Deadwood Dick Library (v. 1) (1899 04 19)

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vopyright 1878-1884, by Beadle & Adams. Entered at Post Office, New York, N. Y., as second class matter. Mar. 15, 189 M. J. IVERS & CO., Publishers, Issued Weekly. (James Sullivan, Proprietor,) Price 5 Cents. Vol | No. 6. April 19, 1899. 379 Pearl Street, New York. $2.50 a Year. : : BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, AUTHOR OF “DEADWOOD DICK,” ** DOUBLE DAGGERS,” “WILD IVAN,” ETC., ETC. all i i sony DEATH-FACE TRAPPED,

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EDWARD L. WHEELE IR'S DEADWOOD DICK, JR, NOVELS IN: THE HALF- DIME LIBRARY. 443 Deadwood Dick, Jr.; or, The Crimson Crescent Sign. © 448 Deadwood Dick, Jr’s, Price 5 Cents per Copy. pala lah A stl SS Defiance. 453 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Full Hand. 459 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Big Round-Up. Jr.'s, Racket at Claim 10. ae s, Corral. oS ‘s, Dog Detective. 465 Deadwood Dick, ~ 471 Deadwood Dick, 476 Deadwood Dick, . 481 Deadwood Dick, in Deadwood. 491 Deadwood Dick, Te Compact. 496 Deadwood lick, Jr.’s, Inheritance. 500 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Diggings. 508 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Deliverance. 515 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Protege. 522 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Three. 529 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Danger Ducks. 534 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Death Hunt. 539 Deadwood Dick, Jr., 544 Deadwood Dick, Jr., the Wild West Vidoeq. 549 Deadwood Dick, Jr , 554 Deadwood Dick, Jr., 561 Deadwood Dick, Jr., 567 Deadwood Dick, Jr., 572 Deadwood Dick, Jr. 578 Deadwood Dick, Jr., 584 Deadwood Dick, hues in Texas. on His Mettle. in Gotham. in Boston. in Philadelphia. , in Dae ge A float. in Denver. 590 Deadwood Dick, J 1.8, Decree. 595 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Beelzebub’s Basin. at Coney Island. 600 Deadwood Dick, Jr., 606 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Leadville Lay. 612 Deadwood Dick, Jr., 618 Deadwood Dick, Jr., 624 Deadwood Dick, Jr., 630 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in No Man’s Land, After the Queer. 636 Deadwood Dick, Jr., 642 Deadwood Dick, Jr., 648 Deadwood Dick, Continent. 654 Deadwood Dick, Jr., glers. 660 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Insurance Case. 666 Deadwood Dick, Jr., Back in the Mines. 672 Deadwood Dick, Jr., in Detroit. in Cincinnati. in Nevada. in Buffalo. Jr.’s, Chase Across the in Durango. 678 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Discovery. 684 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Dazzle. 690 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Dollars. 695 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at Danger Divide. 700 Deadwood Dick, Jr.’s, Drop. 704 Deadwood Dick, Jr., 710 Deadwood Dick, Jr., at San Francisco. For sale by all newsdealers or sent, postpaid, on receipt of price, 5c. per copy, by the publ sl at Jack-Pot. Among the Smug- 716 Deadwood Dick, 722 Deadwood Dick, 728 Deadwood Dick, 734 Deadwood Dick, 740 Deadwood Dick, 747 Deadwood Dick, 752 Deadwood Dick, 758 Deadwood Dick, 764 Deadwood Dick, 770 Deadwood Dick, 776 Deadwood Dick, 782 Deadwood Dick, 787 Deadwood Dick, 792 Deadwood Dick, 797 Deadwood Dick, 802 Deadwood Dick, 807 Deadwood Dick, 812 Deadwood Dick, 816 Deadwood Dick, 822 Deadwood Dick, 828 Deadwood Dick, 834 Deadwood Dick, $40 Deadwood Dick, 845 Deadwood Dick, 852 Deadwood Dick, 858 Deadwood Dick, 863 Deadwood Dick, 870 Deadwood Dick, 876 Deadwood Dick, 882 Deadwood Dick, 891 Deadwood Dick, 898 Deadwood Dick, 904 Deadwood Dick, 910 Deadwood Dick, 916 Deadwood Dick, 928 Deadwood Dick, 934 Deadwood Dick, 940 Deadwood Dick, 946 Deadwood Dick. 951 Deadwood Dick, 957 Deadwood Dick, 965 Deadwood Dick, 971 Deadwood Dick, 977 Deadwood Dick, 980 Deadwood Dick, 992 Deadwood Dick, 998 Deadwood Dick, 1005 Deadwood Dick, 1011 Deadwood Dick, 1018 Deadwood Dick, ers, M. J. VERS & CO., 379 Pears Street, New York Crry. J r.’s, Still Hunt. Jr.’s, Dominoes. Jr.’s, Disguise. Jr. 5, Double Deal. Jr.’s, Death- Watch. Jr.’s, Doublet. Jr.’s, Death-Blow. Jr.’s, Desperate Strait. Jr.’s, Lone Hand. Jr.’s, Defeat. Jr.'s, Resurrection. Jr.’s, Dark Days. Ey, Defied. Jr.’ ’s, Double Device. 4 Jr.’s, Desperate Venture Jr.'s, Diamond Dice. | Jr.’s, Royal Flush, Jr.’s, Head-Off. Jr.’s, Rival. Jr.’s, Boom. Jr.’s, Scoop. Jr.’s, Proxy. Jr.’s, Clutch. og Jr,’s, High Horse, A bi , at Devil’s Gulch. — Jr.’s, Death-Hole Hustle Jr.’s, Bombshell. dY., ibs: Mexico. Jr.’s, Decoy Duck, dr., tn Siiver Pock Jr.’s, Dead-Sure Gai Jr.'s, Double Drive. Jr.’s, Trade-Mark, — Jr. ; at Tip-Top. Jr.’s, Double-Decker UR at Dollarville. Jr., at Flush Flats. Jr.’s, Shake-Up. Jr.’s, Double Drop. Jr.’s, Right Bower, Jr.’s, Ten-Strike. Jr.’s, Gold Dust. dr. il Oath, Jr.’s, Death-Doom. Jr.’s, Best Card. IT., at Gold Dust. Jr.’s, Big Play. Ab , Branded. Jr.’ 8, Dutch Pard. Jr.’s, Big Four.

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: = M. J. IVERS & CO., Publishers = No, 6. gareet Weekly. (James Sullivan, Proprietor.) : eee 5 oe Vol, l. . April 19, 1899, 379 Pear! Street, New York. Rate he Ae 1) = = sas : ——— the ——. IDEATH-FACE, The Detectives °° “snw'vaz2""™ BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, AUTHOR oF “DEADWOOD DICK,” “DOUBLE DAGGERS,” “WILD IVAN,” ETO,, BTC, a i DEATH-FACE TRAPPED, a Rte Che ee

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.< Death-Face, TEE DHETHCTIV HE; oR, Life and Love in New York. BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, 4uTHOR oF “DEADWOOD DICK,” ‘‘ DOUBLE DAGGERS,” “(BUFFALO BEN,” ‘WILD IVAN,” ETO. CHAPTER I. THE TRAGEDY IN CENTRAL PARK. ‘Tur last lingering rays of the golden sunset of an A day—a warm, sultry, breathless day in the t metropolis—were throwing a halo of s immer- ng light over the crowded park, with its throng of moving pedestrians and handsome carriages—its trees, flowering shrubs, beds of fragrant blossoming flowers, and sloping lawns, and over the pretty lake, dotted with rowboats, filled with pleasure-seekers, and tiny white sails that looked pictu: ue and petty as they danced across the waters, efore a ‘aint breeze that evening brought on—a breeze that had been lacking during the hot, parched, feverish day, within the narrow streets, and filthy courts of the great, bustling city. ‘ They were all here in one realistic picture, these people of the city—the rich and ye the high and the low, and the good and the bad; come out to enjoy the sunset, the delicious breeze, and the exhila- rating, romantic influences of the hour, The rustic seats were full, the arbors and flower- covered bowers were all occupied, and the green carpet of grass strewn with idle loungers, some asleep some reading, others gazing at and comment- ing on the passers-by. And Celia Orwick, only a poor sewing-girl, to be sure, had come hither into this paradise of trees and flowers, and in a little vine-embowered arbor, un- geen and safe from intrusion, where she could watch the lake, the drive and its gay equipages, anu the in- cessant moving panorama of figures, was wate the dying ‘ie upon the horizon, and bakctat Waiting! Ah! the word was so inexpressibly long and meaning, it seemed to her, as the moments wore by, and the shadows gathered. A pretty little thing was Celia, and men often sed to gaze back after her, as she passed along he strest—not because she was gay, or hing, or fascina*ing, nor because of her attire; but there was something attractive and pretty about her that created admiration and drew attention. Only seventeen, yet old in education and in intel- lectual growth beyond her years, and os finished”’ in a modest way shat was prepossessing in itself. but exceedingly graceful of tas} th a fair, sweet face—whiter than health would demand, perhaps— brown, sparkling eyes, and hair fine and soft and flowing, unconfined, to the tapéring waist, and & car- regal. Her dress was et Sep er and at contrast with simply a white muslin, relieved of its f rei roses at the throat; and yet shs looked sweetly beautiful in it and her little straw hat and dainty out-door slippers —looked divinely, thought one who was looking at her, unobserved, thorugh one of the lattice windows. He had been there just ten minutes, gazing at her, as she in turn watched the happy strollers, and hap- ee scene, and admiration beamed from an eye hat, though generally genial of expression, had power to flash with the fire of a strong and resolute will, Not a man yet was he, if you counted-the years, for it wanted three months ere Dock Ray- mond attained his majority, but his athletic figure jaad all the graces of manhood, and in face he looked really older. A handsome face you would say, it 1 Meath-Face, the Detective. 5 et te was so round and good-natured, yet dissipation had left haunting traces there, and the hs showed it- more than the other features. But if dress could add to one’s personal appearance, it was not lack in Dandy Dock, for his general make-up was decid- edl Bardeeing upon the “ exquisite.» 1f Celia Orwick was conscious of the glances level- ed at her, she was a skilled actress, for by no act or move did she betray the possession of such know:- edge; indeed, she started violently gf Dock’s pecu- liar little laugh, and almost screamed when she be held him standing upon thie thresigpld. : “You, Mr. Raymond? How you frightened me _ Were you standing there long?” she asked, her face a trifle more reddened than usual, “Yes, Cele; have been standing out there, and gazing at you in raptures, for full ten minutes. ‘ove! you look sweet enough to eat, to-night; and to think of you coming here toenjoy what ain’t al- lotted to poor mortals in this confounded city—a streak of sunshine. Do you come here frequent ee “No, I do not often get this far,” she replied, hee Spe dropping to the floor, a pleased expression set. tling about her cherry lips. ‘It is a lon distance epate the car-fare, Sister Nel- ly comes oftener than I.” “And that’s because sister Nelly has just a trifle more ambition than sister Celia,’ replied Dock, as- suringly, coming forward to occupy the remaining portion of the seat. : “You are too much of a home body fur yourowa good. pet; don’t give a fellow even a chance to see and we can’t alway “Why should you want to see me, Mr. Raymond? You know where we live.” “Yes, I know where, and used to drop in occasion- ally, but you remember another occupied my place, the last time I called.” “Yes,” the girl assented, a pained expression shadowing her features, “I remember. it was Mr. -—J} but you do not know him, I guess.” “ Luckily for hin, no—Iuckily. pecause my fists are in a prime co ion for a pugilistic encounter You treated me rather cool that night, so I concluded I'd best take a scull, as the boys say.” “Oh that is untrue, Mr, Raymond; I didnot use you coolly!” Celia said, reproachfully. “You have always been too true a friend to meand Nelly, for that, Tam sure I—I—” 2g And teirs came into the pretty eyes that, in Dock Raymond's opinion. were incomparable. “Of course you did, dear,” he replied, soothingly, venturing to encircle her waist with his strong arm, — and Crawing her toward him—‘‘of course you did. I was end teasing, that’s all. I saw how matters were—that you had more smiles fur the new beau than the old—and thought it my duty to resign, There, now, dry those tears or I shall be tempted to kiss them away.” “No, you mustn’t—that would not be right, you know, Ray,” she said, putting her white hands over her face, as he made a feint at putting his threat into execution. * And, does that fellow still visit you, Cele? Don’t g see what you admire in him, except it is his gli* tongue for he’s sourer-looking than a pickle.” Celia did not Dy immediately. She was gazmg away across the little sail-dotted expanse of water, and noting how fast the night-shades were gather- ing. Off yonder through the trees the first gleam of d crea nS ae like a ea teeta a e don’t come any mo: C) Uy Sr camiedenur sabaieal “For him to meet you here, eh?’ completed Dock. with u little laugh. “I thought momaethnitg unusual brought you out. And perhaps he may even now be waiting for me to vacate?” : 3 rded her silence She did not answer, and he re as a hinb to go, and arose, witha F tow ant (Suing Piel you wes, a you ow an mbling. Ww ‘ou when, an 1 needn’t be offended,” Us . ha - aaa : i ie. ee

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* verge of ruin, where one word of mine will p Death-Face, the Detective. 3 “Neither I will, dearest,” he said, reseating him- self; and gathering her in his arms, ‘‘Cele! Cele! do you know how much Ilove you? Have you not seen all the while that my love is only for you?” She trembled from head to foot, and he could feel the beating of her heart against his arm, but she did not try to release herself—only bowed her head upon his breast, and Sg 8 pete She did not reply, but he felt that he an answer more assuring than. words, He held her there, while the night came striding on, softly caressing her soft hair, and waiting for— he hardly knew what. She aroused at last, sat up, wiping away the tears that had reddened her eyes. 5 “You may g0, now, Ray,” she said, pressihg the hand that held hers. ‘And, I want you to promise that you will not linger near, an eavesdropper.” He rose, after kissing her on the lips. “You needn't fear, Cele,” he replied, something of reproach in his tone. ‘Ihave got a matter to at- tend toin the Bowery, and it is time I was there. Don’t stay here long. The ple are beginning to Jeave already. I wish I could see you home.” ~ “Not to-night, Ray, onAisaccount. But, bee may come and see me, some time. No one will there in your way.” * And I will, bet high on that, Cele, you darling;” and then snatching a Jast kiss, he left the arbor, and hurried away toward the city, whose countless lights had-all been lit. ~ Celia watched his handsome, stylish figure until it had disappeared among the throng; then she turned wearily around, as a footstep sounded, and a man stepped within the arbor. : A tall, graceful young fellow, attired in the hight of fashion, and faultless in almost every particular as fap as personal appearance was concerned. His face was darkly handsome in its well-chiseled features, and’his eyes and jetty curling hair matched well with hiscomplexion. But the expression about his mouth was more cruel than pleasing. Diamonds were liberally worn upon his shirt-front and fingers, and the chain across his white vest was of heavy gold. Celia saw him, and he came forward, an angry gleam in his dark eyes. “So you are alone, at Jast, eh?’ he said, half-sav agely. ‘I've been waiting half an hour or more for that puppy to leave.” “You came too early,’ Celia answered, calmly. “T said at dusk, in my note.” “Yes, And that was a pretty note, too, wasn't it? I gave you credit for more sense, Tf that note had by any mischance been lost, and its contents got ’ abroad, I should have been ruined!” “Indeed!” Celia had changed wonderfully in this man’s presence. She was cold, calm and collected, She knew she was facing a tiger, and must be equally brave. ‘ You were warned, once before, in less em- phatic words of the impending trouble, and paid no heed. When last I wrote, I wanted to make my- self understood, Ned St. Cloud!” : “Curse it. you are growing impudent. I did not come, because I had important business on hand,” replied the man, digging into the floor of the arbor with the heel of his pes i boot. ‘And now that I am here, what do you want?” It was several moments before he was answered; then the reply came in words of weight—in the cool, measured tones of the desperate girl: You should know, well enough, Ned, without asking me—you do know, and are trembling on the you. You must marry me to-night!" He started to his feet, with a fierce oath, then re- seated himself oppesite her again. ‘You are a fool, girl,” he said, haughtily. “You think I fear you, and that you can tyrannize over me. but you will find to your cost that I am not to be brow-beaten, I told’you I could not paer. ou at present, and you could not let that >, but thust send me an ‘ing letter,” * “Insulting!” Celia laughed scornfuliy. ‘No one can insult a man of your cloth, Ned St. Cloud, It is il pe ts True, you told me you would marry and acknowledge me, some time, but I cannot wait— cannot, I say; more, will not. Oh! how I hate, loathe and despise pumeta ae ou must marry me—at once—to-night, or, as God is my judge, V'1l—” ““What?” he asked, though there was a htened look in his eyes, my “Til make you me—I'll go to your father— T'll advertise you through all the circles of New York, as a black-hearted scoundrel!” “And get laughed at for your pains!” “No! Til not get laughed at, either, you villain. but I'll make you such an object of attention, tha‘ you'll be glad to hide your face.” “There! there!” he gasped, ‘‘ be quiet, for I take it all back. But I cannot marry you—not yet.” “You pes ag baer shall; this very night, or go to the magistrate In the morning, whichever you will.” “Ti do neither. “You shall not divulge a word con- cerning our relations, I swear it, you she-tigress!” He had stepped nearer, his eyes gleaming with rary and they stood face to face, the wronged girl, and the man who had been her worst enemy. “Marry me, to-night, or every one of your friends and acquaintances shall—” She did not finish—she could not, for, like a pan- ther, he was upon her, his two hands around her throat in a terrible grasp. With the ferocity of a madman he held her, his gripe never rel: until he was satisfied the foul work was done. And when he put her back upon the rustic bench the heart of Celia Orwick had ceased to beat.’ “Dead, by heaven!” he gasped, looking askance at the purple face and throat. Then, with a shudder, he turned. and stealthi /made his way out of the dark arbor, joining in wit the great crowd, ; alf an hour later he eme from the park on Fifth avenue, and hailing a cab, Sprung in, and was whirled rapidly away. . CHAPTER It. AN INTERVIEW WITH DR. HEIDLE. j THE day following St. Cloud’s murderous assault, was but a counterpart of its predecessor, The sun poured down upon the metropolis its intense heat, and not a breath of air was stirring. Everything seemed withered and burnt by the scorching rays; the sidewalks and pavements were blazing with heat; even the flies in the med gutters of baxter street seemed drooping and listless from the arid influence of the sun. All whom important business did not urge out were pretty sure to make the best of their shelter, while those unlucky ones who were perforce driven out, took the shady side of the street, and their lei- sure to perform their duties. " At noon, when the heat was about the greatest, a young gentleman might have.been seen hurrying along Baxter street, in defiance of the wilting power of the sun, At nearly every other saloon where cooling beverage was dispensed, he stepped in, and each time on his return to the burning street, ap- peared somewhat refreshed. He was tall, strong-limbed, and otherwise well proportioned, and attired in the dress-Suit of a West point cadet, which well displ@yed his figure. In ace he was ecpatig he Beg eel though his cheeks were bloated a trifle, and dissipation had left marks about his eyes, which were of a lusterless gray color. His hair, of a light brown hue, was sheared close to his skull, and a light mustache on his lip was carefully waxed to a needle’s pointat the ends. i i Without looking around him either direction, he burried along, and at last paused iv front of a two- _ story brick structure, on the left-hand side of the street, ‘up. The blinds and door were tightly 5 a eh

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4 Death-Face, the Detective. ~ — = te elosed, and one might have supposed the building empty, but for a painted tinsign upon the window ledge, bearing the inscription: “Dr. J. C. Herts,” in large, showy letters. E “ This is the place, I believe,” muttered the cadef, advancing up the it tage patting: the bell, vigor- ously, ‘I wonder if the old curmudgeon receives patients at this hour?” In answer to the ring, a colored youth appeared at the door, and stared curiously at the uniform of ihe caller. “Lordy! you isn’t a-p'lice officer am the question put, and the whites of the showed wildly. “No, you fool,’ replied the cadet, curtly. your master in?” “No, sar; he has stepped out,’ responded the youth, in all truth. “Go tell him a gentleman has called who has a case of vital importance, wherein there is a good speck. D> you understand, you rascal?” The boy nodded, and closing and locking the inner hall door after him, went on his errand. He soon returned, however, and admitted the cadet. In the second story front the learned doctor was presented to the cadet, who, without ado, accepted a seat and lit-a cigar. * The doctor was a short man, whose age probably bordered upon fifty, with a round little face, evil in its expression, peculiarly glittering little black eyes, and long curling hair, which touched his shoulders. He was painfully large of girth, and made an odd fizure when settled down in his huge arm-chair. He received the cadet with an inquiring nod, and then gave some order to the colored youth, ina low tone, afcer which the boy hurried out. ‘“You have important business with me, my pect T believe,” he said, with a slight German ac- cent. * Yes, Lhave,”’ was the reply, “if you are the Dr. Heidle whom I seek—the same who has a private asylum for insane people in—”’ ‘No matter just where, please. Yes, I am the same man, What shall I call you, my friend?” “ Ainsworth, for the present, Clifford Ainsworth.” “Very good, Mister Ainsworth, very good. And now what can I do for you?” ‘ou?’ was y’s eyes "Ig The cadet glanced cautiously around, as if appre- hending eavesdroppers, _ “Oh! you need not be afraid to speak out!” the doctor hastened to say, with a shrug of his shoulders. “These walls are all padded. I could murder you, and your screams would never be heard.” _‘*In that case I shall feel easier,’’ Ainsworth re- plied, with a smile, ‘My businessis secret, in so far that it would be my death-warrant to let my little plan get abroad. I understand, sir, that you receive patients in your private a he for a moderate re- muneration per annum. Is this so, or haveI been misinformed?” “Oht yes, I Uae aden receive patients—quite often, in fact. The institution is under my personal supervision, and patients receive the best of care and _ attention.” “SoThaveheard. AndIhave also been informed that you do not require a person to be really insane, to insure an entry into your place, and that after ' lost within those prison walls, there is no hope for their ever escaping without a permit from you, for the keeper.” The doctor tipped back in his arm-chair, and gazed at his visitor keenly. » “Have yeu got any one you wish put in the asy- _Inum, never toceome out until you say so, or cease to pay the bill?’ he demanded, stroking smooth- -Shaven chin, calmly. ‘‘Or are you endéavoring to —for instance, to make up a police report?” _ wo the ¢ rtainly, butt e fo or, pobst * 3 pk : at you can so that you can put it to other bly, if we can come to satisfactory terms. Now, then, I suppose what I say is in strictest confidence with you. It must go no further.” i **Noneed to fear me,” returned the doctor, ‘* Am of those with whom [ have had dealings will rouc for nty responsibility.’” ; “Very well. My case is this: Between twe of us —myself and a female cousin—there is a matter of a million dollars ding. The sum total was loft to my cousin, while I, being a wild oat in the field, came in with only an allowance of a home with my ccusin if I chose to accept of it, and five hundred a year for pocket change. But, in case my cousin and f should marry, two-thirds of the money returns to me. , “Ah, yes, I perceive. Why not use other means then, than the asylum? Ican fix you up a powder which could be slipped into her tea, and I will defy the sharpest chemist to discover a trace of poison after the work is done, It is sure, safe and quick!” _ Ainsworth shook his head, with a shudder, at the proposition. : ‘“No! I want no murder on my hands,” he said, decidedly. ‘Besides, it is imperative that she sha! live. For, in case of her death, I only get half of the legacy, It was my uncle’s fond desire to see us two man and wife, but death snatched him off, sud- — : denly, and so he Jeft us situated as I have illustrated. . Now, my cousin hates mein the most approved fash- ion, and no inducement of a mild nature will get me so ingratiated that an early marriage will be the re+ sult. Therefore, it behooves me to adopt harsher measures. If I canimprison her for a time, perhaps she will marry me; or, if she will not, I can then have her put out of existence, and live on the half a million.” “Exactly. And, sayin; where will the remaining half go to, sir?” “To various public benevolent institutions through — out the country—a large share to the poor.” ~ “Very well. Your plans seem about your hope, young man. Bring the gi K better, I will see to her removal—and she shall re- ceive safe quarters, and you need never fear that she will intrude upon you, so long as vou pay the annual fee for her confinement.” ** And that will be?” : Only ses 1 to Tear ae x you receive but the half, = “Four thousand dollars, if you please, invariably — } in advance.” cy “ What? Are you crazy, man?” the astounded — Pe tomantal; Starting up. “ Four thousand dok — rs 2 “ Precisely, sir, and you needn’t accept the offer at that figure, unless you choose to do so, as lam not anxious to get patients of your kind.” “But, heavens! that is beyond the bounds of reason, even. I had not thought to pay overas many hundred.” of The doctor laughed, coolly, and drummed on the | table with his fingers, evidently enjoying the other’s discomfiture. “No, indeed. My fee is small enough at five, cons ae es pa aa zat me,” 4 ‘Well, I suppose ose are your figures. will have to take the Job, for twa thousan down, cash, and a check on'the Third. W "satisfactory? en NAHOnAL W)

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roy. I doubt if he isin town, now, however.’ — This finished Cadet Ainsworth’s wean “the utes a ard “he left the Raver? Som Death-Face, the Detective. “Not at all. I must have all cash. Checks do not answer my purpose.” With a muttered execratios, Ainsworth took a huge wallet from an inside pocket, and counted out a stack of bills upon the table, some of which were fresh, crisp ones, while others were older and more worn. - The “young” ones Dr. Heidle counted out from the older, and handed back to the cadet, with a,cool, calculating smile, that spoke volumes. ~ “Tf you have any more of those of a maturer age, I should prefer them,” he said, with keen-sarcasm. “Why? what’s the matter with these new ones?” ces the plotter, an angry flush dyeing his ace. “Nothing much, only I don’t handle the ‘queer "!” was the reply, in significant tones. “* You should have known better than to try any games on me, young man. Supposing I had taken those cleverly execu- ted counterfeits, and after I had caged your bird, some of them had come back on me? As a result I should have gone to prison, and you may rely up- on it I should not have gone alone!” You have a nae eye to detect what thousands are daily failing to detect!’ replied Ainsworth, with a shrug. “It is seldom one of those bills is pro- nounced bad,” “T recognized them immediately, because I was Onve in the business!’’ was the old villain’s announce- ment. / “One more fee please—there, that is all correct, I believe. And, now, about the patient: ‘Where does she live?” + ~ ** At No. — Fifth avenue.” “Ugh! that is bad. ‘Most any other street would be better for my purpose. Does she go out much?” **Not this weather. Itistoostltry. You mustact before next Tuesday, as that is the day appointed for her departure for Newport,” “Hum, yes! Has she any particular female friends?” N “A few, I believe. Amy Chyle is a very intimate acquaintance. Resides at No. — 28th street. Also Mi+s Lulu Marolin, at No. — 27th street.” ‘Ah! yes.”’ The doctor jotted down the addresses upon a piece of paper. ‘ Her name is—?”’ “ Amy Elwood.” “And your correct name—?” “J cannot give. Iam to remain incog.” “Ohl no, You cannot do that, young man, and leave the girl with me.” r Lf But I will not give my real name. “And equally dangerous for me to undertake your case, without your fullname and address. Sup- pose L should get warning that the cops were about to make a descent upon my asylum. T should im- mediately want to rid myself of incumbrances, And, then, what would I do, in ease I was ignorant of your name?” *Well—” Ainsworth reflected a few moments, a dark scowl upon his face—“ I suppose you'll have to have it.” i He took the doctor’s pencil, and wrote a name and address upon a sheet of paper. Heidle took it and ut it in his wallet, with a nod. “TJ shall inguire at the address if such a party re- sides there,”’ he said. manifesting his disposition of eunning. ‘Tf not, Lshall do nothing in the matter, and you will forfeit your money. It is always the best to be on the safe side, you know.” : “Oh! yes; certainly. And, now, if our bargain is completed, I will go.” “Very well. But, one thing more: has this young jady any favored lovers—such ones as would be _apt tocreate a disturbance if she turns up missing? You should look well to this.” a i _“ None, I believe, except itis a young fellow, whom she occasionally receives, by the name of Harry Con- « Tt is danger- joctor, and a few minutes Lede -- er ‘ty shrub-fringe house and made h’, vay out of Baxter street. Half an hour later he was upon Broadway, mingling with. the crowd, that, despite the parching heat, were UPiigetbo soot and there was an exultant smile upon is face, which boded no good to poor Amy Elwood, the victim of as diabolical a plot as man often.con- ceives, CHAPTER Il. A VILLAINOUS ACT. THE home of Amy Elwood was located upon Fifth avenue, in one of the hundreds of grand, imposing residences, which line that noted thoroughfare. Tt was a large. pretentious structure, set in a pret . lawn, where beds of rare flowers — werein blossom. It was a lovely-place, even for the aristocratic avenue, and one migh' well envy the fair heiress her possessions. ; Inside, the house was furnished richly and luxuri-— ously throughout, and superior taste was displayed = in the arrangement of everything. On the morning following the day of Cadet Ains- — ‘worth’s visit to Doctor Heidle in Baxter street, two persons were seated by the open window of the crim- son drawing-room, onesmoking and gazing out upon the avenue, while the other, a young girl of not over eighteep years, was locking over the columns of a morning paper. : A fair, pretty picture she made, in her loose-fitting wrapper, with a tie of lace and ribbons at the throat. A fair, glorious girl was Amy Elwood, the young. heiress of all old John Kent’s countless thousands. Rather slight, but yet exceedingly build, she was possessed of a pleasing re, Wo- ‘ raceful of manly and symmetrical, and a face of purely chisel- ed features, set off with a soft cream-tinted com- plexion, which matched harmoniously with her ex- ee blue eyes, her rosebud lips, and fine blonde air, which the faint breeze blowing in through the once glass door, tossed in confusion about her shoul- ers. A gloriously beautiful woman or girl she was, and so evidently taought her male companion, a hand- some, dandyish fellow, who alternated his glances between her and the end of bis freshly-fired Havana, while she pored over the news, intently. “Anything of importance, sis?” he asked, watch- ing her with a vacant, dreamy expression, Lee eyes from the page. erril 7 “Has, eh? Well, for my part, I should not mar- — vel to hear that all these reckless bathers were drowned.” “But, I am not reckless, Clarence. Indeed, they called me the most expert lady bather at Cape May, last season.” “Because the report had got abroad that you were an heiress—a millionairess, rather; because you had a pretty face and the capital to back it, no doubt,” with a perceptible shrug, “You seem to envy memy good looks, Mr. Sey- mour, and the fortune that uncle left me,” shesaid, “Any. returns from the regattas or the races at the park?” “None, Clarence,” was the reply, without raising “There has been another le drowning case at Long Branch, however.” ~ looking straight at him with her big blueeyes. “Iam — sure— “T envy you nothing, dear cousin,” the young man replied, flinging away his Cee, and bending toward her, a touch of passion in his voice, ‘except it be — rour heart and hand. Oh! Amy, you knowhowtru- ly my heart is yours—how I love—ay, worship you; why, then, will you not give me some little encour- agement? tell me that I may have a little hope?” fey “Because, Clarence, I do not love you, and never can be your wife,” Amy answered, candidly. ‘TI have told you the same many times before, but you~ still will persist in your unwelcome declarations of love. Once, an for all, I say I cannot—will no he growled, biting know. y 0, 8025

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ans ag eeta reer te * Death-Face, the Detective. ei, make no denial. That blush upon your cheek tells more than all else. And it is that poor shabby fel- low who once stopped your ruuaway horses. Iheard of that little affair, and know that he called on you, and that you gave him encouragement to come again and again, which he has done. And it is going to end that you, an heiress to a million of dollars, ood-looking, healthy and intelligent, are going to ink your fortunes with a poor, uneducated pauper!” A hot, indignant flush was burning upon Amy’s cheeks, when Seymour had finished. ““You speak untruthfully, sir,’ she said, control- ling herself by a determined effort. ‘‘Mr. Conroy is a thorough Beaeaee 4s intelligent as yourself, and, neither does he dress shabbily, aor is he in the distressed circumstances you would like me to be- lieve. I have not a doubt but what to-day, he could raise more money than you,” “Maybe!” Seymour assented, with a sneer. “ But nt least, 1 am considered a gentleman in our best social circles, and heisa—” | “What? tell me what he is, less than a gentleman, sir!’’ Amy cried, springing from her seat, her fair face white, her eyes blazing with anger. ‘“*T will tell you, dear cousin, so that you may keep your pretty foot out of the fire. Harry Conroy is— is—well, he’s a porter, and occasionally carries in coal! A good honest occupation, no doubt, but hard- ly to my, liking.” “No; you would sooner play gentleman loafer, and live upon your friends, than do an honest stroke of Jabor!” flashed back the angry heiress. ‘‘ Besides, Be. Conroy is engaged in no such work, I am posi- ive. ' “Oh! you are positive, eh? You have questioned him as to his occupation, probably.” “TI did, but—” “He didn’t tell you? No, I shouldn't, if I were he. Ha! ha! you ‘disbelieve me, I see. Well, all you _have to do, is to ride through Third and Fourth ave- nues every day for a week, and Til guarantee you - will sse your Adonis blacked up with coal-smut, and working like a beaver.” Amy did not reply, for the peed ated aroused by Sees declaration were strangely painful. his Harry Conroyshad once upon a time stopped her runaway horses when they were dashing through Broadway at a furious rate of speed, and she had thanked him and given him her card, for at aglanze she was favorably impressed with his pale, intellec- tual face. ; He called upon her, and she became more interest- éd in him during his short stay than she had ever be- fore b2en in men, and asa result, extended him an invitation to callagain. And he had made several calls, which were mutually pleasant, and though no word of love had passed between them, Amy was eonscious that she loved the young fellow with the whole of her young heart, and she guessed that he was as much indove as herself, But, he had not now called for two weeks, which seemed an endless time to the prota ait And although she believed what Seymour had said to be a base fabrication, she naturally eguld nob cl thinking of it. For she had once asked Harry what was his occu- pition, and he had dexterously evaded a reply. which, now that she recalled the “fact, loo ad strange, if not suspicious. Who or what was he? This was the question now! A ring at the door interrupted her thoughts, and Seymour went to answer the summons, motionin; the servant back. A glow of satisfaction gleame tn his eye, as he opened the door and received a delicately-enveloped note from a messenger-boy, ' who retired as soon as he had done his errand. “What is it, Clarence?’ Amy asked, looking up as, ne re-entered the drawing-room with the letter. _* Something for you, cousin. A boy brought it,” nd he tossed the note upon her lap. ‘‘ Doubtless it from your hod-carrier Adonis.” “Mr, Seym you to cease your insulting | ‘ comments upon Mr, Conroy, or else leave the room, I will not be annoyed any longer!’’ Amy cried, in« dignantly. “Oh! I touched a tender spot, eh? Well, I won’t offend again, *pon honor,” and li hting a fres cigar, the cousin strolled out upon the lawn, while Amy hastily tore open the letter and ran over the contents. It read: rd “New York, August 12, 187-. *“Drar Miss E.woop:— ““Your intimate friend, Amy Chyle, is lying dan gerously ill at No, — 3d avenue, and is calling for you. Please come; we send a carriage for ;7ou. “Truly, JOSE Tears were in Amy’s eyes as she finis..ed, and Sey- mour, sauntering back into the room from the lawn, saw.them, “Hello! what's the matter, sis? Bad news? And, by the way, there is a carriage waiting outside. hose is it?” Amy explained in a few words, and then ram up- stairs for her wraps, returning shortly after, attired in a rich morning street costume, and looking so sweet and pretty, that the heart of Clarence Sey- mour—the bogus Cadet Ainsworth—smote him, when he realized that sng was about entering a pape tomb, within the walls of a private mad- ouse. “You may callapound for me at tea time, Clar- enze, and if possible I will come home,’ Amy said, as she allowed him to put her into the waiting coach, “Very well, sis. Good-b; the door, and the cab rolle: cobble-stones, to you!"’ and he shut away over the jolting “So goes one obstacle from my path!” muttered the arch-villain, as he returned to the mansion, “This is all mine, now—for a time, at least, and T mean to enjoy it in the best sense of the word, while my defiant little cousin languishes in, what is worse than a, grave or prison.” Amy was driven say. away, apd in the course of - half an hour the cab let her out in front of an impos- ing marble- front structure, with massive spiral steps ascending from the pave, to the heavy, silver- trimmed doors.” With no suspicion of the diabolical schemes of which'she was the victim, she ran up the steps, and sounded the ponderous knocker. A Chess girl of about her own age, evidently a * Creo. ©, judzing from her features and complexion, answered the summons. _ “Ieame to see Miss Chyle,” Amy said, upon an pane. glance from the servant. ‘'Can I see er?’ , ** Yes,.ma’am,” Come in, please. __ And Amy was ushered into a grand hall, and then into a parlor which was so grand, that involuntarily she gave a stare of amazement, The marble-tiled floor shone like a mirror, where it ws not laid with plush and velvet mats; the rich- ly-frescoed walls were inlaid with costly ntings; brilliant chandeliers pended from the high, molded ceilings, and the furniture was of the richest and most expensive pattern. The great windows were guarded by costly dam- ask curtains; statues under vail stood here and there, and agrand piano occupied one corner, Al- together it was too grand for a residence, and Amy gazed around her in wonder and inquiry. “You will’please be seated, ma'am,’ the servant - said, ‘and I will call the doctor.’’ Amy sunk down upon a sofa and waited while the Creole hurried away. A few moments later, Doctor Heidle entered, his fat face wearing a smile of wel- come. ‘‘Good-morning, Miss Elwood,’’ he said, suavely SH en meet you, but most so 381) Miss Ghyle is n« ter. replied the girl, with a courtesy. fF oy say thi AY pa OUIE ou Hike Sees ART a.

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Death-Face, the Detective. “Oh yes,” replied Amy, quickly, springing to her feet. “We are very dear friends, Take me to her, sir. FS The doctor bowed, and led the way into the hall and then up the hall to a small room, where an ele- vator was waiting forthem. Into this they stepped, and were borne rapidly upward, finally coming to a atep in the third story. ere Doctor Heidle assisted Amy out, a low laugh ee from his lips. “Pretty more trouble.” “Sir?” Amy interrogated, not understanding. “Pretty well done, I say,” repeated the doctor, with another laugh; “the ease with which I caged you. Ha! ha!” F “Caged me?” A t horror seized upon the Young heiress at those two words. ‘‘Caged me? What do you mean?” “IT mean that I never had less trouble in entrap- ping a victim. Young woman, you may as well now the worst at once, You are safely imprisoned in Doctor Heidle’s private mad-house, where you are liable to remain for life.” Then, without waiting to note the effect of his words, the old wretch leaped into the car, pulled a cord, and descended rapidly downward, No words can déscribe the horior—the awful sen- sation that swept over Amy Elwood at this moment. She uttered.a low, terrified cry, and sunk unconscious on the floor! Poor girl! After hours of insensibility, she awoke to find her- self in a large but neatly-furnished room, lying up- on a couch, with several females bending anxiously over her. “‘ Where am I?” she gasped, starting up; and then flashed. across her mind the doctor’s words. ‘Oh! great God! I amin a mad-house!”’ “ Yes, young lady,”’ replied one of the females, ‘vou are indeed in a mad-house—a so-called mad- house, but no persons whose sanity is questioned, ever come here. It isa living tomb—a jail wherein poor defenseless women are kept, by a foul wretch who calls himself a doctor.” * And, you—who aré you all?’ Amy demanded, sus- piciously, for she saw girls around her from her own age upward to old gray-haired women, _ ‘* Alas, dear, we are the same as you—prisoners. I was the last to come, and my name is Etta Allanton, There are women here who have spent years of their life in this third-story prison.” This much Amy learned; and with a groan she sat upon the cot, and gazed hopelessly around into the strange faces about her—faces that this horrible life had furrowed and wrinkled deeply. CHAPTER IV. DEATH-FACE, THE DETECTIVE. Gorne along Mulberry street for several blocks, and reading the door and window-ledge signs, you would, at the time of our story, and will now, doubt- less, come to a large unpre} ng tenement of brick, in which not less than twenty or more families were crowded, and a large banner sign over the main door, respectfully announced to the public that this was ‘ Molly’s Crib.” hy it was called so, or who the individual Molly was, we shall not stop to learn, but, after sing up several flights of stairs, and along hallways where filthy, half-nude children were playing, we at last enter a room inthe further corner of the fifth story. ‘ Inside we find quite a change from the unpleasant scene we have just passed through. The apartment is rudely but comfortably furnished, with common i in carpet, wooden chairs, and three couches which evidently served as beds for the three men Jounging upon them, smoking their long Turkish Ipes. a Rey were three as unlike, as one will often meet in company—unlike in personal appearance and dress, if not in disposition, taste and callings. First of all, and most noticeable of all was Death-. well done, miss,” hesaid; ‘tl apprehended } passive. . Face, the Detective. It would require considerable explanation to enlighten the er as to how he came into possession of that title, and therefore we will let the name suffice in itself, Death-Face is too well known in the detective annals, for us to be strict- ly personal. Yet we propose to write of him, in this romance, as though he were a charater of imagina- tion and fiction. He was a man of five-and-twenty years, then; tall and compactly built, with wiry, supple limbs.’ and swelling muséles, and ac who knew, declared bim to be the strongest, quickest man of his weight in the metropolis, which might seem rather a boast. ful assertion, when the men about our wharves and markets are considered—men whose feats of strength are often astonishing. In face the young detective was a study, if you were desirous of ta in all the minute points, for he was not a man easily read; long acquaintance was the only thing calculated to give rou asafe idea’ of the man. Perhaps it was from his face that he derived his name; at least his countenance was white as though death had left its stamp there. It was not av unearthly paleness, but a natural deathly white, reminding one more of a dead face than of anything else. me hinted at paint, and others at consumption, but Death-Face shook his head with a grim smile, meant to imply that they were in the wrong. His eyes were black and piere- ing, and his hair of a like shade, and, while he wore no beard, his garments were of a gray color harmon- izing with the deathly pallor of his face. By temperament he was habitually silent and im- nless he chose to reply, all questioning was useless, for he would not make any sort of an answer until the spirit moved him, when he was as gi of tongue as anybody. And, as a detective, ath-Face was an expert, and second to none upon the metropolitan force. Of his two-eompanions, one we have seen before— the same Dandy Dock whom we saw in the Central "Park, the evening of the murder of poor Celia Orwiek. But there is less.of elegance in his make- ee now, and a more dissipated look about bis eyes. ° The third was a young man of one-and-twenty, ht of build, and tolerably fair looking in the face. e had spent three years as a comedian upon the Bowery stage, acting principally a foolish character, at which, by the way, he was up in his kine, and this had earned him the sobriquet of Fooly Fred, by which he was widely known. Both he and Dandy Dock had enlisted in the service of Death-Face over a@ year previous, and had proven themselves apt scholars in the profession. It was known among a few that Dock was in the detective service, but not generally, and in disguise — he had been able to re ri every where almost without fear of detection. 4 Fooly Fred was unsuspected, and by some» he- lieved to be really foolish, Which admitted him into some of the lowest haunts of the city. All three had disguises unknown to the other, unless they wished to be known, when there were well arranged si to be given, by which one could be apprised of the other's presence. Death-Face was here, there, and everywhere: there was no telling one moment where he would be. the next, and his disguises were so many and per- fect, that the villaincus element of the great city had grown to dread the mention of his name. oto thus we introduce him aud his aids to the public, Death-Face was in a communicative mood, to- day, for him, and while be puffed thoughtfully at hie pipe, he would occasionally put in a word. ~ “Did you hear about that missing girl?’ ques- tioned Fooly Fred, watching the clouds of smoke dis- solve into bluish atmosphere. “No! what girl?’ demanded Dock, from his corner, ‘Another Ross case?” “Well, something similar, I reckon, Saw an ad- vertisement in the morning Herald; some’gal wanted © sli, 4 x i

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ognized Death-Face, the Detective. ——— to know where her sister was, Left her home to go to Central Park, last week, Friday, and hasn’t come back yet. Foul play suspected.” $f oy reward?” asked Death-Face, stretching him- self, with a yawn. “No; seems there were only the two sisters—took in sewing for a living, as near asl can learn. Poor as church mice, and ‘if any one will kindly tell me of the | plea of my sister, I shall be very 17 Fad ? » ean!” Dock twisted his face into a wry expres- sion. ‘A ‘gratitude’ case, eh? Well, I am not tak- ing on any such to-day.”’ i “Tt might be a good move, old boy, Maybe this sister that advertiseth is handsome and courtable.” “Hang tho women!” replied Dock, in evident dis- st; “they’re all alike. The only female lever cared ‘or gave me the ‘shake,’ and Lhaven’t much faith in them. I've got something better in view.” “What?” asked Death-Face, calmly, “Oh! something up on Twénty-seventh street’ in a brown-stone.” 4 “Faro or counterfeiting?” “The latter, I suspect.” “Wumph! you'll not get in there. This lost girl’ pe weighs better to the pound, in my way of thinking. i ** Well, you oan tackle it, if you choose, but you'll find the difference.” ‘Any news of this great counterfeiting scheme?” _asked looly Fred, relighting his pipe. “No!” replied Death-frace, with a scowl, “It is aindeed a big case to handle, with no handles to it, I’ve done some of my most scientific scouting, and Pinkerton’s men are on the watch, constantly, but alltono avail. The game is safely quarried, and the country is being flooded with the most. cleverly-exe- euted counterfeits of: the age. Not less than five thousand dollars’ worth of the stuff was afloat on the market yesterday. Ill wager money against reputa- tion, that one man out of every ten, in Wall street, cannot distinguish the new true fifties from these ‘blossoms,’ the ‘ring’ is shoving.’ - “Probably not; and this establishment must be one of the most completo in tho world, for, instead of eee upon one bank, they have sets of dies for at least fifty, throughout the United States, I hear,” said Dandy Dock. - ** Yes, there is where the mischief is. If they only ‘blossomed’ on one or two banks, the public could watch out for them, but bills of all banks pouring in- to market are decidedly puzzling. Besides, they have a process for making new counterfeits look old and dilapidated, which is ingenious, and helps to prevent suspicion in many cases.” “Do you think the den is in this city?” “ Undoubtedly, as there is a greater influx of coun- terfeits here than in piace ia,or Boston, In my opinion, many of our first cifizens are implicated-in this movement, and if the ring is ever broken up, there will be some startling discoveries,”’ “You'd be surprised to find a Mayor and a Con- gressman in it,” said Fred, with a laugh. “No fear of that; but there are.some gambling politicians in New York, who need watching more . than their bolder brother rogues.’’ At this juncture the conversation of the three de- tectives was interrupted by a knock at the door of their room. ber of ever having seen her before. ; “Ts the detectivé, Death-Face, in?” was asked in w low sweet voice, and then the woman gave a start as she looked mp into the face of Dock. She rec- him, even though he could not her, on ac- -eount of the vail. ey ge . : “Yes, ma’am, the boss isin; will you step inside?” y nase Sp eecaetcer ? has and in his suave manner, Dock handed her a seat near the door. ‘ Death-Face, this lady wishes to see you—eh? madam?” ; “Yes, sir,” was the faint reply, **Mo see me, did you say?’ yawned the detective, rising to his feet and bowing courteously, “ ht yes; what can I do for you, lady?” The woman hesitated a moment, evidently con- fused at finding herself alone with so many men, but at last she threw back her vail to give her free- dom of speech. Dock uttered an exclamation of sur- prise, and sprung forwart. 2 ; a iss at Orwick!" he cried, extending his hand; “is it you 2 ’ “Yes, it is I, Mr. Raymond,” replied the sweet- faced little woman, ea i hands, cordially. ‘I expect our surprise mutual, for I did not expect to find you here. She was. a little thing, this Nelly Orwick, with a model, petite form, a fresh sweet face, and blue eyes, and hair of a chestnut shade—a woman whom it ig deucedly hard to see and converse with without admiring; a gay, fascinating little butterfly, seem- ingly made to bring sunshine and enchantment, into the world, At least, her appearance created favor in the mind of one of the detectives, and that one was Fooly Fred. : ; “And I am as delighted to see you asl am sur- paced Miss Nelly!’ Dock replied. ‘How did you leave the piquant Celia?” Dock Raymond wished he had not asked, when, the mare moment, Nelly, burst into sobs, and wept bit- — erly. “Oh! Dock!’’ she cried, piteously, ‘ Celia is gone! I have not seen her for nearly a week!” “Gone!” Dock’s /face whitened a little, as he heard—‘' gone, did you say?” : “Oh! yes, gone, and T do. not know where she is. Oh! my poor darling sister! she is dead, and I can not see her.”” s “ Celia gone! By heaven, this is news to me, Nelly. ve did she go—where—how? Explain, for God’s ssake!l’ Dock was greatly agitated. ; “Oh! Dock, she started for the park one day last week—Friday afternoon, and she has not cotne back, Oh! my poor, sweet sister! Oh! what shall I do?’ “Calm yourself, Miss Orwick,” said Death Face, « ine a the weeping girl, respectfully, ‘and we will look into the case. Fred, this must be what you mentioned of seeing in the Herald ?” “Oh! ‘yes, I advertised in the Heral?—I have done everything,” moaned Nelly, sobbing the harder. “TI have spent every cent we saved up for our rent, and cannot find her.” ; 2 “T can throw a little light upon the matter,” said — Dock, slowly. ‘I met Celia in the park, on Friday evening at dusk, She was sitting in an arbor, wait- ing for some one. . I questioned her, and found out that she had an By eel re meet the fellow who was at your house, the last évening Icalled, ThenI came away.” i ‘Oh! the poor, misguided girl. She went to meet St. Cloud, then? I would not Jet him visit her any more, and she promised me not to see him.” “Who is this St. Cloud?” demanded Death-Kace, NS who, in short-hand cipher, had been jotting down the conversation upon a sheet of foolscap. 2 “He is a young man/of dark complexion, hair and mustache; somewhat dressy, and the sonof a Wall street broker.” < ae “Ah! is that so? Do you think he would have married her, she being beneath him in station?” “No! he promised to marry her, and I told him that unless he kept his promise, he must stay away. Then he got angry, and came no more.” bar’ “Ah! little by little we are gotting light upon the | case,” Death-Face said eagerly. “Did your sister love this St. Cloud?” x “No! she was fascinated by ls fine dress, and ele- hae ways—his flattery, and costly hig eee if nows, I wish she liad stuck to you, Mr, Rhym arcs

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- Death-Face, the Detective. _ me Dock did not reply. Thére was a pained look up- on his manly face; evidently unpleasant memories were crowding upon him. “Then, if she hated him, why did she go to meet ae: continued Death-Face, jotting down word for word. * You shouldn't, at present, press too close, boss,” interposed Fred Funk. “Thank you, boy, for reminding. and I hope you will excuse me, Miss Orwick. e detectives are great to question. I think I understand the case.” * And is there any hope, sir? Oh! do not tell me no! You are a great man, and I am sure you will not refuse to—to—”’ “No, miss, we will not refuse to aid you because you are poor,” Death-Face replied, kindly, “TI will give the case my immediate attention,.and my aids ere shall work in your behalf.” ‘ “Oh, thank you, sir, thank you! God will reward you for your kindness, if I cannot!” “Never mind about that, lady, for I am always ready to strike in defense of the weak and innocent. As the case lies, there are great chances that this St. Cloud has made way with her—either had her imprisoned or murdered, in case she threatened to maeke him marry her, which, as I understand it, was evidently her intention. I shall dispatch Fred to the park to learn what he can, and Dock to the Morgue to examine the latest arrivals of unclaimed dead. I shall not leave one stone unturned, believe me, that will promise the slightest chances of success to our undertaking.” : Gratefully Nelly thanked them all, and then, after leaving her address, took her leave, Fooly Fred cfrering his escort as far as Twenty-seventh street, which was accepted, much to his delight, for in secret he was greatly cnamored of pretty little Ni elly and her sweet, winning ways. - CHAPTER V. SHERRY RAYNOR’S GODSEND, E Tun Brooklyn ferry-boat was crowded that fight —probably owing to the fact that the New York boards offered extra theatrical attraction—when, after the clanking of chains, and the splash of the agitated water about the piled sidings, the boat swung out into the stream, and plowed her way through the waves like some monster of life. Upon a seat sat a youth of between seventeen and eighteen years, evidently of the “lower ten,” if you were to judge by his habiliments. He was a handsome young fellow, with an erect yet graceful form, such as the ladies admire, and a t lear, open, honest face, handsome because of its regularity of features, and_ fresh, healthful glow. His hair was light, and curled ina great mass close to his head; his mouth rather large, yet firm and resolute; his eyes brown, yet possessed of a strange magnetic influence. His dress was coarse and shabby, and the hat set jauntily upon one side of his head, and the patent-leather boots upon his feet were more dilapidated than was becoming for public display. v Ghose beside the youth sat a man of some thirty- two or five years, with a dark, unprepossessing face, made the more s0 by a jet-black, heavy mustache, and eyes and hair of the same fierce shade. He was ell dressed, sported a diamond pin and a_ heavy seal ring, and a massive gold chain, the glitter of which in the eanlgys more than once attracted the gaze of the youth by his side, The man carried a large bundle across his knees, done up with gang: in heavy cream-wove wrap- ping paper, and upon this he kept a close watch, as if he Fas apprehensions for its safety. His eyes when not riveted upon the bundle rested alternately upon the faces around him, as if expecting or in search of some one, who did not put in an appearance, His movements, nervous and un- ui cated that the fellow was greatly agitated. ‘ht be wing tathe presence of a little be- -from the man; then a question in return. along duster, who occupied | grade Puts position. He watched reing enough to be an- noying, and more than once the man with the a breath, but loud enough for the ears of Sherry — Raynor, the roe at his left. 4 “What's th@ jig, boss?” was Sherry’s cool query, as he saw the man fidget in his seat. i, Sherry was not a basbful boys years of rN i tumble existence in the sinful metropolis had hard- ened him in manners if not in heart. ca “Got a corn thet pinches, or a bile? Biles are a 2 plague sometimes, Make a feller uneasy asa lobster at low tide.” 3 : - His words called forth another muttered curse “Who are you, young man?” was asked, fn a low, intense tone, and the man gazed eagerly into Sher: ry’s genial face. ‘Do you live around here? Are you much acquainted?” ae Sherry aoe hard at his cigar, and in a reflective manner, before replying. ‘**Don't hev any purtickler lodgin’-house, as I know of,” he .replied at last, with a grimace. “Roost ‘round most ennywheres night overtakes me. Pretty well acquainted “bout town. yes. Kin point out promenent polertitions ter ye, fer a quarter a head; know considerable about the slums, too.” Ey “Ah! then maybe you can tell me who that man in the long duster is, over across the way.” ~ 2 “Him? Wal, now, I reckon you’ye snagged your — unkle over a bar, sure. Don’t identerfy his mug, ef T've ever seen it. Might figger in fer an alderman, — or a detective, tho’!” ste “A detective!” the man started, and muttered another curse. And the man on the opposite bench — was staring straight at bim. . t “Thet pill is as sassy with his optics as a Powery beer-slinger,”” commented Sherry, gazing reflectively — at the cloud of smoke that curled above his heat ea “He’s got his attention pasted snug on you, boss; — you tumble to it. Watch out for him, or he'll tickie yer heels.” ae as “Yes, curse him, he has been trailing me about ~ Fa go! i am from | for a week!” replied the man. ‘Vl is, boy;and maybe pon ean help me. 2 Toronto, Canada. am the greatest ett ea wach in all the Provinces. Two months ago I cleaned out-Toronto and Ottawa, and then cleared out. But they sent a gang after me to regain what they had — lost. I’ve evaded them without trouble, until that cuss across the way struck my scent, and I cannot — shake him. Boy, do ian know of a place I can hide — in for afew days? I'll pay well to lose yonder devil in the duster.” “ **Reckon there’s places where no one can find ye!” replied Sherry, reflectively, “ef ye hed spondulicks ter foot ther bill. Jest shove a V in under yer un- kle’s nose, and see how quick he'll bp ees inter yonder gentleman’s face. Bet he ken’t find ye ‘fore next Centennial; you hear me!” 5 “ Five dollars?” the man stared in surprise. ‘ > dollars, you say? Why, young man, if you will put — me through safe and throw that hound off the track, Tl give you a’ thousand dollers—ay, and double the thousand, for I must get out of the presence of that — man—must, I say, if I have to spend every farthing I’m worth, for if he were to arrest me and takeme ~~ _ back into the Queen's dominions, they’d shoot me — inside of twenty-four hours.” vie “And you'll give me two thousand dollars if I throw yonder crab off scent, d’ye say?” demanded _ Sherry, nearly yelling out in his excitement. ec . Yes, [give you every cent of it, and as proof of my honesty, when we're out of immediate obser- vation I'll surrender this bundle to you, inwhich you will find that amount.” = ie And the man tapped the parcel si Paki ificantly, 9 Allright, boss; I’m yer clam, where there’s due dads fort coming—just put yer paw on that, you 3 a hear me! What’s your cognomen?” , “My name is—well, call me Faro Phil. t= : * That:

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_ after all. . side out, is not that 16 answer as well as any other, I guess. Ha! the old devil is Rone from his seat, across yonder.” “*So he has!’ assented Sherry, with a wink. “Smells a mice, an' has gone to the front of the boat to set his trap. But 1'll show him a trick worth two of that. Cum along here ter this hind end. The machine ar’ going to turn around before running into Fulton street. Don’t yer see ther ’orses ’d hev ter back off if she ran in front end?” ‘So they would,” replied Faro Phil, as he followed his young guide to what was then the rear portion of the boat. ‘‘ But where did we make the turn? Idid not notice it.” “Around that man-o’-war back there. See, she are swingin’ around again. Now, Jook out! Ther minnit she touches pier, jump an’ foller yer unkle.”’ The bell rung, the passengers crowded forward, aml at last, with a splashing of the water and the shouts of men, the boat rubbed against the pier. preety. was off in a moment, and striding swift! out of the ferry-house into Fulton street, closely fol- lowed by his dark-faced companion. “Got any loose cash *bout yer?’ he asked, as they halted a moment outside the ferry-house, ‘‘ Better take & cab fer a while. Quick, or yer shadder ’ll spy ou!” “ag ig sprung into a waiting cab, and Sherry gave the directions in a low tone. Then the door was slammed shut, and the carriage whirled away, but not in time for the two cecupants to miss seeing a man rush out from the crowd and aze around him. It was the gentleman in the linen ter, who had annoye | Faro Phil on the boat. ‘‘He’s stuck worse’n a clam in red mud!” laughed Sherry, enjoying the sport, while his companion bit fiercely at his brigandish mustache. They had a view of the scene from the little back window. “Drat the luck, he’s bounced that poten yes, and by jingo he’s tumbled ’im to it, He’s cabbed his self, an’ now look out fer a race.” pea of them. there?” +** Yes, I see it.” = “Well, ef you wanter fimger-fondle an X, put us outside 0’ thet chap’s vision in less time than a cat can slide off a house-roof when brickbats are plenty. Dye tumble to it?” * Yours, truly,’ came back the reply; and then the cab whirled along at an increased rate*of speed. And the pursuing vehicle also came on rapidly. Evidently it was to be a close race, “A few pounds of steam more, boss!” Sherry yelled. “Softly on ther t’rottle and let her rip!’ * Ay, ay!” responded Cabby. “And rope us out, first opportunity.” “Yours, truly.” . Then the cab plunged on at what seemed a terrible rate of speed to the two men, but at no less velocity came the aes: cab. “Curse the pursuing hound!" growled Faro Phil; watching the space over which they went through the lamp-lit streets. “I believe he'll overtake us, “Bet another .thousan’ on’t,’’? demanded Sherry, with agrin, ‘*You may count me euchered if that aine rooster spots us ef ye’ll only give the case in- r my grip. een such as him‘before. Reckon I twig his Jib, superfine. Double inderwidual—one tlother side in under disguise. His sign- board spells, Death-Face. Detective!” “The devil!” Faro Phil fiercely yelled, growin, strangely white for a dark-complexioned man. © ‘I cuss? Dunno; ’t most allus /e&, as ther old man | z *, as hs rere” mine!’’ he muttered. Death-Face, the Detective. mer Tell sed, afore he shot the ane, Possible it might be thet same Death-Face. ? w’at d’ye know o' him? Thort you’s a Canadian?” “Tve read of him,” was all the retort Faro Phil vouchsafed, , “Yas,” accepted Sherry, obliquely closing one eye. ‘‘I suppose so.” But the expression in his tone proved that he did- n’t suppose anything of the kind. was not so dumb as not to understand it, but he gave no proof of his knowledge. On came the pursuing cab, at as great a speed as was permissible through important streets of the Tiel aay and on went the cab in which the two had taken Macrae “Why don’t the accursed idiot turn off Fulton street?’ raved the gambler, as he saw that the tol. lowing cab was in reality gaining. His words were answered by the turning of the cab into Broadway, where the crowd was dense and black. The rumbling of the great ’busses and cracking of whips, and shouts of contending drivers, made strange noises on the night. “Now, boss!” cried Sherry, keeping an eye out “put about fifteen dollars down here on the seat fer . our hack fare, and then prepare yerself fer a grand fling. I’m fer debouchin’ inter sum o’ this ’ere crowd an’ eludin’ our old perennial. ‘ Faro Phil took a se i roll of bills from the pocket. of his white vest and laid a twenty out of if upon the seat. By this time the jam usual at Broadway and Ful- ton was encountered,’ and the cab was forced.to slacken speed to scarcely a walk. mn “Come, now’s our harvest!” cried Sherry, and the next moment he had the cab door open, and was out and making his way in among the immense crowd that thronged t!.e pave. He hurried along swiftly, for a few moments, without looking back, but when — he did, it was to discover that Faro: Phil was not be- hind‘him. He was about to wonder at this, when the report of a pistol was heard, and the crowd involun- tarily pm and surged back to learn the cause. To Sherry it was at once apparent. Faro Phil had been nabbed and had attempted re- sistance. And he, Sherry, had possession of the mysterious bundle, He had grabbed it in his leap from the cab, What, was in it? Had Taro Phil told the truth about its containing two thousand? A wild tumult was rising in Sherry’s heart as he thought of the enormity of the sum to him. “An’?’'m a baked clam ef it ain’t a-going to be “Don’t reckon I come dishon- estly by it. Honesty’s the best policy, they say, but i don't say nothin’ yout two thousand dollar poli- cies. Half an hour later, he sought a lodging house in a side street. and engaged a room, in which he locked himself. Then, with a rapidly-beating heart he quickly undid the bundle. And the gambler, Faro Phil, had not lied to him! _ Inside were rolls of bank notes, none of whose de- jiominations were less than fifty dollars—bills on all the important banks of the country—bills that were new and crisp, and bills that were old and well-worn —all in one great bulk. Itwas more than the de- lighted boy had dared to hope, and swinging his hat aloft, he gave vent to his feelings in a wild ery of ecstasy. CHAPTER VI. COME EASY, GO EASY, Suerry Raynor was not dishones., or unserupu- lous. His parents had died when he was ten years of age, leaving him and a twin sister, alone upon the charities of a cold, pitiless world. t They were penniless and ruvysd, and starvation 8 them in the facepunti, a kmd-hearted baker took Sherry into his employ, where he had remained until two years previous to our story, when the old man died, and the boy was thrown out of work, ‘ And Faro Phil,

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ee Death-Face, the Detective. Since then he had roamed about the city, catch- ing a job here and there. Of his twin-sister, Leo, he had heard only once in the time since they*had pee, when he had gone into the service of the aker. Then she was working in a picture gallery on Broadway. But he had never found time to go and see her while at the baker's, and after his liberty, when he oe her, she had gone away from the gallery, and no one knew of her where- abouts. ut he found a picture of her—a tall, promising girl of seventeen, with surpassing pretti- ness of feature and form—a fair maiden approach- ig ibe threshold of a glorious womanhood. e purchased the picture, and put it in his pocket; then, when no other occupation prevented, he pass- ed away his hours in wandering about the city, hop- ing by some chance to stumble upon Leo. And Sherry had another pte in these rambles. He was literally trying to kill two birds with one: stone, for he had a little love romance of his own, locked up in his heart. Tt was now full a year since he had caught a glance of the eyes that hed fascin- ated him oné summer’s night upon the Fulton ferry and the roguish little face and petite torm that had so entirely captivated him. And the owner of this little form and roguish face had slipped a paper in his hand with the one word written thereon—Fay! Fay! Ah! how many nights Sherry Raynor went to sleep with that name on his lips; and how many times he thought of Leo, and the temptations to which she was exposed in this great wicked metro- politan city. And now! f ' Before bim lay ina pile, where his fingers had ar- ranged it, a fortune such as he had never dreamed of possessing—a fortune that would lift bim from ,_ the streets, and place him forever above want. “Tl _be scooped up fer oysters, if *tain’t mine, now!” he mutt red, handling over the notes as care- fully as if they were tissue. ‘“ Thet chap come b them dishonest, so I orter keep ’em from him, whic would be honest, now, wouldn't it? I’ve a notion ter cf begin bizness at once, and see the sights.” J “T would, too, Sherry, if I were you,” replied a voice, and glancing hastily around, the startled youth beheld a second individual of somewhere near is own age, looking composedly over his shoulder. Hello!” Sherry was upon his feet in a moment, his fists clinched for combat. ‘‘How in Simon Peter did ou git in?” “Was in before you came,” laughed the other, ood-naturedly. ‘‘Didn’t you spy me lying on the ed, yonder? I got ae dressed while you were undoing your prize. Where'd ye make the raise?” Sherry did not answer the question. He was star- ing straight at the. youth, a light of recognition beaming in his eye—a wild, unaccountable throb- bing in the region of his heart. The youth was a little shorter of stature than him- self. oak more Se and rounded of form, with a round face, that was strikingly handsome in its deli- cate outlines, and rosy-and-cream complexion, and eyes that were hazel and wondrously attractive in their glances; while the hair, of a lightish shade, was closely cut, in the prevailing style. The face was not graced with beard, and if it ever had been, 3* had been recently shaven. The dress of the youth was of faultless elegance, of the costliest material, whiie in his ’m:naculate shirt-front sparkled a thou- sand-rayed diamond cluster pin, and a fing of the same precious material glittered upon the little fin- ger of his left hand, which was as small and white, nearly. as @ woman’s, ° Pa. ont-leathers upon his feet, a silk hat upon his head. anc ~ gold-headed cane in hand, completed the outfit of the young gentleman of leisure, at whom Sherry Raynor gazed in a sort of fascination. “You are—are Fay’s brother!”’ he declared, at last, decisively. ‘‘Ain’t you?” “What do you know about Fay I should like to we? Durned \ittle—not half as much as I should like | and he waylaid him at once. to,” She: responded, earnestly. the Palton tery: nigh a year ago.” “Oh! you are the young fellow shes gave the paper to,eh? Just like one of her harum-scarum pranks. AndT mls your innocent young hear! was won, there and then?” 3 “Dunno ef it’s any o’ your business!” She swered, with spirit. He didn’t particularly the insinuating manner of the fellow. - “Oh! you needn’t be so sassy. Maybe I can at along your ‘tase a bit if you_don’t get your bac up. : y cognomen is Charley Evans. Yours is Ray- nor!” Sherry was studying Mr. Charley Evans very closely. ‘‘ Where do thet purty sister o' — yourn hang out?’ ‘Here in the city. A dle ee is she, too. You must see her sometime, and make her acquaintance, But, for the present, other business. I see you're. flush of nous Expect it isn’t none of my business where you got it?” “Not a mite of your business,’’ replied Sherry, get adem lighting a cigar and puffing away, — yy: “T saw her on an mire “Reekon it is.” coolly. He had received a fair education while in the © baker’s employ, and could converse as correctly as any one, when he chose, or could master the slang of the street as fast as any of the boys. = “Tf it were any of your business, that would be another side to the case, you see. But, it ain’t.”’ “Of course not,’’ Evans assented. ‘*But I believe — IT heard you remark that youproposed going out to- ° night, to enjoy yourself. I am of that turn of mind, also, and I argue we had better go together. IT’ venture to say you don’t know the ropes while I do, and if we cannot have a boss time, I'll vote for Tweed. Will youcome?” = “ Reckon so, ef thar’s music in the air. But what is yer programme? I must blossom out in new togs afore I ean be received inter society.” coe “And must drop the gutter.dialect, too, for recol- lect you’re no longer a street Arab, but a gentleman — of leisure with all that money.” Sherry counted out a thousand dollars, and con: — cealed it about his person, and then did the remain- = up in a bundle, and signified his readiness for G re. a “What are you goi to do with that bundle?’ — demanded Evans, showing his disgust at wal with a person who carried parcels. d Reckon I'm goin’ to tote it along,” replied Sherry, — independently. “Ef you don’t like to walk wi’ yer — unkle, why there’s two directions ter Baxter street.” _ Lvans laughed good-naturedly, and they made their way toward Broadway, but-it was noticeable — that a good many passers-by glanced amusedly at — the two youths, at once taking in the contrast of their dress. ; Straight into one of the first tailoring establish ments of Broadway, Sherry went, followed. by bis companion, It was an immense place, with great stacks of cloths, grand mirrors, gorgeous chande- — liers, and hurrying clerks, and a place no one need venture in for low prices. Evans stood back near the door, and let Sherry break his own path. And he was not afraid tostem the tide, either. He sauntered leisurely along, stop- — ping now and they to examine a piece of goods. or — stare into the great mirrors, which were much be- oné@ anything he had ever seen. At first the aus-_ tare clerks regarded him with disdain, and exchang- — ed winks and smiles at his expense. And he wasnot — slow to realize that he was going to be neglected, — for none of the clerks paid him the least attention, — Shabby customers are .rarely well treated in Broad. way palaces. - Sherry well knew this, but determined was he not to be snubbed. resently he saw a tall elderly personage, wearin; gold-rimmed spectacles, issue from the cashier’s of — fice, and make his way toward the front of the store, ree

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12 mande - in his eyes. ~ you, my young friend?’ ~ Sherry stared. eep these supernumeries ‘round heer fer?” course.” “Generally pick out sich as they keer ter wait up- - On, an’ let the others slide off, I reckon.” * Certainly not. Do you wish to purchase ~~ nibs. “and Mr. J—— motioned to his foreman. “Why has not this young gentleman been waited upon, sir?” money.” Sherry asked, bristling up. free lunch added in, gratuitous, and a five-cent pony, _ thet I can muster more currency than you, or a ~ dozen like you.”’ The foreman flushed hotly. any 0 our own, or I shall dispense with your services. _ This is my store, and the rich and poor shall be -. treated with the same due courtesy. Please remem- ber that.” “You're a solid man, you are, Mr. What-ever-your- name-is!” cried Sherry, in delight. “I war poor ‘once myself, and I’m not above ’em yet—tumble ter that! Now, you supernumery, ef fe ready, show _ me the best block o’ stuff in yer hull establishment, - you hear yer unklet”’ f Mr. J—— made his way out into the street, a broad son gid about his mouth. “Tat boy has a sharp tongue, and is nobody’s fool,” he mused. ‘That little incident has been a lesson. I wonder who he is?” z ~ And a great many wondered who Reckless Sherry was before he gor through with his fortune. A youne Coal Oil Johnny some dubbed him, Hawley showed him several patterns of goods; “but Sherry shook his head grimly. _“You can’t throw chaff in my eyes, Mickey!” he said, coolly. ‘Take me fer a skim-milk idiot, don’t ye? Reckon I can’t locate shoddy frum ther jenny- _ wine fabric, I’spect. GuessI do, Just tumble out _ sumthin’ superfine, or you're bound ter git the grand fling, fer I ain’t fooln"!” The foreman began to realize that he couldn’t trifle with “the boy from the streets,” and threw ~ down one of the costliest pieces of goods in the ow brea Ta ouse, er eats ther ijee. You are talkin’ now,” announced berry, “St twig that cloth tera dot. Hew much fer a pair_o’ brichelloons, a vest, and a coat, all in the latest style. Speak up!" “One hundred and twelve dollars, and warranted to suit. Take your measure?” “Oh! Well, yes, ye can fit my figger, and mind ‘et a.good fit.” _ The aying half the price ere Sherry rejoined Evans who was waiting near e door, Anhour later he had taken a aiit of rooms in. the - Fifth avenue, having first rigged himself out in a _ hice suit of ready-made clothing he had purchased, Death-Face, the Detective. *Be ? ite the boss of this shebang?” Sherry de- , confronting him and blockading his pas- sage, “Tam the proprietor, yes, sir,’ replied the gentle- man, gazing down at the boy, an expression of fun “Such being the case, what can I do for _ “You're a fust-class hoss!’* he declared, after a moment—‘ what they calla gentleman. I twig your p>, superfine. An’ now, may I ask ye, w'at d’ye y clerks? Why, to wait upon customers, of Have you not been waited upon? * Shouldn’t wonder ef I might invest a hundred in aS togs, ef I can get ennybody to wait onter my royal “Of course. I'll see to this. Hawley, this way;” _“‘He?”’ and the foreman gave Sherry a withering glance; ‘why, he’s fromf the streets, sir; he has no **D’ye want ter waltz out back an’ tell me that?” ‘*Bet a baked clam, wi’ -_**See here, no more of this!’’ exclaimed Mr. J—, - sharply, “ Hawley, never let it be said that you, or those under you, neglected a customer, be- cause his attire did not favorably correspond with in which he looked even gayer than Fay’s brother. His clothing was fine, his white vest and ghirt bei! done up to perfection; in the jewelry line, he hi purchased a diamond pin and two costly rings: his silk hat, evening gloves, and gold-headed cane com- pleted his nobby appearance. ‘“Now, where?” he demanded, when he was settled in his new quarters, ‘Goin’ ter interdooce me ter that sister o’ yourn, ain’t ye?” “Not yet,” replied Evans, with a laugh. ‘ We'll have a supper at Delmonico’s first, and then drop in at some theat-r, after which we -will take a trip up on Twenty-seventh street, You know all about faro and roulette, I'suppose?”’ “NotI! Tain’? much on high-toned games.” “That is bad. But I will play for you. You must redeem yourself.” ‘How d’ye mean?” ‘“You must sweep some faro table of enough to” mere back what you have spent to-night,” explained Vans, They left their.rooms and took acab to Delmoni- co’s. Here they had supper, after which Evans led the way to the Fitth avenue theater, where the Two Orphans was having a tremendous run, y luck they secured a couple of reserved seats, from which position in the parquette circle, they could overlook the house. “Look! old boy; there they are in the box across yonder! They belong in Gaylord’s gambling palace on Twenty-seventh street. Come along!” CHAPTER VII. LIBE IN A GAMBLING PALACE Evans rose as if abont to leave the theater, “Where you goin’?” demanded Sherry. “TI ain’t takin’ in any sich kind o’ pettycoatry.”’ “They are all right, only they’re gamblers. Come along. Don’t you see the audience is staring? Come along, I say.”’ Sherry followed, rather reluctantly. Ee was op- Resed to associating with disreputable people, and id not know what kind of a den Evans might be conniving to entrap him into. But he had a stron mi ee ue chose to xert 3 oe pas resolved alk, when any unwarranted temptations might be set forth. : Dak He noticed that the two females had also quitted their box, and was not therefore much surprised when they all met in the lobby, outside. : “Ladies, Emperor, Prince William, of Austria!” introduced Evans. ‘‘ Prince William, the Barovess Lulu and Princess Alee.” Sherry acknowledged the introduction with a _ grace Evans had not deemed him capable of, while the ladies courtesied low. “How are things upon the royal thoroughfare, - baroness?’’ Evans asked .of the elder of the two, both of whom were young and beautiful, and dress- ed richly. ‘‘Ts there a chance for two at the table of knights, thiseve?” — ; “Yes, my lord. There is always room in Queen Mab’s palace for those who are in the circle,” was the reply; whereupon Evans offered her an arm, and led the way, while Sherry followed with the Princess Alee. This was new work for him, He had — never been muchin the presence of the oppositesex, and to have the charming princess hanging upon his pe and chatting incessantly, was a new realization o him, : The first cab was hailed, and soon they were dropped upon Twenty-seventh street, before agrand | :

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d, that was a very paradise of flowers and rustic arbors and mu- brownstone, which stood in a sically-dry ping fountains. Sherry was amazed, and had he been alone he would have boiled over with outlandish expressions of admiration, which he now was forced ty hold in check. The baroness led the way, entering by aid of alatch-key. Inside. the hall was luxurious and elab- orate, in the greatest degree, and the glimpse Sherry caught of the parlors, as they were ushered up the staircase, was enchanting, so grandly were they fur- nished and lighted. They were occupied, too, by scores of brilliantly- dressed women and men, who. looked strangely weird under the bluish-tinted gaslight. But a greater surprise was in store. At the head of the stairs, they entered a gorgeous saloon parlor, very wide, and running the entire length of the build- ing. And such a scene Sherry had never witnessed, nor dreamt of. The room was furnished throughout in crimson, the furniture consistin rious sofas, card, wine and faro tables; the carpets, the sweeping lace and damask curtains, the unvaile statuary and immense mirrors and chandeliers, were all the costliest that a lavish expenditure of money could procure. - Ané around the faro tables, of which there were three, were gathered gayly dressed men and women —men whom Sherry knew to hold prominence in business circles; young men and old, gay men and grave; while of the richly-clad females, none were evidently older than thirty-five, ranging from that down to twenty. And the champagne-scented at- mosphere, and weird music af clinking glasses, added a strange, irresistible charm to the fascinat- ing hour. “How do you like it Prince?” asked Evans, look- ing back at Sherry, who had paused with his com- panion, and was breathlessly drinking in the pano- rama of beauty. ‘‘Isn’t it immense?” . “You tumble to it!” assented Sherry, with a sigh, half regretful that the spell had been broken. * You're a hoss, you are, Charley. Nicer’n a church at Christmas time, ain’t it?” iy came back, and drew him one side, mysteri- ously. : ee You must choose better language, if you want to succeed in here,” he said, kindly, but advisingly. “Tt won't take.” “AN right; try my best; bet a baked clam T’ll blurt out sumthin’ improper, afore the night’s over, tho’. Hello! see that old gold-ayed spectacled roos- ter, over yonder at the table, wi’ a feminine hangin’ over his shoulder. I twig his jib, superfine, you bet! Got my new brichelloons 0’ him.” “Sh! hush that slang talk!’ cautioned Evans, Tt won't do for us to recogaize any one we know in ‘““Twon't hey? Well, what's the lay-out?” “You are to keep in Alee’s company, this evening. The girl is struck after you, and you must keep her in your graces. Try faro, and let her play for you, and you'll come out atead.”” Then the Princess Alee led the way and seated her- » self ata table where the heaviest stakes were play- ing, Sherry standing by, as most of the gamesters dia, who wilowed the nimble-fingered sirens to choose for their luck. “ How gas will yourisk?” asked Alee, after they had watched the game a few moments. ‘‘ Quick, now!”’ in a low tone; “fifty dollars, and you sweep the board, I think.” z Sherry threw down a fifty, and Alee exchanged it with the banker for one of those round ivories, that _ bo often lose and win fortunes, in our great cities. She gave it to Sherry, with a smile, “Now. sir, your turn next. Cover your diamond queen. That's it,” as Sherry obeyed. ‘ Now, then, watch and wait.” ‘The game went round, and—the bank won on the sweep of the board. ‘ “Better luck, next time, gentlemen,” assured as Death-Face, the Detective. of chairs, luxu-: PA im 12 Queen Mab, the bamker, with 9, smile, as she raked in the ivories. ‘I wouldn’t get discouraged,” as two of the gentlemen withdrew. ‘ “Don’t you get discouraged,” whispered Alee, giv: {pg Sherry a strange glance, that thrilled him. “Tm going to regain your confidence in me, Me Jong. See, there are six against the bank, there is going to be heavy playing. You notice that man across thete, with the black mustache? He has the greatest luck of any of our patrons. His name is Ned. St. Cloud. The gentleman next to him is Clarence Seymour, . He is also pecs tr cd ae & But, you are not going to lose, while I’play or you,’ : “Thank you,” réplied Sherry; “your kindness 1 shall not forget. You’re a hos—” But he thought of .Evans’s warning, in time to avoid A blunder, “flow many checks do we want?” \ “Tet me see,’ said Alee, counting the board; “Madam has five hundred on King Heart. You pur-* chase five one hundreds, and cap the queen,” “Tsn’t this rather dangerous—this playing with — hearts?” asked Sherry, with a laugh, as he re: ceived his checks. “ Well, sometimes—yes,” Alee replied, with a soft flush tinging her cheek. 3 Accordingly, Sherry deposited his cheeks upon the queen of hearts—and won the fame, coming off with’ over a thousand dollars worth of checks. “Good!” Alee said, delight expressed in her tone, as she stacked up the ivories. ‘You won; I am in duty bound to order the champagne for you.” - And slipping a fifty check into the hand of a uni formed colored waiter, she called the champagne for the table. And when it came, it proved to be of the best. Both Alee and Sherry drank lightly, but this was not the case with the others, and then Queen Mab, called another game. At Alee’s request Sherry invested heavily, and Peres under her directions, though the beautiful” girl was careful not to let Madam Mab hear her ten- dered advice to the new visitor. The girls are in duty bound to respect the bank at Queen Mab’s, and to play into its treasury. but it was apparent that Alee was off the rules to- night, E ave at the-end of two hours, Sherry was - poner of two thousand dollars’ worth of checks. ‘ Alee was the first to notice this fact, so interested had Sherry been in the game. _“*You are one thousand and eight bundred dollars ahead of investment, sir,” she said, paling slightly as she caught the ominous glitter in Guecn Mab’s eye “Will you prop bik “Ves, I had best,’ replied Sherry, who had also caught madam’s severe glance. : “Will you honor my checks, your queenliness?” and he counted out his pile of ivories. e Queen Mab raked them in spitefully, and counted out the money, which Sherr, pocketed with a bow. “Come,” whispered Alee, drawing his arm through hers, “We had best watch the other games a while, aoe winnings have been the means of angering the een, 3 , “Yes; and what is the penalty?” asked Sherry, “She will scold you.” : “No; she will simply write my discharge papers, and T need no longer visit this establishment.” “ Why is this?” ‘ ‘Because I did not play Into the bank. I co ld have bet so you would have lost double what you have won.” y ‘“‘T suppose so; you have the hang of cards. Why didn’t you?” 0 “ Because—well—well, because I didn’t see fit. See do as an answer?” with a faint little laugh. 5 “Yes, I suppose so. What will you do # you are : discharged ? mon i “Pl marry the first wealthy gentleman whe offerg me his heart and hand,” a x“ -

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14 Death-Face, the Detective. : : “Phew! that’s nice. But in event that individual is minus?” ‘*Pll apply for a position in the ballet.” “No, you won’t{ your jib wasn’t cut fer the bally!” declared Sherry. ‘‘I'll see to you, you tumble to that! I’ve got chips, and as long as they last, you ain’t a-goin’ ter associate yerself wi’ no ly; you hear me!” Alee did not reply, but: she clung closer to Sree el arm, as if feeling assurance in his protection. She was a beautiful creature, rising seventeen years, with a slender, sylph-like form, a fair, pure PS petit hazel eyes and chestnut hair, and a mouth of tempt- ing sweetness. Iler dress was costly and elegant, and the jewels she wore were by np means inferior. Yet shexwas so different from the other girls of jueen Mab’s establishment, Sherry could but notice the contrast, As they strolled along through the great palace parlor, Sherry wondered if the contrast between this place and his former haunts could all be real, Presently they paused at a table, where Evans and the baroness were engaged. The former’s watch, rings and diamond pin were just going into the banker’s hands for more checks, “Hello! what’s the row? Broke, boss?’ demanded Sherry, stepping no “Yes; if Llose this time, I’m whipped,” replied Evans a areard expression in his eyes. **Not while yer unkle’s about!” cried Sherry, mak- ing a dive into his pocket and fetching out a roll of bills. ‘‘Here’s a thousand. Bet it ag’in’ the bank rs queen of hearts, an’ I'll stand ye, you tumble to an |? 5 “Sh! you’re kind, but. Bi avoid that gutter language,’’ remonstrated Evans, in a low tone. And then he accepted the loan, and put it upon the card as per directions, and amid much excite- ment, he won. After that he was more snecessful and finally he left the table a couple of hundred ahead, j Me found Sherry and Alee in the magnificent par- lors down-stairs, partaking of wine and refresh- ments, as scores were doing. The little female gambler was chatting payly, and it was plain to see that Sherry was greatly interest- edin her. And before he had left the gambling- house, just the darkest hour before dawn, she had romised to ride with him in the park, the follow- Ing afternoon. lherry went from the scene of excitement to the elegantly-furnished suit of rooms he engaged ,at the Fifth Avenue, parting with Evans at the hotel entrance. f Once in his rooms, he took a bath, and then sought the slumber he had so much needed. He awoke about noon, feeling considerably refreshed and af- ter ordering a tempting repast, proceeded to dis- patch it, after which he sauntered out of the hotel upon the crowded streets. e day was clear, but not nearly so warm as usu- al, and countless pleasure zine were driving along the avenue toward the Central Park. * Now the first thing is a caboose ter ride my fair inamority in!’ he muttered. ‘I must have some- thing gay, too, and where’llI go to get it? Bah! T'lt stand where I am and buy the first rig that takes my eye. And accordingly he stood upon the curb, and watched the rigs that sped gayly by through the soft sunlight. \ Presently, he saw a handsome phaeton, drawn by two spanking handsome bays, come dashing down the avenue, with many eyes bone a eee, Straight out into the street strode the youth, and at his beckon the driver drew rein, surprise beamin in his countenance, while his lady companion stared at Sherry, haughtily. “D’ye own this turnout’? Sherry demanded, tak- | ing a glance over the horses, harness, and phaston, in a moment. y, “Certainly I own it!’ replied the man, surly. “* What if I do, or do not, sir?” oy: “Tl give you twelve hundred dollars fer it, spot ” ‘ ‘What! are you crazy, sir?” * Nota bit, my clam. Here’s the rocks; so take *em and pile out, or else drive on.” The man seized the money, and sprung out with alacrity. r “Come, Celeste,” he said, offering to assist his companion to alight. ““Oh! surely not here, in the middle of the street, Penfield?” exclaimed she, in righteous horror, as she beheld a crowd collecting. : But the husband was obstinate, and one of New York’s fashion queens quitted her conveyance in the middle of Fifth avenue, waile one of Nw York’s fast young men took possession of it, and drove fciuaieplatiy off, CHAPTER VIII. ; DEATH-FACE ALERT. | DeatH-Facsr, the detective, had given Nelly O.- wick promise that he would take her case in charge and he was ever a man of his word. He commenced by dispatching Fooly Fred to the park, to find what clews he might of the missing Celia, and Dandy Dock to the Morgue to go over the late arrivals of un- claimed dead, while he in person went to the estab- lishment of Cuthbert St. Cloud, broker, in Wall street, aud demanded to see the proprietor, an- nouncing his business as of greatest. importance. And so it was, considering the case. - The broker, a gray-haired, sla ed little specu- lator of fifty years, with more of a display of dress than became so old a man, received him in his back i a office, with a cool salutation. “Mr. Cuthbert St. Cloud, I believe?” Death-Face said, declining the proffered chair, _ “Yes, sir; that is my name. What can I do for EL, any. ?” and the man rubbed his hands, patron- zingly. “You ean give me a little information; ~ "selieve that is ajl to-day. You havea son, have you not— a young gentleman with dark eyes, hair, mustache, and complexion?” “Oh! certainly; that is Edward. Splendid young fellow when once you thoroughly know him, Your business, I take it, relates to him?”’ “Tt does=-is pee. with him. Can you di- rect me to him?” * Ah! Lam sorry to disappoint you, but I cannot. Ido not even know of his present whereabouts.” “Indeed! and I wanted to see him so badly. You even do not know if he isinthe city, then?” “Not positively. Might have run down to Cape May—or maybe in the city.” “Ts he married?” “Ha, ha! no—not he! Loves his freedom amd in- 7 dependence too well tothink of tying a woman to his coat-tails.” : i “Ahem! yes. Well, if I can obtain no information of you, I must be going,” Death-Face said, preparing to depart. ‘ You know of none of his haunts where a person would be likely to find him?” re F Hardly; it is uncertain just where to look for ™m. “Very well. Icanperhaps find him. Goor-day, sir,” and he took his departure from the broker’s. office. Going back to the rooms of the tenemest in Mul: berry street, he found both Dock and Fred awaiting me Nothin t the M ” Dock ed, with othing at the Morgue.” Dock announced, w a gloomy ghake of the Feat " “ Ah! then there is some hope that she has not ee i ee Might have jumped into the river, ough.” > ** And more than probable that is the solution of | tos Bae we won't accept of (t yet Wha ta wk “But we won't accept of if yet, at 1s your rer | port, Fredy =

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umph ah ' Death-Face, the Detective. Se eindial “Foutd the place, but nothing more, captain. Guess it’: a fogs ‘un.” 85 “But we've handled worse ones, by ten-fold. Dock, whete is Queen Mab’s?” “ “The place I spoke of visiting on Twenty-seventh street. Why?” “You must get into it and use youreyes. You may have to gamble, but let it be in close proximity to a young fellow with dark complexion, dark eyes. hair and mustache, Watch him narrowly, and fin out where he goes to when he leaves.” “Allright. Whois the chap?” ‘Some of our game—St, Cloud by name.” *“Ah, curse him| I'll indeed watch him, then! I shall have to go in disguise, for fear of recognition.” * And how shall I amuse myself, boss?” asked Fred, with a yawn.. ‘I long for something to relieve the monotony.”’ : ‘*Well, you may keep an eye on both rivers for a couple of days, and see what is fished up in the shape of bodies; though my expectations of finding this missing girl are not in that direction.” . “God grant that she is alive!’ said Dock Ray- ' mond, quitting the room. That afternoon a bent, gray-haired and whiskered little old man sauntered into one of the many variety beer-gardens of which New York can boast, and seating himself ata table called for cheese and T, which he proceeded very leisurely to dispatch while he watghed the performance. He was dressed in outlandish style, and everything about his make-up. from his stogy boots to his old ragred wool hat and unkempt locks, proclaimed bim to be a veteran from the rural districts. He watched the performance with evident huge delight, a broad grin distorting his hairy counte- nance, and occasionally, at some ludicrous remark of the comedians, or extra caper of the brazen-faced females. who paraded across the stage, he would ee into a yell of delight, his sides shaking with earty laughter. r The afternoon was exceedingly hot, and the cool gardens were crowded by the heated and thirsty. And many were the curious glances,leveled at the old “coot’’ from the country, as he sat and enjoyed both the performance and his beer. Ignorance is said to be bliss, and the old man might have been deemed in a blissful state, if such was reaily the ease. Certain it was that he appeared ignorant enough. Two stylishly-dressed young gene evidently street advertisers of the latest fashions, came in and aoe possession of the bench just ahead of the ruralite Much to his disgust, too, for he reached over and aug one of them on the shoulder rather heavily. * Hello!’ cried one, the darker of the twain, look- ing around with a fierce oath ‘‘ What is the matter with you. old man? Keep your dirty paws where they belong!”’ “Eh?” and he from the rural districts put one hand to the place where an ear might have been supposed to have sprouted, but was now invisible, owing to the great locks of wiry hair; ‘“ what d’ye say youngster? I’m leetle hard o’ heerin’ in my left e: } ar.” sy sa. pe ae paws to home or I'll show youl!” row e dandy. , em Nice show? Oh! yes, mighty nice. “Like to hey my boy Peter see it.” Who said anything about the show, you old ignoramus? I say keep your. dirty hooks off from me, or I’ll treat you to a knock-down ” “Tréat me, did you say? All kerect’ boyee. Ye ‘peer ter seem kinder natteral—like my family; resemble my Peter considerable. Yes, et is kinder dry. Waiter, fetch three bottles o’ thet stuff you call chatapaign. I'll stand the shot, boys.” And rural fetched one hand out of his capacious pantaloon pocket, in which was grasped with tri- roll of bills—genuine greenbacks every 15 “Hal by Jove, Seymour, look at the old smner's pile, will you!”’ whispered Ned St. Cloud, cautiously, to his companion. “ We must lay for him.” “Exactly. It will be easy enough to bleed the old idiot!” replied Seymour, confidently. (‘He'll go back to the country with this wisdom-teeth cut.” The champagne was ese and glasses filled; then the ruralite laid down a fifty-dollar note in pay- ment, receiving back four tens and a five. “Well, old hoss, what’s your name?” said St. Cloud, as he and Seymour changed their positions so that they faced their intended victim. ‘* We gener- ally. like to know whom we drink with.” ‘ re a ? eed my tage HT noe Lind ae mats restorin, § mone: uge pocket, *‘ f § A i do say it. I’m Tobias— reckon it’s a good ’un, ef rum Cornfield Center, Vermont. You'll Silas Tobias, find It’s o’ Tobiases in Cornfield.’ There’s Jim To- bias, Sam Tobias, Jacob Tobias, Zackariaher Bret Tobias, Godfrey Tobias, Zackariah Taylor Tobias’s son Josiah, Peter, Hank, Zebulom, Aaron, Ji Saul, Job, Obed, Henry Clay, John Quincy Adams and Andrew Johnson Tobias, besides—” ‘Hold on, for Heaven’s sake!” interrupted St, Cloud; ‘‘ that willdo. ‘Our names are respectively Fletcher and Brandon. Drink, old man— your success !”’ And the glasses were emptie tied repeatedly, until the | exhausted. And much to the surprise of the two sharpers, who were themselves not a little affected by the drink, old Uncle Silas Tobias was as sober and lively as a cricket. “See here!” Seymour said, in a cautious tone, ““we've got to let up on this peice or we're euch- ered. e old cuss ‘ll stand a barrel, for these coun- try bucks have cast-iron stomachs, We'll have to try another’ tack.” ‘Well, a-all right, Fletcher. You ’terd to it, and I'll wateh. I’m eucedly sleepy.” ‘But that'll never do, Wake up. Say, old man, aye ever play cards?” ‘Waal, yes, | sometimes take a band,” replied Tobias; indifferently. ‘‘ My boy Peter is great at old wi i J tell you!” wR we'll have a social game. Come along, Fletcher.” And the two apg and their supposed “ flat” left the garden, and sauntered leisurely toward Broadway. The club-room was reached in the course of half an hour, during which time both Sey- mour and St. Cloud had leisure to dissipate the ef- fects of their champagne. The club-room was upon the fourth-floor front of a large building, the first, second, and third floors of which were unoccupied; the building itself being the individual property of St. Cloud. The cause of its vacancy was because of the un- reasonable high rents demanded. : The club-room was fitted up in handsome style, tables, desks, chairs, sofas, and settees comprising the furniture. A few fashionably-attired fellows were lo! about; a few smoking, others reading, and rs laying cards; but all left soon after the entrance of t. Cloud, Seymour and Uncle Tobias. The, three seated themselves at a table, and began to play. \The first game was won by St. Cloud. 2s! ‘obias winked one eye as the cards were dealt out, \ } “T'll bet. five hundred dollars ag’in’ the same, put up by you two, thet I win,” he said, slowly and spec- ulatively. é “Agreed! Seymour, you will find a roll of bills in yonder desk. f Cloud said, offering a, cigar to the man from Vermont, while he was lighting one him- refilled and emp- bottle’s contents were self. ** What! don’t 7 smoke?” vs “ Not when playin” keerds, youngster,” replied the oli man, with a sage shake of hishead. “Smoke * makes me sneeze,”* allus gite up my nose an I See ohn, | ere’s to. right; come along to the club-rooms, and —

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_Wolver, while Seymour blanched, pale with fear, 16 f Seymour brought a large roll of fresh, erisp green- | backs, and laid them upon: the table. “There you are, old stag—two thousand dollars!” he said; witha grin. ‘Can you cover it?” Uncle Silas took up the bills, hefted them, and then smelt of them. “Bran span new, ain’t they?’’ was his slow com- menr. ‘“Reckon ye got’em right from the mint, didn’t ye?” “Yes, right from the~ mint/’ replied St. Cloud, witha laugh, ‘‘Worth double the. amount of such greasy old paper you sport.”” “Yes L spect so. Take the old man fer a fool, don’t ye? S’pose he’s an ignorant old buck thet ken’t tell a butterfly from a sramshcneer: Lreckon!” Sf. Cloud and Seymour exchanged glances. What did it mean? It was a question not answerable just then, for the old man slapped down the opening card of the game, rather spitefully. And the gene was played through, without the exchange of a word, Uncle To- bias winning. With a meaning smile to St. Cloud, Seymour counted out five hundred dollars, and paid the wa- er, “Now, will yowtry a thousand?” he asked, watch- ing the ruralite narrowly. ‘Oh, no!’ Tobias said, leaving the amount he had won upon the table, and pocketing his former stake- money... ‘Five hundred at a slice ain’t ter be sneezed at, Tm tellin ye, tho’ I’ve seen the time I could ’a’ bet five thousan’, easier.” ; __ And the game was played, and again Seymour was forced to pay the wager into the Vermonter’s hands. St. Cloud swore roundly. “See here, you old cuss, do you know I believe you're no countryman at all? I believe you’re a eard-sharp in disguise!" “Pooh! pooh! what put that notion into your head?” was the evidently surprised reply.‘ I reck- onyou’re green yourself, ef you can’t tell a good honest farmer.” “Yes, a gona honest one, like yourself, for in- stance!” with a sneer. “Old man, Pll bet you a thousand dollars I win this game.. Do you take “No, thankee; I’m content wi’ five hundred. By the way, Mr. Fletcher, don’t for a moment calkylate old Silas: Tobias is afeard o’ ye, ner sich a darned fool, nuther.: Reckon I’ve plowed enuff groun’ter kno’ wich way sub-soil turns easiest. Yes, siree. The Tobiases, 0’ Cornfield Center, can show jest as _ 00d blood in their gills as enny 0’ the city aristoc- racy, I’m tellin’ ye! Thar was old Governor Tobfas, o’ Maine, an’ Tobias, the watch inventor, and Tobi—’ “Oh, hang your bragging! Five hundred’s the game. Plank, old blower.” - Soe here, boyee. jest call less names, please.” St. Cloud growled back some inaudible response, and slammed down his first card. The game was played quickly, the Vermonter winning, as usual. And game after game resulted in his favor, until he had won about three thousand dollars from the two ‘gentlemen ” sharpers. : hen he arose with a quiet laugh, and placing the whole stack of bills upon a hearth on one side of the room, he touched a match to them, and watched ‘them blaze up. “A cry ofastonishment escaped the two sharpers, “or God's sake, man, are you crazy?’ demanded Seymour, springing from his seat, with an oath. "Oh, yes, quite crazy, without doubt,” was the sarcastic reply, and then, as the Vermonter turned toward them, they made a discovery. The gray matted mass of hair was gone—lay upon the floor where it had fallen—and a white-faced, res- olute man stood before them, a cocked revolver in either hand, and a gleam in his piercing eyes that meant business. : “Death-Face, the detective, by all that is living!” cried St. Cloud, cowering under the aim of the re- 4 Death-Face, the Detective. “Yes, my gay larks,” replied the detective, grim ly. “it is Death-Face, I have eaught you,and—” But, aven before he could complete the epee) 2 portion of the floor-was jerked from under his fe and he was thrown forward and precipitated head long downward! CHAPTER IX. ' A NEW CASE. Down—down went the detective, through what seemed an endless space, and ere he stopped, insen- eee had robbed him of some of the terrors of the fall. It was long hours ere he awoke, and then it was to find himself lying, bruised and sore, upon a great net in mid-air, which bad so checked his downward flight as to save him from death. : With a start he roused himself, sat up and gazed about him, An upward glance explained the mystery of his fall. /Far above in the floor of the third story through which he had fallen, was a large hole, while still further above in uhe fourth floor was just visible the mechanical works of the trap. He was suspended on the net between the second and third floors; below him was a second re hole through which he could see to the first floor. Thera evidently had been an elevator there, some day, but it had been removed, and the treacherous dead-fall substituted in its pees : ‘ The distance to the second flight was nearly twenty feet, and after ete a ‘few moments, Death-Face swung off, and made the drop, He came near going through the elevator-way, but fortune favored him in managing to avoid this new disaster. He struck with great force, and a roar of noisy echoes ran riot through the great chambers. But on listening, he could hear no sound of his enemies’ approach, which naturally produced the conclusion that they bad given him up as done for, Two doors opened out of the chamber, but both he found to be locked. so that escape was prevented in that direction. With a muttered malediction, he turned to the huge windows looking out upon the roadway, which were covered with a thick coat of cobwebs and dust. . But these, also, he found to be fastened with screws, and having no sharp instrument to remove them with, he was obliged to abandon any attempt at escape in that direction, unless he broke one of square - the great plate glasses, which he resolved not todo — while there was any other chance. “T wonder what’s down a the first floor?’ he muttered, peering down through the opening, through which he had come so near falling. “Deserted and dusty, like all untenanted places, Tsee. But I’m going down there, somehow. It pears to me there must be some show of escape there, if anywhere. But how shall I get down?” This was-now the question. There were no ropes nor anything to manufacture them out of, and the distance was more than twenty feet to the floor below. Which made dropping a dangerous atterapt, in the least sense of the word. | Yet Death-Face resolved to make the attempt, hit or miss, And swinging downward as soon as the resolution was formed, he let go. Down—down—and then he struck upon his feet with great violence, Fortu- nately no bones were hurt, but he was so jarred that ic took several moments to recollect where he was, , Then he proceeded to inspect the apartment, and the modes of .escape therefrom, The’ back doors and windows were securely nail great was his surprise on pee the front door to find the key on the insi door unlocked, “Ha! this is lucky, by Judas. The me tot has doubtless been here, and gone away without his key which lets me out handsomely.” : est And the detective stepped forth into the street, a eS free man! on 4 ed and locked; but e of the door, and the -—

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7 Death-Face, the Detective. | Death-Face, or Harry Conroy, as he really was, although there were but few in the great metropolis ~ acquainted with this fact, was the man who had once réseued Amy Elwood’s runaway horses, and he had, ag we have related, paid several visits to the beauty-beiress. He had now not seen her for some time, and no sooner had he gained the street, than he formed the resolution to call upon her. But, first of all, he went to his room an ee his attire, and when, an hourdater, he rung the bell at the Elwood man- sion, he was truly a fine-looking fellow, the only detriment to his personal appearance being the peculiar whiteness of his face. A mulatto girl answered the summons, and made a humble cour- tesy as she beheld the noted detective, for she, of the whole household, knew of Conroy’s profession. “*Good-day to you, Molly! Is Miss Elwood in? If s0, will you please give her my card?” and he ex- tended a delicately-perfumed card, upon which his name was wri(ten in a master-hand, “Oh! de Lor’, sir!’ gasped the servant. the whites of her eyes growing unnaturally wide, ‘‘de missus ain’t at home, sir. Done gone off widout sayin’ a word to anybody. Didn’t take a stitch of clothes, neither, an’ dis chile is awful worried, sir. Mas’r Seymour say she gone to Cape Ma; .but I don't b’lebe it, sir, "deed I don’t! Missus wouldn't ’a’ done gone off widout takin’ me, sir. I'se her maid, Lis!” Conroy whistled his surprise. “Why, this is strange. The way I remember it, Miss Elwood was not to go to Cape May until next eek. “ "Deed she wasn’t, sir; "deed she wasn’t. An’, oh! dé Lor’ only knows what has become of her.” nay: Goma I must look into this, Itdoes not look just right, that’sa fact. Didn’t take her wardrobe, you say?’ » be Nob a dud, sir, but what was on her back; *deed she didn’t, sir.” ; “Then I don’t believe she went to Gap May, at all. Is this Seymour in?” ‘No, sir.”? “Te’s Miss Elwood’s cousin, I believe?”? “Yes, sir.” “Were they close friends?” set “Oh, de Lor’, no. Missus Amy jist despised him, sir, ‘deed she me = * Ah! this has-an appetizing look. In case Miss Elwood was dead, this cousin would come in for the Toren eh?” “T ’speet so, sir; but—but—y—you—y—you—”’ And Molly began to ery, in alarm. ‘ “Hush, girl!’? Conroy commanded, authoritative- ly. ‘‘ Your mistress is all safe, Pl warrant. Ili go and bunt her up. Mind, you don’t say a word of this to snepoay: I'll callin the course of a few days, and see if she has not returned.” Saying which, Harry Conroy quitted the mansion. M3 don’t like this a bit,” he muttered, as he saun- tered along Fifth avenue, reflecting upon what he had heard. “Iam well satisfied that Amy is not at Cape May. Let me see; she had engaged accommo- dations at the Stockton, she told me, I will tele- graph and find out if she is there. Seymour—Sey- mour. Let me think; ah! that was the name of the villain. who was in company with St. Cloud, under another name. Probably the two Seymours are identical, in which case Miss Blwood’s cousin is a rascal, and-not above.suspicion for any crime.” . Entering a Western Union office Death-Face sent a dispatch, inquiring of the clerk of the Stockton Hotel, at Cape May, if Miss. Amy Elwood. of New Tork, was registered on their books. And ere long the reply came back: “No such party here.” Which settled that part of it in Conroy’s mind. And thus matters stood at the end of three days. Nothing satisfactory had been learned concerning the fates of either Celia Orwick or Amy Elwood. Neither Fooly Fred nor Dandy Dock had learned anything of importance, for the latter had not suc- 4 é Bus ceeded in gaining admission to in his sphere among the Water-streetites, little opportunity gather news appertaining to either of the cases, “They’re two stickers!” said Death-Face, as with his two aids, he sat in his room in the Mulberry street tenement, the evening of the third day in question. “There is no chance of success without sereating: this St. Cloud and Seymour, which I don’t" care to et. Ere long I ‘Passing ‘queer blossoms,’ eh?” in which without noticing the good from the bad—just be- cause an influential citizen made the deposit. What is the country coming to, when even our best, ne gone the stuff without knowing when they it?” 4 ; : “Tve got on the trail of a gay young lark who is Moi 3 the queer’ in the boldest style,” said Dock, chew! who is, I believe, doing so, ignorant of his crime. I'm Boing to investigate as soon as the case ripens.”” “Yes, keep your eyes peeled on all cases of * shoy- ing,’ because if we win we've got to work sharp, for Pinkerton’s men are laying to with a will. It’s going to be nip and tuck-between us.”’ Forsome time they conversed upon different topics relating to their profession; but finally they were interrupted by a knock upon the door. ; Fooly Fred opened the door, and admitted an elderly gentleman of rather prepossessing appear- ance—a man.stout of figure, with a -rounad, jovial, beardless face. that fell in little waves down his back. He was well |, Sported a gold-headed cane an! elegant an vest-chain, and altogether was somewhat dashing wa of make-up, for a man.over whom fifty years passed, no matter if but lightly. « “Ahem! excuse my intrusion, gentlemen, but is” on Mab's, while — had ue ard at the end of his cigar, “but ‘pleasant black eyes, and long hair i not this the head quarters of a detective whose pal- lid countenance has earned for him the name of Death-Face?”’ : “This is the place, sir. Be seated, sir. Boss, this _ gentleman wishes to see you, I believe.’ j ‘Well, sir, I am at your service,” said Conroy, bringing his chair closer, and scanning his visi critically. - Fi visitor re “What is there I can do for you in my line of - business?” ten knows where heirs are—I don’t.” a wie urpose, but — h. j i Eee to find that my brother is dead—and the Lord anly

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» girl’s, Leo. There is “ Ah} well, I must say that yoy are an honest man, without question,” Death-Face exclaimed, while both Dock and Fred expressed their astonish- ment by longer pulls at their cigars. ‘* Notone man out of every hundred, nowadays, would honor an obligation of twenty years’ standing.” “‘Well, perhaps not; but I wish to depart from this life with a clear conscience, which I couldn’t do ere retain the mite of the orphan. were I to retain the mite of the orphan.” “Your resolve is very praiseworthy, at any rate. { pike you wish to find these heirs?”’ ; “ Rather I want you to find them. Here are your figures. James Raynor lived in Mulberry street, carpenter. by trade; widower; died abdut nine or ten years ago--or maybe eights years ago, uncertain about that; left two heirs—boy and oe , twins, aged ten years. Boy entered service of baker; don’t know what became of girls boy’s le et died a couple of years ago, and baker's family don’t know what became of him. Boy’s name, Sherry Raynor; i have it, sir, in a nutshell. an you make anything out of it?’ F. “Doubtless, sir, the boy can probably be found, and will know of his sister.” . “And you will undertake the case?’’ ‘Tf you like, yes. I have every confidence that we can oust him out of his hiding. He is here in the city, I think; for I think I have heard the name, though I cannot recall just the ayes ek when,” “Very well; do your best, and when you find a clew let me know. You will find meat the Fifth Avenue.” Then Mr. Samuel Raynor, of Virginia City,\took his peparture, leaving the detectives with another case in hand. CHAPTER X. AMY’S HEROISM—SHERRY’S TROUBLE. Wewill for a short space of time lookin upon those unfortunate females of Dr, Heidle’s asylum for the insane, though probably his doors were never darkened by those who were in the least deranged. His patients were all deranged ina mild way, he was wont to say to his intimate acquaintances, with ‘one of his evil little laughs. But of the fifteen women, young and old, who oc- eepiet that prison in the third story of the seyret not one was there in the least unsound in mind. Amy Elwood was for the first two or three days |, very sick, doubtless owing to the violence of her rief and excitement on finding herself du and the prisoner of Clarence Seymour. But the kind care of her sisters in durance had nursed her back to health and strength, and now it was a month since her imprisonment. August, with its dry, scorching heat, had gone, and September, with its thilder breath and occasional breezes, was at hand, a little more cheering to the prisoners. And although their confinement was terrible and chafing to the spirit, none of them could complain of harsh or cruel treatment, or lack of food. ‘here was an excellent opportunity offered here {or the study of character. Some of the inmates were sullén and uncommunicative, while others were aS gay and light-hearted as though they had ossession of their freedom and liberty, And among his latter class wasa girl whom Amy took an tn- stant fancy to—a girl of seventeen oreighteen years, | ry Sa in face and figure, and of great vivacity 3 ity name is—well, say Annie Boyce, dear!"’ she die—I know I should. __ “Notif you keep up spirits. Only one died here} ‘You ugly brute!” Death-Face, the Detective. j since I came here, and she was an old woman—Old Aunty Hodge we called her. Her son-in-law shut _ up here to get possession of her house, the vil- ain,” ae ist how cruel. What were you put in here or?” ¢‘Oh! I found out a secret, by accident, which threatened to ruin the prospects of a couple of men, and they took care that I shouldn’t betray them by incarcerating me here, But, by the faith of God, Iever do get free, the world shall be shown one gigantic fraud, at least.” “* Have you made ay: attempts to esotpe, Annie?” ‘No, for they would be useless. You see the win- dows are securely barred, and a guard is constant! stationed outside, in the entrance, yonder, It would be a vain attempt, and we should only receive harsher treatment.” ‘*Maybe you are right. But I do notintend to re- main here without making a trial for our liberty!” said Amy, drying her tears, and there shone a reso- lute light in her eyes. ‘Iam Fo to open com- munication with the outer world at least.” **But you will not dare to break a window, dear. We have tried it several times, but the guard cursed so terribly that we had to desist.” “He'll not hear me,” replied Amy, quietly. “Get me a piece pi nenee and pencil, first, and I'll geta message in readiness, so I can drop it out as soon as I make an opening.” The pares was furnished with afew books, and Annie having her own Peas Amy wrote on slips of the fly leaf from one of the books, the following: “Help! help! Fifteen girls are confined in the upper story of this building, which is a so-called private mad-house, Notify the authorities, or as- sist us to escape, for the love of God, I pray you. “ Amy Enwoop,”’ “There! that will procure our liberty, I am cer- tain, if it only chances to fall into the right hands,” ae Sy, as she finished her task. ‘Now for the window.” She approached one of the immense stained-glass windows, and examined it closely, eagerly watched by her amxious companions, The glass was heavier than she had at first sup; and a fear assailed her that her efforts were destined to be futile. * But she could try, at least. Drawing a solitaire diamond ring from her little finger, she pressed the gem to the glass, and drew a large circle. The diamond cut a deep track through the smooth surface. P “Good! "Now rhe me a stick, or something I can use noiselessly |’? Amy cried, excitedly, and the other females began to share her enthusiasm. But at this juncture the door opened, and the guard came tramping into the room, with a muttered curse. He was a great brawny, murderous-looking fellow, with blea eyes and bloated face, and tangled black hair and beard. And to the alarm of the ity oe ae he carried a heavy black-snake whip in his hand, which he cracked with meaning significance. ‘Hulloal” he cried, glaring at the frightened prisoners with apparent fury. ‘I heerd a ’spicious noise in heer. Maybe some 0’ ye miser’ble squaws’d be pleased to tell me what it was?” ere was no answer, for none of the women were inclined to betray their last hope of escape, even had they possessed the power of speech which they did not, in their terror, And their silence seemed to more enrage their jailer. “Come! curse you, speak up!’ he ordered, draw- ing nearer, a wolfish oe in his eyes. “I’m goin’ ter know what made that noise, or by—”’ He did not finish the sentence, but raising his ugly instrument of torture, brought it down with stinging force around a lady’s shoulders. Witk a pained cry the poor creature atageerad back, and would have fallen, had not Annie ce caught her in her arms. cried Amy Elwood, springing i

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7 . Death-Face, the Detective. 55 19 ferward, ‘her eyes flashing and her whole form y Nee you mean, cowardly wretch, to strike a efenseless woman!” She sprung @ pace nearer, and with a bold dash porte ted old of the whip, to which she clung with all er mi ‘ht, “AL him, irls! Hold him, quick, while I flog him!” od cried, bravely, resclution exp upon her ace. The rufflan swore furiously, and made a fierce effort to tear loose, but eight of the prisoners laid hold_of him, with sudden determination, and he was borne to the floor, and held there asin a vise Then, Amy wrenched the cruel whip from his grasp, and raising it repeatedly, brought it down with all her might across his back, which was only covered by a thin cotton shirt. Howls of rage and oaths of the most horrible character escaped the man, as Amy continued to ply the gad to the best of her ability, And when she had exhausted her strength, Annie Boyce took her place, and the inhuman jailer was flogged until he begged piteously for quarter. Then he was dragged out into the outer entry and left there, while the girls retreated into their prison and locked the door after them, taking care to retain possession of the whip as a weapon of defense. No further molestation was offered them that day, but Amy did not again attempt to break the glass. She was too fearful of being caught fn the act, and having her plans frustrated, She hid her messaggs under the carpet and bided her time. The next morning, however, she began her second attack upon the window, and by careful labor soon succeeded in dislodging the circular piece of glass. Then she thrust out her messages, and the wind wafted them away. “Now, we can wait and hope,” the brave girl said; ‘so cheer up, sisters; liberty will soon be ours!” In the meantime, the metropolitan circles, while being agitated over the success of the great counter- feit ring, and the Boss Tweed sensation, were not blind to the extraordinary doings of a modern Coal oh Johnnie, who was no other person than Sherry ynor. We have passed over some of the features of his gay, reckless career, thinking that it would be more sto his future credit. ‘As theforiginal Coal Oil Johnnie sowed his money to the wind, and led a wild, reck- less existence, so did Sherry Raynor follow in his footsteps, until, eventually, at the end of one month, he was penniless, and turned for comfort to Charley Evans, who had followed his fortunes from the be- ginning to the end. It was a miserably wet, disagreeable summer night, when the two youths sat together in.their par- lor at the Fifth Avenue, which overlooked Madison square, finishing a bottle of wine, which the last five-dollar note of Raynor had paid for, a few mo- ments previous. A month of this roystering had greatly changed Sherry. He was paler and less vivacious, and a hunted, huagry expression ever haunted his unna- turally bright eyes. All that was to be seen for —— in the great metropolis, he had seen, and Evans had been his con- stant es ge sharing his joys and sorrows like a brother. A strange youth Sherry thought him, sometimes, but withal a jou good companion, And as they sat facing each other, to-night, with the September rain dashing against the window- panes, Sherry Raynor said: “ Evans, how much had I when [left the stres*» oad. began this life?” “Two thousand dollars, old bow * os “Two thousand? Great “2aven, can it be possible that I have let thst umount slip through my fin- ers? oe Yes, and two thousand more with it, which, *“selry dog that you are, you won from the gaming- able, Twice two thousand, in all} he “My God, is it possible I have been such a fool? Four thousand dollars in a month? By heaven, it seems incredible!" away slowly at his cigar. “Indeed, I knew nothing of it until to-day, when I read a piece in the Herala, Sherry, you are a, hunted criminal!” ‘‘A what!” the astonished youth demanded, start- ing to his ee his pale face growing whiter, and his a invol clinching. ‘I acriminal, Evans “Yes, you, Sherry, and now that I see what trou- ble threatens you, I am sorry that you éver got that money,” “It's about the money, then?” he , Sinki back into the chair, and pouring out the last drop 0: wine from the decanter. “Yes, about the money. It seems a criminal has made a confession, upon his prison death-bed, which involves you. His name was Faro Phil. He was ar- rested when suspected of having in his possession a large amount of counterfeit money. The money was not found, but he had enough other crimes against him to send him up for ee days. And he has died, swearing that the night of his arrest he was in possession fis two thousand dollars in counterfeit money, bel nging to the Ring, which ke was to circu- late t h the West. But, it seems he gof chased by Death-Face, the detective, in disguise, and on the ferry-boat met you. ; “He told you his troubles, and you offered to pur- chase the ‘blossoms’ at ten cents on a dollar, which was accepted, and the transfer made, You slid off with the ‘ queer,’ and He slid into the hands of the cops. And, Sherry, boy, you’ve been squanderin that money boldly and recklessly here in the hea of New York city!” The young man covered his face with his hands, and groaned aloud. This was a terrible blow to him, Unconsciously he had been passing counterfeit money, and now this death charge of aro Phil had forever sealed his fate. He was an outlaw, in one sense of the word—would be sought for, high and low, and no could possibly better his case, after the damnin; confession of Faro Phil. It was to be an uncondi- tional surrender, and submit to years of servitude oa Blackwell's Island, or flight and a hunted life. ; Ah? which would be the better? : Is was some time before the youth spoke, and then it was in low and husky tones. “JT am glad it’s gone, Evans,” he said, staring thoughtfully at his companion, and then rising an going to the window, looking on the avenue. ‘*Blame will come to me, but not for the world would I handle the-stuff again. Besides, I have learned a lesson, by this experience. Iam no longer a boy, but see with the eyes of a man. Good- : old boy; Iam going to hunt up Alee. She can hide me.’ “ You are not going near Alee,” Evans said, firmly. ‘The girl is well enough in her way, but you bave better friends in your dark hour than even she. Have you forgotten Fay?’ 5. “Fay? Fay? No; heaven be wraised! — Will re- member her,. though ~-y Tain has hardly been straight fora month. You promised to <é", vaurley, you know.” “Yes, I promised to take you, and we're now. But, we must go in disguises, which I have thou Atfully procured.” : Half an hour later two middle-aged men left the — hotel, and hurried down Broadway through the wet night as fast as possible. : _ “ As I thought!” said one to the other; “ the hotel is watched, Two of Pinkerton’s ‘men stood in the rotestations of innocence from him ke me to - oing 4

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20 entrance as we came out, and—’’ with a backward glanee. “‘Great Heaven! Sherry, they are following close in our rear, as I’m a live man. Come! faster, or we are lost—/ as well as you!” CHAPTER XI. FRED CATCHES A CLEW—DODGING, Qn the same wet, rainy night into the darkness ‘of which the flickering glare of the street lamps scarcely penetrated, Tom Mc.Donald’s * Arms’’ in Mulberry street, was more than crowded with the atrons from the immediate neighborhood, whose raat brogue betrayed the accent of the Emerald sod, Then there were afew Englishmen, and a scat- tering of native Americans; in fact, Tom’s place was a well known resort for anybody who had ten cents to leave with him, in exchange for liquid fire. Also, it was a resort for that low order of ee 3 men, whose pugilistic barbarities occasionally shoc! the public— a a ena and dog-fight- ers, of which New York and Philadelphia have an ECORI. ‘ In MeDonald’s establishment were little back-par- lors, into which privileged ones were admitted, and where business could be transacted in private. In one of these apartments, sitting opposite each other ata round deal table, on which were liberal glasses of ale, were two men, this evening of which we write. They were evidently there for the pur- fore of enjoying a social glass, judging from the de- ight with which they quaffed the cherry liquid—the Englishman’s favorite drink. But after they had emptied the goblets, they sat - gazing at each other a few moments, asif each were waiting for the other to speak. ie Both were large, brawny men, past middle-age in life, with whisky well written upon their coarse faces and in their haggard eyes. Roughly dressed, and evil of appearance, they were such men as might be * selected for dark work upon just such dark, wet - nights as this; when the metropolis between the two rivers was enveloped in a dense fog, and the rain fell in fitful showers. 2 Outside of the little “parlor,” in the saloon were heard the shouts of drunken men; maudlin songs and ribald jokes and oaths, and the two men ex- : d glances. , R = “Tom’s reaping a big harvest,’ said one, with a De He is the b’y ter fetch in the honest coppers, Te} iad “Oh! he'll get rich, never fear,” was the reply. “But where’s our man? Why don’t he come?” **Oh! he'll be comin’, never fear, Durg. His se- eret is worth too much to him for him to run any risks, “Yes, I think you’re right, Curley,” with a grim gh. “He knows the gal—” “Sh!” cautioned Curley, with an SP EESNEUSNS plaice toward a neighboring corner, where, upon a ures. “Oh! you needn’t have no-fear of him,” said Durg, with a laugh. ‘‘That’s Fooly Fred, the idiot. Don’t know enough ter keep him over night. Drunk Havas presume, as he generally is. Fred! I say, But there was no response to the call. Fool Fred was evidently in dreamland, or else too drun to answer. He was a devoted habitue of the saloons along Mulberry and other like streets, and not a few harbored him, because he was known to be good at lending a hand if wanted. “Well, maybe he’s all right,” ig ag Curley, partly satisfied. ‘Ah! hero comes Mr. St. Clow now. As he spoke, a mau was admitted into their presence by the barkeeper, after which the door ‘was again locked. The new-comer was indeed Ned St. Cloud, whom we have met before. There was an sngry scowl upon his dark face as he saw the two | days, or we'll let the gal loose on you,” Death-Face, the Detertive. men by the table, and Durg motioned him to a seat by the board. ; “Well?” St. Cloud interrogated, e his. two men coolly, not a trace of fear expressed in either tone or looks. ‘‘Iam here, you see: now, what the devil is to Ae “A good deal, Mr. St. Cloud,” Di replied, with a bland smile. “We writ you a letter saying we wanted ter see ye on important business, relating fo Celia Orwick, Ireckon. You were not slow to come w’en ye found somebody knew sumthin’ about the gal asides from you, eh?’ “What do you know about her?” demanded St, Cloud, ws as he leaned forward across the table, a very devil gleaming in his eyes, ‘“* What do you know about her?” “Sufficient ter send yoo ter Sing-Sing, or, maybe, hang ye!’ was the reply. “Pooh! you cannot scare me. What have I done that I should fear your power, pray tell me?” “Oh! you're a gay rooster, ain’t ye? I reckon you imagine we brought you here for the fun 0’ the thing, which ain’t the case at all. We mean business, Mr. St. Cloud, an’ the sooner ye order up ef ra the better it'll be for all concerned—eh, urley ?” a “Fo” suah!” replied ore with plantation ac- cent. ‘‘ De massa pays de bill,” “Well, order the drink then, and I'll pay for them,” growled St. Cloud, throwing some coin down m the table. “Then, say what you have to say in a hurry.” ‘ ape you have important business, elsewhere, e: 3 “That matters not to you. What do you know of Celia Orwick?” ‘Considerable, more or less, S'posen you should wake up sum’ night, wi’ yer room in darkness, an’ her a-layin’ in a coffin by yer bedside, wi’ her white face and staring eyes turned accusingly toward 27 ut St. Cloud shuddered violently, at the terrible pic- ure. ‘* What do you mean b, this nonsense, you fools?” he gasped. ‘‘I don’t understand.” “You don’t? Well, we'll try to make you. Un- derstand, then, that we were at hand when you tried but filed to choke the life out of the gal.” “ Failed!” St. Cloud w whiter still. ‘ You don’t mean to say she is alive?’ * Alive and well, sir; but a close prisoner in the power of yours, truly, Durg and Curley. Yes, . gay St. Cloud, the § is well, but the child is rong and you will be held responsible !”’ ~ “Bah! you cannot frighten me with any of your humbug. If the babe is dead, so much the better, She cannot make me marry her.” : “But she car, though, for the brat isn’t dead at — all, but lively as a cricket,” chuckled Curley. ‘So ye see ye’re in a box, yit, my gay rooster.” “The case is,” said Durg, lighting his pipe. ‘‘We,, Durg and Curley, turn in a penny, occasionally, by doing odd jobs in the park. ‘e see’d you choke the gal—heered what passed between you, and as soon as = were gone, we ran jn an’ tried to fetch her back, an’ succeeded, though it was a pretty hard case 0’ strangulation, ter it were dark enough, we smuggled her out o’ the park, and to our boardin’- house in Wooster street, where, a week later, she gave birth to a child, a little girl, the very picture of itsmamma, She told us her story, and asked us to keep her till she was able to work, wich we have did; an’ now, heer we air, askin’ you what ye think about it?” 3 ; i | think it’s a piece of high-hanued villainy, all around,” St. Cloud said, with a quiet laugh. ‘* You've got the girl and may keep her—I don’t want her!”’ “Oh! ain’t you kind!” was the sarcastic response; then both men laughed, evilly. “Reckon you don’t know us. Better you call around at number — Wooster street inside of ten

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3 mos Death-Face, the Detective. oS Then Messrs. Durg and Curley arose to depart, and St. Cloud did likewise. “Tl come around,” he said, as they passed out into the saloon, ‘‘ And in case I should—” -“In case you want the gal done entirely away with, stick a hundred-dollar bill under the nose of our humble ‘servant, an’ you'll never be troubled, il guarantee.” Then they separated, St. Cloud going out into the street, and Messrs. Durg and Curiey pausing at the bar to replenish with ane ale. ; Half an hour later, Fooly Fred made his way cau- tiously from the saloon, and out into the rainy night, -a glitter of satisfaction in his eyes. “So much for playing the fool!’ hemuttered, as he hurried along. “1 have at last got on the track of the girl, and now it only remains to put Dock Ray- mond in search of her to complete the job, And when Miss Nelly finds who was instrumental in find- ing her sister, maybe a young chap of about my figure won’t be left clear out in the cold. ’Gad, but the fair Nelly meets my views, precisely.” . It was as Evans said. ; Two muffled figures were hurrying along, not far behind them, evidently in pursuit, since the youth recognizedthem as two of Pinkerton’s detectives. _ ‘“Whatin thunder shall we do?” demanded Sher- ry, breathlessly, for the thought of arresf under the charges against him was horrible, “We've got to work our best cards, old boy,” Evans oe quickening his pace. ‘‘Don’t look back or the devils will suspect that we scent them. Come on—swiftly; watch me, and do as I do, in every particular.” Z They hurried on, with all rapidity practicable, Evans mya a watch in the rear and in the front, showing himself to be an adept at dodging. He was swift of foot anc 5 ats to move, and it ee about all Sherry could do to keep track of mit, ; After goiny several blocks, they crossed over to the opposite side of Broadway. and continued on. Theypursuing detectives followed their example. “Tt’s us they're after, without a doubt,’ Evans said, grimly. ‘‘ But I don’t see why they don’t catch up with us, and make the arrest. That’s what puzzles me, you know. But Death-Face would make mighty short work of our little case.” * You know him, then?”’ “By sight; he is the best man on the force, to- . day, Here! quick! come in,” and Sherry was pulled into a grand saloon, which he had never visited be- fore. Following in the steps of Evans, who nodded familiarly to the barkeeper, they passed into the varlor at the rear, and Evans called for a bottle of champagne, which was brought with accompanying glasses. “Now, make yourself at home and appear as much at ease as possible,” was the injunction to Sherry. ‘Ah! as I thought, here the ducks come.” For the two detectives were seen entering the par- lors at this moment. Both of the youths trembled in their shoes, for they expected nothing else but that they would be arrested. But to their surprise, the “ shadows ” took posses- sion of another table, and called for wine. : “They suspect us in, this old man disguise, but yet are afraid to tackle us, for I closely resemble a certain notable low tone. Then he began a brisk conversation on the questions of the day, putting forth in strong and ’ effective language ideas that would have done credit to an educated politician of older eens. , Sherry put in a word oceasionally, expressing his views, and the general tone of their conversation was such as might be heard in a club-room any day of the campaign term. And both Evans and Sherry were aware that their auditors were listening intently to every word, al- though they kept up a desultory run of talk, unin- teresting to themselves and others who heard it, > 7 olitician’s son,” Evans said, in a | 21 ae “Oh! hum; where shall we go—home?” exclaimed Evans, with a tremendous yawn. ‘T suppose you start back for Chicago in the ae eh? or will. you stop over with me? I expect the Governor to tea, to-morrow, and L would like you to be present.” ‘*Perbaps I will stop over another day,” replied Sherry, loud enough to be heard by the detectives. “‘My business is not imperative. But come, you eed to show, me some of the sights to-night! Where are they ?* “That's 80; we must look into some of the palaces, » as promised.” erat mere * ey rose and le. e saloon, Evans paying for the champagne at the bar. Once out ines Broads way, Evans led the way toward Fulton stréet ata rapid walk, occasionally looking back to see if they were followed... Suite enough, the detectives were coming on be- hind, as usual, quickening their speed with that-of the fugitives, or in other words keeping such a dis- ‘tance between them and their prey, as would not allow of their escaping should they attempt to. ~ “They are coming, eh?” Shei ueried, with a bitterness in his tone that meant thetwo opposites— ~~ defiance and repentance. i “Yes, hang them. I think I know their game. They have a suspicion that we are connected with this great counterfeiting ring, and eeances to shadow us and thereby discover where the bogus money is manufactured. But, I'll wing them on that calcula- tion. This way, Sherry!” They turned into a narrow by-street, where the lamp-lights were few and far between, and darkness * was consequently thicker, Evans Jed the way with a firm, ringing step, and Sherry dogged close at hic heels. The street was flanked by old brick tene- ments, and the drizzling rain caused a sickening’ stench to rise from the gutters, On—on they hastened, their breath coming and going in pants. ns Behind them could be heard the footsteps-of their ersevering pursuers, They were bound not to lose he game even though they faced fire. On—on; then Evans pulled {Sherry up a pair of marble steps, and jerked spitefully at the door- bell. . ““Tt’s a notorious bagnio,” he explained, ‘ but I know the, door-keeper, and we can escape to the next street.” : The door was opened by a pretty young lady, not yet out of her teens. | i i ) *‘ It’s me, Kitty!” Evans said hurriedly. ‘‘' Themen of Pinkerton’s agency are after us, For God’s sake let_us in, and ae us to the next street!” : The girl nodded, and Evans and Sherry stepped — inside, after which she bolted the door ene i ed for them to follow her. - 4 She led the way through several brilliantly-lighted and gorgeously-furnished parlors, then throvgh a kitchen into a back court-yard, out of which a cov- — ered pera to the street beyond, “yang? Here Kitty left them, and Evans plunged into the dark passage, Sherry following blindly, for he was ~ trusting all in his companion’s guidance. Present- ly they emerged into another narrow thoroughfare, and as they did so, came face to face with the ver ones they were trying to evade—the two “shudow™* detectives ! e CHAPTER XII. HUNTING AROUND THE BUSH—FAY. In the mean time, Death-Face, leaving his other business in charge of his two aids, was prosecuting his search for the missing Amy Elwood. : Nearly a month had now passed since his first dis: covery of her strange absence, during which time he jhad been on the watch and wait incessantly, : He had telegrapbed to the Cape, Long Branch and all the principal watering-places inland an. upon the coast, without learning of her the least tidings on which to base his gearch, He went every

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22 Death-Face, the Detective. few days and talked with the maid, Molly, but as yet the household knew nothing concerning their fair mistress. It was the third case that had “stuck ” the bold detective—first, the great Counterfeit Ring; second, the mystery of the whereabouts of Celia, Or- wick; third, the mystery of the whereabouts of Amy Elwood, the young heiress. Her absence, the detective found, gave little rise to remark among the circles in which she was wont to move, for the season out-of-town was prolonged this year on account of the extreme length of the heated term, But when autumn advanced he knew there would be more inquiry, and ere that time he meant to find her if such were a possible thing. On the day of the evening on which Fooly Fred overheard the conversation between St. Cloud and Messrs. Durg and Curley, Death-Face, while saunter- ing up Broadway, espied Clarence Seymour, Amy’s villainous cousin, standing at the corner of Fifth avenue and Broad way, in conversation with a port- ly, elderly individual, with gold eye-glasses and an immense paunch. f “Hal! the detective muttered, instantaneously halting, and making poe of gazing into a store window. ‘There is the Seymour pirty at last! He has kept pretty shady since that murderous attempt to break my neck from the club-room trap. Who is that old rosebud he istalking with? | have seen him somewhere—in the police court, I guess—but cannot recall his name. But Ill wager he is an old rogue; so I'll remember him. That Seymour must tell me something concerning the whereabouts of Miss El- wood when he gets done with the pete chap.” And accordingly the detective loitered along at the show windows, keeping an eye upon the two men at the corner, bound that they should not elude his vigilance. ‘ ey fifteen minutes elapsed ere the portly man turned on up the avenue, while Seymour came on down Broadway at a zope gait. When just about opposite, Death-Face stepped forward and inter- cepted bim. “Hold up, Mr. Seymour,”’ he said, in his undeny- ing tone of command which so few cared to disobey. “Don’t be in a hurry; for I wish to speak with you.” “Seymour?” was the reply, as the young man ecametoahalt. ‘'Thatis not my name.” “Oh! isn’t it? Well, maybe I know something about that myself. Your genuine name is supposed to be Clarence Seymour, of No. — Fifth avenue. I am, as you well know, Death-Face, the detective.” ‘Ahem! yes, I believe I have read of you. Ad- mitting that myname is really Seymour, what do want of me, sir—you, a detective?” se want to know where yourcousin, Miss Elwood, 3?! “Oh, you do, do you? Well, you are destined to have your desires ungratified for the present, then.’’ “Am 1? You won't tell me?” : * Certainly not, because I don’t know, If I did, what business is it to you?” “A great deal of business. Amy Elwood is my betrothed wife.” If there was no truth in this declaration, Death- Face thought it might affect his auditor, and so it did. He flushed angrily, and a steely glitter came jato his eyes. “| know nothing of her. Isupposed her to be in Cape May at first,®ut a telegram proved that I was wrong, and therefore, I know as I'ttle where she is as you do, andam greatly distressed.’’ Without doubt,’’ Death-Face said, in his dry, sar- castic way. ‘‘If she were never to come k, how- ever, you would be rejoiced —would not be financial- ly distressed that is?’ “What do you mean, sir, by your insinuations?” eried Seymour hotly. ‘‘‘ Your insolence is unpar- donable!” “You seem to tumble to my meaning prett; straight,” the detective laughed, quietly, ‘Or, if you want your whisky straighter yet, why, I believe read was a startling bit of news to him, Bach a do know just where Miss Elwood is: moreover, hat you have got her imprisoned somewhere, while es are squandering her wealth. Ha! ha! The ammer gave the nail a hard hit that time, didn’t it, you rosebud!”’ for Seymour had colored as red as a Saas under the truthful accusation of the detec- ve, But he mastered his agitation in an instant, and be ae coolly and mockingly. 3 “Your imagination is very strong but floats in tho wrong current of atmosphere,” he observed, twirl- ing his cane, jauntily, ‘‘I have no such schemes against my fair cousin's property and welfare. Itis a at mystery to me what has become of her!’ ‘And a mystery to me, and soon will be a mystery to the public, when suspicion will point toward you. So you will do well to tell me where she is.” * Look for angel Gabriel to blow his trumpet when I do. that’s all,” replied Seymour. “But you must—shall !’? Death-Face said, layin one hand upon the young swell’s shoulder, “‘or shall put you under arrest, and take you to the near- est station-house, charged with trying to kill me, and with passing counterfeit money.” ‘Go ahead, then. All you'll realize will be my con- finement on the Island, for a few months, For you can gain poping in regard to your unwarranted sus- picions of my abducting Miss Elwood. @€ you will lance in the Herald of to-day, you will see that I ave offered five hundred dollars for information of Miss Amy Elwood, who mysteriously left her home in August. I should not be apt to advertise for her, if I did not desire her return—"* : “Tf you didn’t desire to blind the people,” correct- ed Death-Face. ‘ ‘“‘Well, have it as you will; I don’t care a fig whether you arrest me or not.” ‘In which case I shall not arrest you,” Death-Face replied, releasing his hold. ‘‘ You can go free for a few days, until I mature my Meee but you need not attempt to escape from the city, as that will piedey tate your arrest, for henceforth you will be con- tinually shadowed. The same advice will ppuly to your worthy companion-in-arms, St. Cloud. The sorqunes wants a couple of expert handlers of he ‘queer,’ like you and he, and your attempt to escape will instantly supply the want.” “Oh! don't you fear that I shall make the least attempt to get out of your reach,’’ Seymour sneered, Rerars meuteer at “Tam not so badly scared.”’ “ As you will be when the Ring’s head-quarters are raided, and a few millions’ worth of bogus paper destroyed. Then the sky will look dark for you and St, Cloud.” : “So yousay. But when you find out anything in- teresting in either case, just call around and let me Oy will you? Ishall be pleased to see you at any me.”’ And then the young villain turned on his heel, and strode briskly away, p Broadway... Death-Face watched him a few moments, then pnb off, reflecting on the foregoing conversa- ion. ; “Tam more positive than ever that he has Miss Elwood shut up somewhere now,’ he muttered. ‘but it will be useless for me to attempt to find out where ei quizzing him. He would die before he would tell, Ishall have to let the matter drop until some new light is thrown-upon it.” That afternoon, however, he was destined to ree ceive a clew to the i ble ‘ In passing along Third avenue, in front of Doctor Heidle’s private lum, a small-sized shower, ¢om- posed of bits of white paper, came down from above, alighting upon his coat and hat, “Hello! Bridget has found a new method of dis-- posing of the dirt,’ he ‘muttered, in disgust, brush- ing off the papers which clung to him. But, while | thus engaged, he noticed that same of the slips had writing upon one side, and curiosity prompted him to glance at the contents of one or more. at he J

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Death-Face, the Detective. 23 Coenen er a ee 7 paper on examination proved to contain the same | fold nore charming to Sherry than though she had message, namely: been clad to perfection in silks and Jaces. “ ” “This is Doctor Meidle’s private mad-house. , Near- giving ee Sate ete nee ae "strel ied i ly a score of unfortunate women are imprisoned 46 ‘ here who are not insane, but perfectly rational. foe ab nine. Dee ltr ak ie a nat have Help us out of this living tomb, for the love of God! to make this our home, until the row blows over.” | Amy Exwoop. ae what row, Charley ?”” Fay asked, anxiously, turn- ‘0 him, ; : Sherry uttered a fierce cry as he beheld the two ‘Oh! the police—or, rather, the detectives—want detectives, whom they had been trying so hard to | us for aa, having counterfeit money. So elude, and making a forward spring, he struck one | we’ll have to lie low here, and the first chance that of them a blow upon the forehead that dropped him | offers, slide out of town. Don’t get scared though, to the pavement, from which he rolled into the gut- } for no harm shall come to you, sis—or to us, for tha’ ter. insensible. matter. But, look, Sherry has off his whiskers; see The other detective was about to give an alarm | if you recognize him.” when Evans adopted Sherry’s example, and render- ‘ay turned toward Sherry with an inquiring ed him silent and useless for a few moments, during | glance, and gazed at him intently, a moment: which the boys took good care tu leave the neigh- | ~‘‘No!’’ she said, at last, reflectively, ‘I do not re-. borhood with all speed possible. cognize you, Mr. Raynor, as any one I have ever For fear that other of Pinkerton’s men might be | met.” . on the watch for them, they still retained their dis- “Then it isn’t a case of love on both sides, after pulaee and hurried through the streets, which the | all,” laughed Charley, from the sofa, ‘‘for they say amp-lights sie dimly illuminated. love never forgets. I reckoned you were forever “We've shook the ghost now, for a time at least,’’ | gone, sis, after that ferry-boat affair—” Evans said, his tones more spirited. ‘‘ We will go and Fay’s cheeks crimsoned prettily, and a strange see my sister, Fay, and find a place to coop down | light. gleamed from her eyes. until] this blows over sufficiently to admitjof our “Tt cannot be possible that—’” she began; then escape from the city.” suddenly stopped in confusion. Presently they took a cab, Evans giving the direc- “Yes, Miss Evans, it can’ be possible,’’ She tions and paying the fare. laughin; replied, advancing and extending his gly Through the foggy streets whirled the cab at a | hand, “that I amthe hero and you the heroine of lively rate of speed, yet it seemed an interminable | thatferry-boatcaprice. Here is the little note now.” space of time to Sherry ere the vehicle epee and And as Fay warmly clasped one of his hands in deposited them in a littlo but wonderfully clean | both of hers, he produced from his yest pocket a lit- street, rupning cast and west. It was out near the | tle strip of soiled, torn paper, on which was traced, suburbs, and more quiet and retired. in a delicate hand, the name that Sherry had always Evans rung the bell of one of a row of neat little | remembered—Iay. : 2 two-story buildings, with painted shutters and wal- ‘Oh, yes, that proves your identity,” she cried. nut door. Then, they waited upon the steps. “But, I'd never Have known you, you’ve changed ‘*Shouldn’t wonder if Fay’s abed and asleep,” | so. Evans said, giving the bell another jerk. ‘She But Sherry felt sure that be would have recognized , generally retires early, unless she has extra work.” | her pretty self among a thousand, at the Antipodes. ’ +“ What is her occupation?’ Sherry ventured to ask, partly forgetting his own troubles as the mem- ory of the little roguish beauty he had met on the is CHAPTER, XU. boat eame back to him afresh, causing his heart to -FAY'S HOME—DANGER—DETECTIVES. _ beat faster. Tat night was one of the happiest Sherry had “Way is a dressmaker!” replied Evans, with a lit- | ever experienced. Fay was a gay, vivacious crea- tle laugh; ‘‘ and as good as she is Brot: Ah! here | ture, witty,intelligent and sensible; fairly educate: we have her now,” as the door was thrown open, | and a good conversationalist; she made the mi and a young lady, pretty inform and feature, was | agreeable of companions. i revealed in the light of the hall chandelier.; vans also occasionally put in a few words, but : For a moment all was silence, but the moment | mainly the effort of entertaining She was left to Evans removed his false beard, Fay sprung forward | Fay, while he puffed at his cigar, an intent listener; with a delighted cry, and was folded in the young | and, as for Sherry, he could have asked for no more man’s embrace. cbarming an entertainer than the Lebel Fay, with “Oh! Charley, you naughty, naughty boy! how | all her artlessness, and confiding disposition. you frightened me in that. odious disguise. I thought Just such a little woman as she, Sherry decided. of a hundred horrible things in a moment—murder, | would make him a good wife—one whom he could thieves, fire, and—” love, honor and trust. . “Didn't hit the right appellation, dear. But come He looked at site different. now. His past ) inside; I suppose youean keep us. This is my | month of wild, fast life had developed an older head friend, Sherry Raynor, Fay—also in disguise. Off | upon him, and had created a wise, far-seeing young with the whis ers, Sherrp, and follow our lead.” man out of a gay, idle youth. And, when whey were in an inexpensively but But he forgot his troubles in the company of neatly-furnished little parlor, where the gaslight prey Fay—forgot that he was a hunted ¢ i— shed a soft, mellow radiance over all, phere: ota | forgot all, except that he was in her fascinating better glimpse of Fay—his Fay, as he had ofttimes | presence, and she was weaving a blissful spell around secretly called her, im for which there was but one word of explana- She was a prepossessing and prettily-formed girl | tion—love. of seventeen, or thereabouts, neither slender nor “‘T don’t know what ever made me give you that stout, but of medium hight and development, grace- | slip of paper, on board the boat,” Fay said, seatin; ful, lithe and supple—reminding one of a happy, herself upon the sofa beside bim, after Chavier: h; healthful school-girl. gone off rummaging after something to eat, in the _ Her face was just that same pretty face that had | pantry, ‘‘I'saw your face and was favorably im- - : io impressed him two years before, when he met | pressed with it—and, then, you know, I was only er on the Fulton ferry-boat—a face of roguish | fifteen,tat that time, and wild and rattle-brained, like sweetness, with dancing hazel eyes, and long, wav- | most girls of myage. Iam sure you willexcuseme ing hair, that fell below a faultless waist. She was | for that little eaprice, and think no more of it.” oe attired in a loose, flowing wrapper, which had evi | ‘I'll excuse you, certainly, if there is anything to dently been hastily thrown. on, yet she looked ten- | excuse, but I can never forget that little incident, : > i : on ei Z - aie » ie Ci. iF

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24 Death-Pace, the Detective. for it opened up to me a mihi pee of paradise I had never aspired to before. I was a thoughtless, devil- may-care boy of the streets then, and never consid- ered the girls of much account—barely noticed, and rather shunned them, in fact. But after I caught aglimpse of your pretty face, Miss Fay, upon the Fulton ferry, and the sly pressure of your hand, then was that vision of future paradise presented— then did my first boyish love begin.”’ ‘‘Oh! Mr. Raynor, you don’t really mean to tell me that you fell in love with poor me?” “T mean just that, May, and Lhave loved you ever since, just as I do now.’ ; His voice betrayed how sincere he was in his decla- ration, yet Fay shrunk away and rose quickly to her feet, as he would have drawn her closely to him. “No, Mr. Raynor, we are not lovers, yet,” she said, slightly haughty in tone. ‘‘We can be friends, though, just the same,” » Then she resumed her former seat, just as Evans came in bearing a plate of rosy-cheeked apples, and a pitcher and glasses. ‘Who says this isn’t a provident district?’’ he laughed, first passing around the apples, and then pouring out three brimming, glasses of cider. ‘Here's to our mutual success through life, my friend, and peace and good will toward men—and all pretty young ladies.” ‘Oh! Charley! just as if the old ladies wern’t as govd to be included, as us young ones!’ “Well, we won’t dispute about that, sis; this was a party toast. Eh? Sherry, how do you like the cider?’ “Give meit in preference of all other drinks, save water!’’ replied Sherry, enthusiastically, for the cider was recently made made, fresh, sweet and wonderfully delicious of flavor. “Tt isa capital thing to drink when one is too » sweet,” said Fay, gravely, yet Sherry caught a roguish glitter in her glance, and a meaning under- lying her words, and a flush of mortification and anger darted across his countenance. -“T’'ve made myself ridiculous in her sight,” he muttered under his breath, biting his lip.‘ Con- found it, she shall not have cause to twit me of Swaetness, very soon again.” And Sherry meant it, too. v Charley observed the cut, and very suddenly feet out another glass of cider, that he might not auch outright. ‘‘Love on Sherry’s part, as IT expected,’ was his silent soliloquy, ‘‘and he’s tried to_rush matters while I was out, and he’s got his change. Good! Sherry’s a good fellow, and his recent lesson will make a man of him, and I'd like to see him and Fay come together. But it is useless for him to get in a hurry. Fay isn’t nobody’s fool, and she'll rap him one for every advance he makes until she gets ready for him; then it would be just like her to pop the question herself.” And pretty Fay saw that she had cut and the cut | st had been received, and the next moment she was sorry for it. But she was too proud to show it in either word or action—too proud to own that she— we will say—admired him. And thus the evening passed away, and the clock upon the inantle chimed twelve ere Evans pro- posed that they retire, which they finally did. Sherty was given a neatly-furnished bedroom adjoining Charley’s, dnd the bed had so much temp- tation for him, that it was ten the next morning before he awoke, to hear Charley pounding at his oe commanding him to tumble out for break- ‘ast. - Which he did, and after making a careful toilet descended to the little dining room, where Fay had > the repast waiting. The morning was very close and sultry, and the ' young hostess was prettily attired in a light, airy costume, with eee upon her small feet, and a 4+winch of fresh-blown roses at her throat, which ‘made her look sweet enough to eat, Sherry thought, =~ as he took alternate glances at her and the tood upon his plate. He was pleasant in his address to her, but she ‘instantly perceived that he was more reserved than before she had eter him that merciless stab. And how was she te let him know how sorry she was, without eee Spant eal herself dn his estimation? After breakfast he and Evans lounged around in the. parlor for a rourle of hours, smoking; then Evans went out around the neighborhood tosee how the land lay. . Shortly after Fay came into the parlor, with a wide-rimmed straw hat set jauntily upon her head, ae very picture of a very pretty, modern Maud uller, 5 “Do you play croquet, Mr. Raynor?” she asked. “Oh! it’s ever so nice; and we have such a nice little a ra ¢ “T don’t know B from broomstick about it, but T trust I won’t make a bad Lect Sherry replied rising and donning bis hat, ‘‘If you will accept o me, I will be happy to learn.” ° “Oh! of course; come this way,”’ and she led the way into a back yard, inclosed with a white picket fence, and bordered with beds of blooming, fragrant flowers. In the center a croquet ground was staked off, and the balls, mallets, and wickets all ready for use. And under Fay’s uel , Sherry soon learned so that he could play a very fairgame. After they had become tired of playing, Sherry offered her his arm, and they went within doors, where it was a trifle cooler fs “T don’t want you to be offended at what I said last. night, Mr. Raynor,” Fay said, looking frankly up into his face, “IT only said it for fun, not think- ing you would resent it,’ ‘ ae “You meant it enough at the time,” he repited, carelessly turning over the leaves of a book, She came and laid a hand upon his arm, and then id the first time he saw that tears were standing in er eyes. . “T didn’t mean what I said, Mr. Raynor—indeed I didn’t. TI only said it to tease you. Won't you for- give me?” vi “You are freely forgiven, Miss Fay,” he said, heartily, offering her his hand, which she accepted with an eagerness that he observed with a thrill; “and we will remain friends. Maybe it will not al- ways be as now.” “Maybe not always,” she replied, in a low tone. Just then Evans came rushing in from the street, flushed, panting and excited. “Our goose is cooked!” he cried, grimly, locking the hall door; “the detectives have tracked us to our lair, and now we cannot escape them!” Death-Face could searcely repress a yell of excite- ment as he read the notice, which, as he supposed, a servant had, with other rubbish, pitched from an i ag window to save the trouble of carrying down- airs, “Amy is confined here, and this is a mad-house, or rather a prison for women who are in peoples way,” he said, pausing and surveving the structure with a evitical glance. ‘In the third story, and probably — guarded zealously. Dr. Heidle—ah! I have it. That was the big old reprobate I saw in conversation with Seymour, undoubtedly. I can find his place of business in the directory. I must look into this Cage)” He went immediately to the room in Mulberr street, but neither Dock Raymond nor Fred Fun were there. Nor did they nt in an appearance until late in the pyeutnasby whiah time Conroy’s patience was well taxed. Raymond wis the first to come, Fred soon following. ‘Hello, you in so early, boss? What’s happened?” demanded Dock, hunting up his pipe and tobacco, in order that he might have a comfortable smoke. “A good deal has happened,” replied Death-Face, more exultanes fa his tone than he usually mani =

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Death vaca; the Detective, ————g Pee, en, “¥ have found where Miss Elwood is confined!” “And I have found where Miss Celia Orwick is quartered!” announces Fooly Fred, entering at this “moment, “The deuce you have. Where?” demanded Dock, springing to his feet, : “In Wooster street. But let hear the captain’s portion first. Mine’ll keep.” Accordingly Death-Iace related all about his in- terview witn Seymour, and about the notes that had been showered down upon bim, y $ Then Fred related what he had learned in the saloon—about the interview between St. Cloud and Messrs, Durg and Curley, finishing up with a descrip- tion of the house oa Wooster street where Celia was confined, ‘Well, we have got two cases on hand from which we are not liable to realize much!’ Dock remarked, puffing at his meerschaum meditatively. ‘ But I’ve got another one demanding immediate attention, which will fetch in a few thousand. This Raynor boy, who has been leading such a fast life for a month past, has, it turns out, been very coolly cir- culating two thousand dollars’ worth of counterfeit money in this city, as revealed by Faro Phil's death the other day. Now from ali I can pick up I believe he is innocent.” “Iwas going to speak about that, but it slipped my mind. Isaw the death confession here in this evening paper. Now I was after Faro Phil the same night of his arrest, and saw him gull the boy on the boat. And they escaped together; but I am positive the boy gave no tén per cent. for that ‘queer,’ for T'll wager he didn’t have_ten dollars at the time. Maybe he slid off with the bundle; believing it to be genuine money, and this aneine Faro Phil, the scoundrel resolved to strike him alast blow, which he has effectively done.” “You're sound there. The boy’s prospects are ruined in New York. All of Pinkerton’s men are on the watch for him, and they are making up‘ a re- ward purse in Wall street.” >» “And has he dodged them?” “Successfully, so far. He has Charley Evans, the ‘fellow who was once a ‘shadow’ on Pinkerton’s force, for a_ comrade, and Evans knows the ropes, you bet! He was discharged, you will remember, on suspicion of being concerned in a swindling ma- chine on lower Broadway, but his innocence was roven so far that he was offered a job back on the oree, which he refused.” vs Won the’ show is a little better for Raynor, then, but EEN, cannot long escape the vigilance of fifty experts. . “ Not unless we help them. I saw Samuel Raynor to-day, and believing in his nephew’s innocence, he offers to give us five thousand dollars out of his own pocket, if we can get the boy safe out of New York westward bound.” é my _ “He does? George, that 7s a good offer, but it is hardly the thing for us to accept,” said Death-Face, slowly. ~ . . “Not with the belief that the boy was guilty in ‘shoving ’ those ‘blossoms,’ no. But [believe he did it unknowingly, for the reason that Evans was con- stantly with him, and I am well satisfied of his hon- esty. = Be hardly believe him guilty, myself, but we would_be risking our necks in trying to smuggle him off. But, anyhow, we will give the matter the best of our consideration. And in the mean time, we have got work before us in the behalf of mercy, which appeals stronger than money. You shal manage Miss Orwick’s rescue. whileI will take Fred _and myself to cope with Dr, Heidle and Seymour.” CHAPTER XIV. DEATH-FACE’S LITTLE GAME. _. For two hours or more the three détectives dis- -* eussed plans and re-discussed them, until each finally found one suiting their case | Funk was _ © negotiate with Dr. Heidle for the imprisonment ; PEERS ST: ; 26 of anelderly maiden aunt, who was to ‘be no othe: than Death-Face in disguise, for, once inside the private mad-louse, with the Peer tools concealed about his person, the great detective had no doubt but that he could work his passage out without much difficulty. _ Of course it was within his power to make an open raid upon the institution, with aid from the metropolitan police, but then there were ten chances to one that there would not be a female prisoner in the place, so handy are these pseudo doctors ai smuggling and quieting. j Therefore, it was thought best to release the gins and arrest the doctor afterward, as the testi- — mony of the prisoners and himself, Death-Face cal. culated, would be all that was needed to procure conviction and a Toh sentence, i . So ha decided upon their plans, Fred set out at once for tor Heidle’s place, where Death-Face had learned that he lived by consulting the directory of names and residences, : But something else occurred before he reached his destination. Ere he had got out,of Mulberry street he met a hurrying, cloak-enveloped figure, which he at once recognized, even though the darkness was intense. ~ Miss Nelly Orwick!” he said, blockad passage. ‘‘ What are you doing so far from on this wet night?” es burst into sobs as she saw eos her ome The little woman pee eee the young detective, who of late called upon her several times. “Oh! Mr. Funk, I fave no home any longer. Iam homeless and shelterless, for my Jandlord has turned me out on the streets, and sold all my furniture and clothing, except what I have on my person.” tert? “The low-lived brute!” Fred involuntarily ex- claimed, drawing her under. lis commodious um- — brella, as if he had the right to protect her. “You — owed him considerable, eh?’ “Only six dollars, and I could have soon paid it if he would have treated me half-way decent;”’ with a _ fresh burst of tears. : : “Well, that is bad, but don't ery, Miss Nelly, for you have « friend in me; and you will let me care — for you, will you not, until we find and restore to. you your sister?” 1 et “Oh, sir, but that will never be, I fear,” replied she, sorrowfully. “*Oh! would to Heaven that I — en eee has become of my poor sister—my own elia. ‘ “We know what, Miss Nelly, I was iucky enough to overhear a conversation, which complete- —— ly unraveled the mystery. Your sister went to meet St. Cloud in the park, and he made a murderous — assault upon her, and left her for dead. But two ardeners had witnessed the scene, and rushed into e arbor where she lay, and were successful in — bringing her back to life. So they took her to their home on Wooster street, where she still remains — confined So.we have set Dock Raymond after her, — and as he thinks the world of her—as I do of her — pretty sister here—he will be likely to put in his best efforts torescue her.” _ “ : ts Heaven be praised! exclaimed grateful protector for the present, until I can make other arrangements. I will take you to anoldaunt’sof mine, and she will give you a good home and accom — 5 modations.”” ‘ : * ‘Oh, sir, you are very kind,” Nelly said, tears again springing into her eyes, and her little form © trembling with emotion. “I know not bow I can ever repay you.” ere tS 4 Fred did not answer for a few moments, but when he did, he stopped in under an awning and drew her closely to him, kissing her passionately upon the forehead and lips. Series ‘Nelly, darling, there is one way you can repay me and make me the happiest man alive, and tha by returning my kiss, and-saymng you will be

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Death-Face, the Detective. forever, until death do us part,” he whispered, all his love finding expression in his voice, And Nelly trembled in his firm embrace, and re- mained silent for a few moments—moments that seemed hours to Fred, waiting for his answer. At last she whispered the wished-for response And he held her closely to. his breast, and their hearts beat with all the exultant ecstasy of a new- born love. 5 But duty aroused him, and urged him onward. In- stead of taking her to the Home of his aunt, he took her to the Fifth Avenue, and they registered as Mr, and Mrs. suit of rooms, which he had taken, while, feeling twice the man he had earlier in th» evening, he menatzod to Dr. Heidle’s establishnment in Baxter street. H On ringing the bell, the doctor opened the door in person, his immense corporosity making a formid- able barricade. ; “Dr. Heidle, I believe?” Fred said, staring hard at the old villain. ag same,” was the reply. ‘ Will you walk in, rr? “ Well, yes, as I-have a little private business to transact with you,” and stepping inside, Fred soon found himself closeted with the pseudo M. D,, in his office apes an upper floor, and he proceeded to make known his business. “My name is Farbell—Christian Farbell,”’ he said, in his rapid, off-hand way. ‘I have an elderly aunt, who stands between me, and a great fortune. t want her removed, and hearing of your ability in that respect, I concluded to pay you a visit, and’ see what you could do for me.” “Ah! yes.” The doctor rubbed his hands in anti- cipation of a good fee. ‘Do you wish the old lady summarily removed, or merely quieted for a time?” ‘Merely quieted. I’ve been told that you have a private asylum where you can hold people in dur- ance for a short length of time ” : “Oh! certainly—for a life-time, if desirable.” “T want the old lady shut up for only about two weeks,” replied Fred; ‘“‘then I contemplate taking her out West, and feeding her to the Indians,” “Very well. I will keep her safely for you, for the consideration of one,hundred and fifty dollars, and deliver her to any part of the city at the expira- tion of two weeks,” | “Agreed. I will bring her to your asylum to- morrow evening, She imagines she suffers a thou- sand and one ailments, and I can represent you to de a great cure-all.” Then Fred counted out the required fee, and signi- fied his readiness to be shown out. 4 After quitting the doctor’s, he hurried back to the Mutberry street tenement, and found Dock and an elderly lady, whom he at once pronounced to be Death-Face in disguise, to be the only occupants. “Too thin!” Fred exclaimed, decisively. ‘‘ You not pass inspection in that tog, captain.’ Ds not? Well, I am afraid not, myself. iT got the costume at Weisserts, but it didn’t quite suit me “Go to Shannon, Miller & Crane’s, if you want to at fixed up scrumptious, They’re the boss, as I ‘ook at it.’” “Pretty fair, yes, but I know of a little dress- maker, out near the suburbs, who once fixed Jack Cramer out in fine style for a_ masquerade, after he ae furnished the trappings, I think [shall patronize ir Death-Face set out, the following morning, for the residence of the little dressmaker in question. He first, however, visited several Broadway stores, and purchased dresses and underclothing, so far as _- - Was necessary, and false hair, a bonnet, and several little articles he was likely to need. - §oby the time he reached George street, it was noon, or past. He found the residence, an unpre- “ Funk, after which she was shown to a - tentious little two-story brick, without trouble, and rung the bell. While waiting for an answer to the summons he made a little discovery. Two men were lounging at the corner, a short dis- tance away, and were evidently watchi some house in the vicinity. And these men he gnized to be two of Allan Pinkerton’s ‘‘ shadow ” detectives, named Day and Hall. What were they doing away out here, so farfrom the heart of the ciiy where they usually held out? This was the problem for solution. “What’s wanted?” demanded a feminine voice, and glancing upward whence came the challenge. Death-Face caught a glimpse of a pair of eyes and a Las face, through the shutters. * Does Miss Fay Evans reside -here?’’ the detec- tive asked; then came an peting of what had bronght Pinkerton’s men here. Perhaps Sherry and Charley Evans had taken refuge in this Louse, and the Shadows suspected it? I “Yes, Miss Evans resides here. What do you want?” was the rey BA “Twas referred to you by Jack Cramer, who pro: nounced you an expert in rigging one up for a mas querade.”” “Yes, sir.” “Well, I wish to secure your services, immediate: ly, and will rere your price. I have all the fix. ings with me. ilh you MS “I will come down,” was the answer, and a few moments later the door was opened, and the detec tive ushered into the parlor by pretty Fay. Sherry and Charley, who were both lounging there, sprung to their feet, the latter drawing a revolver, © as he beheld the preat detective. ; “Death-Face!” he gasped, growing white, but ulling back the hammer of his weapon. ‘ What lo you want here?” “Nothing of you, young man, nor your compan- ion, so put up your revolver,”’ said Conroy, cooily, - “My business is with you, Miss Evans. I wish you disguise me as a woman, as far as is possible. Iam about to play a bold game, and in order to do it, [ must be made to resemble an elderly lady. Your art ent into play, I believe I can deceive the world,” fs “Then you really donot mean harm to my brother and his friend, sir?” Fay asked, a slight tremor in her voice, and her face pale and eyesdilated, “You Pre There fs nothing t ‘There is nothing to promise, my dear young lady. Evans and Raynor are not on a lish, and shell offer them no molestation. In fact, Lam interested in Raynor’s case in another direction, and shall use my efforts to screen him from justice, as 1 do not believe him guilty.” . i Satisfied that all was right, Death-Face recéived a warm welcome from all three, and at his solicita- tion, Sherry related how he had come into posscs- siom of the counterfeit money, and how he had reck- lessly squandered it. Death-Face in turn related what he had learned from Samuel Raynor, of Nevada, and of his desire to get Sherry out of the city. It was wonderful news tothe young man, and something of his old spirit returned. Evans also related all about their escape, and how Pinkerton’s men had skillfully hunted them down, “Til put them off scent,” Death-Face assured with asmile; ‘‘and you must lie shady until I got ready to run you out of the cit’, for it will not be safe for you here again very soon.” x vet it was nearly dark ere Fay had fixed the detective bs to her satisfaction, but when the job was com- pleted, all declared that it would take more than a corey to distinguish him from an old lady of six- — y_years. f Everything was perfect, from the wig of gray hair and costume to the pa’nted face and goggled eyes. And well satisfied with the job, Death-Face press- ed a liberal sum of money upon Fay, after which he took his departure, promising to send the detectives

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on a false scent, and also to callagain as soon as he completed the business to which he was now devot ‘ ing his whole personal attention. CHAPTER XY, DEATH-FACE PLAYS WOMAN--AN OBSTACLE, | Deatu-Face left the house of the Evanses and erossed over to the opposite side of the street, aim- ing for the corner where Pinkerton’s two detectives were lounging. As he had expected, they instantly blockaded his path decisively. “See here!’ said the one named Day, sternly; “what does all this masquerade mean? Do you think to escape us in any such flimsy disguise?” “Reckon I’ve nothing to fear from you,” replied Death-Face, in his own natural voice. ‘‘ You don’t know the sort of tree you’re egtais| mee : “By Heaven! itis Death-Face! Just as I told ye, Tony!” exclaimed Hall. ‘‘What are you doing in this disguise, pard?” and the ‘shadow’ put out his hand warmly, 3 Ly I’m off on a lark,” Conroy replied indiffer- ently. ‘ Got track of a little game, and am going to attempt to bag it.’ **So? Well, I wish you success.” Sr Thanks; ‘put what are you doing ’way off up re?” ‘Well, according to all calculations, we’ ing the ranch from which you just i a ‘The deuce you are!” Death-Face exclaimed in apparent astonishment. ‘‘ Watching what?—that pretty little hazel-eyed dressmaker?” fe 5 ae particularly her; but for a ec uple of eoons she’s harboring—Raynor and Evans, the counterfeit shovers. We got upon their trail last night. but they succeeded in giving us the fling, and came duwn here. We knew Evans used to live in this locality, and socame down to investigate, and by luck saw him enter yonder house only about an hour in advance of you.” ; Death-Face gave utterance to a sarcastic laugh, “You came too late,” he said, having a ‘‘ bunder ” ready for the occasion, ‘for your game has fled. After knocking you down last night, Raynor and Evans both came here and remained throug the night. starting in the morning for Brooklyn, accom- panied by Charley Evans’s brother, who came back as soon as he had seen them aboard the ferry-boat. I saw them orf Fulton street, and it was Evans’s brother you saw re-enter the house before I came. Tl bet you'll not see your game in this direction again for a month.” ; ‘hen the detective turned and tripped down the street, leaving the two ‘“‘shadows ” to reflect upon what he had said. And presently he had the satisfaction of seeing them quit their post, and come away looking rather grim and disappointed over their ill-luck. “Tt was a whoppin’ big lie!’ muttered Death- Face, with a grim smile, ‘but, ‘we won't count dot one.’ as old Van Winkle says. <All’s fair, in this kind of war, except murder; and I’m bound Pinkerton’s _ men sha’n’t eucher me out of my game. Now, then, back to head-quarters, and then to Doctor Heidle’s asylum. Wonder how I shalllike it—in with so many females?” There was time for debate on this question, as he got into the waiting cab at the next corner and rode back toward Mulberry street. But other thoughts occupied his attention, He thought of sweet Amy Elwood, and how much he loved her—and would she not think even more of Jim if he succeeded’ in rescuing her from her con- finement, within that prison to which her scheming cousin had consigned her! Would not he then dare to tell her what he had never dared to tell her here- tofore—that he loved her—and ask herforthat small white hand that many a man would have periled his neck to possess—the hand back of which was a beautiful woman, and a great fortune! On arriving at the tenement, he found Fred Funk | re watth- ye Death-Face, the Detective. 27 in waiting for him, and they both drove at once to the Third avenue retreat, wherein Death-Face was to enter in his clever disguise. He had procured all the tools and things necessary for his purpese, and concealed them under bis clothing, and had _| little fear but what he could effect an easy escape, : a were given time, and allowed .the use of hig ands, Doctor Heidle received them in the grand ‘lor. which Amy Elwood had entered, ahead of them,a month before, and bade them be seated, while he turned ona full head of gaslight from the magnifi- cent chandelier. “This is.the learned medical Rrofessor Laces Heidle, I suppose?” Fooly Fred said with a bow. “The same, young man,” replied the old wretch, with a patronizing, rub jof his soft white hands. ‘What is there I can do for you?” j “Thave a case here, sir, requiring a little atten- tion, and thought you the proper authority to con- sult. ak dear aunt Priscilla is very much run down in health; needs a little strengthening medicine, yn know, and a proper course of diet to fetch her around ship-shape once mcre.” “Ah! yes; an ecsy job to straighten ber ve though it is plain to see that she is very much debili- tated. Wi ou leave her in my care, sir? M. boarding facilities are the most complete, and can have her under my immediate charge.”’ ‘“Will you be content to remain here fora few weeks, aunty?” asked Fred, turning to the disguised detective. - At first aunty demurred considerably, but on being assured that it was to be forher constitutional benefit, she acquiesced, and after giving instructions to the doctor, that she should be confined with the other patients, Fred took his departure; but it was an understanding between him, Death-Face and Dock Raymond, that they were all to meet at Evans's house in George street, as 800n as their sep arate tasks were completed, After Fred’s departure Aunt Priscilla was taken up into the third story by way of the elevato shown into the prison room, and the door lock behind, her. At first she made violent protestations, and screamed loudly for help, when she learned that she was in a mad-house—truly a creditable piece of acting for Death-Face. And none of the females suspected that he was other than what he appeared, and they all clustered around him, which was amusing in the atest de- bie though he dared not divulge his identity. As e had expected, he found Amy Elwood among the inmates, and she was among the foremost to offer consolation. Her month of confinement had not worn upon her much, for the roses were still in her cheeks, and she was as ish uant and pretty a} ever. . At least so thought Death-Face, as he gazed lovinr- ly upon her. She was his love-ideal, and it made his heart beat faster to have her near him—she on whom he had secretly centered his affections, long 0, net tter the women had nearly talked him out of his senses, and he had learned all about how the es- tablishment was conducted, he took advantage of a couch and laid down—not to Para but to think. and feeling decidedly uncomfortable -in his feminine — drapery. He was hardly decided what to do— —— whether to attempt to escape that night, or wait longer—and perhaps fare worse. The night was black and rainy, and the show for escaping was favorable. At last he decided that the attempt should be made, and rising toa sitting position, he mouces y ioe Anny, Elwood, who came and seated herse! s side. - : “What is it, aunty?” she asked, sweetly; “cannot you get any rest?” ‘ “T don’t need any at present, Miss Elwood,” the — detective replied, in his own voice—“’sh! don’t — scream, or the jig’s up, as the boys gay, I am Spee

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28 3 Death-Pace, the Detective, : A sete ce ee nr friend in disguise, who hascome to get you ous of this den. Iam Death-Face, the detective!” _ Amy gave a little gasp of surprise. She could scarcely credit her sense of hearing, so sudden was this disclosure, “Then you are not a woman?” she articulated, faintly, hardly believing that. he was speaking the, truth. It seemed incredible, almost, that man could be so effectually disguised. “Nary a bit of woman about me, Miss Elwood. Thave been aici 8 for you a month, and if was merely by chance that I came into possession of some of the notes that you or some one else set adrift over the pavement below.” “Ah! then they were not without result, after all? T have thrown them out every day for a month. At last. thank Heaven, they have been answered—but in so strange a way!’’ 3 “T probably lock strange enough in this rig—so poate that you fail to recognize me, Miss El- wood?’ solved to undisguise himself, which he did by tearing off the gray wig from his head, rubbing the paint from his face, and ridding himself of his feminine attire, done by touching a concealed spring in the ack of his dress; when he stood before the aston- ishei girls once more in his true garb. ; ‘ Harry—Mr. Conroy!” exclaimed Amy, spring- ing forward with a glad little ery, and the brave de- tective made bold to take her in his arms, as she did not resist. : “Amy, my darling,’ he whispered, softly, im- > printing a kiss upon her rosy lips, **you are now - mine, by right of rescue. Do you care anything for me, my liftle Amy?” “Oh! Harry,” she replied, in a low tone, that the others might not hear, ‘how can you ask that? I. have loved you ever since you so fearlessly rescued me from danger, when my horses ran away,”” ““ And yet, you pave me no for answer a while ago, yu I told you that I loved you, ani asked you to mine:”* g “Oh! yes, but I didn’t know it was you under that disguise,” she replied, with a shy glance up into his eyes. ‘If I had, I might have taken time to_ consider before I answered. And to think that you are Death-Fave, and I knew nothing of it!” .. “Well, now, what is to be my answer? Can you merit me? Do you love me well enough for such a step?” o “TI more $han love you, and will be your wife whenever you wish, for I shall never feel safeagain without a strong, brave pee like you. QOlar- | ence Seymour will be my life-long enemy.”” — “Only in thought, dear, for ere long there will be work for him to do on Blackwell’s Island, or at Sing- “Indeed, I do, though the outlines of your face seem familiar,” ““And yet, Miss Amy, in this disguise, and under _ these most inauspicious circumstances, T wish to tell you that I dearly love you, and ask you to be m own little wife. As soon as you see me out of this disguise you miust give me an answer, and a fayor- able one, too.” A deep blush mounted to Amy’s cheeks. Who was this strange man, who was so bold in his proposal of love? She could think of no one. that was in the detective business among her acquaintances—not one, “Tam surprised, sir!’’ she said, a trifle haughtily, ‘and rising from her seat. * Well, [ll not press you now, believing you will reconsider. Please inform your companions of my identity, that they may not_be alarmed. Are we __ safe from intrusion for the night?” ““Oh, yes. No one ever enters here after seyen in the evening.” _. Amy then informed the other inmates of the great detective’s presence, and no little wonderment did the announcement cause. They all flocked around lim and bored him with questions until he was nearly distracted, and he afterward wondered how he ever withstood the siege. He managed, however, to make a critical examin- ation of the apartment and its modes of egress and ingress. He found that the easiest and safest way fo escape would be out of the front.windows, to the avement below. But the windows were heavily arred, and fastened into the casing with long screws. “Does Dr. Heidle remain here all night, Miss Fl- wood?” he asked, peering out into the an dark night bse the aperture in the glass which Amy had male, **No; he has anotherplace somewhere; he never comes here only when there isa patient to imprison. ‘There are two persons who remain overnight, a _.. Creole woman and a man guard, who is stationed in the elevator room,” _.-* Good! then our escape promises to be easy. I'll ' lower you down. How many of you have homes to go to when you are free?” ‘ _ Eleven out of the crowd, including Amy Elwood, : vere provided for; the others—also including Amy —Death-Face resolved to take to Fay Evans’s home, ‘until other arrangements could be made. He proceeded to remove the iron bars by aid of tools he had fetched along, and after a couple hours of noiseless labor, he had them off and the entire _ window out, which opened up an avenue of escape. ant it was nearly thirty feet from the pavement. a distance which must be descended by aid of a rope- ladder, which he had brought.along. After everything was in readiness and the women a Sing. Besides being a villain in countless other ways, ~~ Iam satisfied that he is a ringleader among a gang of counterfeiters.” ‘ The two hours dragged slowly by it seemed, but at last the clock in a neighboring steeple tolled the hour of two. : It was raining very hard, and by peering out at the window, Death-Face saw the watchman rush swiftly by, bent on getting under cover. “Now is our time,” he said, fastening one end iF of his rope-ladder within the room, and dropping the . other,out of the window. “I will go first, and feteh ~— three or four hacks around onto the next street, and see that the coast is clear. Then I will return and assist you all to the ground.” ; Saying which, he let himself cautiously out of the : third-story. window, and glided down the ladder. 7 And when he reached the pavement, he found him 5 self confronted by a stalwart policenfan, ; CHAPTER XVI. AND FAY LOVED HIM—DOCK TO THE FRONT, Ar Fay’s home all remained quiet after the de. parture of Death-Face, and it was with feelings of gratitude that the two youths saw Pinkerton’s: ‘shadows turn away from their post and hurry * toward the heart of the city. } ; ; “Twenty thousand dollars for twenty years, at ten per cent, interest—phew! you're the master of sixty thousand dollars, Saat gen and interest, or, rather, of thirty, if'this sister of yours ever comes in — for a share.” > , “Yes, and you can wager your life I will freeze to this fortune !’’ Sherry said, resolutely. ‘ I need nut. one lesson of the kind I have recently passed through to teach me at least common-sense. I long to see this uncle of mine, for I feel that I shall like — were prepared, he glanced at his watch and found that diey had yet pong of hours to wait before it safe to descend to the street; so he re-

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Death-Face, the Detective. “What will you Co with all your wealth—go West, I dare say?” 3 ‘““Prohably, for New York is too hot forme, I'll let uncle invest my thirty thousand in government bonds and that will make it safe, and yield me an income big enough for my Support. Yes, I shall go West, for J] have always had a yearning to see the great mountain, prairie, and ng regions.” © Well, our best wishes go with you, then, and ey our congratulations on your bountiful good- tuck. Thus the conversation ran, until, finally, Evans de- cided to take a stroll around the neighborhood, through the wet, murky night, to see if the shadow detectives tad really vamosed. / E Sherry concluded not to accompany him, fearing lest they might encounter danger, which was most undesirable, under the circumstances, Besides, he had much rather remain with Fay. Fay! whom he thought he loved more and more - every time she came into his presence, She ‘was sit- ting by the open casement, now, gazing thoughtfully out into the street upon a pool of collected water, on which the gas-lamp threw a flare of light, watching the rain-drops drop upon the glassy surface; listen- ing to their reverberations as shee. pattered on the pane—wondering how it was all going to end, Sherry was going off, he had said. Could she bear to have him go, and know she was never likely tosee hima again? Ah! no; the tears.came into her eyes as the unwelcome thoughts rushed upon her, and a lonely feeling entered her heart, made the more so, perhaps, by the loneliness of the sobbing, murky night. No, she could not let him go, now that she had learned so thoroughly the lesson of love—the sweet, ecstatic lesson that produces such a wild, un- governable desire of the heart—an inexpressible sen- sation, hard to describ2. She could not let him go— it would rob her life of all its pleasures; yet twice she had repulsed him, and.was he the one to sue now for favor?” ? Ah, perhaps not; perhaps he would go away with- out ever speaking of his love again, And the longer she thought upon the subject, the f-ster came the tears, and with her head bowed down _ upon the window-sill she wept quietly, but oh! so bitterly. Sherry did not know that she was crying at first, but presently discovered the fact, and went over to her side, wonderingly. He had nosuspicion of the cause of her grief, and was alarmed. - “What is the matter, Miss Evans; are you ill?’’ he asked, laying one hand upon her shoulder. His touch thrilled her, and caused her to raise her tearful eyes to his, and make an attempt to smile. “No, Tam not ill, sir; I was only thinking of some- thing, and you know thoughts sometimes create sad- ness in the heart.” “Very truly spoken, indeed. But, I pray you will banish those thoughts and cheer up. Inever like to see a person ery—it makes me feelin a tearful way myself. x Well,” with a faint laugh, ‘‘then I will postpone it until some other time; though I have cause to feel very sad.”’ _. “ Which Iam sorry for,” he said, drawing a chair near, and sitting down. ‘I hope no blunder of mine has been the cause of your unhappiness,- Miss Evans?” “No blunder. no, but—” “Ah! then there is a but in the case, eh, Fay?” he said, bending closer, and drawing one of her hands : pat “is it because—because I am going away She made no audible answer, save it was by more tears that filled her eyes, as she again bowed her head upon the casement. Yet Sherry interpreted her silence to be an affirmative reply, in the absence of words. “Don’t cry, please,” he said, putting his arm around eras Goes her ag st his shoulder, ©You wou 29 “Oh! don’t say so, Sherry—Mr. Raynor; you know well enough I would,” she replied, nestling closer to him. ‘I would be sorry if you were to go without taking me.” E “Taking you? But you would not go.” . “Wouldnt 1? If you don’t care for my company, you hadn’t better ask me, then.” : “Tay!” Sherry’s voice was now earnest and thrilling, “are aa trifling withme? Somehow these women are a Sid puzzle to me.” “No, Mr. Raynor, I am not trifling with you. I know I have committed myself, but—” r “But what, darling?” “But I love you,” she softly whispered, “and it would kill me to a go away and leave me.’”? “And I love you also, my treasure!” he replied, drawing her close to his breast. ‘*But will your brother—” : “No need to fear objection from him, for he approves of my choice.” ay then you will become my darling little ride “Yes, my prince, and I hope that-day may not bie ae distant when you shall call me yours in ruth.’? And then lip met_li in a fond, Sr kiss—the betrothal caress that bound two loving hearts together. n the mean time Dock Raymond was in search of Celia Orwick. : He found the house on Wooster street where Durg and Curley had stated her to be, without difficulty, but the next thing was to effect an entrance, Tt was a three-story brick, and it was a puzzle to Dock how he*was ever to get intoit; but not long, for his subtle brain soon conceived a plan, which he hastened to put into execution. Toward the close of the day that witnessed Death-~ ‘ Face’s entree into Heidle’s asylum, a well-dressed, - bewhiskered individual, evidently middle-aged, rung the bell on the door of the house in Wooster street, and then waited for an answer to the summons, He carried a small-sized leather-bound book under his arm, and looked like a common _business-man, The ring was answered by an elderly servant, evi- _ dently of Irish descent, who nearly filled the door- way With her broad proportions. -~ ‘An’, faith, an’ what would yez be havin’? she asked, staring hard at the man outside. “Be yez wantin’ to see ther master?” : “Oh! no, Biddy,” was the pleasant the gas-man; don’t you remember me?’ ¥ “Shure, an’ areyez the gas-mon? I thought ashe wore Galway sluggers, sir?” ply. “Tam~ “So I did the last time, Biddy; but I changed the style of my beard.” ““An’ a right sinsible-looking mon yez be. Come in, if it’s the meter yez wants ter see, but wipe your brogans on the mat, furstly.” ‘ The gas-man tg with this request, and was shown in through the hallway to the cellar, where he made an examination of the meter, writing the result down in his book. “Biddy,” he said, upon coming up out of the cel- lar, ‘‘ there is a great leak of gas through the house, somewhere, since last quarter. You have not burnt seventy million feet, I know!” Sey “Oh, the good saints save us, no! Faith, an’ how much isit, yez sez?” « Over seventy million feet, actual measurement.” © “Ouch! Lowly murther, and the master sed ef I burnt more than a thousan’ he’d skin me alive.” “T would too, Biddy, for wasting somuch. & ay woman, your master is ruined. The gas-bill will over two hundred and ten thousand dollars.” . “Och! the saints preserve us!’’ exclaimed the hor- rified servant, holding up her hands in righteous hor- ror. ‘What shall [ do—what shall I do?” ns “Oh, I can fix that all right, Biddy, providing you'll assist me a little.” Se Bedad, I'll wurruk the ends 0’ my fingers off, yer ‘honor, eae p Sas eeete ¥

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bag < Death-Face, the Detective. “Well then. my plan is this. There is a young woman imprisoned in this house whom I wish to rescue. Go bring her to me, ready for the street and I'll make your gas-bill only two dollars, and ve you a Vto buy a dress with, in the bargain. si eae do it?”’ “Howly saints! but sir, the young leddy isn’t here no longer. I tuk pisy on the poor crater, an’ let her out wid her dead babe in her-arrums, an’ sent her to Pat Maloney’s.” “Hal is that so? Then, Bridget, you're a ‘solid woman.’ Here’s a Vfor you, and now give me a note to this Pat Maloney to surrender the girl to me, for Iam a detective in search of her.” “4 detective!” cried Biddy, in wonderment. “Then yez be no gas-mon, at all?” ‘“Nary a gas-man, my beauty.” _ “Och! w’at fer divil’s own imps the men are! An’ yez want the leddy?” “ Certainly.” “Well, ’m faa the poor crater hes got friends, I am. Shure she’s swater than gin wid sugar, an’ twice as purty as a shamrock blossom. Pat Maloney lives in Wather strate, No.—; jest tell him Biddy ay sent yez fer the leddy, an’ it’ll be all right.” “Allright, Biddy. Whenyou get married let me know, and I'll come and fling my heel at yer wed- ding!” replied the disguised Dock Raymond, as he bowed himself out. ‘*Hal ha! that gas-bill nearly frightened the poor fool out of her wits!” he laughed, as he trudged back toward his lodgings. ‘Now then, I must get on my other togs, and go and flid Celia. Poor girl! She has seen trouble enough.” He repaired to the tenement in Mulberry street, ee and found Fooly Fred and Samuel Raynor ere, ' “What luck?” Fred demanded. “Oh, boss luck! Will have’r all safe and sound inside of an hour.” “That's good! Fetch her around to George street, No. —, and I'll take her sister there. Mr. Raynor, here, will also accompany me.” Then, after a short conversation, Dock went to his room, on a neighboring street, and spent a couple of hours in arranging his toilet to his satisfaction, peer aick he set out for Pat Maloney’s, on Water stieet, Reaching his destination, he found it to be a dirty, grimy sort of hovel, characteristic of the locality. Ths sounds of drunken revelry in ths ad- toining dwellings jarred discordantly on the night. i uty names is Dock Raymond, I was directed hers oy. Biddy O’Shay, in search of Celia Orwick,” Dock said, as a grim. stubble-bearded face ‘was presented through a window. Then the door was opened, and he was admitted into an humble apartment, occupied by the owner of th» bea ded face, and an old crone, evidently his wife. The room was scantily furnished and ill- smelling. : “So ye cum fer the gal, did yez?” queried Pat Maloney. ‘Well, ye ken have her, for I’ve no worruk, begorra, an’ it’s moighty hard to get a crust nowadays. Celia. gurl, be yez awake?” In answer to the call, a pale, fragile-looking girl came out of an scicining: room, and ag she caught sight of Dock Raymond she sprung forward with a low, glad cry, and was folded in the young detec- tive’s arms. * 041! Dock!" she exclaimed, ‘is it really you?” Yes, Cele, you dear girl, I have come for you. after a month of search. You are mine now— aad all—everything. But come; let us go. I will take you to a better place than this.” Dock gave Maloney a liberal fee for his kindness, then purchasing some Mita at a neighboring shop, he and Celia set; forth into the night. _ A hack was soon hailed, and inside of an hour the _ were safely set down in a before Evans's house, where they found rley, Sherry, Fred, Nelly Orwick and Fay in waiting for them. a = 5 ’ . a 7 my oe gees homes; CHAPTER XVII. A HAPPY REUNION—CONGLUSION. Deatu-Fack was somewhat startled, but not in the least alarmed, as he beheld the policeman, and felt a heavy hand laid upon his shoulder. a; “Now I’ve got you!” the officer said, with a little chuckle. ‘ Didn’t expect to find cops this wet night, did you? Come along!” “Not if I know myself,” Death-Face said, coolly. ‘Better find out who oe are arresting first. See here,’”’ and he pulled the officer toward the nearest lamp, “I am Death-Face, the detective. Here is my proof,” and he displayed a handsome gold badge, on which his name was engraved; “‘and now, instead of arresting me, you must give mea little aid. Do you know the character of that house?” ~ ‘“No. Respectable, ain’t it?” “In a virtuous sense, yes; but in other wurds, it isa eae mad-house,”” “The devil you say!’ “Yes, a private mad-house, with fifteen or sixteen gicis in it—girls and women—who are no more insane han you or I,” “Phew! how do you know this?” ‘« By notes thrown from the window, first, and by visiting the place in pay Fars last.” “George! that is a covery ! going to do, just now?” “Was going Is out of the den.’ ‘Tn the upper story, eh?” “Yes. Can I depend upon you for assistance?” “ Certainly.” What were you “T shall call upon you to make the arrest of this ° old cuss—Heidle his name is—when I get around to it. You procure four hacks, and fetch them around the coraer, while I get out the prisoners.” Then _the officer hurried off on his errand, while Death-Face reascended the rope-ladder, and crawled back into the chamber, where the females were hud- iM dled together, “ Oh, what is the matter?’ demanded Amy Elwood and Aunie Boyce, together. ‘‘ We saw a man below, and feared for danger.” “No need of that, my dears,” was Conroy’s reply, with asmile. “That was a policeman, and he will help us off. He has now gone for carriages, and we must get out— At this moment heavy footsteps were heard in the entry, near the elevator-way, and a key was thrust in the lock of the prison room. . “Oat *tis Mike, the jailer, coming!” whispered Amy, turning white. ‘He has heard noise, and is coming to investigate!” “Oh! what shall we do?’ gasped Annie Boyce. “He will kill us.” “Just keep ue !” exclaimed Death-Face, coolly. and I'll fix him.” ‘ He glided across the room and got behind the door, and as the jailer entered, sprung upon him, and dealt him a terrible blow on the forehead. Down he went like a log, when Death-Face securely. bound and gagged him, “There! one difficulty less!” he said, with a grim laugh. ‘* Now, ladies, if you will get upon my back, one at a time, and hold fast, I will get you out of here, Amy, dear, you may try first, and set the rest an example.” It was rather an undignified position for a young lady, but as there.was no help for it, Amy cheerfully obeyed. And Death-Face succeeded in placing her safely upon the pavement. for carriages, and then going to get Annie Boyce came next, and then the others, one x at a time, until all were safely out of their prison, thanks be to Death-Face. Without tarrying, they hurried around the first corner, and there found Coggston, the policeman, waiting with four hacks, reacy for departure, Death: Face Nts Amy and Annie pov into one cab with three of the others who had no particular and then mounted with the driv

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~ ' Se orders to drive to number—George street, leaving Coggston to see the remaining prisoners to their re- spective homes. . The ride to George street was soon accomplished, and Death-Face and his five companions were made welcome into the little home of the Evanses, which already had been the scene of a joyous reunion be- tween Celia and Nelly Orwick. Thus was the little circle as complete as it could be made. 2 But a new sensation was there, when, with a yell. Sherry sprung up, rushed over to the side of Annie Boyce, and threw his arms about her neck, giving her a resounding kiss. ; “Leo, my sister, as I live!’ he cried, in delight. here, Uncle Sam, this is she: I twig her jib, rfine.”’ superfine. “Sherry! Sherry! can this possibly be you?” re- turned the astoniahed girl. FP never should have known you.” “ But I knew you, bet your life on that!” he cried, with enthusiasm. ‘See here.”’ and he drew a le ture from his pocket; this is you, and you're this. I got it at the gallery where you worked. Hey, Death-Face, ain’t this boss?” “A very enjoyable discovery, gay,” replied Conroy, ** but ma T nor, how you came in the mad-house “'That is easily explained, sir,” replied Leo, in answer to his request. ‘I was p there two years ago. As some of you may be acquainted with my history, I will say, that after leaving the gallery. Lwent to keep house fora young man named Ned St. Cloud, upon Twentieth street, in this city. _ ‘*While in his employ, I came into possession of an een belonging tohim and a man by the name 0! mour.”’ Seymour, was it?” demanded Amy, indeed, I should ne Miss Ray- 19 erly. ET es, that was the name. I was going to notify the proper authorities, but suspecting my knowledge, St. Cloud bo me put a Heidle’s piace, where for two years I have remained.’ and this secret? What was it about?” asked Death-Face. eagerly. “Tt was about their running a counterfeiting busi- ness, and a plot to flood the country with spurious money, I found out where their ‘ mint’ was located, and tell you!” M. Xt a Death-Facu ie Detective, ————————————————————————————————— fe = &a And then she named a certain place within the city limits, the exact locality of w! we must with- — hold from the reader. Suftice to say that it wasina Place where it might have remained a lifetime, undiscovered, but for the information of Leo Ray- nor. The following day was a busy one with Death-T'ace and Co., for they had their hands full in making ar- rests, which were necessary, now that the fruit was a6 and fit for plucking. rst of all, Dr. Heidle wa: arrested and delivered up to the authorities; and next came St, Cloud and Se mone oe eee 7 rt es, a ; en “Face an is two bowers, accompar nied by a posse of police, made a raid pect the counst 3 terfeit den of the , only succeeding in capturing _ dies, presses, etc., and one man who was on uty. This work safely accomplished, there’ was, one evening, a great wedding at the little house in George street, Sherry and Fay, Dock and Celia, Death-Face and Amy, and Fred and Nelly, being the happy couples who linked their fates together. A week later, old Samuel ee started back tor Virginia ee Nevada, and with him went Sherry and his darling Fay, and Charley Evans and Leo, Shkerry’s sister, who has since then wedde And out there in Mi happy in their love as the day is long. d. Mineral land they all still live, ag i a Heidle, St. Cloud, and Seymour, received ear trials for their crimes, and severe sentences, Hei- dle went to Sing-Sing for twenty years, and well he deserved a longer sentence. St. Cloud and Seymour were put to work side by side in Sing-Sing—each for a term of ten years, only to serve a new term at the end of that time on new indictments. , And if you want any detective business done, dear reader, you cannot do better than call upon the “Bi ree’—Conroy, Raymond and Funk, who still hold forth in the metropolis, experts in their profession, and devoted husbands to those dear girls whom they took for better, not for worse. And thus we take leave of them all, with ovr b= wishes forever. & ;

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‘BUFFALO BILL _— the DIME LIBRARY 8. Death Trailer, the Chief of Scouts; or, Life an Gove in a Frontier Fort, By Buffalo Bill, ys aw x te ig Me, ae Wi "Hé The Dooine Dozen; it Buffalo Maino Chief of Scou By Dr. Frank Powell. b Wild Bill, the Pistol Dead-Shot. A Romance of Buffalo Bill’s Old Pard. By Col. P.j{Ingraham, 5 Wika Bill's cramp Card; or, The Indian Heiress, By Col, Prentiss graham. 189 Wild Bill’s Gola Trail; or, The Desperate Dozen, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 43 The Piigrim Sharp; or,The Soldier’s Sweetheart, By Buffalo Bill, Government Scout and Guide. $19 Wild Bill, the Whirlwind of the West. By Buf- falo Bill. my The League of Three; or, Buffalo Bill’s Pledge, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, | wr ae users Brothers; or, White Beuver's Trail, y Buff: i” The One-Armed Pard; or, Red Retribution in Borderland. By Buffalo Bill. 17 Buffalo Bill’s First Trail; or, Will Cody, the Pony, Express Rider. 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Ingraham. - Buffalo Bill and His Merry Men, By Col. P. ; ‘era Bt Biil’s Blind. Ry Col. P. Ingraham, 3 Buffalo Bill’s Flush Hand; or, Texas Jack’s Bravos. By Col. P. Ingraham, 60 buffalo Bill’s Big Four, By Col. P. Ingraham, _ %57 Buffalo Bill’s Double; or, The Desperado Detec- tive. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. "61 ane Bill’s Mascot; or, Death Valley Victim i No. 18.- By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 1@3 Buffalo Bill's Dozen; or, Silk-Ribbon Sam. By ‘Col Prentiss Ingraham, +69 Buffalo Bill’s Sweepstake, By Col. Ingraham, * -¥77 Buffald Bill’s Spy-Shadower, By Col. Ingraham _ 8% Buffalo Bill’s Dead Shot. ae Oh Eat 800 Wild Bin, the Dead-Center Sho or, Rio Grande Ralph the Cowboy Chief. By Buffalo Bill, ; 80? Wilo Bill, the Wild West Duelist; or, The Girl Mascot of Moonlight Mine. By Buffalo Bill, 812 Buffalo Bill’s Death-Knell; or, Toe Red Rand Riders of the Rockies By Col. P Ingraham 820 White Beaver’s Still Hunt; or, The Miner Marauder’s Death-Track. By ‘Buffalo Bil. 822 pete. Bill’ # Best Bower; or, Montebello, thé sei tee Col. P. Ingraham. 826 Burfale ill’s Sharp-Shooters; or, The Surgeon Scout to the Rescue. By Col, P. Ingraham. 830 Buffalo Bill’s Boys in Biue; or, The Brimstcne Bund’s Blot-out. By Col. Prontiss Ingraham. 839 The Ranch King Dead Shot; or, Texas Jack’s Proxy. By Buffalo Bill. 845 Buffalo Bill’s Redskin Ruse; or, Texas Jack’s Death Shot. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, : 851 Buffalo Bill’s Double Dilemma; or, The Grease Scout’s Big Three. By Col. Prentiss Ingrabam) 857 Buffalo Bill's Royal Flush; or, The Pony Rider’s Death-Run.: By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 863 Buffalo Biil’s Death-Charm; or, The Man Wiib aSear. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, 869 Buffalo Bi'l’s Road-Agent‘Ronad-up; or The Mys terious Masked Manin Black. By Ingrahem. 874 Buffalo Bill’s ede Le Beaves; or, The.Card- aeen’s Last Game By Col, P. Ingraham... 882 The Threc Bilis: Buffalo Bill, Wild Bill and’ Band box Bill; or, The Bravo in Broadcloth, Ingraham “890 eae Bill's Life- Stake; or, The Pledged Tnree, By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. : 895 Buffalo Bill’s Secret Ally or, The Texan’ Dovble, Ls enge Prentiss Ingraham, 900 Buffalo Bill’s Rough Riders; or, Texas Jack’ . S§harp-Shooters, By Col, P. Ingraham, 004 Buffalo Bill’s Tangled Trail; or, Gentleman Jack, the Man of Many Masks. By Ingraham. 909 Buffalo Bill’s League; or. Red Butterfly, By» Col. Prentiss Tograham. 915 B iffalo Bili and the Surgeon Scout; or. Go wan: 0, the Redskin Rider, By Col. P. In raham. 921 Buffalo Bill’s Quandary; or, Velvet Si" s Vow By Col, Prenttse Ingraham, 927 oe Bil’s Biuff; or, Dusky Dick, ‘the Sport sy Col. P. ingraham. 936 Borate rete ars Pard; or, The Gold Borner: of the Big Horn. By Col. P. Ingraham, 943 Burtalo saute, Block Game. By Colonel PR, 950 Buitalo “Bil at Bay. By Colonel Prentiss ngraham, 956 Buffalo Bill’s Volunteer Vigilantes. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham 960 Buffalo Bill's Blue Belt Brigade. By Coloner Prertiss. Ingraham. 964 Buffalo Bill’s Invincibles. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 069 ‘Texas Jack, the Lasso King; or, The Rob- a Rangers of the Rio Grande. By Butfale 978 The Dread-Shot Four. By Buffalo ‘Bil 978 Buffalo Bill's Beas Trail. By Cot. Prentiss Ingraha 984 Buffalo Bill's Life sees or, The Doomed Three. Ready Sept. 1. E 489 Buffalo Bill’s Marked Hers By Col, t. Ingraham. Ready Cet. o4 ieee ts Bill’s Lone Hand. By Col. P. Ine raha 900 eButralo Bill’s Grim Guard. By Col, P. Inv graham. The above Drum Libraries are Wor Sale Oy* » LL NEWSDEA?.ERS, ten cents per oagy. “tof nrica, “ o ent by mail on”

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MART TOASTS FOR THE MART DBT. Vest Pocket Size. 64 Pages. By Mail, Postpaid, 12c. Up-to-Date, ; per Copy. i Sewed Book. BEST LINE OF HAND BOOKS PUBLISHED. “YIDDISH” YARNS.—A Collection of Hebrew Jokes, Stories, etc. ' GENTS’ LETTER WRITER.—A Perfect Guide to all kinds of Correspondence. FAMILY PHYSICIAN.—Family Diseases and Their ‘Treatment; Rules of Health, ete. BOOK OF DREAMS.—Their Romance and Mystery, with a Complete Interpretation Dictionary. HOUSEWIFE’S MANUAL.—How to Keep House; How to Dye, Cleanse, etc. VAUDEVILLE JOKER.—Best Jokes by Eminent Vau- deville Artists, BOOK OF ETIQUETTE.—Society, Visits, Introduc- tions, Dress, Balls, ete. FORTUNE TELLER.—Fortune Telling by Cards, Tea or Coffee Grounds, Eggs: Palmistry, etc. BOOK OF 100 GAMES.—One Hundred Games for Social Parties and Home Amusements, COOK BOOK.—Economical, Practical, Excellent. LADIES’ LETTER WRITER.—How to Write; {When to Write; What to Write. “ RECIPE BOOK.—For the Parlor, Nursery, Sick-room, Toilet, Kitchen, Larder, ete, sa BOOK OF BEAUTY.—Beauty of Form, Color, Head, Hair, Complexion, Skin, ete., with chapters on Perfumes, Cosmeties, ete. BOOK OF VERSES.—Comprising Rhymes, Lines, and Mottoes for Lovers and Friends. ‘THE LOVERS' CASKET.—A Treatise on and Guide to Friendship, Love, Courtship, and Marriage. “GERMAN” JOKER.—“ Dutch” Jokes and “Gags” by best ‘* Dutch ’’ Teams on the Stage. “ HAYSEED” JOKER.—The Doings of ‘Our Country Cousins” in a Humorous Way. “TRAMP” JOKER.—Good “ Handouts” in this Book for Professional and Amateur Entertainers. “COON * YARNS.—Best Jokes Relating to Our “ Dark- er-Skinned Brothers.” “TRISH *’ Joker No. 1.—The Wittiness and Whimsicali-_ ties of ‘‘ Pat’ at His Best. “VARIETY” JOKER.—Good Things from all the Na- tionalities: ‘‘ Pat,” ‘‘Alphonse,” “Hans,” “ Jona- than,” ‘‘ Moses,” and “ Ebenezer.” The above books are bound in handsomely illustrated lithographed covers. Price by mail, postpaid, 12 cents per copy. M. J. IVERS & CO., Publishers, 379 Pearl Street, New York City. BEADLE’S BOYS’ 5 CENTS PER PRICE 1 Dandy Bill’s Doom. By Oll Coomes. 8 Kit Garson. By A. W. Aiken, 4 Lillie, cetopaerns. pice se Sane ll 5 Old Grizzly in the Rockies, By lngr: ; 6 Deadwood Bick as Sor By E. L. Wheeler. 7 Wild Bill. By Ingraham. ' 8 The Prairie Ranch. By J. E. Badger. a Rosine Joe: yd AN ae ig ‘Texas Jack. By Ingraham. 11 Charley Skylark, the Sport. B. A. B. Stoddard. 12 Brimstone Bill’s Booty. By J. E. Badger, Jr. 13 Roving Ben, By J. J. Marshal). 14 The Ticket-of-Leave’s Trick. By J. E. Badger, Jr. 15 Wide-Awake George. By E. Willett. 16 Wide-Awake Ned. By B. Ringgold. 17 Peter, the Dandy Greenhorn. By Noah Nuff. 18 Adrift on the Prairie. By Oll Coomes. 19 Joe, the Rover Sport. By A. H. Post. 20 Giant Pete and his Pards. By Harbaugh. 21 Yellow Hair. By Ingraham. 22 The Snow-Trail. By Harbaugh. 23 Old Grizzly Adams. By Dr, Powell. 24 Woods and Waters. By Whittaker. 25 A Rolling Stone. By W. R. Eyster. 26 Red River Rovers. By C. D, Clark. 27 Buckskin Sam’s Wild Ride. By Ingraham, 28 The Sword Prince. By F. Whittaker. 28 Snow-Shoe Tom, By T. C. Harbaugh. 30 Pavl De Lacy. By C. D, Clark. 81 Round the Camp-Fire. By J. E. Badger, Jr. 82 Fancy Frank's Drop. By Ingraham. 33 The Boy Crusader. By Capt. F. Whittaker. LIBRARY. COPY. 84 The Chase of the Great White Stag. By C. D. 85 Old Tar Knuckle, By Rover Biactidoke — 86 The Dashing Dragoon. By F. Whittaker. 87 Night-Hawk George. By Ingraham. 88 The Boy Exiles of Siberia, By 'T. C. Harbaugh. 89 The Young Bear Hunters. By Morris Redwing. 40 New York Bill, the Dodger. By Edward Willett. 41 The Settler's Son. By Edward §. Ellis. 42 Walt Ferguson's Cruise. By C. D. Clark, 43 Rifle and Revolver, By I’. Whittaker. 44 The Lost Boy Whalers. By 'I. C. Harbaugt.. 45 Bronco Billy. By Ingraham. 46 Dick, the Stowaway. By Charles Morris. 47 The Colorado Boys. By J. EK. Badger, Jr. 48 The Pampas Hunters. By I. C. Harbaugh. 49 Nebraska Charlie, By pt ea 60 Jack, Harry, and Tom. y F, Whittaker, 51 ‘’om Stone, the Old Sea Dog. By C. D. Clark, 52 The Boy Detectives. By T. C. Harbaugh. 53 Harry, the Country Boy, in New York. By Charles Morris. 64 California Joe. By Ingraham. : 55 Tip Tressel, the Flatboat Boy, By Edward Willett, 56 The Snow Hunters. By Harry De Forrest. 57 Harry Somers, the Magician. By 8. W. Pearce. 58 Captain Jack in Rocky Roost. By Ingraham. 59 Tim, the Mule Bov of the Mines. By Charles Morris, 60 The Young Trail Hunters. By 'T’. C. Harbaugh. 61 The Tiger Hunters. By J. E. Badger, Jr. “~< 62 Doctor Carver. the Champion Shot. By Ingraham, 63 Black Horse Bill, the Bandit Wrecker. By Roger Starbuek. ; 64 Young Dick Talbot. By A W. Aiken. .

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THE Deadwood Dic e Library e @SOO38808 LATEST AND BEST, HANDSOME TRI-GOLORED COVERS. - 82 Pages. Issued Every Wednesday. Price 5 Cents. Buy One and You Will Buy the Rest} ‘Sxtracts trom the New York Evening Sun. TWO REMARKABLE In only one sense of the word can it be regarded as a aovel statement when the fact is here recorded that litera- ture has given many heroes to the world, and perhaps ‘more than one reader will have to think a moment over this remark before the subtle delicacy of its genial wit atrikes home, But it is most essentially a half dime novel statement $hat will be news to many when it is added that litera- gure, if traced from the dimly distant days when Adam was & mere child down to the present day, would show ‘}at few heroes that in the eyes of boyhood would be even judged worthy of comparison with the two greatest jeroes known to American literature, or, to promptly re- veal them, Deadwood Dick atid Deadwood Dick, Jr. * * * The modern heroes of fiction for young America, who are now as countless as the sands of the sea, and of whom the Deadwood Dicks are much the most important 2? * * it is but natural that their * * * should bear feway the palm of popularity; and suchas * * * be left flar behind in the race. It can be easily believed, therefore, that the two Dicks @re so firmly engrafted on the tree of popular literature for boys and young men, that their position is assured * * and that they stand to-day head and shoulders HEROES. above all rivals in the eyes of the public for which the) have lived, and for which one of them has died, American boyhood, and that is a tremendous factor fm the land, now knows Deadwood Dick, Jr., a good beal bet ter than it Knows its catechism, and millions of young minds absorb the thrilling incidents of his career in hig everlasting warfare against crime and his never-enaing solving of impenetrable mysteries. Millions of boys follow his stealthy footsteps as he tracks his vicious victims to their undoing, and then, when the victims are thoroughly undone, the millions wait hungrily for the next volume, which on every Wednesday appears with the certainty of the Wednesday itself, and a new set of Seligeeay thrills go thrilling away from Maine to Call- ‘ornia, : There are the volumes each so crowded with thrills and heart-tugs that it were madness to hope to do justice te them collectively and rank injustice to discriminate be- tween them, To abandon the idea of giving a few extracts causes In- finite pain, but if once a start were made in that direo- tion, it would be cruel to The Evening Sun's readers to stop, and it is therefore better not to relate one single adventure, Suffice it to say that the stories are clean and well written, DEADWOOD DICK LIBRARY. Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road The Double Dagyers; or. Deadwood Dick’s Defiance $ The Buffalo Demon; or. The Border Vultures Buffalo Ben, Prince of the Pistol Wild Ivan, the Boy Claude Duval 6 Death-Face, the Detective 7 The Phantom Miner; or, Deadwood Dick’s Bonanza 8 Old Avalanche, the Great Annihilator; or, Wild Edna, the Girl Brigand 9 Bob Woolf, the Border Ruffian © Omaha Ol), the Masked Terror; or, Deadwood Dick in Danger 11 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., the Boy Phenix; or, Through to Death 12 Deadwood Dick’s Eagles; or, The Pards of Flood Bar 18 Buckhorn Bill; or, The Red Rifle Team 14 Gold Rifle, the Sharpshooter 18. Deadwood Dick on Deck: or, Calamity Jane 6 Corduroy Charlie, the Boy Bravo iff NSN Rob; or, Nugget Ned, the Knight of the Gulch 28 Idyl, the Girl Miner; er, Rosebud Rob on Hand 19 Photograph Phil; or, Rosebud Rob’s Reappearance 30 Watch-Eye, the Shadow 31 Deadwood Dick’s Device; or, The Sign of the Double Oross #2 Canada Chet, the Counterfeiter Chief 38 Deadwood Dick in Leadville; or, A Strange Stroke for Liberty “4 Deadwood Dick as Detective 25 Gilt-Kdge Dick % Bonanza Bill, the Man-Tracker; or, The Secret Twelve 27 Chip, the Girl Sport 36 Jack Hoyle’s Lead; or, The Road to Fortune 90 Boss Bob, the King of Bootblacks x0 eae Dick’s Double; or, The Ghost of Gorgon’s ule #1 Blonde Bill; or, Deadwood Dick’s Home Base ® Solid Sam, the Boy Road-Agent 33 Tony Fox, the Ferret; or, Boss Bob’s Boss Job 34 A Game of Gold; or, Deadwood Dick’s Big Strike 35 Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, The Picked Party 86 New York Nell, the Boy-Girl Detective 37 Nobby Nick of Nevada; or, The Scamps of the Sierras 88 Wild Frank, the Buckskin Bravo 89 Deadwood Dick’s Doom; or, Calamity Jane’s Last Adventure 40 Deadwood Dick’s Dream; or, The Rivals of the Road 41 Deadwood Dick’s Ward; or, The Black Hills Jezebel 42 The Arab Detective; or, Snoozer, the Boy Sharp 483 The Ventriloquist Detective. A Romance of Rogues 44 Peace Josh Grim; or, The Young Gladiator's ame 45 The Frontier Detective; or, Sierra Sam’s Scheme 46 The Jimtown Sport; or, Gypsy Jack in Colorado 47 The Miner Sport; or, Sugar-Coated Sam's Claim 48 Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son; or, Apollo Bill, the Road-Agent 49 Sierra Sam, the Detective 50 Sierra Sam’s Double; or, The Three Female Detect ives 51 page — Sentence; or, Little Luck at Rough anch 52 The Girl Sport; or, Jumbo Joe's Disguise 53 Denver Doll’s Device; or, The Detective Queen 54 Denver Doll as Detective 55 Denver Doll’s Partner; or, Big Buckskin the Sport 56 Denver Doll’s Mine; or, Little Bill’s Big Loss 57 Deadwood Dick Trapped 58 Buck Hawk, Detective; or, The Messenger Boy’s Fortune 59 Deadwood Dick’s Disguise; or, Wild Walt, the Sport 60 Dumb Dick's Pard; or, Eliza Jane, the Gold Miner 61 Deadwood Dick’s Mission 62 Spotter Fritz: or, The Store-Detective’s Deco: 63 The Detective Road-Agent; or, The Miners of Sassa- fras City 64 ee Charlie’s Detective Dash; or, The Cattle ings M. J. [VERS & CO., Pubiishers (James Sullivan, Proprietor), 379 Pearl Street, NEW YORK. /

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Jopyright 1878-184, by Beadle & Adams. Entered at Post Office, New York, N. Y., as second class matter, Mar. 15, 189% THE ARTHUR WESTBROOK CO. No. 6 Cleveland, Ohio Vol. I Cy ae BY EDWARD L. WHEELER; AUTHOR OF * DEADWOOD DiCK,"’ * DOUBLE DAGGERS," “ WILD IVAN,” ETC., BTC,

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Copyright 1878-1884, by Beadle & Adama. Entered at Post Office, New York, N. Y., as Meco Class matter, Mar, 15, 189 (Wee we onan + ‘ THE ARTHUR WESTBROOK CO. | INo. | Cleveland, Ohio Vol. I ‘(DEATH FACE, The Detective; On rn AND £0¥8 H& BY EDWARD L. WHEELER, AUTHOR or “DEADWOOD DICK,” “DOUBLE DAGGERS,” “WILD IVAN,” ETC., ETO, a zi oo mi i ; at i a SSS SSS a = SS =

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= BEADLE’S FRONTIER SERIE {5ce. Per Copy. f -. The Shawnee'’s Foe. : The Young Mountaineer. Wild Jim. Hawk-Hye, the Hunter. The Boy Guide. ~ Pou Gono ps = The Red Modoes. » Iron Hand. Shadow Bill, the Scout. Wapawkaneta, or the Rangers of the Oneida, 11. Davy Crockeit’s 3B oy Hunter. 12. The Forest Avenger. 13. Old Jack’s Frontier Cabin. 14. On the Deep. 15. Sharp Snout. 16. The Mountain Demon. 17. Wild Tom of Wyoming. 18. The Brave Boy Hunters of Kentucky. 19, The Fearless Ranger. 20, The Haunted Trapper, 21. Madman of the Colorado. 22. The Panther Demon, 23. Slashaway, the Fearless. 24, Pine Tree Jack. 25. Indian Jim, 26. Navajo Nick, 27. The Tuscarora’s Vow. 28. Deadwood Dick, Jr. 29, A New York Boy Among _ the Indians. 30. Deadwood Dick’s Big Deal. 81. Hank, the Guide. 82, Deadwood Dick’s Dozen, 33. Squatty Dick. 34, The Hunter’s Secret. 35. The Woman Trapper, 36. The Chief of the Miami. 37. Gunpowder Jim. 38. Mand Anthony’s Captain. 39. The Ranger Boy’s Career. 40, Old Nick of the Swamp. 41. The Shadow Scout. 42. Lantern-Jawed Bob, 43. The Masked Hunter, 44, Brimstone Jake. 45, The Irish Hunter. 46. Dave Bunker. 47. The Shawnee Witch, 48. Bic Brave, 49, Spider-Legs. oes Sem BEADLE’S FRONTIER SERIES are always in print and for | . Harry Hardskull. . Niger-EKye, War Tiger of the Modocs + . Old Kit, The Scout, . Grim Dick. . Hank Jasper, 0. Billy_Bowlegs. - The Bloody Footprint. . The Demon Cruiser. . Hunters and Redskins. » Old Zeke. . The Panther, Paleface. . Bloody Brook. | 0. Long Bob ‘of Kentucky. Madman of the Oconto. Slim Jim. The Red Stay of the Seminoles. Trapper Joe. The Indian Queen’s Revenge. Eagle-Eyed Zeke. Seqr-Cheek, the Wild _ Half-Breed, Red Men of the Woods. Tuscaloosa Sam, The Bully of the Woods. The Trapper’s Bride, Ned Rattlesnake, The Pawnee. The Scout of Tippecanoe The Boy Scouts. Hiding Tom. Roving Dick, Hunter, Hickory Jack. | Mad Mike. Snake-Eye. Big-Hearted Joe. The Blazing Arrow. The Hunter Scouts. The Scout of Long Island. Turkey-Koot. The Death Rangers. Bullet Head. The Indian Spirit. The Twin Trappers. Lightfoot the Scout. The Wooden-Legged Spy. The Silent Trapper. Ugly Ike. Fire Cloud. The Scout of the Sciota. Biack Samson. Marksman the Hunter. Panther Jack. The Scout of the St. Lawrence, sale by all Newsdealers; or will be sent postpaid to any address: ie Single copies, (5c. : pan WESTBROOK CO. GLEVELAND, om |

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eadwood Dick e Library e LATEST AND BEST. HANDSOME TRI-COLORED GOVERS, 82 Pages. | Oh a Bay One and You Will Buy the Rest! For Sample Cover See Othe: side. ‘eae ee eT DEADWOOD DICK LIBRARY. 2 Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road 2 The Double Daggers; or, Deadwood Dick’s Deflance 8 The Buffalo Demon; or, The Border Vultures 4 Buffalo Ben, Prince of the Pistol 5 Wild Ivan, the Boy Claude Duval 6 Death-Face, the Detective 7 The Phantom Miner; or, Deadwood Dick’s Bonanza 8 Old Avalanche, the Great Annihilator; or, Wild Edna, the Girl Brigand 9 Bob Woolf, the Border Ruffian 10 Omaha Oll, the Masked Terror; or, Deadwood Dick in Danger 11 me eendeon Jr., the Boy Phenix; or, Through to eath 12 Pend Woe Dick’s Eagles; or, The Pards of Flood ar - 12 Buckhorn Bill; or, The Red Rifle Team 44 Gold Rifle, the Sharpshooter 15 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, Calamity Jane 16 Corduroy Charlie, the Boy Bravo 1” Rosebud Rob; or, Nugget Ned, the Knight of the nich 8 Idyl, the Girl Miner; or, Rosebud Rob on Hand 19 Photograph Phil; or, Rosebud Rob’s Reappearance 20 Watch-Eye, the Shadow 21 penaore Dick's Device; or, The Sign of the Double ross 22 Canada Chet, the Counterfeiter Chief 28 Deadwood Dick in Leadville; or, A Strange Stroke for Liberty 24 Deadwood Dick as Detective 25 Gilt-dged Dick ¥ 26 Bonanza Bill, the Man-Tracker ; or, The Secret Twelve 27 Chip, the Girl Sport 28 Jack Hoyle’s Lead; or, The Road to Fortune 29 Boss Bob, the King of Bootblacks 30 ea Dick’s Double; or, The Ghost of Gorgon’s ule! 81 Blonde Bill; or, Deadwood Dick’s Home Base 82 Solid Sam, the Boy Road-Agent 83 Tony Fox, the Ferret; or, Boss Bob's Boss Job 34 A Game of Gold; or, Deadwood Dick's Big Strike 85 Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, The Picked Party 86 New York Nell, the Boy-Girl Detective ; 87 Nobby Nick of Nevada; or, The Scamps of the Sierras — 88 Wild Frank, the Buckskin Bravo 89 Deadwood Dick’s Doom; or, Calamity Jane's Last Adventure ° 40 Deadwood Dick’s Dream; or, The Rivals of the Road 41 Deadwood Dick’s Ward; or, The Black Hills Jezebei | 42 The Arab Detective; or, Snoozer, the Boy Sharp P 43 The Ventriloquist Detective. A Romance of Rogues — 44 Dente Josh Grim; or, The Young Gladiator's ame 45 The Frontier Detective; or, Sierra Sam’s Scheme ; 46 The Jimtown Sport; or, Gypsy Jack in Colorado 47 The Miner Sport; or, Sugar-Coated Sam's Claim 48 Dick Drew, the Miner’s Son; or, Apollo Bill, the | Road-Agent 49 Sierra Sam, the Detective r- 50 Sierra Sam’s Double; or, The Three Female Detect ives . 51 Sierra Sam’s Sentence; or, Little Luck at Rough — Ranch 52 The Girl Sport; or, Jumbo Joe’s Disguise 53 Denver Doll’s Device; or, The Detective Queen 54 Denver Doll as Detective : 5 55 Denver Doll's Partner; or, Big Ruckskin the Sport | 66 Denver Doil’s Mine; or, Little Bill’s Big Loss 57 Deadwood Dick Trapped : 58 Buck Hawk, Detective; or, The Messenger Boy's — Fortune 59 Deadwood Dick’s Disguise; or, Wild Walt, the Sport — 60 Dumb Dick’s Pard; or, Eliza Jane, the Gold Miner 61 Deadwood Dick’s Mission ‘ 62 Spotter Fritz; or, The Store-Detective’s egal - 63 T) : rat ING Road-Agent; or, The Miners of Sassa _ ras City 64 Solsrade Charlie’s Detective Dash; or, The Cattle — ings oY