting Jack’s proffered hand. ‘‘It was lucky I happened to overhear the plot between Baxter and your double, or your pie would have been fish-chowder. You'd ’a’ been takin’ sub- marine observations, as Sharky said.” — “Undoubtedly so, my dear Miss Nellie, and I never can hope to find enough gratitude with which to pay you for your unselfish heroism, were I to livea hundred years. But gratitude failing, I bave a little bank account to place at your iaciteatl in the way of reward.” ‘ ‘Bah! get out! Money is something I rarely load my hands with. I guess I wasn’t never in- tended for a banker—at least, I have never been much of a cashier. I'll take your gratitude, but not your money. Shall we go back to town?” ’s companion, Fisk, floating upon ~

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5 :) New York Neil. ‘‘Yes. I'll postpone my visit to Hudsondale a few hours at least. I think ll go up and take alook at the situation later.” Nell went forward and examined the engine of the boat, and found everything in working order, She then stationed Jack there, with proper instructions how to keep the fires a-going, while she went to the pilot-box, and once more headed the boat for New York, which was made early in the morning. Jack went at once to the Union Place Hotel for break‘ast, inviting New York Nell to ac- company him, but she declined, and sought her own home instead. It chanced that Jack was assigned a seat at table opposite Colonel Fleming Baxter, whose scowling face manifested the surprise he felt at seeing the heir of Hudsondale alive and appa- rently in the best of health. ~ “You are quickly returned from your visif, I see, Mr. Carson,” the landlord hailed from an- other table. ‘‘Didn’t you find the folks at home?” “Oh, yes, and well as usual. Such a wel- come, too, would have brought tears to the eyes ofan anchorite. But a telegram in the shape of a personal f-iend lured me again back to town for a few days.” In no word or way did Jack betray that any thing had happened to him through the agency of Baxter’s tools, which quite nonplused that par and he masticated his food in savage si- ence. As soon as the meal was over, he followed Blakesly into the lounging-room, whore the long-haired Westerner had gone to smoke a cigar. ‘lixcuse me, sir,” Baxter said, drawing a chair near, and seating himself. “‘1t appears to me that I have somewhere encountered such a face as yoursin my travels?” be said, mquir- ingly... “And yet I cannot recall the time and ace, ¥ “How very singular,” Jack retorted, coolly. “Why, Flem Baxter, that game won’t work at all. It wasn’t six months ago that I had the pleasure of knocking you down, up in Leadville country, for insulting a lady on the street, Shouldn't be surprised if I indulged in an ex- periment of a similar nature again soon. I feel some that way.” ‘What, sir? Do you mean to intimate that you ever knocked me down—I, Colonel Baxter, gentleman?” “Wal, yes,” Jack replied, coolly. ‘Oh! uu needn’t play off, colonel, for it won’t wash! im your enemy and you're mine. It’s as broad as itis long, and I’ll tell you right here that the first time I catch you out where policemen are not thicker than flies, I shall give you such a drubbing as you never had before. I’ve also got a job on hand, to go up and boot your pal out of my rightful position as heir at Hudson- dale, too. I’m on the war-path now; so look out for music.” Baxter grated his teeth flercely. ** We'll see about that,” he growled. ‘‘ You'll find I am more powerful than you think, at pre- sept. You had better go back West, while you have opportunity, or you will never get there, Listen! you seem to understand my game, and there is no use of denying anything. T’ll tell you frankly that I have set about to win the lit- tle game, and I’m going to do it, if it takes a century of time and perseverance, anda bank of money. Once I set about accomplishing a aie I never say die, until sufficient blood as been spilled to float my boat to a safe haven of refuge.” “T presumo so. If I were you, I'd build a vault to store the hogsheads of gore in,” Jack replied, sarcastically. ‘‘Of course you must know I am not afraid of you, Flem Baxter. From early youth I have grown up in a country where men of your type are segeeced as harm- less. Ihave dealt with more dangerous deviis than two of you, and always come out vic- torious. It isno matter of doubt to me that you will fail in your project of beating me out of my right and title—I am certain of it, if suc- - cess crowns all your efforts in the same, way it did, last night.” “What do you mean? Iamat a loss to un- derstand you.” “What a pity! I simply referred to a little pe that lured me on a trip up the Iludson, ?erhaps you are entircly ignorant concerning the matter?” “Tn truth, [ am. But, to talk business: Will you quit the field, or not?” “Decidedly not,” Jack replied, with great calmness. ‘ That isn’t the kind of a clothes-pin Iam. In fact [ rather enjoy a scrimmage and propose to see this thing through until you get a four by seven roost in Sing-Sing. That’s my game, Flem, and you needn’t go back on me.” “Then you shall die. Do you hear? You shall die, or be put at least, where you cannot interfere. If you will return West, keep mum, and leave the coast clear for us, I will keep harm from coming to you, and give you ten thousand dollars. Refuse, and you'll gct the knife.” “Very well. I'll take the knife. Be sure and select a good one, however. <A bad knife is more despicable than a low cur of a ruffian, like yourself,” Jack said, rising to leave. Baxter sprung to his feet, with an oath, rais- ing his cane, threateningly. “ Chaw your words, you accursed wheln, or Vl break your head, for your insolence,” he cried, “Hal ha! no! I never chaw anything but my victuals, colonel. Take care; hit if you think best.” The colonel did not think best evidently, for he made a pass at Blakesly’s head, that must have felled him, had he not warded off the blow, The next instant the miner’s hard, knotty fist took the colonel in the region of the mouth, with stunning effect, and the recipient went back to the floor with a crash that made the floor tremble. With a snarl of rage Baxter regained his feet, and again rushed at his opponent, this time to receive a blow that not only knocked him down, but caused him to remain there in an insensible condition. While Jack sauntered coolly away into the bar-room, adjoining, whistling. “T say, Cap, you'll find one of your guests lying on the floor in the next room,” he said, in- differently. ‘‘He got a little too fresh—at-

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New York Nelli; 19 tempted to ‘sault me, you know—and so I pickled him. Please impress upon his mind, when you take him to his room, that I shall be in New York until to-morrow, and that if de- sirable to him, dueling pistols are on sale, a few blocks below.” Then the man from the West, sauntered away, asif nothing had ppepened, leaving the clerk staring in open-mouthed amazement, Baxter was carried to his room, and restored to consciousness, and was given the message that had been left for him. He swore fearfully, and sent for Barker, one of his pals, or, rather, one of his tools. He was a dark fierce-looking ruffian, with a brigandish black mustache, and a look about his eyes that was not pleasant to study, it was so suggestive of ferocity, Baxter at once explained how he had been handled by Blakesly, and was successful in mak- ing abe narration emphatic by the use of many oaths. “ And now the young cuss has even had the cheek to challenge me!” he said, furiously. “Waal, ye hadn’t orter growl at that,” Barker said. ‘‘It gives yea chance ter meet him, and git even.” “Fool! idiot! do you suppose I want to throw my life away? The fellow isa dead shot. Up in the Leadville country he has such a repute in that line that men fear him. No, sir, Pll not meet him. You must goin my place.” It was now Barker’s turn to swear, “You're cheeky,” he growled. ‘As if I am a puppet to shield your carcass. I rather pre- sume not, Mr. Baxter.” “Bah! you areas good a shot as he, and cculd win. Even if you didn’t it wouldn’t matter much. There’s few would mourn your loss, I can tell you.” “ As many for my side as yours. Besides I’ve no desire to pass in my checks yet.” ‘““Well, then, let the whelp go. and I'll hire him silenced. I guess he eluded Sharky and the other ’un, Seeif there’s any one listening out- side.” Barker obeyed, but the hallway was deserted, “The ecast is clear,” he reported. ‘Go ahead.” “All right. I'll tell you iow I’m going to get the nippers on old Blakesly, so that he can’t say his soul’s hisown, There’s anold hag living ina tenement on Baxter street, by the name of Snicker. She used to be an old flame of mine, when she was young, but married a worthless coot, and is now an avaricious thing, none too scrupulous as to how she gets her cash, it having heen hinted that men had been known to have died suddenly through her agency. Now] think a few dollars will hire her to do just what I want.” ‘“And what is that?” “Twill tellyou, Yearsago, Redmond Blakes- ly drove his wife from his house because he suspected that she was unfaithful to him. From all I ean learn, he has never heard a word from her since, Now I propose to send Suse Snicker to stir him up. She shall arrange for a meeting on the bluff by the river in the evening, She shall provoke and exasperate him, and I can easily foresee the result, He will attempt to strike her, and she will back off the cliff into the Hudson, and disappear from view—until she can get ashore unobserved. About the same instant you and I will appear upon tbe scene. you being made upas a policeman, and we'll arrest the old man for aie! Ha! ha! what think you of the plot?” “Tt is most diabolical, and yet promises to be successful, if you can ir to your satisfac- tion with the old gal,” replied Barker. “Which Iam certain 1 can do, by flattering the old fool. Yousee, after we catch Blakesly in the act, it will be all in my power todoas I will with him. The price of his life will be his obedience tomy demands. I fancy that rather than go to the gallows, he will be as meek and tame asalamb. If however, he is refractory, direct to the scaffold he goes and dances on nothing. After that I and Jack can carry things our own way.” Barker looked grim. “Waal, I hope ye’ll do suthin’, purty lively, anyhow,” he declared, ‘fer I'm gittin’ hungry fer ther little scrip ye owe me, an’ Fisk and Sharky ar’ in about ther same fix. Bizness is bimess, and after ye git yer paws on Blakesly’s money, either you’ve got to whack up our salary, or down goes your ten-pins.” “Of course. You shall have your money in full. Now, I must pay this Sue Snicker a visit, and see what I can do with her. You hang around here, and if you get a chance to hit Jack Blakesly hard and sure, without any one’s seeing you, be sure and do it, so it will settle him.’ Baxter soon after left the hotel, and made his way to Baxter street, in which thoroughfare Mrs. Susan Snicker was known to reside, in a single room iv the top story of a dilapidated tenement. The house was a poor-looking affair, to say the least, but a fit representitive of the general class of tenants who made it an abiding place. Up the rickety stairs to the fourth story he went, and soon found the door of Mrs, Snicker’s room, and knocked. “Come in, ef ye’ve got bizmess—if ye hain’t, stay out,” a shrill voice cried. Baxter entered, and found himself in an apartment smelling strongly of tobacco and whisky, and notable for the scarcity of its fur- niture, a single chair, table, bed on the floor, and cook-stove, all of the poorest description, comprising its outfit. A woman was crouching in the chair, before the stove, asif cold, She was meanly clad, her head and the greater portion of her face bein enveloped in a white broad-edged cap, whic made her pretty effectually unrecognizable, taking into consideration that her eyes were also hidden behind green goggles. She looked up with a nod, as Baxter entered, and stamped upon the floor with her cane, as she said: “Be seated, Flem Baxter, fer I see it is you!” was her invitation. “What will I sit on? the colonel demanded, looking in herror at the dusty floor, ‘I see no chair. What am I to sit on?” “The floor. to be sure. If it ain’t teo good for my boy, Sam, et ain’t too good fer you.”

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20 New York Nell. “T prefer to stand. I came to see if you are getting along nicely, Suse?” **No!” she said, spitefully, without looking up “I do not get along nicely. The world tricks and cheats me. Money is scarce. Oh! these ’re sorry times for the poor.” “But, Suse, they tell me you have money in the bank and out at’ interest—fifty thousand or over” “They lie! they lie! I have not gota cent, I am poor—penniless,” she said, cased b ! too bad; I pity you. If you had mar- ried me, Suse, you would now be occupying a position of affluence. But there isa chance for you yet. If you are willing to do a little work, and not be scrupulous as to its nature, I have the a, for you at a figure of one hundred dol- ars **One hundred dollars, Flem Baxter?” ‘One hundred dollars, Suse—all in good clean money.” “But, stop—perhaps wouldn’t do that, Flem a hundred dollars.” “‘This is not murder I would have you do,” the colonel said, ‘‘ Listen, and I'll tell you.” The woman nodded her reediness to hear, and the colonel accordingly told her what she would have todo. It was, in detail, what he had told to Barker, a short time before. Sue was silent as Baxter explained, and when he had finished, she said: ee ae you'll give me a hundred dollars to do is ‘““Yes—more, A hundred now—fifty more when the job is done. But, do you mind, you must not appear where you can be recognized ain. “Oh! I understand, Leave that to me. Pll do the job up brown for you, Flem, for the sake of old days, and no one will ever be the wiser for it,” Mrs, Snicker said with a chuckle, as she gathered up the bills wh’ch he laid in her lap. Baxter then took his departure. “So far, so good,” he muttered, as he gained the street. ‘ That is settled, and another surety of ultimate success, The next thing is to ar- range some plan to still the original Jack and his champion, the girl detective. He must be collapsed, but no harm must come to her until I find where she has stored Eva.” To get rid of Blakesly, Jr., however, was no small job; he realized this, and he knew he must devise some certain plan. & CHAPTER VII. VIOLA PURSUES INQUIRIES—JACK, THE BOGUS, EXIT. A ¥Ew hours later, at night, after his visit to Mrs. Snicker, Baxter entzred Chatham street, with its rows of edifices used for every known business purpose, perhaps, under the sun. Finally gis Ei one of the dingiest struc- tures of a-dingy block, he made his way up- stairs to the second flight, and rapped upon the first door to the right, from the landing. Above the door a lantern swung upon a brack- et, upon the panes of which was inscribed: “Bos Stuas; Jack or ALL TRADES,” which very significantly indicated that the ou mean murder! TI axter—at least, not for aforesaid ‘‘ Slugs” was not particular as to the nature of his business so long as the labor was rewarded by an equivalent in cash. The door was soon opened by a low-browed, villainous-looking little old man, with white hair, mustache, and shaggy eyebrows that ok ra eovered the expression of a small, ad-like pair of eyes, He was shabbily dressed, the only redeeming feature of his attire consisting of a magnificent cable chain of gold set with diamond ornaments, which he wore across his vest. “Ah! good-evening, Slugs! Do you know’a chap of my persuasions?” Baxter asked, as he entered an office even dingier than the external appearance of the house. “Tt depends how remunerative the nature of you visit may be,” Slugs replied, dryly. “If there is money ahead, I recognize you as Baxter —if not, I never saw you before.” ‘You miserable old shyster!” the colonel said, in disgust. ‘‘I see you grow more miserly with age. Supposing I have no money and yet want a job done—didn’t I serve out an apprentice- ship under you, and can’t you afford to tip me a helper?” “No,” Slugs answered, flatly, as he dropped into a chair, and litan old clay pipe, the stem of which had been worn or broken off until none of it, te speak of, remained. ‘I do business on a cash basis now. If you want anything in my line, pay for it. I turned you loose well enough educated in the ways that are dark, so that you might make your mark in the world, and you can beg no more of me.” ‘Nor do I wish to, Slugs. I’ve got money enough to back my craft through rough water. What I want is to hire a trusty hand to puta girl out of the way.” “Ah! that’s good. I have reduced af price- list to suit the times. Who is the party?” “A young snip of a girl who rigs up in and sells papers, Calls herself New York “Oh! but you don’t mean her?” “*T do, though.” ‘*-You'rea fool. There isn’t a sport in N. Y. who does not know her by sight or hearsay, and respect her, and there’s mighty few you’ll find, who'd take a turn against her.” “Then you refuse?” ‘** Positively.” “Then [li bid you good-evening and look elsewhere. The girl must stop breathing, surely.” _ Tare my advice, Baxter and let her alone, or she'll turn a trump on you,” was the older villain’s advice. all In the mean time, things at Hudsondale were progressing after their usual tenor. The new heir and Miss Vernon had become fully established in the grand mansion, at their ease, and Uncle Redmond moved about the geen with a jolly, satisfied expression upon is genial old phiz. ‘And to think,” he would say to Miss Pru- dence, with a visible shaking of his portly sides, with hearty laughter, ‘that I she’d hev ever’a doubted Jack’s bein’ my own son! Why, I tell ‘be Pru, there’s the makin’ o’ a president in the oy.

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New York Nell. “The president of a penitentiary,” Miss Blakesly snapped. ‘‘ Mark my work, Redmond, youre deceived. And worse than all, you’re getting mixed up with that unknown adven- turess, Miss Vernon.” “Pshaw! fiddlesticks! you're crazy, Prue. But s'posin’ I should take a notion ter pop ter ther little woman, Prue—bow would it suit? She is good and kind, and would make Hudson- dale a good mistress,” ‘‘ When a new mistress comes let her go into the kitchen and do the housework, then—I’ll moye!” Prudence retorted, sailing away in high dudgeon. While Uncle Redmond quietly laughed and hunted up Miss Vernon in a rustic arbor over- looking the sunlit river. Jack was not with her. Indeed, since his return from New York, he scarcely found time to more than passingly speak with her, spending a good share of his hours in solitary rambles about the premises, or rides upon the river. If Viola cared, she did not betray the fact. Indeed, she found it pleasant to entertain good- natured, honest Uncle Redmond, not uncon- scious of a growing admiration of his sterling qualities. And as for the old master of Hudsondale, he felt. youthful and fascinated in the presence of the pretty Southern girl, seeing in her much to admire and something to love—herself—with all his hearty nature. The upshot of the matter was a blunt but fer- vid — ee and an earnest proposal on Uncle ond’s part, all of which Miss Ver- non received with a sober countenance, but kind- ling expression of pleasure in her eyes. “To be sure,” Uncle Redmond continued, ‘¢mebbe it ain’t hardly fair to speak afore the boy, but he’s young, an’ orter be smart enuff wi’ all his college eddication ter get ahead o’ his old dad.” “Your son cares nothing for me, I believe, and really, 1 am not sorry,” Viola replied. “The more I see of and understand him, the less I admire him.” “You don’t say! Waal, mebbe that’s so. But he’s my son, an’ somehow I’m growin’ mighty proud 0’ his book Jarnin’ an’ knowledge of the big arts.” ; “Then, Mr. Blakesly, do you candidly beliéve that he is your own son?” “Why yes—don’t you?” “No, I do not!” The declaration wrought a change. Uncle Redmond sprung to his feet and paced about the little arbor in great surprise, ‘‘Tell me the reason!” he finally said, resum- ing his seat beside her. ‘‘Tell me why you do not believe that Jack is my own son?” “T will first ask you why it was that your son left you years ago?” Miss Vernon said. “That is easily explained. My boy was of a wild, rollicksome disposition, and could only be kept in the school-room at bis studies, and not at work on the farm. He longed for the roving life of hunting and jockeying, too, and seeing no prospect of ever taming him, I started him for 21 toe of my boot. Of course we parted friends, and my boy promised not to come back until either he had a vast store of education, or an equivalent in precious gold. That’s the last I heard of him until he telegraphed me ho was coming home.” “Then there is no truth in his story to me of his stealing a charm of you—a golden locket— which he has toreturn to you intact ere you will admit him as a member of your family?’ Viola demanded with flashing eyes, “Waal, no—not that [know of. Tellme what you mean?” the old man said. She accordingly did unfold to him the whole story the false heir had told her, as a magnet to draw away the last of her money. Uncle Redmond listened, with genuine incre- dulity and amazement. “Well! well! well!” he ejaculated when she had finished. ‘‘If this don’t beat my time all holler, may I be sent down tew Sing Sing, fer life. Hither you’re a plaguey big liar, gal, or else that boy is an infernal rascal—that’s all.” ““You don’t believe me then?” “Yes, gal. It pears to meas how you've been roped in by the chap wuss’n I. But never mind that. Ill make that all square, when you con- sent to be Mrs. Redmond Blakesly.” “Oh! you are too kind. But—” “No demurs, at all. Ther old man’s tvk a shine ter ye, fer earnest, an’ yer little misfortune draws you ail the closer to my sympathies. Meb- be ye can stand the old man’s society a few years, and help him fight out of this strange battle— then there’ll be a grave down in the park on the bluff, leavin’ a fair widder at Hudsondale for my boy, should he ever return.” ““Qh! Mr. Blakesly, do not talk so. I have as yet given you no hopes that I can ever be aught to you, and were I inclined, I should decline to give you encouragement, while you are in such a mood, I am no fortune-hunter. If I ever marry, it will be only when I have discovered the man Ican love. I once thought I cared for your bogus son, but have awakened to find out my mistake.” “But, you do care for me enough to be mine, do you not?” _ ‘I decline to give you an answer, yet. There is a skeleton in your family closet. Miss Pru- dence told me so. When I have a full under- standing of your net I may be able to give you a decision, Miss dence said you have others nearer to you of whom you never speak—it is of those I wish to learn, ere I—I—but never mind what!” “She referred to my first wife,” Uncle Red- mond said, gloomily. “‘I rerely ever speak of her, because she was unworthy. I never saw her after the first month of our marriage, she having absconded, ’tis said, with a man who has been my life-long enemy. The same accursed ruffian afterward wedded my younger. sister, under an assumed name, and abused her until she was glad for the privilege to lay down and die, and thus escape his power. The second wo- man I wedded was an angel, and we lived bap- pily until she died of a fever, leaving two babes, a boy and a girl, aged one and three the West, some eight years ago, with a hundred | years, for me to care for. The girl was dollars in his pocket, and 4 friendly lift with the | after stolen, and I have never to this day found

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atracoof her. I laid her kidnapping at the door of my first and unfaithful wife, but not knowing even her whereabouts, my detectives were never able to gain aclew. She may live still, but I try to hope not, as fears dark and gloomy assail me, and totally unnerve me. That is why I never allude to my long-lost child. As to the viper, she is said to_ be living, but where I cannot learn—how, I care not to learn.” ‘My poor friend, how much I pity you I can- not expres:, Suffice to say, you are in no way blamable for what wrong has been done you, and if I ever conclude to consider your kind pro- osal, I shall do so fully and freely, believing by my faithful affection I can lift a cloud from the past to let in light and peace of present and future.” ‘Bless you, my child. May God ever grant ou the peace and happiness you can grant me. i you come to me you need have no fear of trouble, for, although I failed to get a divorce from the viper of my first choice, I have no fear that she will ever seek to make me desperate by coming across my path after all these years, Now I will leave you, to look after the impos- tor!” The falso Jack was found in the parlor, loung- ing in an easy-chair, while he smoked a hand- some pipe and perused the morning paper, “Ah! is it you, daddy?’ he said, looking up pleasantly, as Uncle Redmond came sturdily into the room, thumping his cane on the carpet with more than usual vim. “A terrible fail in stocks on Wall street to-day—bulls and bears in a fight, you see. Got any money out?” Noha ned. Idon’t bull nor boar the mar- ket, sir. But if I ever do take a hand ia bounc- ing out bears, it is about this time o’day. So pick up your duds, young man, and bid yer aJlieux ter Hudsondale fer good an’ all.” ‘““What!” the bogus Jack gasped, leaping to his feet. ‘‘ Father—” ‘* Stop!” the old gent roared, sternly. ‘‘ Don’t ‘ou call me father, you puppy! Get out of my Poale= ait of my premises at once, or Pll lam you over the skull with my stick, You've played your game well, as far as it went, but it didn’t go fur. Your secret isknown, The cat’s out of the bag, and unless your heels are seen departing from this vicinity in short order, Pll telegraph to New York for a pair of hand- cuffs.” “ But I don’t understand,” Jack faltered. “ You lie!” Uncle Redmond declared, with in- creasing emphasis. ‘‘ You are an impostor aud a villain. If you don’t believe it, remain here until I get prepared, and I'll prove it to you. If my reat boy Jack was here, I’'d have him boot you ’way up to Kinderhook an’ back again!” ‘Then ring the bell for the race to commence, for the original Jack Blakesly is here to take the dramatic part assigned him,” a merry, laughing voice exclaimed. And into the room came two persons, through an open window, which looked out upon the garden—two persons, one of whom was of fault- less form and costume, while the other was none other than the long-haired Westerner whom cle Redmond had just been wishing to see— Jack Blakesly, the original, New York Nell. The first person it was who had spoken, and that was New York Nell. Uncle Redmond immediately recognizea her, and put forth his hand. ‘*So it’s you, is it?” ho said, heartily. ‘Glad ye cum, fer ’ve got a job on my hands of boot- ing out this chap, who has been playing it strong on me in the shape of ason. But I’ve made up my my mind he is’possum, and he’s a-goin’ to wall out.” “Course he’s a snide! Didn’t I tell you that, over in Philadelph? Why, Unky, here is your own son, alive and well—this eller with the long hair.” a old man turned and surveyed Jack quite calmly. “So you say that animal is my boy Jack, eh?” he observed. ‘‘ Waal, I don’t know. S'’pect mebbe he mought be, and again, mebbe he moughtn'’t. The old man ain’t a-goin’ ter be tuk in so easy this time, not by a long shot. Howsomever, young feller, if ye’ve any notion of hitchin’ up in relationship, you can’t start in any better that to clear out this’ere feller, who’s been imposin’ on my ignorance and generosity, by representin’ hisself as my boy J: ace be ‘With the greatest of pleasure,” Jack No. 2re- plied; and, as good as his word, he stepped uickly forward and seized the bogus heir by the nape of the neck and right leg, and bore him out of the mansion. Down the lawn he strode as unconcernedly as though he were bearing no burden, and, on er- riving at the water’s edge, he gave Jack No. 1a boost that landed him out in the river, where the water was up to his neck. Uncle Redmond and New York Nell, joined by Viola, watched the proceeding, greatly amused, inasmuch as the victim was great] frightened and bawled like a whipped school- boy. Not daring to come ashore again, where the long-haired Westerner stood, the defeated candidate swam down the stream below tho ae and from there made his retreat to the shore. Jack No. 2 then joined those who had been admiring his act, and the whole party then re- turned to the parlor of the mansion, where gen- eral introductions and explanations were made. “Yes, mebbe you’re =f Jack, and mebbe agtin you ain’t,” Redmond said, surveying the new candidate critically. ‘I’m goin’ ter be Hey this time. Whar’d you pick him up, Nel- ie? “In N. Y.,” Nell replied. ‘‘He sed his name was Carson, but I cornered him, and found out he was your son, instead of the t’other ’un whom I reckon you'll find is the son of Colonel Baxter, who has been settin’ him on.” ‘Oho! so that devil has been connected with this case, eh? I did not suspect that, despite the fact that I met him in Philadelphia. I see plainly where the impostor picked up his p’ints, now. As for you, young man, what have you to say for yourself?” “Not a great deal, either way,” Jack replied, indifferently. ‘‘I am your progeny if it suits your notion; if it don’t, it’s all the same to me. IT am not particular except for relation’s sake, as I have a snug fortune to back my career through this weary vale of tears,” ss

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i eo bee a eee re oe Cera ees! New York Nell. 238 oD ota sol AS een kde aate em A a a ee ee oe “Well, well! you don’t seem very anxious, that’s a fact.” “Nor am J, If you’ve got any one in mind, whom you think you’d like better, take your choice. If you see anything of the Blakesly kind about me, all correct; I’m your son.” “Well, young man, I'll deliberate on it,” Uncle Redmond said, with a dig at the bald spot on his head. ‘“‘ Thar’s only one thing about ye, as puts me forcibly in mind o’ my boy Jack, of years ago, an’ that’s yer hair. Jack allus was thunderin’ lazy about gettin’ his wool clip- ed, and I’ve give him many a whaling because he'd spend the money I gave him, for cigars, in- stead of hair cutting.” ‘The peculiarity still clings to me—not be- cause of the reason you mention, now, but be- cause barbers were among the things we seldom saw up at the mining-camp where I held out. Biiled shirts were the next scarcest.” The conversation ran along smootbly, and without Jack’s making any attempt to ingrati- ate himself. _ Toward evening New York Nell signified her intention of returning to the city, but upon being urged, Jack finally consented to remain at Hudsondale, as a guest, until the morrow, _ During the fore part of the evening Viola pre- sided at the piano, and both surprised and de- lighted her hearers by her skill and proficiency in masic. Jack retired early on the plea of weariness, and Viola was not long behind him, in going to her room. Uncle Redmond always was the last up, in the mansion, at night, as he gave the closing of doors and windows his personal supervision. .To night he was interrupted in the midst of his work by a ring at the front door bell. nm some surprise, he grasped his stout cane, and went to answer the summons, just in time to see a female figure retreating through the moonlight toward the park upon the bluff. ta at once called to her, but received no re- ply. Again he shouted after her, with the same re- sult, Then, firing up with indignation, he grasped his cane, firmly, and hobbled off in pursuit as fast as lay in his power. CHAPTER VIII. SCORE ONE FOR BAXTER. UnciE RepMonpD, although obliged, in a meas- ure, to use a cane for self-support, could get over the ground with considerable activity, when the case demanded, and more especially when in pursuit of vengeance. 7 Therefore, he was not long in catching up with the retreating woman, inasmuch as she was not apparently in any great hurry. He overtook her in the park, just at the edge of the bluff or cliff which dropped so precipitously off into the stately Hudson. : “Stop!” he said, authoritatively, laying his left hand firmly upon her shoulder, and raising his cane. ‘Are you deaf, that you didn’t hear me speak before?” ** No!” the woman replied— No, Redmond Blakesly. I heard you, and should have heeded, only I wanted to draw you out here, where f could talk to you in private. Look! do you know me, Redmond Blakesly?” And upon Hudsondale’s rotund and genial master was turned a ghastly face—a wrinkled, — visage, the greater part of which was idden within a great cap, Only one glimpse Uncle Redmond got, then the head was jerked to one side and the view obstructed. “No! Dll be hanged if I know who ye are, ner do I care, either!” he said gruffly, “What I want to know is, what business have you got prowling round these premises?” “The business of a mistress, you old fool— the business of a wife and mistress. Ha! ha! don’t you know me, now? Iam your own dar- ling first love and long-ks, bride—yes, I am Hester Blakesly !” Uncle Redmond leaped back as though he had been dealt a blow—and in fact, he had. ‘You lie!” he gasped, hoarsely. ““{ do not lie!” the woman replied, with a tantalizing laugh. ‘I am who and what I claim—your first and enly wife—and I’ve got a little certificate, among my effects, which will prove it!” “You viper! you wretch!” Uncle Redmond fairly shouted inarage. ‘I know you lie—I know you are not the faithless one who deserted me years ago. You have about you no trace of resemblance to her.” ‘But I have her spirit and her tongue. If you remember, she was gifted with a superfluity of both. What other personal beauties I possessed so many years ago, high living and dissipation have consumed, ‘Time works miracles, you know, Redmond.” “Yes; and I'll work miracles with you if you do not leave my premises.” “Oh, no you won't, my beloved husband. I am legally and lawfully your wife, and I’ve just | as much right here as you, and confidently ex- pect and intend to maintain it.” ; ‘“* By thunder, no! Blast my old eyes if ye do that!” the old man said, in a determined way. “You disgraced me years ago, you old devil; you shall not add further to the same blow. Either you'll go away from here willingly promising never to trouble me ugain, or I'll give you such a drubbing as you never got be- fore!” *Drub as much as you please, Redmond, for Icanstandit. I've been beaten until I'm with- out a particle of feeling. And, as for leaving, I certainly shall not. I came here .to take ba my position as mistress of your household an your affairs, and shall soon blossom forth into a full-blown leader in fashionable society. Then Til make your bank account look weak, I sur- mise, Ha! ha! aren’t you glad of my advent, dear husband? Of course you are, Any one can see that in the placidity of your counte- nance. Ha! ha! ba!” ‘*Curse you, woman! curse you! I was given to cursing you years ago—I am not backward in doing it now, and you have earned it all,” “Oh! yes; I don’t deny anything. I always own up to the truth. I gave you cause to curse me, years ago, and I have come back to give you another racket now. If possible, I intend to make your life more wretched than it ever was

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24 New York Nell. before. Come, I'll give you my arm, and let’s go to the house.” “Never! I’d sooner touch a rattlesnake. Go away, I tellye—leave my premises, or I swear you Shall have cause to repent it. Go, at once!” “Bah! talk tothe wind. I am going to the mansion,” “ Devil, go at your peril!” The woman laughed scornfully, and took two or three steps toward the house. With a gasp of anger, Uncle Redmond flew at her and aimed a blow at her head with his heavy cane, The blow missed the mark a half-foot, because she darted back, with an agile spring. It was a fatal move, for, standing just at the edge of the cliff as she had been, while speaking, she now went backward into the yawning space —down, down, through mid-air, into the deep, dark river, in a spot where the shadows lay darkly. “My God! what have I done!” Uncle Red- mond exclaimed, rushing to the edge of the cliff with a horrified expression of countenance. ‘I _have been the means of sending her to a watery grave!” 1t seemed even so, for, although he er from the cliff down upon the water, he did not behold the old woman come to the top. She had sunk t» the bottom, to rise no more! With a groan, Uncle Redmond at last arose to his feet, and turned toward the mansion, But he paused with a start! If he was horrified at the fate of the woman, he was startled to see Colonel Baxter and anoth- er man standing but a few yards away—the col- onel with folded arms, and a triumphant smile about his sensual lips. His companion was attired in the uniform of the New York police. A bar of bright moonlight penetrated down through the overhanging tree-tops and lit the bluff where the trio stood facing each other. “ Well! well! well!” Baxter said, sarcastically using Uncle Redmond’s own favorite expression of astonishment. ‘ This is a strange position to find you in, old friend. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I should never have believed you guilty of such a crime. Too bad—too bad for yo nele Blakesly!” “ What—what do you mean?” the old man gasped, whitening. ‘Surely you do not accuse ‘Knocking that poor woman over and push- ing her into the river—exactly!” Baxter re- plied. ‘‘Surely you do not deny it?” “T do deny it, I struck at her, I'll admit, but did not hit her. She dodged meand backed off over the cliff.” “Ah! yes—but that’s too thin. It won't stand picking. We arrived just in time to see you strike the woman, and hear the whack. Didn’t we, officer?” “Yes, we did that,” the policeman replied, “Therefore, Redmond Blakesly, you stand be- fore us, and your God, a man upon whose soul is written the stain of murder, and it is our duty to arrest you for the crime!” said Baxter. “Your duty! What d’ye mean? You're not the law!” Uncle Redmond cried. * But, we are both servants thereof,” Baxter said. “I am a detective, and my companion here is an officer of the New York Police Force, We came here on a different mission from this, The old woman you just murdered was under our eye, suspected of DUREIAEY, and we took the ains to follow her up here into the country, oping toget a clew on which to arrest and in- earcerate her. Instead, we have been so un- lucky as to be in at the death.” bi help me!” Uncle Redmond gasped. ‘I am not guilty—no, I am not guilty. I struck at the woman, but, failed to hit her. Believe me, gentlemen, this is true. You saw the act, ye say—p’raps ye overheard the conversation, an’ know to what a test I was put. Spare me then, from arrest and disgrace, in my old age. Et ain’t long the old man will live, so let me go unmolested I beg.” “Hal ha! this is my revenge, Redmond Blakesly !” the colonel retorted. ‘It is triumph to hear you beg of me! Awhile ago you held the trump—now I hayeitin my grasp. But, I fear it is utterly useless for you to ask quarter of me, as murder is a crime that slenile never escape gallows justice. Still, I will consider. Perhaps we can make some terms, If you will invite us to your mansion, and offer us its hospitalities, for a few days, 1 will think the matter over, and see what I can do for you.” Uncle Redmond bowed his head upon his arm, as it leaned against the tree near which he stood, and was silent for several moments. He saw what was the destined result, as he reflected. : On the one hand was arrest, a prison cell, and eventually, the gallows—on the other, Baxter held his own sway, and would insist upon what- soever tyranny he might deem best; the first act of which would be the restoration of the false heir to the position he had been so sum- marily dismissed from. There was then but two choices—the one gall, the other wormwood. Uncle Redmond, fully aware that he was in one senss no longer his own master, resolved to acquiesce and await his chance, trusting in God to clear him of the coil that was winding about him, “Come!” he said, finally, ‘‘ you shall be my guest. How about the officer? For him to be seen here will excite suspicion.” “Truc. Montford you may return to town. When I need you I will send for you,” Baxter ordered. The policeman bowed and strode away through the park; then Uncle Redmond led the way to the mansion, and showed Baxter toa comfortable apartment, ‘Don’t worry about your fate,” the polished villain said, with a smirk, as the victim of his machinations was about to leave. “I am not naturally so bad a fellow to get along with as some would like to make me out. If you ac- cept my terms, all will be well, and no one will ever be the wiser for the little occurrence of to- night.” Uncle Redmond bowed himself out, with a troubled face, and when once locked within his room, he pillowed his head in his hands and wept. “God help me,” he muttered, ‘Iam in the

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New York Neil. 25 power of the devil now, and have no chance to rebel, I amaslave to my life-long enemy, and he will show me no mercy—no mercy!” Baxter and his tool had not been the only ones upon the scene at the bluff that night. The frowning old park contained many fantastically shaped shadows, and among them another wo- man stood, om She never stirred from the position she occu- pied from the time she entered the park, a few minutes in advance of Uncle Redmond and the ill-fated Hester, until she left the park again, a short time after the villain, Baxter, and his prey had departed for the mansion. She had seen everyfhing—overheard every- thing that had transpired, all without visible affection, and soon after Uncle Redmond left for the mansion, she made her way from the grounds and along the river road to the first railway station, a distance of some three miles. She was attired in a long linen duster and fashionable bonnet, but her face was closely sereened from view by a heavy vail. On arriving at the station she got aboarda train bound for New York, and later was steamed away toward the metropolis, A few hours afterward she was installed in a pretty room at the St. George Hotel, and with en, ink and paper before her on the table, ae Fy herself in writing. _ For hours she plied a xpi Bos and then fin- ished with a sigh, just as the first beams of day- light streaked into her room. A short nap she then took in an easy-chair, after which she or- dered and partook of her breakfast in her room, With her hat and vail removed, she proved to be an elderly woman. Upon her face, which had once been hand- some, were gravo lines and furrows that trouble had wrought, and in her eyes a sorrowful, tear- ful expression that seemed to define untold an- guish. Her hair was as white, too,as driven snow. After breakfast she donned her hat, vail and wrappings, and betook herself to the street, There, signaling a cab, she entered, and gave tae directions. : Later she was deposited in Baxter street, and found herself knocking at the door of Nell Niblo’s room, in the old tenement. Our heroine answered the summons in person, and invited the stranger to enter, while rubbing her eyes, for she hed evidently just awakened from a late slumber. : “You are Nelly Niblo, the news girl, are you not?” the vailed woman said, as she took a seat. “Snect that used to be me—but since then T’ve shifted around so that I now stand in as New York Nell, the detective.” “Oh!” the woman said with a little laugh. “ Well, itis all the same. Do you know Red- mond Blakesly, of Hudsondale?” “Reeckon Ido. What of him?’ “T have a letter here I would like you to take tohim. Also, I want you to take along with ou the young woman you rescued from the foroie boat. When youarrive at the mansion contrive to have your interview take place in the presence of all that are about the premises. You are then to open this letter and read it aloud. It will fully explain itself, and every- thing necessary.” my * And you want me to do all this?” od Bi * But I can’t.” “ Why not?” “Because I can’t allow myself to fall into none of your traps—oh! no, You'd like me to bring the young lady from her hiding-place, wouldn’t you,so that Baxter could gobble her up?” “You mistake. I have no sich desire or in- tention. I already know where Eva—the girl you rescued is concealed, and could have had her spirited away a dozen different times, had it been my wish, I assure you I mean her only what is good.” , ‘““Howcanyou? What proofhavel that there is not some game afoot?” ‘“ When I swear to you that I am the girl’s own mother, had not that ought to satisfy you?” the woman asked. ““T suppose so. But, you see, Eva told me that she did not havea mother! How’s that?” “Basy enough to explain. She has never known me as a mother, but as an aunt. The secret of this both she and you shall know when the letter is perused at Hudsondale.” “Then give me the letter and I will do as you say. What’s the salary?” ‘TI will give you twenty dollars. That will pay your two fares to Hudsondale, and leave you considerable for your trou*le.” is = All right. When’s the starting time fer the IZe “To-morrow morning will do. No!—better say Friday, when I come to think of it. To- day is Wednesday. Friday will be best.” The woman then placed a twenty-dollar note in Nell’s hands, and took her departure. She went from Baxter street to the nearest district telegraph station, and paid for and caused to be sent the following telegram to Redmond Blakesly: “Do not be frightened by threats. Hold your own, Help will come when needed, ALLSEER.”’ This telegram was handed to Uncle Redmond that day, about noon, as he sat beside one of the fountains in the park. He read it in great surprise, then dismissed the messenger. ““Who could have sent that?” he wonderingly murmured. ‘‘Some one else must have been present, who foresees hope for mé. God be praised then, if hope there is, for I have pur- posely avoided meeting that devil, Baxter, dreading the consequences, This message is at least comforting.” And it was, He cheered up wonderfully from its influence —<so much that he was so calm, that he was sur- prised at himself. He returned to the marsion and found Bax- ter lounging in the parlor. 3 Jack and Miss Vernon were seated at the rustic table on the veranda, overlooking the Hudson, engaged in A oe Lag of chess, in which both a 0) eeply engrossed. So Uncle ee i did not interrupt them, but passed into the parlor, where Baxter was seated. “Ah! it’s you, is it?” the colonel said, looking up from his paper, ‘‘ Where bave you been hiding all the morning?” {

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26 New York Nell. | “T have not been hiding, sir,” was Uncle Redmond’s reply, “T have nothing to hide for.” “Bah! you hide because you fear me—be- cause you dread the vengeance you have a right to expect from me,” ““No; Ido not even fear you,” was the reply, again, in a collected way. “What! do not fear me, whose power it is to send you. to the scaffold, or to liberate you?” ‘‘No; I do not fear you. Nor do I believe you have power to send me to the scaffold. In fact, Baxter, I surmise that ye’d better not be too fast. Mebbe you’ve got the whip row just now, in your own opinion, but thar’s no tellin’ but what the old man may get in a few, yet. Read that. He handed the colonel the strange telegram he had received, and. the polished villain read it over, a faint scowl wrinkling his forehead. “ Well, what does that signify?’ he carelessly asked, as he returned it. ‘I seo nothing in it.” “‘T see hope—liberty—escape from your vil- lainous clutches,” Uncle Redmond said, forcing | an appearance of considerable confidence. “Look out, I’m going to struggle, man,” “Bah! again. You are going to doas I say, Come around in about an hour and we will talk on business,” ‘Tam in no hurry, yet; any time within a week. will do.” “Hardly!” Baxter hissed, leaping to his feet, after his victim had gone. “ Things look squally —there is need for more work !” CHAPTER IX. JACK THE BOGUS WEAKENS—A GERMAN RE- CRUIT. He foresaw that there was trouble brewing. The telegram itself. suggested strongly that there was some one else who knew something about the dark business at the bluff, Whocould t be? ‘Tll wager my head it’s the snip of a girl detective, New York Nell,” the colonel growled, rate ‘She’s sticking her nose into every one’s business, igely, curse her, and it is vitally necessary that she keeps more quiet. Perhaps she may have seen old Suse Suicker creap from the water, or may possess some other equally important proof that would disarm mo of m power over Blakesly. This must not be. must be nipped in the bud. Already the old man has half a notion to resist. Should he get further encouragement, open defiance to my wishes would follow. It therefore remains for me to see that this boy-girl is summarily dis- posed of. As for tha fellow, who claims to be the real Jack Blakesly, if he, too, were to dro out of existence, it would augur well for us, must bunt up my Jack, and set him at this long- haired pilgrim, while I look after the girl. I will first seo Blakesly, and we will come to terms—easy terms, for the present. The screw- press can be instituted when it becomes neces- sary. He found Uncle Redmond in the garden, a half-hour later, superintending the work there. At a beckon, theold man followed his persecutor to a neighboring arbor, and the two men took seats, facing each other. “Tcame to talk on business,” the colonel an- nounced, briefly, “I am going down to New York to-day, and shall probably return late, to-night. I want to know if I am to bring the ocffier back with me or not; shall I understand that you defy my power, or submit to it?” “Ye can understand just as ye please. I’d advise ye to go slow, an’ not attempt to exercise your power, as ye call it.” “Then, listen. I shall send my claimant back here, and you must install him as your heir, in Ps of the long-haired puppy, and both he and shall have the node oe of your possessions, If this is agreeable, for the present I will not bring the policeman with me, on my return, Otherwise, I shall, and to-morrow’s sunset shall find you luxuriating in the N. Y. Tombs, for murdering your own wife. I will step over to the stable and order your carriage to take me to the se oat you can ruminate until my re- turn, when I shall expect an answer.” “Hold on. You can have it now. Send on your man, and you shall have your wishes—un- til I get some ground for the defensive. Then, I shall turn the tables,” “Oh! Pll run all risk of that. Be kind enough to advise the long-haired pilgrim that his pres- ence is no longer desirable here.” “T}l do nothing of the kind. He is my son— of that I am fully satisfied—and he shall have all the hospitalities my house affords.” “Oh! very well; [am not particular, only I thought it would be to your advantage, and his health to get him out of the way.” The colonel strode away toward the stables then, with a mocking laugh. A few minutes later he was driven away in Uncle Redmond’s grand barouche toward the railway station. On arriving there, he made inquiries and learned that his coadjutor was at the village tavern, and on search found him there, half drunk on the poison they sold over the bar. Arousing him, the colonel led the way to a room, and gave him a chair, “Sit down, you fool!” he said, sharply. “I am ashamed of you!” “What do I care?’ Jack retorted, with a scowl. ‘‘Can’t a feller have a little fun?” “Tl give you fun, you drunken idiot, What did you leave Hudsondale for when that long- haired devil came?” “ Couldn’t help it, daddy. The long-haired fellow throwed me out!” Jack replied, the pic- ture of innocence. ‘Throwed you out?” ‘“Yes—picked me up, and throwed me out in- to the river.” “Oh! you baby! you ninny! you sickly fool!” the colonel raved, “Yes, I know I am, daddy; but really I couldn’t help it. I got it all from you.” “Take care, boy!” “No, I won’t. It’s true. An’ that Western feller is awful strong.” “Bosh! I could handle him easy enough. T’ve slain better warriors than he with my little finger.” “Tn your mind. [t won’t wash, dad. Didn’t I see you laid out stiff by this same coon? Can’t come it over me. We are both cowards, and there’s no use denying it.” The elder villain fairly overflowed with rage,

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New York Nelli. ay “Tl kill you if you don’t hold your infernal tongue!” he swore, ‘‘ You’ye got to go back to Hudsondale.” “What! where the Westerner is?’ I don’t want Money is no temptation. But I will go on one consideration.” * Name it, then.” “Tt is simple. A basket of champagne.” **-You will go for that?” “T will.” ‘Then TH send it up direct from the city. There is something else I want you to do, how- ever.” “What?” “Tl tell you. .The Westerner and a girl in New York, named New York Nell, inust be put out of the way ere we can hold a show at Hud- sondale.” ee Why so?” “Because the man is dangerous, and the girl because she is sharp and crafty. I will attend to her case, while you look after your rival.” “But, how? I don’t like to tackle him openly. He might lay me out, you see.” “Don’t do it openly. There are a score of ways of doing for him. Take him when he is asleep, for instance, or slip a knife into his ribs, or drug him,” Jack looked dubious. “Tl try,” he said, ‘ but most likely I'l be the one who'll get switched off the track and take a term ticket in Sing Sing.” Colonel Baxter left for New York by the next train, : Immediately upon setting foot in the metro- polis, he made his way to the Bowery, and into one of the dives, for which it is famous. The dive was a saloon in the basement of a building that was used for mercantile purposes. The saloon was well filled with a delegation of city roughs. Passing into the room beyond the saloon, to which a narrow hallway led from the ovtside, Baxter found himself in the theater, or concert- room—quite a spacious, but low-ceiled apart- ment, furnished with several hundred seats, and a stage at the opposite side, for performances. There was no performance, now, however, and the auditorium was deserted. Without noticing this fact, however,'Baxter descended a side aisle, and entered through a narrow door upon the stage, and made his way to the further side of the platform where he encountered a man engaged in mixing a bucket of paint for the purpose of daubing over a stretch of neigh- boring canvas, into a fairy scene. He was a villainous looking old German, with long stringy black hair, little peering eyes, and a red hooked- nose, while in girth he was of great dimensions. He looked up with a nod of recognition, as the. colonel approached, his eyes emitting a peculiar sparkle. “ Wie gahts!” he saluted. long since, mynheer Baxter?” “How you vas, so ““Good. How’s yourself, Fritz?” “*Bad—very bad! Dot establishments dey vas make me vork yust so mooch like von dog, unt den dey don’d vas giff me some monish.” “Oh! that’s it? ell, Fritz, I’ve come to the conclusion that nothing pays so well as anti- go 4 and cash jobs, you say.” “Kh? How vas dot? Aunty’s sgrubles unt cash jobs you say?” ‘Exactly. It’s all bosh this living honest all one’s life, and poorer than a church mouse. Now, listen! Ihave a cash job for you, with the money waiting for you, as soon as the job is completed.” ‘Yaw! dot vas goot. But, what vas de shob you want me to do, and how much you giff me?” “J want you to put a check on the breath of a girl—that is to say—-I want you to kill her. The pay for you will be one hundred dollars.” “For true—so much ash all dose?” Just as I tell you. When I am convinced that you have forever hushed the girl; astraight hundred will I give you.” “Den I vas your man. matter?” . “To suit yourself, so that you make sure, and don’t mention names in connection.” “All right. Giff me der description unt I leave der stage, und do de shob fer der hundred dollars.” “The girl I want fixed calls herself New York Nell. She dresses in boy’s clothes, and does detective biz, Used to peddle papers cn the street, by the way.” “Yaw! yaw! I dink ash how I knows her. T will settle her account burty soon, und come for my hundred dollars. Vere vill I find you, Mister Baxter?” ‘* At the Union Place, any time to-day—or. at Hudsondale, up on the Hudson, after to-day.” “Ferry well. I vill hunt for you, unt if I don’d vas find you, I vill advertise for you.” Baxter then took his departure. “That settles the girl into a snug reposing- place in her native soil,” he muttered. *‘ Fritz will do as he agrees, and it behooves me to hang around, and fulfill my part.” Fritz bad served an apprenticeship ‘at the business before this, and knew pretty nearly how to go to work. He immediately quitted the dive and went to a tenement-house in a narrow street not far from the Bowery. Seeking a recom upon the second flcor, where dirt, cobwebs and scarcity of furniture were chief characteristics, he called to a little boy who was playing in the hallway. “Mine goot leedle vellow, you vas kno’ Jamey Murphy?’ he inquired, slipping a nickel into the child’s hand. Den yust you go tell Jamey dot an old Dutchman vants to see him.” The boy skurried away in delight. i Fritz, after the urchin’s departure, threw him- self upon the dirty cot bed in one corner of the apartment, and looked sick. Perhaps few artists in expression could look as woe-begone and miserable as the Dutchman when he chcse. It was a trick, this one he now contemplated, which he had successfully worked many times before, and which had brought him in consicer- able ill-gotten cash. ; Jamey Murphy soon put in an appearance—a How shail I fix de

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£8 New York Nell. strapping, red-headed Irish youth, with a bull- dog face, aud a physique that denoted great ey. ‘‘Did yez sind for me, Fritz!” he asked, eying the German critically. “Dot ish so,” the Teuton replied. ‘‘I vas sick, Jamey. I vas goin’ to cross ofer der rivers mit der angels, I vants you to do some- dings mit me.” “Phat would yez have, Fritz? Faith it’s many asly lager ye’ve smuggled to me, an’ if I ean do yez a turn, here’s my will.” “Dot ish right. I vas ferry sick, poy, unt I vants to dell some dings mit a detective. You know der gal, New York Nell?” ** T’ve seen her, sur,” *€ An’ do ye subbose ash how you can find her?” pect mebbe.” ‘Then, off you vill pe so kindness, yust send dat galtome. Tell her dot a dyin’ Dutchmans vant to see her apout some bropertie*.” “‘ Faith, an’ it’s mesilf will be doin’ the same, an’ after ye’r’ dead, Dutchy, I'll be applyin’ fer your job at the dive,” was the comforting assur- ance of Jamey, as he marched away out of the room. After he was gone, Fritz found himself well enough to sit up and smoke his pipe. But he was back on the cot again in a twink- ling, groaning mournfully, when he heard foot- ser“ approaching the door. moment later New York Nell entered the room, closing the door behind her. “ Are ee the person who wanted to see me?” she asked, approaching the bed. st Yaw,t vasder barty,” the German answered. “Tish dying, unt I vant to hire you to do some- dinks for me. Vil you?” “Well, that depends, my German friend, what your wants may be,” Neil oe taking a seat, and lighting a cigarette. ‘‘ You don’t look very funeralistic.” “Vot is dot?” Fritz inquired, doubtfully ‘* Vot vas funeralistic?” ‘T meant to say that you do not look very much like a corpse.” “But you vas misdaken, I vas purdy near deadt, honest. I haff a cancer in my stumache, und der doctor dell me off I vas got some dings to make straight mit deir crookedness, better I vas tend to ’em. So I send to ask if you vill do somedings for a poor deadt mans, who don’d vas got some friends in der worldt?” “T shouldn’t wonder, Spill out what you want to say, and I'll tell you afterwards.” *¢ You ish von detectives, leedle girl?” “S pect I am,” “Und you ish ohnest mit der helpless Dutch- mans?” “Bet yer boots I never was dishonest yet, » when I know'd it.” “Dot is goot. Dot makes me like you most like der fraulein I left_over in Germany. I dells ron vat I vants. I haff no friends in der world, yet I haff some moneys vot I earned some days since I coome to America. There pe several t’ousand dollars of dis moneys, und I pury him mit a tin box, mit der ground, oop along der Hudson River. But, now, as I vas goin’ to die, I vants you to get dish moneys for me, und I giff you some of it,” “Well, now, that hits me, uncle. Give us ; your directions, and I’m off like a Fourth of uly firecracker.” ““You vil pe honest, und pring pack all der moneys to me, first?” ‘On course I will. Hope I may be shot if I play shenanigan,” “Allright. I tells you, den. You know up along der Hudson dot place vot dey vas cail Schneider’s Inlet?” * Bet I do.” ‘Vel, you hire von leetdle tug-boat, an’ ride up to der mouth off der inlet, an’ get out on der furder point. Look sharper, und you find a pig flat stone mit some ashes on top where von fire haff peen puilt. You get you some stick, und pry up der stone, und in von leedle hole you nd a tin box, vot gondains der money. See?” “Yes, I understand.” “Vel, dot ish goodt. You den come pring pack der box to me, unt I giff you ein—swi— five hundred dollars.” “Well, that ain’t bad. But suppose you’ve passed in your checks when I get back?” ; ~ ritz caused his countenance to elongate, dole- ully. "Vel, if I ish dead, den you keeps der whole, unt giff me a pig funeral, vid a lager beer supper afterwards.” “Correct, Dll do that, my old boy, When had I best go for the cash?” “If you vas not one cowards, it vould be pet- ter for you to wait til purdy near dark, so dot nopodys would see you dig up der box und sdeal him from you.” “Allright. If the water is not too rough, Pll row up in a skiff?” Nell said, asshe turned to go, Schneider’s Inlet was merely the mouth of a small creek that flowed into the Hudson, some ten or twelve miles up that beautiful stream. Shadows were gathering thick that evening when a man appeared at the western point o: land that was bounded by the waters of the creek aud river, on two sides. He peered anxiously down the river, as if awaiting some one’s coming, then sneaked steal- thily back into the cover of the timber, carry- ing in his hand a small rifle. The man, of course, was the villainous Dutch- man, Fritz, lying in wait for the victim of his cunning but murderous scheme. “Tt vas time she comed,” he growled, a fiery litter in his eyes. ‘‘1 no like her stay avay so ong, vor my Courage ish already up, und my hands pimepy get unsteddy mit der ichin’ for dot hundred dollars vot Baxter promised me.” He passed the big stone that had some time served as a fire-place for a camping-out party, and ensconced himself in the bushes beyond, out of sight. An hour passed, and the murderous schemer still crouched silent and motionless in his posi- tion among the busbes. A moon came up. shot long bars of moonlight down into the woodland, Sharp and penetrating, the German’s gaze peered straight before him, marking every ob- ject closely as far as he could see. Presently the sound of a footfall came to his sharp hearing. -« 2 4

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New York Nell, 29 In an instant he was doubly on the alert, with his rifle cocked and ready for use. And not too soon for his villainous purpose. : The moment following he caught sight of a female figure away among the trees, standing silent and motionless, as if in an attitude of lis- tening. The face was turned from him, looking toward the river. f Raising his rifle to his shoulder, he glanced ex along the barrel and fired. A piercing shriek answered the report, and the figure fell prone to the earth. With a hoarse laugh he then seized his hat, and retreated rapidly from the scene of his foul deed. CHAPTER X. THE CONCLUDING ACT. CoLONEL BaxtER sat up until past midnicht, that night, and was rewarded by an expected visit from Fritz, ““Well?” he said, inquiringly, as the German ntered. ; “Vell!” Fritz replied, “*T fixed her.” ‘You are sure?” : “Yaw! Tish sure. I vaited for her at an ap- vointed place, and plugged her right through I . Place, an e der prains mit a rifle ball. ‘¢How do you know?” “Because I went upand examined after I had killed ber.” : ** And she was quite dead?” _ “Yaw! deadter as a door nail. e There was no ® life left in her.” ‘Well, Pll believe you, till I learn better. If I find you have been cheating me, I’ll have you arrested for the crime.” 5 ‘But where pe my moneys?” “ Here is the amount—a hundred-dollar not». Take it and begone. And mind, you infernal beer soaker, if you ever open your mouth as to this transaction | between us, I'll see that you fill n earl ave! : Gd te get his blood-money, Fritz nodded acquiescence, and took his leave. ter be had one, Baxter smote the table beside him with his fist, to emphasize his satis- faction. ', “One more obstacle removed!” he said, with | ahiss, “The next is at Hudsondale, for which place I must make an early departure.” He took the first train in the morning, accom- nied by the policeman, who bad been with fen before, at the time of the cliff tragedy, and “who now wore citizen’s attire over his official I They arrived at Hudsondale too late for breakfast, but Baxter coolly ordered one, with s much nonchalance as though he were in fact he master, instead of the guest. ; After breakfast, Baxter sought his son, and ound him in bis room, with his head bandaged p, while he sat bolstered np in an easy-chair ith a stand beside him containing several of liquor. et, unc now?” the colonel growled, in disgust. “ Who's been punching your head?” “That awful We-tern feller,” Jack gasped, faintly. “He caught me slipping something into his coffee, and knocked me down.” * You dolt! you idiot! what did you do then?” | “ He made me beg his pardon—then I crawled up here to doctor up.” Baxter, Sr., fairly howled with rage. “Pye a notion to kill you!” he roared, draw- ing a pistol. “Do!” Jack said, beseechingly. ‘I'd rather de than live.” ‘ ““Death would be too good for you,” Baxter snarled. ‘‘Oh! you’re a disgrace to the human race—you poor cowardly idiot—you groveling sneak ofa cur! I’m ashamed to stand in your presence.” “Then get out of it. Idon’t care. If you’re so brave, go sample the fellow, yourself. He'll thump daylights out of you in asecond.” The colonel gritted his teeth together. ‘““T wish I was handy with my fists, and soon I'd show you,” he growled. He left the room and descended to the veran- da, where Jack was seated, smoking a cigar. “See here, you young long-haired 77 are you the person who struck my friend, Biakesly?” “‘T dare say I am the pilgrim who put a head upon a young snob whom I caught putting poison into my coffee, if that’s the one you refer to,” Jack replied, rising to his feet. ‘As to the preferred title of ‘puppy,’ allow me to thank you for applying your own Christian title to one undeserving of the honor,” Baxter flushed red. “Curse your impudence!” he cried, hotly. “Tf I had my cane here I’d chastise you.” “ Bah! the cane is an instrument used by the aged, decrepit, lazy and cowardly. Men usena- ture’s weapons, out in our country.” “Thank you. I am not a pugilist,” Baxter re- plied. ‘‘I came to say that if youlaid aband on my friend Blakes] —tbat’s all. D : “But hold on. If you wish, I can go up and clean out the poisoner at once, so as to give you the desired opportunity.” The colonel stalked on into the house, how- ever, Peper terribly deaf, while Jack re- seated himself, with a laugh, to finish his cigar. “That devil has obtained some mysterious power over my father,” he mused, “but I'll be shot if he shall exhibit much of itaround here while ’m about. He's got my record to heart from the old mining days, and I guess he won't attempt to hurt me much, unless it is in a a Stealthy way. He’s off for an interview with old gent now. I wonder what's to pay?” Baxter was bent on interviewing Uncle Red- mond, as Jack had surmised, and found bira in the library at his desk, engaged in writing. “Good!” the polished villain said, entering, and closing the door bebind him, after which he drew a chair up to the desk. ‘ While you have your pen ready you and I had best settle our affairs.” “Ob! we hed, hed we?” Uncle Redmond grunt- ed, staring over his glasses. ‘Waal, I ain’t so sure pres 3 that. I ain’t ready yet.” “On the contrary, you are just ready—to go to jail, if you do not come to terms. The liceman is lounging in the park yonder, and a single call from me to him will bring him here to arrest you.” “Well, what do you want?” PY, ack again, ll break your head ~da ”

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30 New York Nell. ‘Money first. You can make me out a check for what spare cash you have got in the bank. When you have done that you may write me out a clear deed to the rest of your properties, and I will call our business square!” “ You are sure?” “Oh! aes ranite positive.” ‘* And I suppose thereafter, I and my family can skin out, and leave you in possession?” ‘“Eixactly. These are my absolute and only terms, and you can either accept them, or start for jail within the next hour. See! I have my signal whistle. Write me out the requisites and sign them, at once, or I will blow for the officer.” “Then, blow at once,” Uncle Redmond said, quietly, ‘for I have thought the matter over, and fully decided to accept arrest, and imprison- ment, ay, even death, rather than accede to a single one of your villainous demands, There! that is fully as final a conclusion as your own— my absolute and only terms.” “Then, by Heaven, you shall feel my power, and I'll trump in a deal on your wealth yet,’ Baxter cried, as he blew the whistle fiercely. Unele Redmond went on with his writing, ‘but from the neryousness of his hand, it was evident that he was somewhat agitated. A servant immediately answered this strange summons, and Baxter said: “Be kind enough to send up Mr. Montford Green—the gentleman that came with me, this morning.” “Yes, and you. may also fetch along Miss Vernon, and Jack,” Uncle Redmond added, “7d rather be taken before the full army than asa lone soldier on the field. Yes, yes. Bring along Jack and Miss Vernon.” ‘You are foolish,” Baxter sneered, ‘‘to wish to make your disgrace public?” “That is my business. I don’t ask any ad- vieefromyou. I realize that you, by some devil- ish scheme I cannot account for, have got me into a trap. That ought to satisfy you. If I die, however, I shall die game, and innocent of the charge you prefer. Better than all, I have male a will, and placed it in safe hands, that will baffle you of all hope of fingering my property.” “Curse you! you are lying to me!” “No, lam not. But, here they come, Pro- coed with your devilish design.” As he spoke, the door opaned, and Jack and Miss Vernon entered, accompanied by the man Green, now arrayed in his official uniform. Both Uncle Redmond and Baxter then arose. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the latter said, mockingly, ‘‘ it becomes my painful duty to ar- rest this man Redmond Blakesly for the crime of murder, which he was seen to commit night before last. I have endeavored to arrange with him so that he need not be taken, but he refused all the advances I made, and therefore must deal with the law. Officer, arrest him.” “Touch him, Sir Officer, at your peril!” Long Haired Jack replied, sternly. “Just wait a bit, until I get a peep at this matter. Father, is there any truth in this accusation?” “No—in the face of Truth, no! A woman exasperated me to that extent that I rushed at her to. strike her, but before I could touch her, she backed into the river and disappeared. I | am not guilty of murder,” \ “You lie—you struck her with the cane and both the officer and myself are ready to swear to it. The courts are the proper mediums to render a verdict in thiscase. Arresthim,Green.” “Not yet, if you please, Mr, Baxter!” a cool voice cried, and Nell Niblo came sauntering in- to the room, in her jaunty way. “‘ If you please, Mr, Baxter, I want to say something. Come in, my friends.” And in answer to her call, there entered the room, Mr. Valentine Vernon, Sam Snicker, bootblack, and a pale-faced intellectual-looking girl of some twenty-four summers. Baxter. grew livid, and a gasp escaped from between his shut teeth. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am here on busi- ness,” Nell now announced, with a smile. “I have arranged a sort of surprise party, with a view to giving you all a little treat. scarcely know where to commence, but think proper first to interduce Mr. Val Vernon, sheriff's special, from Leadville country, Mr. Vernon, with your authority will you see that no ono leaves the room?” Vernon bowed, and took his place at the door. Then, Nell continued: “Mr. Blakesly, senior, has this man Baxter been molesting you?” “Ay!T have ordered his arrest for willful murder!” the villain eried, fiercely. ‘“ Officer, do your duty.” “ Hold on! That man is no officer at-all, and has no power to arrest. He is one of your ruffian pals, rigged out in uniform. As for ar- resting Uncle Redmond Blakesly, Baxy, you'd better drop that game. It won't wash, It’s too heavy for you to carry!” “Curse you, girl! What do you mean?” “T mean that your hand is beat. Listen, while I briefly make a summary of the case: “In the beginning you trump up a game to put your son in at Hudsondale as the real heir. You lie to an innocent girl and get her to back your case with her cash, until you eventually get it all from her. The real Jack Blakesly comes to light, and the bogus one has to bounce. You get wrathy. You seek a woman who loves money, and arrange for her to come to Hud- sondale, declare herself a former Mrs, Blakesly, and exasperate Uncle Redmond to such an ex- tent that he will attack her, when she is to back off a cliff into the river, and be drowned—in your mind! You will then step in and threaten to arrest Uncle Red unless he knuckles to your will, But you made a slight mistake in the tool you chose, A certain New York girl over- heard your plan, went and sent the real Mrs. Snicker away, and, in disguise, filled the posi- tion. Later, she further carried out your plans here at. Hudsondale—dodged Uncle Redmond’s blow, tumbled gracefully into the river, and swam out, thus preventing any harm being done any one.” “ And that was you,” Uncle Redmond cried, rushing forward with extended hands, _ Well, if not me, if was some one about my size,” Nell replied with a smile. “May God ever bless you, my brave, noble child!” the old man said fervently, tears of joy streaming down his cheeks, while there was a cry of surprise and applause from all but Bax~ 4° Beep pete m mm

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New York Nell. 31 ter and his pal, who stood at bay, with sullen faces, ‘No, don’t call me your gal, fer I ain’t no one but Nell Niblo, who wears trowsers in spite of fashion or famine,” was the reply. ‘‘ Besides, I spect I’ve found ye a better daughter than I could make. A woman gave me a letter ter fetch to you, along with the young lady, yon- Cer, sayin’ I should read itoutloud. So if you'll all keep mum, I'll try to display my poor educa- tion in asfu’st class oration. ‘“‘God grant that I may not be mistaken, for T already suspect that this young woman is my long-lost Eva,” Uncle Redmond said, crossing over and taking her two hands warmly in his, while Jack edged near, ready to claim a bro- therly kiss, : 2 ‘Well, I s’pect you’re right,” Nell said, tear- ing open the envelope. ‘‘ Anyhow, here goes: “New Yorr, —, 187—. “My Dear Huspanp:— “ After all these years of silence and bitter re- pentance God has instilled into my heart the courage to write to you—a last, long letter. ‘“‘ Accompanying the bearer of this messageI send you our child—understand, ours. The child stolen from you by Colonel Baxter died in my arms, after J rescued it from his power, and I had it respecta- bly buried. The boy of your second marriage still lives, I have learned, a noble specimen of manhood. God grant he may ever continue in the right path through life. Heis a legitimate son, for, on learn- ing of your proposed second marriage, I procured a divorce—to save your children, “Of nyself, Redmond Blakesly, I must in justice say a few words, As true as God witnesseth this, I never was the bad woman you had reason to believe. True, I left your house and home in company with Baxter. I accompanied him on the cars to New York. Hehad told me you were unfaithful—shown me letters he claimed to have intercepted, address- ed to other women in your hand. I became mad with jealousy, and in a condition bordering on frenzy fied with him to New York. Long ere we reached there, he insulted me, and I awoke to his devilish scheme. Idenounced him, but it was too late. I knew you would never receive me at Hud- sondale, sol came not back. I left Baxter at the New York station, and sought labor for my support. I could ad no position, so rented me an attic-room and took in sewing. In this way, ever since, I have supported myself and child, who was born after my fatal misstep. God helping me, I have ever led a virtuous, respectable, Christian life—a hfe of bit- ter penitence and sorrow that has whitened my hairs. Our child I have reared as 1 would have her go—in the path of purity and righteousness, and in turning her over to your fatherly care, with the hope of your welcome for her, my earthly mission is complete. If any suspicion of my unfaithfuloess yet lurks in your mind, ask Baxter. Villain and ut- ‘ ter wretch as he is, I can but believe that he will at least do the woman justice whose ruin he sought, but failed to secure. But one thing yet I beg—let my child—our child—come occasionally and place I die. From your flowers on m ave when ieee Hester BLAKESLY.”’ divorced wife, Uncle Redmond had staggered to a chair, and with his head bent forward, the old man wept silently. Nor was there a dry eye in the room, except those of the colonel and his pal. — “ She speaks the truth!” he said, voluntarily, in a busky tone. ‘ As far asI have ever been able to learn, she has led a pure, unstained life =would to God I could say the same of myself, I have plotted and am baffled. Ihave nothing more.to say—no bs goa aa no prayers. Iknow the consequences; I will take them as they come. But, girl, there is one thing 1 would ask—did Fritz, the German, lay for you, and if so how did you escape?” “Ohl as to that, Baxy, you see. I am a sus- picious little craft, and I smelta big rat. So I tuk Sam Snicker, here, along with me, and in- stead of protrudin’ our anatomy before the muz- zle of an expected hostile gun, we slung out’the dummy, and had the satisfaction of seeing that die an unnatural death. That’s all. No one was killed through your kindly machinations. Mr. Vernon, if you have any paper to serve on this chap, there’s no time like the present.” ‘“No! no! stop!” Uncle Redmond cried, rising. “Let him go. I believe the lesson he has been taught through the instrumentality of our little detective will be the means of causing his re- form, for the only redeeming act Iever knew the man to do has been to exonerate an inno- cent woman of a life-long wrong and disgrace which he put upon her!” “ Tt is not for me to say whether heshall he go or stay,” Val Vernon said, stepping forward. “True, I am a sheriff’s agent, but I have no papers to serve on these villains—no advice to give them, except to go, as there is a detective searching for them, named Monk, whose busi- ness it is to bring them to the gallows. The for- tune they have inveigled from my too trusting sister I care not for, as I think the cure the les- son has given her is amply worth the expendi- ture. “That settles it. Get out, while all are so lenient, or you may get your head into a noose yet,” the girl detective cried. ‘‘ And, aboveall, if you ever come to New York again, don’t fool around a certain little hornet called N. Y.. Nell, or it is pretty likely you'll get stung. Ta! ta! you vanquished heavy villain—skip out! The last act has told the story!” A few words suffice to close. Accompanied by his sun, and pal, Colonel Baxter took his departure, and was never heard from thereafter. The following day Uncle Redmond, Eva, and New York Nell left for the metropolis, and later there was a joyous reunion between the stanch old master of Hudsondale and his long- lost wife, during which all wrongs of the past were freely forgiven, and peaceful happiness brought about. Later still Hudsondale exchanged hands, and grand homes in a Western State knew those whom our pen has favorable known—three homes, close together, where peacefully dwell Uncle Redmond and Aunt Hester—Jack and his bride, nee Miss Vernon, and Val Vernon and bride, nee Eva Blakesly. : Materially rewarded, for the services she had performed, the authoress of much of the happi ness radiating those Western homes went back to New York, and since then has made a happy choice in a noble husband, who is justly proud of bis wife whose experience in the detective business brought about such auspicious results! THE END,

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LZ, 2: 00TAMO PAGES, 7 3 SADL is FIVE CENTS, sai POCKET LIBRARY. HRHBRRHADRHRGAHRARAHRAHDHARARARANRRARODRARH AAA MW BHCHRKRRAARA 1 Deadwood Dick. By Edward L, Wheeler, r By E. 3 ( 2 Kane's King. “By Baga BIL Pent Boy Miners, By Edw rj 8. Ellis The Flying Yan. ee. “By Col: Prentiss Ineraham. ere treme dpaeen age Sr Seas hts ger ie Double Daggers. ilward Le Whe ? The oii ; 7 The Rouble Daggers. by Kivard L. Mbceler. | 82 The Mussar Captain, By Col. Prentiss Tugeaham. The Prairic Pilot, by Buffalo Bill.” 89 Bil waa c sm Leadville. | By E. L.Whealer, The Buffalo Demon. By Edward L. Wheeler. | 90 TH th t Raxane by G By Edward 8, Elite. Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide, By O11 Coomes. 91M DRY, eae ay Gleason. Ned Wylde, the Boy Scout. By “Texas Jack” | 92 The Oces locdoun By Belper arse Buffalo Ben; Prince of the Pistol. By E.L.Wheoler. | 98 Phil. Mardy, the B Sl eA RL 1 Ralph Roy. the By tose,” sc iingrahan. | 94 Deadwood Wek axDeicetiver ity fLAthealer ick o e be y T. C. Harbaugh. 5 ki: Cy ir dor ca ae 8 Yellowstone Sack, By Joseph &. Kadger, Jr. 26 Buck puckram ss ctu as pao AEBS: 1 WildLvan, the Boy Claude Duval. ByE.L.Wheelor. | 9% The Black Steed of the Prairies fh Diamond Birk. bY Silenel Prenbise Ingraham. | 98 ‘The Sea Serpent eS ecn-Knite, Prince of the Prairies, 1Coomes. | 94 » Man Trac = , Oregon Bol.’ By Capt. J. F.C. Adagne a0 hoe he ae ee hn sds By EL’ Wheeler. Death-Face, the Detective. By E. L. Wheeler. 101 Darin ae: oa Ha aD Lasso Jack, By Oll Coomes. 102 The Wellow Uhiek BuCapt. Mague Ret Roaring Ralph Rockwood By Il. St. George. | 108 Chip, the rae 7 Mayne Reid, The Bey Clown. By Frank 8, Finn. 104 The Black . By Ndwatd L. Wheeler, 22 The Phantom Miner. By Edward L. Wheeler, 105 Wands ent arrears Che Roger Starbuek. The Sea-Cate By Captain Frederick Whittaker. Night Shaw ke rh ee B ie anigd Morris, The Dumb Spy. By Ol! Counes. 7 Jack Hovle? oi i Be E. Badger, Jr. Rattlin; Rube. By Harry St. George, Rock ve - nt i nd. By Edward L. W healer, Old Avalanche, the Great Aonihlintor. By Wheeler. Be et ak ormain botenierr Gla #-Eye, Great Shot of the West. By Capt. Adains. Ree eens riders 3B Faint lade s The Boy Captain, By Roger Starbuck. Boee ee ie oe win Pick Darling. By Capt. Frederiek Whittaker. The it oi es an ame” blacke. oe E.L. Wheeler. Bob Woolf, the Border Ruffian. By E. L. Wheeler, z he he pi oe J ae By Capt. layne Reid. Nightingale Nat. By T. C. Harbaugh. Piney Pan 1 ay zt Te SUaN Hunter. A By OL Coomea. Black John, the Road Agent. By J..E. Badger, Jr. Piney et Dick’a Dou Boy. By T.C. Harbaugh: Omaha OU, the Mask. 4 Terror. By E. L. Wheeler. Fobas ofin, Sep Dora bres Spang a ueelere Burt Bunker, the Trapper. By George E. Lusalle. Tr. = i. Lis teal, By aphid, MiiNleiners The Boy Rifles, By A. C. Irons. tae Wilane , oh qa Ps By Buffalo Bil, , The White B fialo. By George B. Lasalle, RO ET EE Re manera 3 Jim Bludsoe, Jr. By Edward L. Wheeler. By award ie Vhecler,. eh AUIS ds Ned Hazel, the Boy Trapper. By Capt. Adama. Gopher Gid, the Boy Trapper. By T. C. Harbangh Deadly. Eye, the Unknown Scout. By Uuffalo BUL, Harry Armstrong, the Captalr ofthe Club. By 0 Nick Whifiles’s Pet. By Cupt. J. F.C. Adama, Me Ty idge Hemyng, cack Hart See eee Deadwood Dick’s Eagles. y BE. L. Wheeler. The Hunted Munter. By © The Border King. By Oll Coomes, Solid Sam, the Boy Road-A Old Hickory. By Harry St. George. dudge Lynch, Jr. By The White Indian, By Capt. J. F.C. Adams, The Land Pirates. by Capt. May i Buckhorn Bill, By Edward L. Wheeler. Blue Blazes. B Frank Dunn » Mayne Reid. The Shadow Ship. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, Teny Fox, tho Ferret te! bs 5 haw he Lw The Red Brotherhood. By W, J. Hamilton. Wili Wildfire’s Rac his aed 1." Wheeler, Dandy Jack. By T. C. Harbaugh. re’s Racer. By Charles Morris. Hurricane Bill, By Joseply E. Badger, Jr. By Oll Coomes. Single Hand. By. W. J. Hamilton. Patent-leather Joe. By Philip S. Warne. The Border Robin Hood. By Bullulo Bill. Gold panne the Sharpshooter. By Ed. L. Wheeler. Old Zip’s Cabin. By Capt. J. F.C, Adame, eh wicks By oH Coes L. Wheeler, ad Tom Western, By W. J. Hamilton. 6 Oid Rube, the Hunter. By Capt. Hamil Freee er a oy ED, Wheeler, | 286 Old Rube: eerie thom Rosas, By Ge Walds Lal Sa LO oe By On Uberieds 137 Panty Rock, the Man from Texas, By G. Waldo The Boy Duelist. y Col. Prentiss Ingraham. abe x - : 0 Abe Colt, the Crow-Killer. By Albert W. Atken. 185 Bop Hoekott the; Boy Dodgers: By: Ohas- Mrctie. gS Cherite. By Edward L.Wheeler. 189 The Blnek Giant, By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. omers, the Boy Detective. By Chas. Morris. 1 riz y Phill r, = oh glopees gg yates Ano Ry BE ay c ei aelete hee Pilla aie abseil Rosebu Hab: By Edward L. Wheeler, 141 New York Nell. By Edward L. Wheeler. Aghtning Joe. By Capt. J. F.C. Adams. gi Li 4 the Young Mo or. By CAL Co Kit. Harefoot. By T. C. Harbaugh, popareeig tated penta emt ei Ao pee Rollo, the Boy Ranger. By Oll Coomes. 148 Deadly Jj ahs or, Fighting Viro With Fire. By Tdyl, the Girl Miner. By Edward L. Wheeler, Jos, E- Badger, dr. Ready Ochs, Detective Dick. By Charles Morris. 144 Little Grit, the Wild Rider. By Col, Prontins pore Shot Seth, pe Bay Ria By O11 Coomes. Ingraham. Ready Oct. 18. ar peut vd. exander Patten, . 5 - 2 $2 The Lion of the Sea, By Albert. W. Aiken. 145 Ths aaeer Or nao: By Geo, Waldo Browne. 28 Photograph Phil, the Boy Sleuth. By E, L.Whovler. dant fete 24 Picnyune Pete, By Charles Morr &. 146 Cortina’s Right Bower. By Frank Dumont. Kis asian EL cri Tee Pot of the Family. By Brace- Ready Oct. 27. ridge Hemyng (Jack Harkaway), Nic Nevada, Py FE. L. W 36 Watch Kye. tho Shadive, By Edward t. Wheeler sa] Ronee pci Sag Saas toler ie ead Eye, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. ln 28 Dendwood is Device, By Ed. L. Wheeler, Issued Every Wednesday, Fy it MSC ONSTRS a kk pe kok BAIA RSW Php ed kkk Ha ew =o a i Sek pe kk kk ke ¢ Black Mustanger. By Capt. Magno Reid. | Bendle’s Poeket Library is for sale b . 0 Old Fronty, the Guide, By T. C. Harbaugh. cated, hen cutie por Sony (oe sen) Be, Mallon ara D yy nese er. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, cents each. eth. Sonos, By Edward BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, age. By Cupt. Frederick Whittkker. 98 Witiam Street, New York. itl 8 Canada Chet, the Counterfditer|Chief. By Wheeler. 4 The Dumb P Fre