Fame And Fortune Weekly (no. 1163) (1928 01 13)
The text was read from the page scans by machine (OCR), so it has mistakes and its columns may run together. See the pages · About this title · At the Internet Archive
Page 1
Price 8 Cents NEW YORK, JANUARY 13, 1928 Dave gave the trapdoor a blow with the hammer, and the bolt broke. Down fell the door, and with it a shower of gold coins. Ories of astonishment escaped his two friends, aud Dave descended the ladder.
Page 2
Issued Weekly—Subscription price, salad ae Pop FAME AND FORTUNE. WEEKL. per year Canadian, $4.50; Foreign, $5.00. Copyright, 19. ie Co., Inc., 140 Seda Street, New York, N. y.” 1911, at the Post-Utfice at New York, N Y., NEW YORK, JANUARY 13, 1928 “a Kntered as Second Class Mattes under the Act of March 3, 1879 Price 8 Cents. : Nad i163 N CHAPTER I.—A Plucky Rescue. “Tt feels good to be back in the city. again,” said Dave Darney, a well-dressed boy, as, grip in hand, he stepped out of the Grand Central Sta- tion into Forty-second Street one sunshiny June _ afternoon. _ “Keb—keb, sir,’ shouted a chorus of voices om a, line of drivers wtih whips in their hands. _“What’s the use of blowing in a half dollar or are on a cab when I’ve paid the transfer people to carry my. k to the house, and a Madison venue car will take me to my door?” said the buy to-himself. He started for the corner ct Depew Place to wait for the car. The street in front of the sta- tion was full of moving vehicles, and one had-to be very careful to keep his wits about him in crossing to the other side. Dave, however, had no occasion to cross. The corner he was aiming for was at the western end of the station, perhaps fifty yards from where he came “ut of the build- Suddenly above the uproar of traffic he rd a shrill scream. He turned and looked 4n irection whence it came, A slender girl, in ing the Street toward the station, had slipped allen in the path of a rapidly-driven cab. lizing her peril Dave dropped his grip, dashed . the street, and seizing the girl in his strong aims, swung her onto the curb in less time than akes to describe the incident. But quick as was the cab grazed both of them in spite cf the rer’s best effort to turn his horse aside. How- ver, a miss is as good as a mile, as neither was hurt. The girl was so badly frightened that she hung dazed and almost fainting on the boy’s arm. Brace aD miss, you’re all right,” he said, re- suringly. In a moment or two she revived. : EEN OUT: Sosa my life,” she murmured, their eyes ing. Dave felt a thrill run through his nerves, for such eyes, so beautiful and expressive, een d never met with before. And her face ‘ust as lovely as her eyes—a face perfect mtour, and without a flaw. She was tly attired in garments that, though inex- in material, fitted her sylph-like form em d much emba: he was a year older than Dave. home from a ‘boarding academy where he had been assed by the : DRIVEN TO WORK — OR, A FORTUNE FROM A SHOESTRING By A SELF-MADE MAW stares of the curious bystanders who had gathered around them, noticing which, Dave snatched up his grip and drew the girl away toward the corner, By the time they reached it she had almost re- covered from the shock, “T thank you for saving me,” she said, in a low, musical tone. “I shall remember with gratitude what you have done for me.’ “You are welcome, miss. to render you a service.” “May I ask you your name?” she said. “David Darnley. Will you favor me with: yours?” “Elise Preston. I will now say good-by, haiti ing you once more for coming to my aid.” I am glad I was able Thus speaking she tripped away, and was soon _ lost to his view in the crowd that was moving toward Fifth Avenue. “By George! She’s a peach and no mistake y muttered Dave, as his eyes followed her disap- pearing figure. “Shall I ever see her again?” A Madison Avenue car came along, turning the corner, but he failed to board it, so taken up was he with thoughts of the fair girl, who had evi- dently made a great impression on him. He stood, holding on to his grip, quite unconscious of the surging crowd that jostled him on its way to the station down the street~ His thoughts were following the girl who by this time was well on her way up the block. He was tempted to follow her and see if he could find out where she lived. Still it was bv no means certain that she was bound home, and the effort might result only in a wild goose chase. At length he woke up to the reality of things as a second Madison Avenue car came along, and» ee with some reluctance he boarded it and took his Se seat inside. But he could not forget the girl he had saved as.the car bowled along northward to- ward the swell home where he lived. He lived with his uncle who was a widower with one son, an aristocratic youth between whom and Dave there was littie sympathy or friendship. This young man’s name was Herbert Dent, and Dave was just ee with pee He expected to be tise
Page 3
a ae eee DRIVEN TO WORK to Princeton in the early fall to begin the regula- tion four-years’ college course. Herbert himself had already finished his freshman term there, and had been home a week. He was very different in personal appearance from Dave, whose good-look- ing, sun-burned face was frank, open and manly. Herbert, on the contrary, was dark, with crisp, curly hair, black eyes and splendid teeth. He would have been almost a beau ideal of youthful peauty, for he v.as the picture of his proud, hand- - some mother, d_ad two years, but for an unnat- ural and sickly pallor that suggested a round of dissipation and a bitter, sarcastic expression when he smijed. He had brought home with him for a lengthy visit an older classmate, named Gideon Wells, who had been a crony of his during his freshman course. Wells was twenty-one years of age, dress<d in fine garments and with perfect taste, and his manners were those of a gentle- man, but what he didn’t know about the world, especially the gay part of it, was hardly worth . mentioning: He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, with no more conscience than a stone. A perfect dissembler, a brilliant talker, and fairly well educated, he cdtld meet all men on their own ground and create-a favorable impression. In at- taching himsel® to Herbert Dent his purpose was thoroughly selfish. He had lost a competence in one way or another, and in order to keep. up ap- pearances and indulge his acquired and rather expensive tastes it became necessary for him to prey on others. He had pitched on Herbert, whose father was a wealthy and distinguished politician, as a fitting dupe, and worked himself so well into the lad’s good graces that they had become quite inseparable. Herbert was flattered by the attention his elder classmate paid him, and _ hecame Well’s treasurer without realizing the fact. He didn’t actually loan him money, for Wells assumed to be independently well off; but he lost considerable sums of money to him ' through card and billiard playing. ; - Long ago Herbert had spent his monthly al- lowances, and when pressed for money raised it on notes of hand which Wells got a Princeton money lender, named Silas Hale, to cash at a big _ discount. The money lender took chances because of the political prominence of Herbert’s father and his known wealth; but there was a limit to his accommodation on such security, so when Wells took Herbert Dent to his house, just before the close of vhe term, to raise a large sum for _ special vacation purposes, the usurer refused to ~ eough up any more without real, tangible security. Herbert had none to offer, but Wells was equal to the emergency. ra He told the money lender they would call again. ‘They did call again a few days later and Herbert offered a ninety-day note for $500, apparently indorsed by his father, and produced letters with his father’s signature to show that the indorse- ment was genuine. . After some hesitation on Silas Hale’s part he got the money, less $75, which the money lender charg+d for the accommodation. Next day Her- bert hind his friend Wells left for New York and had been living for a week at the brown-stone dison Avenue residence owned by Mr. Dent, 1 our story opens. — ; Leer M Kz week “2 .photos of schoolmates in football. baseball and whieh I had been one rownd of gaiety for | 4 i ish. the pair, and every cent of the $425 Herbert h raised on the note had gone the way of his oth money and he was strapped, with his next month]; allowance two weeks in the perspective. CHAPTER II.—The Rascally Scheme. At the moment that Dave Darnley, Herbert’s cousin, came out of the Grand Central Station and saved Elise Preston’s life, Herbert Dent and Gideon Wells were seated in the former’s room — talking the dilemma over. The young man’s apa’ ment, which was richly furnished, reflected tastes and follies, and it was well for him that hi father never intruded upon him there. The dress ing table and other points of vantage were p fusely covered with pictures of well-known st beauties, some of them bearing the autographs the fair original, and intermingled with th athletic costumes, and also men who stood hi nm the pugilistic world. The latter were mo 3 ring attire, posed in characteristic attitudes. — room was also littered with a variety of sport paraphernalia which Herbert never used, bu played for effect. Parti-colored black and ora flags were tacked against the walls—the colors Princeton University, and in one spot the fla Harvard and the blue of Yale were crossed un neath a stuffed tiger whose feet were upon them, while from his mouth streamed two long pr’ accounts of Prineeton’s baseballmpremacy 1a year over its college rivals, “There were lots of other things about the room that indicated Her- bert Dent was going “the pace that kills,” 1 the able tutelage of Gideon Wells. Wells lounging in an easy chair with a cigar in mouth. rans Herbert was sprawled off on a divan with. imported cigarette in his fingers. “I wish I knew how I could raise the dust,” said the latter, in an impertinent tone. “We’y got a date on tonight and haven’t a dollar in my cléthes.” Be 53 “Don’t worry, Herb. I'll see’ you throug’ replied Wells, nonchalantly. “If it wasn’t the estate I’ve inherited with my sister was up till she comes of age you shouldn’t want f dollar.” : y The estate in question existed only in We imagination, and he had no sister. —— “T know“it, Gid,” responded his dupe. ‘ a good fellow. I don’t know how I sho got through the term without you. A fri need is a friend indeed.” is: CEE There was no doubt about that, for Wells v certainly in need—of money. Be “Don’t mention it, my dear fellow,” he said, a tone and manner he could assume with t effect. “Oncé I cotton to a chap I'll do in the world for him. I don’t know w. have taken to you, but since I have. you like wax.” i tS _ He certainly would as long as there thing in it for him. tea J ipa “T believe you, old man. No your wits to ork and figure,
Page 4
: oe ee might try Silas Hale again,” suggested ~ Wells. .- ; : _ “What, take a trip to Princeton on the chance of pulling his leg? It wouldn’t pay, for I don’t _ believe he’ll do any more business with me till _ I settle up those unsecure. I O Us. He as good as dunned me for the money when I got the advance ‘on that bill with my father’s indorsement.” _ At the mention of the bill in question a slight grin wreathed the mouth of Gideon Wells. “You wouldn’t have to go to Princeton to see him, Herb,” he said. ‘ “Why not? That’s where he lives, isn’t it?’ “No. His-home is in this city, up in the Bronx. He rents the Princeton house merely to accommodate patrons of his in that town and at the university, and is only to be consulted on _ financial business there twice a week or by special appointment. During the rest of the time he car- ries on his business either at his office on upper _ Broadway, or at his house evenings.” .“T suppose he has a big business.” . “He certainly has. He is well known in the Tenderloin. His head carries secrets that would make you head swim if you had any idea of them; ‘Many a theatrical angel has had to come to him raise funds necessary to keep out of court. His principal business, however, is advancing funds to _ the sons and other relatives of rich men, like yourself, for instance.” _ “YT don’t think there is any use of me calling on him again. I don’t want to be turned down,” said Herbert, lighting a fresh cigarette. “J suppose you can’t get the governor to come up with your allowance ahead of time, eh??’ ~ “No, he’s particular on that point. - I’ve tried _ it already, and it won’t work. Besides I don’t - want him to suspect that I’m getting away with -. 0 much money. He might take it into his head to follow us around some night, and if he did-the - result would not be pleasant to me. I’m afraid it might queer you, too, in his estimation. Just at _ present he has a high opinion of you, and I want him to keep it, If he should get the idea into his _ head that we were having too gay a time he ' might think because you’re older than me that _ ‘you’re leading me astray. He’d cut your visit _ short, for he never minces matters. I wouldn’t like that, for I’d feel lost without you.” _ | Gideon Wells bit his lip and did not reply. A few moments of silence ensued, during which he looked ‘hard at the decorated ceiling and seemed to be thinking. “By the way, you expect your cousin, David Darnley, homé from school this afternoon, don’t _ you?” he said, at length. : : _ “Yes, and I wish he wasn’t coming,” replied Herbert, with a dark look. - “Why so? Don’t you\two hitch?” “No, we don’t,” answered Herbert, with em- phasis. “I hate him.” ~ &Why.” — "Don’t ask me. ‘I never liked him from the day his mother died and he came here to live, and I never will.” A “Your father told me last night that Darnley ie id proposes to send him to Princeton this fall. He expects he will be company for you.” 6 he. \ ; i Ni ae DRIVEN TO WORK graduated from the academy, and that he - “Company for me!” exclaimed Herbert, with a sneer. “I guess not.” : “T judge he’s not just your style.” “T should say not.’ “Has he prospects of his own?” “No, he hasn’t. His mother, my aunt, married an artist, who was not successful. He died worth nothing but a small life insurance which my aunt used up to live on. Dave Darnley is a pauper, but it happened to be his luck to be the son of my father’s favorite sister, so it’s likely he'll get a fat slice of what ought to come to me.” “And that’s-why you don’t care for him,” said Wells, with a faint chuckle. “That’s the chief reason,” admitted Herbert, frankly, “but there are others.” “Look here, Herb,” said Wells, after another brief pause, “perhaps you can raise the needful through this cousin of yours.” “Raise it through him!” cried Herbert, with a look of surprise and disgust. “Yes, I think I see how you can do it, and at the same time take the wind out of his sails.” “What do you mean?” asked Herbert, sitting up and looking hard at his companion. “Your father has a good opini®n of Darnley, I suppose?” “Yes. That fellow has wormed himself into his good graces.” “Suppose he were to suddenly find out that your cousin was unworthy of his confidence— what would he do?” “He’d fire him out of the house so quick that it would make his head swim; and he might do the same to me if he learned that the note I gave Silas Hale bore his——” * “Never mind that,” quickly interrupted Wells, with a slight frown. . “My old man has a quick temper, things’ on the worked up.” “So much the better,” said Wells. “Now listen to me. I’ve a plan. If it works it will put, say a thousand dollars, into your pocket in a few days, — and your cousin will have to shoulder the respon- sibility.” & “What is the scheme?” asked Herbert, eagerly. “Can you get me a specimen of your cousin’s handwriting?” “Yes, I got a letter from him this morning which I chucked in that waste-paper basket. You can fish it out if it’s any good to you.” « : “One thing more. Don’t jump when I tell you. Can you get me a blank check from your fathet’s check book?” Lite Herbert gave a gasp and looked at his Mephis- tophelian friend. “I see what you are getting at,” he said. “You intend to draw a check for a thousand dol- lars——” “Two thousand—one thousand you get; five. hundred I get; two hundred say for expenses— while the balance you must put in a croner of your cousin’s dressing case as evidence to be sub- sequently used against him when the check comes to your father’s notice.” _ “Who is going to cash this check?” < “Who? David Darnley himself. It will made out to his order.” : and does spur of the moment when he gets
Page 5
7 DRIVEN TO WORK Z an Ss “He won’t carry such a check to the bank with- out knowing the reason 4 . “Leave that to me.’ “Besides, he’ll have to be identified.” “T’ll attend to that. “Y’'m afraid this is a risky game of yours, Gid,” said Herbert, doubtfully. “If it should be traced to you——” _ “Let me-do the worrying. J’ll take all the chances of that.” Herbert lighted another cigarette and looked a bit uneasy. “T’d like to do Dave Darnley up the worst way,” -he said, “but: “This is the finest chance you’ll ever have to do jt,” responded Wells. “Your father will never ; forgive him for forging his name to a check, and ’ consequently you will in due time come’ into the me whole of your governor’s property instead of los- _ ing a quarter, or a third of it, as things perhaps stand now, to your cousin.’ wal Ge thought there wasn’t much risk——” “Whatever risk there is I’ll take—for your : sake,” said the astute Gideon Wells. ‘Will you Z get me that blank check?” cs ~ “When do you*want it?” “The sooner the better.” : “Tl go down to the library now and see if I ** «¢an -get’ at the book.” é “Do so,” said Wells, tossing his cigar butt into the cuspidor. At that moment there was a ring at the hall ; door bell. The servant answered it: and Dave - Darnley entered the hall in time to greet his cou- “, sin Herbert as the latter tripped downstairs on this questionable errand. ss CHAPTER IIL—Springing the Trap. . “Hello, Herb,” said Dave, grasping his cousin’s “hand with the utmost cordiality. “Glad to see you, old fellow.” “Glad to see you, too,” replied Herbert, with a Aieeritical smile, “I’ve been expecting you all ay. “All day! Why I wrote you that I’d be home by the train due.at the Grand Central Station at four-thirty. How is uncle?” “He is well. He is out at present.” “T suppose I’ll see him before dinner.” “Very likely; but you must excuse me. ing into the library for a book.” “A book, eh? I‘never thought you were much - of a bookworm,” laughed Dave. ~ “T'm not. My friend Wells wants it.” “Is that your college chum? Your father men- tioned him in one of his letters to me.’ oe go- “Yes. He’s staying with we a while.” “Here?? “Sure. He’s a good fellow. I'll introduce you ' to him later on.” “AN right. I'll be glad to know him. By the "way, why didn’t you answer the letters I sent you to Princeton?” “VYhad too many things to do,” replied Herbert, evasively. ““You might have written once at any rate. I was | dead curious to learn how eee -Were ities introduced him to aoe on there. I suppose you were hazed tea yo first went?” “Yes,” said. Herbert, edging toward the doo of the library. “Well, I'll expect you to-tell me about every- thing by and by. Pll run up to my room now and fix up a bit.” Thus speaking Dave turned away and ioe upstairs. Herbert watched him go with a dis: agreeable look on his. face. - “T hope Gid will fix him,” he muttered. “What right has he to share in any of my father’s property? If it wasn’t that I thought he’d get into trouble I wouldn’t take any chances with this _ forged check business even to get a thousan dollars. But to do that mutt I’m willing to r a certain amount of risk.” He entered the library and remained there per haps fifteen minutes. Then he rejoined his friends upstairs in his room. “Did you get it?” asked Wells. “Yes. I took it from the back of te oak It’s about a hundred numbers ahead,” said Her- bert, handing it to him. “That won’t make any difference,” said Wells “The paying teller doesn’t give any attention to the number that’s on a check. All he’s interested in is the signature.” The speaker put the blank check-carefully in his pocketbook beside the letter writtten by Dave Darnley, which he had fished out of the waste-— paper basket while Herbert was downstairs. _ “My cousin has come,” said Herbert, Hehtias another cigarette. “Has he?” replied Wells. meet him.” : “T’ll introduce you to him before dinner.” “Shall we take him out with us tonight?” “Not on your life. I don’t want him Neg around with me. We’re going to meet Miss Bitz “I shall be glad to : aad take her over to Nector’s to supper. — pits don’t want him along.” eens “Just as you say, my dear fellow,” said Wells, Ee carelessly. ere “Here’s a couple of cigars I took out ‘of. governor’s private box. They’re prime,” and Her- — bert handed them to his, friend. “Sie “Tll smoke them later. I know what they are, for I’ve sampled them. They’re three for a dole Your father keeps the best of everything on tap. ts hi a pleasure to roost under his hospitable reo 2 Gideon Wells meant every word of that, fo h was having the time of his life just at present, and he hoped it would last. With that end in No he tried to make himself solid with Mr. D He succeeded pretty well, for he knew how to handle people. That was one of his great tal He could interest an orthodox minister one ute, and five minutes afterward be hail fellow w met with a prize-fighter. He possessed a fund information on all subjects that was apparent inexhaustible. At any rate he talked polities wi with Mr. Dent in a way that astonished the g tdi to aes wane Darnly,” %
Page 6
‘such an open and friendly way that Dave liked him at once. : Wells lost no time in worming himself into Dave’s good graces, and easily succeeded. Dave greeted his uncle in the library just before dinner - was announced, and Mr. Dent gave him a cordial welcome, for he really liked the boy, and secretely wished his son was more like him in many re- spects. After dinner everybody adjourned to the library, but Wells soon excused himself on the - ground that he had an engagement with a friend at the Princeton Club, while Herbert said he was going to call on a certain young lady. Both ex- cuses were fictitious, for Wells, who went out » first, waited for Herbert on the corner of Fifth _ Avenue and a side street, and they went off to- gether. Half an hour later they might have been % seen playing billiards in a gilded establishment devoted to that.sport and pool, in the vicinity of Broadway and Forty-second Street. Dave remain- ed with his uncle in the library, the boy enlight- ened Mr. Dent about his progress at school, and subsequently the gentleman left the house to pass a couple of hours at one of his clubs. One after- - noon, three days later, a well-dressed man step- ~ ped up to Dave as he come down the steps of the stoop in front of. his home. E . “T bee your pardon, young man, but I believe you are David Darnley, Mr. Dent’s nephew,” he said, with an engaging smile. Ves; ! sir.” “My name is Austin. 1 am treasurer of. the Calumet Club. I just came from Mr. Dent. who is going to take the three-five. limited for Al- ban: a : é a “why, I thought Mr. Dent went to Albany this _gnorning?” replied Dave in some surprise. “I -_-went with him to the Grand Central Station this morning and carried his grip as far as the gate, “where the man looked at his ticket.” “He went as far as Poughkeepsie, but had to ~ eome back,” said the man glibly. fs that so? Well, what did you want to see me about?” ee “ve got a check which your uncle made out in rour name. It’s for $2,000. He wants you to ash it for him.” © “Wants me to cash it!” cried Dave, in some tonishment. “Yes. He was unable to go to the bank him- elf. Here jis the note he told me to hand you.” “Dave took, the envelope, opened and read the following: ; r x “Dear Nephew—Please cash the enclosed check for me at my bank on Fifth Avenue, and hand ie money to Mr. Austin, the bearer. Sign your name above the words ‘I guarantee indorsement as genuine,’ preceding my signature. Yours in haste, oe Dudley Dent. Dave recognized his uncle’s handwriting and had no doubt but it was all right. < “Very well,” he said, putting the not in an _inner_pocket, “I’ll go around to the bank with you, Mr. Austin.” . A look of satisfaction shone from the man’s eyes as he spoke and they started off together: ave indorsed the check at the bank and handed t to the paying teller. h teller was cautious, despite the fact that Mr. As the amount was large DRIVEN TO WORK | 5 Dent’s signature appeared to be genuine, and his indorsement on the back as well. “Are you David Darnley?” he asked the boy. “Yes, sir. I’m Mr. Dent’s nephew.” The teller looked at the check for a moment or two and finally went to his case of signatures to make sure of Mr. Dent’s handwriting. A close comparison satisfied him that the signature was genuine, but he had no assurance that Dave really was the person he represented~himself to be.: “Here, sign your name on that piece of paper,” he said. Dave said nothing, but taking out the note wrote compared it with his indorsement. The two were practically identical. Tren he paid over the money and Dave rejoined Austin, who had carefully kept in = background, not even venturing into the ank. “T think you’d better give me a receipt for this money, Mr. Austin,” said Dave, who thought it well to be on the safe side. “Tt isn’t necessary,” replied the man. “You have Mr. Dent’s note.” Dave said nothing, but taking out the note write with hjs stylographie pen the following words under those in his uncle’s handwriting: “Received from David Darnley. $2,000, repre- senting cash received on check above referred to.” “Just sign that, please,” he said. The man hesitated, but finally wrote his name —James Austin. Dave then handed him the money, and they parted at the corner. CHAPTER IV.—A Chapter of Trouble. Dave enjoyed the first days of his long vacation one way or another, but not in company with his cousin or Gideon Wetls.. Those two, while they treated him with assumed cordiality, fought shy of his society out of doors.. That fact didn’t worry . Dave much, as he never had been on close terms of intimacy with Herbert. Each had his own set of friends, though they frequently met at the same social gathering. Dave often thought of Elsie Preston. She was a girl that one could not soon forget. At any rate Dave had lost his heart - to her, though it seemed unlikely that he would ever meet her again. Herbert and his friend were having a merry time on three-quarters of the amount realized on the check forged by Wells, who was a real Jim the Penman when it came to_ 2 imitating handwriting of any kind. The man to whom Dave had handed the $2,000, under the impression he was carrying out Mr. Dent’s instructions, was a trusted acquaintance of Wells’, and he duly turned the money over te the young collegian, and received $100 for his services, according to agreement. At the same time he informed Wells that he had been obliged to sign for the money on the note, which it was evident Darnley proposed to keep for his own protection. Under these ci~cumstances Wells. deemed it a matter of importance to get the note _ away from Dave, lest it act as a boomerang later on. This job he turned over to Herbert. That in young gentleman entered his cousin’s room in the dead of night and deftly searched his clothes. He found the note and handed it to Wells, who put it in his pocket, intending to destroy it While hang- by
Page 7
i : ing his coat in the closet of his room that night the envelope fell out of his pocket, and he un- consciously ‘kicked it into a corner, where it lay unnoticed. Mr. Dent remained several days in Albany, where the legislature was in session. He was interested in having a certain piece of legis- lation enacted. On the day succeeding his return erbert and Wells were sitting together, as was their custom, in the former’s room. “T wondér when the flare-up will happen?” Herbert said, with a wicked little laugh. “I am _ anxious to see what will happen to that cousin of mine.” “The thing is likely to come to a head today,” replied Wells. “I made the acquaintance of a ‘chap who knows the cashier of the Fifth Avenue bank, and I told him to hint to the cashier that there ~was someting wrong about that $2,000 pee That will probably lead to a communication etween the bank and your father, and then—but why anticipate?” “You're a corker, Gid. pes said Herbert. At that moment there was a knock on the door. > “Come in,” called out Herbert. ' One of the servants opened the door and said: “There is a man down in the hall who wants to see you on important business.” ~ “Who is he?’ “He didn’t give his name, sir.’ “Well, go down and find out his name and what his business is, Then tell him I’m out and to call again. I don’t fee] like walking downstairs * to see any old ar At that juncture the domestic was pushed aside and a small, shrewd-looking man of perhaps fifty - years, dressed in a business suit, elbowed his way into the room. 4 “J thought I’d save you the trouble of coming S down, by coming up myself,” said the visitor, with ‘a curious smile. Herbert stared at him in some consternation. “Mr. Hale,” he said, “to what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?” “I’m sorry for your sake, young man, that certain discoveries I have made left me no alter- native but to call on you and demand an im- mediate settlement of your obligations.” “J suppose you refer to those unsecured I O U’s of mine. If you will call in a week I will take - them up.” “J include them in my demand, but I refer par- - ticularly to your promissory note for $500, bear- ing, as you assured me, your father’s indorsement, Well, I have found out that the indorsement is a forgery.” 7 ¢ You think of every- _ Yes, a forgery,” replied the money) lender, sharply; “but very cleverly executed. Young _ gentleman, that paper places you in my ,power. ~The note is for $500, and your various 1.0 U’s amount to $300 more. If tonight before twelve ’elock you do not bring to my house in the Bronx -amount——” . “—Double!’” cried Herbert, aghast at the usurer’s denmand. “Sixteen hundred dollars!” Bi Scampi Sixteen hundred dollars. If you fail AG bed? nino ‘to asi = yo DRIVEN TO WORK - it is.” “A forgery!” exclaimed Herbert, turning pale. —your friend knows the address—double that ® g it before the hour I have stated I shall — father to~ your I O U’s, and ask him to take them Should he refuse to do so I will have you arr for securing money on an instrument. wae, { forged indorsement, You see, I’m a plain-spoken. man, and I always come to the point without unnecessary frills,” said the money lender wit cold smile. “Your demand is outrageous,” cried Herber angrily. “You have not advanced me altogethe over $650. The difference between that and = face of the notes, or $800, represents, in — :. opinion, an uncommonly good profit. Bi ee. double the full amount, to which you. have shadow of a claim, is “3 “What?” asked Silas Hale, coldly. : | “Well, it’s a swindle.” cedex: “What do you call your own nee in the te 3 a action? Imposing a promissory note on me with _ a forged indorsement which you assured me es genuine.” oa “How do you know it is forged? I deny that at “But I don’t want my father to know anything about these notes of mine.” “Don’t you?” replied the money lender, “sa castically. “Your own words convict you, yo gentleman. * If your father is not aware tha gave me that promissory note, how, t his indorsement be genuine?” abe Herbert was staggered, and knew not wha say. “We are wasting words, ‘in arguing this mai You are in my power, as L said before, and that enables me to turn the screws‘on you. Bring m $1,600 tonight before I close up at midnight 0 take the consequences.” Having said all he intended to say, Silas Hal abruptly turned around and left the room, anda minute later the house. Herbert stared after him in speechless dismay.) As for Gideon Wells, though cool and impassive, he was not a concerned himself. If this unfoitunate came to an issue on the morrow how would he I come out of it? He was the forger of the indorse- a ment, and Herbert knew it. If Herbert, driven to bay in his father’s presence, confessed the tr J Mr. Dent would certainly make matters wa the person who had imitated his signature. € ells saw before his mind’s eye a cell in’: Tombs, with the prospect of not less thai years at Sing Sing to follow. Not only that, the matter of the forged check might be br to his door. Cool and clever as Wells was rascality he could not consider the immediat ture without some misgivings. “Gid, what in thunder am I to daz 2 Herbert, i in a funk, “You can’t pay the SL 600 ¢ can vont! “Of course I can’t.” “Then we must take the bull by the. ho Way.” - “How ? 9” ~
Page 8
DRIVEN TO WORK ts 7 “That will leave us flat broke.” Dave felt in his pockets for it, but to his sur- - “Tt ean’t be helped, my dear fellow. Better be prise he failed to find it. broke than face the consequences of exposure, “Ym afraid I must have lost it, sir, which is You'll get your monthly allowance in a few days. very unfortunate if there is any question about ‘I dare say we can manage to worry along during the transaction.” he said. the interval. I’ll write to the executor of our “Lost it, eh?” said the politician. with a sneer. - _ estate and see if he will let me have a hundred “What did you do with the $2,000 you received “or two on account of what will eventually come on this check?” : to me I can’t promise that he will, for the in- “T told you that I handed it to Mr. Austin, the | -eome I believe is all taken vp by the educational treasurer ‘of the Calumet Club. You directed me and other expenses of myself and my sister; but in your letter to do so,” I'll give him a strong game of talk, and then hope M>. Dent was growing angrier every moment, for the best.” “There is no such person as Austin in the Cal- ~ Wells spoke with the frankness of a person tell- umet. Club,” he roared. . : "ing the truth, and Herbert had implicit faith in all There isn’t efaculated Dave, in some bewilder- ‘his statements. : ment. “All right,” replied Herbert, breathing easier. You presented that check and drew the money “We'll do that; but it goes against my grain to hours after I left the city for Albany. You took be fleeced in such an outrageous way.’ advantage of my abseiice to cash your forged “Ts the way Hale has of getting back at a cheek, and the wonder cf it all is: that you have erson who tries to do him.” the assurance to brazen your rascality out.” ~ “But I never intended to do him.” “Sirl’ gasped Dave. : “Of course you didn’t; but you can’t convince You're an ingrate! An ingrate, do you under- him of that.” stand? You have stung the hand that has be- = Tt was about this time that another strenuous friended and woyld have made a man of you. - seene was being enacted in the library. The par- Were you not the son of my dead sister,” his ticipants were Dave Darnley and his uncle. Dave voice faltered for an instant, but immediately had been accorded the privilege of the library, and tightened up. “T would hand you over.to the police he spent a portion of his time there, for he loved to he dealt with aczording to law. As it is the ‘to read good books. He was seated there deeply evidence of your duplicity shall remain only in my — ‘absorbed in Irving’s “Alhambra,” when Mr. Dent, since y to remind me that I once nourished a as dark as a thunder gust, entered the tools aoe serdigist to the Satis d As he spoke he tore the forged check in “Good afternoon, uncle,” said Dave, pleasantly, eee and tossed them into his waste paper “but to his surprise Mr. Dent, instead of his cus- _tomary greeting, brushed by ‘and went direetly to a ea which he opened. “Now go and pack up your things and’leave the house at once—at once, do you understand? The ~ $2,000 you have stolen from me is all you will ~ Then without sitting down he drew out his Ata Py get from me. Make the most of it. Now gon ‘pocket-book and took from it the check forged by E wash snever to-louk Oh Glee tice Meese ideon Wells. en ~ “David Darnley, come here,” he ‘said. harshly. : Une _ Dave put down the book and advanced to the esk, . wondering at the forbidding appearance of CHAPTER V.—Driven from His Home. is. uncle. Evidently there was something wrong. ‘ ; _ “Did you present that check at my bank and Dave was amazed and stunned by his uncle’s raw the money on it?” asked the politician, words. His lock of helpless bewilderment’ was. te: ee taken by Mr. Dent as evidence of his guilt, and “Yes, sir,” replied Dave, in so frank a tone and his hastily formed resolution to throw the boy without the least evidence of confusion, that Mr. out of nis heart and home was strengthened. ; Dent 1 was somewhat taken back. ; “Uncle Dudley,” began Dave at last, but Mr. “You admit it, then?” — Dent interrupted him fiercely. “Certainly, sir. Why not? You sent it to me “Don’t call me uncle any more. You. have for- ri S pwgtien instructions authorizing me to cash feited all claim upon my consideration. Leave the : fe ‘or you.” room, and the house as soon as you can.” serie up sent it to you with written instructions au- “Do you mean to say that you accuse me of is ‘< orizing you_to cash it for me?” cried his uncle. forging that $2,000 check?” ‘ “Yes, sir. Is there anything wrong? You got “T have said all I’m going to say on the subject. . money from Mr. Austin, didn’t you?” I want you to go.” : ‘Mr. Austin?” “You are laboring under a terrible error, air,” ; “Yes, sir. The treasurer of the Calumet Club. protested Dave. mt < He brought your letter, containing that check, to “Will you leave the room? I want no excuses or lies from you on the subject. They will not What ‘kind of a story are you trying to tell avail you. I am satisfied of your guilt. I want os asked Mr. Dent, angrily. nothing further to do with you.” = Fee “Why, the truth, of. course,” replied the aston- Dave drew a long breath and then his manhood — Seon boy. ‘I have your letter to prove it, and I asserted itself, to? ean for the money from Mr. Austin, “Very well,” he said calmly, “you have judged and condemned me without permitting me to say anything in my own defense. Before I leave your presence I wish to soleranly declare eee I had — le ex
Page 9
nothing to do with that check but to cash it by ~ your written orders, which, unfortunately, I am unable to produce. If the check, as you assert, is a forged one, then the note which accompanied it was forged too. It looks as if I were the victim - of a swindler.” His words made no impression.on the politician, who was fully satisfied in his own mind, that his nephew was guilty of the crime of mulcting the $2,000 by means of the forged check. Having said all he could say in his own defense, Dave turned and left the library, going upstairs to his own room, where he sat down and reflected bit- terly on his unhappy positions Having been ordered to quit the house, there was nothing for him to do but obey his uncle’s command and- go, no matter how harsh and unfairly he felt that he was being treated. What troubled him most was the thought of leaving under a cloud. He had very little money and did not know where to go. Suddenly he recalled an invitation extended to ‘him by a schoolmate who tived in the upper part of the Bronx., He decided to go there, pass the night and decide on his future *movements. He would have to go to work to support himself. \ ‘Phat was certain. His uncle had withdrawn his patronage and literally driven him out into the world to seek his own living. “Yes,” he muttered, “he has driven me to work. Well, so be it. I shall be under less compliment to him, I will make my own way in the world. { have a good education, for which I shall ever be grateful to my uncle. A college course isn’t essential to a person’s success in this wold. Many of our brightest and most successful men—men who have worked their way up to the most im- portant positions in the land—even to the pres- ~Gdency of this country—were not favored with college educations. I have health, ambition and pluck. That is capital enough with which to face the world, in connection with my general fund of - knowledge. Maybe my uncle will learn he has - been too hasty in condemning me. I hope he will, _ that my reputation may be redeemed. Otherwise I care little. I have accepted the last favor from him. Once I leave this house I shall have, cut - Joose from him forever. The wound he has in- ~ flicted can only be healed by a complete retrac- - * tion on his part of the false charge he has brought against me. That will probably never happen.” Getting up with a new and resolute light in his _ eyes, Dave proceeded to pack up all his belongings. - “While he was thus engaged the bell rang for dinner. The boy heard it with a bitter smile. tes “J shall dine tonight in a restaurant,” he solilo- -. quized, as he stuffed his treasures and other prop- erty into his trunk; “and for some time hence- _. forth, too,” he added, “but they will not be restau- ~~ yants such as I am accustomed to. Beggars can’t “be choosers. Some day, however, I may have as ‘ good a home as my uncle’s—won by my own in- ‘dustry and talents. I would give something to “Jearn who the rascal is who selected me to help him work off that forged check. He must be a ~ ¢lever scoundrel to be able to imitate my uncle’s handwriting so well. He could not have done it without having’ had an autograph letter of Mr. _ Dent’s to practice with, so it is clear that he knows - my uncle, and probably had the scheme in prepa- * f s “ a ae . DRIVEN TO’ WORK ration some time. I think I shall know the alleged. Mr. Austin again*if I ever meet him. Whether — he was the man, or an accomplice, is a question which may never be brought to light.” > sf _Dave completed the packing of his trunk and his grip. The latter he intended to take with him—the former he would send for when he had found a definite lodging. His uncle, cousin and Gideon Wells were at dinner, and the front of the ~—— house was silent when he walked downstairs. t= He was glad that he was not likely to meet any one connected with the place, for such an en- counter would prove embarrassing to him. Open- ing the hall door he stepped out on the stoop and shut it carefully behind him. Tripping down the steps he turned his face toward Forty-second street. Two minutes later he was out of sight. An hour later Herbert Dent and Gideon Wells left the house together. With $1,200 in their possession _ they were bound for the home of Silas Hale, the money lender, in the upper Bronx. They expected to have no trouble in adjusting matters with the — usurer, #53 : His nature was an implacable one when aroused, an he never forgave an injury when he, pelieved | was deliberately inflicted. He was not a miser in his love for money; but he was a miser in his thirst for retaliation. In the latter respect he was a veritable Shylock—he would have his — pound of flesh at any cost. A disagreeable sur- prise, therefore, was awaiting Herbert Dent an his scheming associate, but they had not the slightest suspicion of the fact. Unknown to either the elevated train that bore them northward to Tremont also carried Dave Darnley. Dave was in the car ahead, and did not dream that his cousin and his college mate were so near him. The presence of the three in the Bronx that night had a powerful influence on their futures, They all got out at the Tremont station, which at that time was the terminus of the elevated road, and walked down the stairs in the crowd without Herbert and Wells seeing Dave or Dave — noticing them. The three started off in the same direction, though not along the same. street. It was half-past nine when Dave reached the home of his school friend, only to learn to his disap- pointment that that young fellow had gone out ofttown that’day to spend a couple of weeks wi his grandmother in the country. “T must return the way I came and hunt up cheap hotel for the night,” said Dave, when stood once more on the sidewalk. The night w dark and lowering, and the gas lamps few a dim in that vicinity. It is not surprising, then, the boy, unfamiliar as he was with the local made a wrong turn, and walked out of his course to the station. .- 5 z He soon found himself in a block that he wa: sure he had not traversed on his way to his friend’s house. There were only a few houses on either side, and these widely scattered. All of them were dark and silent as though the occu- pants had retired to rest for the night, althou, the hour could not be called late. é ee I guess I’ve lost my-bearing,” thought D as he stopped in front of an old, annie 2 prick house, with odd corners and gables, all grown with English ivy, oe They didn’t know the old fellow, however.
Page 10
‘This house was one of the old-time buildings of the Bronx, built probably all of fifty years since, before the streets were cut through in that locality “to any great extent. : The original occupants were long since dead and buried and their bones crumbled to dust; and their heirs had moved to more settled surround- ings and disposed of the property for a tithe of what the ground was worth now, or would be worth in a few years. seh A brick garden wall, crumbling in:places, sur- ~ rounded the house, or at least seemed to as far as Dave could make out in the dark. There was great iron double gate in the centre of the front wall that looked as if itynever was used; and close to it a stout wooden door, with a bell handle in one of the posts. : As Dave stood close to this door, debating whether he should retrace his steps or go on to the next corner and turn in the direction he ‘imagined the station stood,gthe door in question was flung open and two persons, both young, darted out with headlong speed. _ Their appearance was so sudden and unexpect- ~ ed that Dave could not get out of their way in ime to avoid a collision with them. He was ‘bowled over on the sidewalk with considerable _ force, and one of the persons, the younger one, went sprawling over him. He uttered an excla- mation of terror in a tone that sounded familiar - to Dave's ears, but his companion choked him off with an imprecation, pulled him on his feet and hhalf dragged, half forced him up the street on a run. They disappeared in the darkness as Dave pulled himself together and looked after them: ~ At that moment one of the upper windows in the house was thrown up and a succession of __ wild shrieks, in a girlish tone, sounded thrillingly on the night air. | CHAPTER VI.—Shot Down. - When Herbert Dent and.Gideon Wells left the _ station they headed for the home of the money lender, the location of which Wells seemed to be acquainted with, for though the night was dark and it was next to impossible to make out the ‘numbers on the houses along their route—indeed ‘most of them did not seem to have a number, or 5 st so displayed that it could be seen—they their way along at a rapid pace, and with ign of hesitation. After making two or three arns they halted at length before the closed door in the garden wall that surrounded the old brick _ house we have already described. Wells pulled the bell, which rang out with a i clang. For some minutes all was silent and ,» and then steps were heard on the gravel coming toward the door. Tho’s there?” asked the voice of Silas Hale. ideon Wells and Herbert Dent,” responded $9 oney lender made 0 reply, but unbolted -money, Zz documents in his hands with the request that he note and I O Us,” * DRIVEN TO WORK . | 9. them into a wide, dimly lighted hallway, which, as it was uncarpeted, echoed their footfalls and the sounds reverberated through the silent house. At the foot of a wide, bare flight of stairs they saw a full-length suit of steel armor, with helmet complete, standing like a knight of old on guard. At the turn, or landing of the flight, stood a similar figure, rather rusty, with one of its mailed fists supported by a heavy sword. There was a grilled window, of small different- ‘eolored glass, at the back of this landing to fur- nish light, and above it was suspended a tarnished dragoon’s cuirass. Evidently Silas Hale was either a collector of antiques or he had taken these and other articles of a similar nature, in settlement of loans. The money lender showed his visitors into a big front room that was fur- nished in a substantial, ‘but business-like way. A roll-top desk of solid mahogany stood close te one of the windows. There was a book case hold- ing many volumes against one of the walls, and there was an old-fashioned marble top table with carved legs, in the centre of the room. Several modern chairs stood about at random, and Hale > motioned his callers to take possession of two near the desk. Hale pulled open the door of his strong safe and took therefrom.an envelope. Seating himself he pulled out of it a number of papers, pinned together, and laid them on the desk. “Now to business,” he said, “You have brought ‘the money, of course,” and he held out his hand — toward Herbert, who sat nearest him. / “J have brought all I could scrape together— $1,200—I presume that will satisfy you for the present. The balance I will pay later. You can give me the indorsed note, and as many of the’ unsecured I O Us as you are willing to give up,” replied Herbert, taking a roll of bills from his — pocket, The usurer smiled grimly. - “YT think I told you.that I expected you to bring the full sum before midnight or something un- pleasant would happen tomorrow,” he said coldly and deliberately. } “I know you did,” replied Herbert, somewhat taken aback, “but as $1,200 is more than I actu- ally owe you, in fact, almost twice as much as I ever received from you, I thought——” “It is evident that you don’t knéw me, young man,” interrupted the money lender. “Your friend, Gideon Wells, ought to have made your position clear to you as he——but that is neither here nor there. Go back and get the balance. I will give you till eight in the morning to find the other $400.” “Tsn’t $1,200 enough for the present?” faltered Herbert. ; “No, it isn’t,” replied Silas Hale, in.a decisive — tone, ~~ 4 Herbert looked helplessly at the usurer. “T think you ought to be satisfied with that,” he blurted. “Young man, I do my own thinking. I'll give ar you till eight in the morning. If by that hour _ you, or he representative, are not here with the shall call on your father and place these settle them for you.” ; ; “Tf you do that you will lose by it. You wi only get the actual amount represented by the — said Herbert, in a shaky = Fine’)
Page 11
16 ; ‘DRIVEN TO WORK “And what will you get afterward, young man? And what will happen to the obliging individual “who forged your father’s signature on the back of the ninety-day note? I mention no names, but I fancy I know who he is,” and the money lender chuckled in a cold-blooded way. At those words Gideon Wells gave a slight start, and his eyes narrowed in a way that would have told the usurer, had he known him intimately, that he was in a dangerous mood. “Tt is impossible for me to raise the other $400 within so short a time.” replied Herbert, des- perately. . “Very well; that settles it, and we need say no more on the subject,” said Silas Hale, returning the papers to the envelope and getting up to place _ the latter back in the safe. _ "Then it was that Wells, who had taken no part in the discussion so far, got up and laid his hand ‘on the money lendei’s arm. “Mr, Hale,” he said in a tense voice, “we came ~ here to get that promissory note in particular, and ‘we must have it. You are offered $1,200. Keep the I O Us as security for the $400 you demand and let us have the note in question.” '. “You seem to be interested in that note, Mr. Wells,” replied Hale, dryly. - oF am.’’ “On account of the forged indorsement, I sup- pose,” with a chuckle. “No matter about the reason. That note I— - we must have now.’ “You can have it if you produce the $1,600.” “We will have it for the $1,200—understand?” ' “You threaten me?” cried the usurer, reaching for the safe and flashing out a revolver. “Take your hands off me.’ 33 : Wells looked inte, the muzzle of the weapon and “never turned a hair. A cooler chap never stood in shoe leather, and _ his nerve disconcerted the old man. “Well, why don’t you shoot?” asked Wells, calm- ly. “Is it because you failed to have it ready ; cocked this time?” “The usurer, taken off his guard, removed his eyes from the young man’s face and glanced at ' his weapon which he held with bent arm within two inches of Wells’ heart. . That move was fatal to him. The revolver was cocked, as he always kept it Era for business, but Wells had hazarded a trick and it went. * Sent it away intending to disarm the old man. _. He bent it a little too far, and the sharpness of the action caused Hale’s finger to press on the trigger. There was a flash, a whip-like report, and the money lender, with a cry, wheeled convulsively ~ and les like a log on the carpeted floor before the safe. There he lay perfectly still while his face as- - sumed in a moment a ghastly look. - Herbert sprang to his feet with a cry of dis- _ may, and gazed with staring eyes at the corpse. _ “My heavens! I’ve killed him!” exclaimed Wells, Splingt: at the unintentional tragedy. ‘The ee had been cree or the oe * ~ above. e a flash he seized the usurer’s arm Sud ~ was” It was now suddenly illuminated from ¢ a trap Wells gazed up in a startled way and saw a terrified face—the face of a young and beautiful girl—framed in the lighted opening. Before he could make a move the girl seemed to realize the situation below, and uttered a ter- rible ery. “My uncle! oh, my uncle! You have killed him, villains! Help, help, help!” Her screams awoke Wells to the exigency of the moment. He had the nerve, however, to reach for the envelope clutched in the hand of the old dead = man. 2 It contained the paper that meant so witich to im. He tore it away, but in his hdste failed to notice that one. eee remained in the old man’s fingers. As he rose with the torn envelope in his gras the corpse seemed t@®glare at him with a trium phant, sarcastic expression. The young man’s blood ran cold and he shud. dered involuntarily. He rushed over to the terrified Herbert. “Come,” he said, almost fiercely, “we must get out of here at once. Should we be caught on the : premises it would be fatal to us both. Come—_ 22 get_a move on you.” 7 He dragged the boy to the door, down: “the stairs, and out into the night air, while the screams of the girl rang in both their ears. : CHAPTER VII.—Two Young Hawi “My gracious!” exclaimed Dave. “Somet, is wrong!” =f The door in the wall had not been cieaen b Wells and Herbert when they rushed out, ani Dave looked inside and up at the window whe) the girl was screaming. if Then he made his way inside and shouted ois ty ““What’s the trouble, miss?” “Oh, come -in the house, please do. ‘My _unel has been shot by two men, and I fear he is dead “Your uncle shot by two men!” he cried mu startled. “Those chaps who knocked me over i their haste to get away must be the ones w it,” he thought. “I’ll come right in, miss, added to the girl. : With his grip in his hand he walked up to the front door, but found it fast. “T can’t get in here. I must try the back doo: he said. ie On his way around the house he saw the sid door standing open. 5 “T can get in here all right,” and he ent re the house. He made his way into the hal was surprised to see the effigy in armor foot of the stairs. Passing it he sprang up the flight, and w met by the girl, holding a lamp above her h evidently waiting for him. acs She was attired in a loose pink wrap fitted her well.’ Her hair was discordered and her ey streaming with tears, while the rise a her bossom showed how excited and agit
Page 12
DRIVEN One glance at her lovely face and Dave recog- Se nized her as Elise Preston, the girl he had saved from being run over by the cab on Forty-second Street. _. “Miss Preston!” he exclaimed, in a tone of _ great surprise. ; At the mention of her name she bent an ~ earnest look on his face, and then she knew him. “Mr. Darnley!” she cried, a look of pleasure momentarily leaping into her eyes. “Yes. I am sorry to find you in trouble. Where is your uncle?” ~ “In that room,” she said, pointing with a which came a dim light. “Y will go in first. It would be a bad shock ‘for you to see him if he is dead.” _ “My poor uncle!” sobbed the girl. “I will go _ with you. I could not go alone. I—I must know the worst.” _ She looked appealingly into Dave’s face. “Tet me take the lamp,” he said, droppin his grip on a settee outside the door which ha been placed there for visitors. i Then together they entered the room where the tragedy had happened. : ‘There in front of the safe lay Silas Hale, just as he had fallen. - =i needed but a glance to convince both Dave ' and the girl that he was dead. With a cry of intense grief Elise fell on her - knees beside him. : “Oh, Uncle Silas! Uncle Silas! what shall I _ ‘do without you?” she sobbed. _ Dave was much affected by her sorrow, as well as by the presence of death. “Try to be calm, Miss. Preston,’ he said, kneeling beside her and trying his best.to com- _. fort her. “I feel dead sorry for you.” e “He was all I had in the world, and I was all _ he had.” “Did you live here alone with him?” “We have a housekeeper, but she went away _ this afternoon to visit a sick sister in Brooklyn.” __ “There is no one else beside ourselves in the _ house, then?” “No one, but my poor dead uncle,” and she broke out weeping afresh. | _. “Did you see the persons who were in this room when your uncle was killed?” © : _ “Yes, yes. I was in the room above when I v which my: uncle sometimes used for reasons of his OW I rushed to it; threw it open and looked wn.” : “You would know the persons again if you ever [si ippose?” “l ne sure it was the young at ene eer oy of about your and another in’ one of the drawers of his desk. TO WORK heard the shot. There is a trap-door in the ceiling | the risk of my life, if that-is necessary.” _ 41 “There is a telephone in that corner. Look up * some noice station in the Bronx and send in word that my uncle has been murdered.” Dave took a paper out of the stiffening hand of the dead man. ; He did not attempt to examine it, but laid it on the usurer’s desk as he passed. Five minutes later he was in communication with the police. : “We had better leave the room and everythin as it is,’ he said on returning to Elise. “The police may be able to find some clue to the young chaps who are implicated in this crime. I forgot to tell you that they ran into me at the gate and knocked me down in their hurry to get away. san I got up I heard you scream from the win- ow.’ He led the girl from the room of death and they seated themselves on the settee outside, to wait for the coming of the police. ‘He led the talk away from their gruesome. surroundings, back to the moment when he saw her. first, and told her he had often thought of her, and wondered if he would ever see her again. “T never dreamed, though, under what circum- stances we would come together again,” he said, Elise admitted that she had often thought of him, too, and that her surprise was great when she recognized him as the one who had entered the house in reply to her cries for help. - Then Dave told her how it happened he was up in that part of the Bronx that night, In fact, he told her all about the unfortunate predicament he was in. “TJ am innocent as a baby of the charge my _ uncle brought against me,” he said “It is most unfortunate that I should have lost that note ’ which I believed came from him. By acting on the request it contained I put myself in the false position I am now in. My uncle is always un-~ | reasonable or implacable when he is intensely angry. He really believes I am guilty, and itis a question whether circumstances will ever arise to convince him to the contrary. Now you see the fix I’m in.” Elise expressed the deepest sympathy for Dave in his own trouble, and said she hoped it would come out all right in the end. : Then she referred to her own friendless position and broken out crying afresh. , “You shall never want a friend as long as I live, Miss Preston,” he said, earnestly. “May we | not be a friend to each other? I have nobody now since my uncle has gone back on me. As you are in the same plight, why will you not be a sister ¢€ me, and let me surround you with a brother’s rotection?” : : Se He took her hands in his as he spoke. ets “You are so good to make such an offer, Mr. Darnley,” she said, looking gratefully at him. _ “Shall I ever forget that you saved my life? I shall-be glad to have your friendship and protec- tion if you really wish to extend it to me, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.” Ps “Then det it be as I have. suggested, Elise— you will let me call you that now. And you must. call me Dave. I swear to be a brother to you from this moment, and I will protect you, even at
Page 13
as Fee DRIVEN TO: WORK é CHAPTER VIlI.— The Detective Finds a Clue. Dave end Elise were brought back to the realization of their surroundings by a sharp ring (at the front doorbell. They went to the door together. Outside stood three policemen and a detec- tive in’ plain clothes. Elise explained that they were the only ones in the house. “TI am Elise Preston, Mr. Hale’s niece.. I have lived with him for several years. This -young ‘man is David Darnley, who came here in answer to my screams at the time of the murder, and he has remained with me since.” “Where do you live, young man?” ~ Dave knew it would look suspicious for him to say that he had no address at present, so he gave the number of his uncle’s house. “T am Mr. Dudley Dent’s nephew,” he said. “The politician?” asked the officer. ae ese? That answer established the boy on a res- ‘pectable basis, for Mr. Dent was a well-known public man, and a power in the political world. Still the detective wanted to know what had brought Dave up into the Bronx. "JT came up-to visit a schoolmate named Dick Smith, who lives at No. —— Blank Street. I brought my grip for I expected to stay with him tonight. I was much disappointed to find that he home just gone out of town. In trying to find my back to the elevated station I got mixed up and wandered into this street just at the time 5 when Miss Preston’s cries attracted my atten- His explanation was considered satisfactory. “Where was the crime committed?” the detec- tive next asked. ‘ "Jn the large front room on the floor above. We will take you there,” said the boy. “Was the man dead when you saw him?” Pe “He was.’ ? ~ | You didn’t touch dy thane, I hope?” | = “T removed a paper from his fingers and placed it on his desk, that was all.” “You shouldn’t have done that. You might have destroyed an important clue. However, as long as the paper is on his desk where I can get it there is probably no harm done.” ‘oa The party then started upstairs. a “Ha!” exclaimed the sleuth, viewing the body. “He has a revolver in his hand. About to protect _ himself when he was shot.” With some difficulty he got the weapon out si _ the dead man’s hand. “One of the chambers has been discharged,” i “remarked, examining the revolver. “Where were _ you when the tragedy occurred?” he said, turning to Elise. -' “In the room above.” . “How many shots did you hear?” . “One. ” : - “Are you sure?” i “T am,” replied the girl, positively. - “How do you know this is murder? Your uncle ‘may have killed himself.’ “He would not do such a thing,” she cried, estly. eae was a young man and a : boy ‘portant discovery. * my cousin—the son of Dudley Dent, my uncle, of perhaps nineteen in the room with him. The E 2 moment I heard the shot I was alarmed. I jumped — up, opened the trap-door in the ceiling and looked ~ own.’ “A trap-door in the ceiling, eh?” ejaculated the detective, looking up and noting the opening zs which Hlise had not closed. “What purpose was oe it used for?” “My uncle had it made in order to look down into the room at times. “For what purpose?” i “We had his reasons, which he never confided Oo me.” “Go on—tell me what you saw.” Elise told him in a few words. : “You would be able to identify these two per- sons if they were\lined up before you in OSD with others, would you?” “JT would.” “Good. Describe them.” She did so as well as she could fcineieens There was nothing in her description that would not fit almost any well-dressed young man and boy between eighteen and twenty-five years of age. The detective realized that he must have a more definite clue in order to make an arrest. He walked over to the desk and picked up a torn and rumpled paper that lay upon it. “Ts this the paper you took from the dead man fingers?” he asked Dave. “Yes, sir,” replied the boy. The sleuth examined it. He saw it was a- issory note for $500 signed by Herbert Deni Turning it over he saw it was indorsed by Dudley Dent. This was evidently an interesting and im- Se 4 “Young man,” he said, turning to Dave, q, you know a person named Herbert Dent?” < . “Why, yes,” replied Dave, in surprise. “He is “How old is he?” “Nineteen.” “Was he home when you left the house to- night?” = He was. Why do you ask?” asked Dave: wit curious interest. “Nothing in particular,” replied the sleuth, put- ting the paper in his pocket. “Does he go ow much nights?” “Every night, I believe—so do I.” “With him?” asked the officer, quickly. “No, we are not very chummy.” ; “No? Don’t pull, eh? By the way, thes any particular friend—one he goes with often? “T don’t keep track. of his friends. Just at présent he has a college chum—a fine chap, about twenty-two—stopping at the house.” “Ah! Twenty-two, eh? What's his name?” at “Gideon Wells.” fits “What does he look like?” S Dave described Wells pretty accurately, dna description tallied well with Elise’s. The Getecti ies noted the fact, and it strengthened a “suspic c he had formed since he examined the pronddeor note. ‘Never noticed, I Sunn: what time yo De cousin and Wells come in nights?” — “I believe they don’t come in till ate. rate they were never in when I went but then T haven’t heen in the habit OE out late. ve iz
Page 14
- Jt was about midnight now and Dave suggested to Elise the advisability of going to bed. “The police are in full charge of» the: house, ‘and nothing can be done about your uncle’s body until after the coroner has viewed it and issued and lock yourself in. I believe you sleep on the top floor.” _- *Yes. And you, won’t you go to bed,> too? There is a spare bedroom across the corridor from ' my room. You can use it just as well as not. I - would feel] more at ease if I knew you were in the house and close by,” said Elise. 4 “Anything you say goes with me, Elise,” re- =: plied Dave. “I promised ‘to stand by you, and I will.’ _ “Thank you—you are so good,” she replied with a smile. 3 The detective had gone away, leaving a police- ‘man on guard in the grounds and another in the house. Dave, after telling the inside officer that he intended to remain there for the night, ac- ‘companied Elise to the top floor and took posses- ‘sion of the room she pointed out t him. He slept like a top, and awoke to find the morning sun- shine streaming in at his window. He got up, went downstairs and found the coroner had ar- ‘rived and was viewing the corpse. Later on Elise -eame down and prepared breakfast. The two officers were invited to partake of it, and they ~ accepted the invitation one at a time. As Dave had nothing special on hand he was in no hurry to leave, and the girl was delighted to have him stay with her. An undertaker was telephoned for and he sent - an assistant to embalm the body of the money - Jender ‘and measure him for a suitable casket. Soon after lunch the housekeeper showed up, and was paralyzed to learn that Mr. Hale had been killed during her brief absence. Dave, at Elise’s earnest request, decided to re- Main at the house until after the funeral, and he treated her in such a gentle and tender way, and did everything to comfort her, that her heart went right out to him. The old man had provided himself with a plot in Woodlawn cemetery against the time when death was bound to claim him, though he did not pect to die for many years, and so he was es and laid to rest, with his niece as chief mourner. : Es _ After their return from the funeral Dave asked the girl whether she knew if her uncle had made ‘a will or not, and she said he had, and pointed out the place in the safe where he kept it with a letter of instructions to be followed in the event of his death. : They read the will together and it was found ‘that, with the exception of a few small bequests _ to certain public institutions in which appeared the late money lender had taken an unsuspected interest, all his property was left without reserve to his niece, his confidential attorney being named is executor and the girl’s guardian till she came rage Th e letter of instructions was addressed jointly to the lawyer and Elise, and therefore ley did not open_it. : _ Blise expresse tleman had not already called at the house. 4 a pes tok ae permit for burial,” he said. “Go to your room - read the letter of instructions to Elise an some surprise that the legal ave been at the funeral, for he | DRIVEN TO WORK 3 18 was a warm friend of my uncle’s. I wish you . would telephone him, Dave, and let him know what has happened, though surely he ought to have learned the particulars from the papers,” she said, : As Dave started for the telephone there was ring at the gate bell which was answered by ‘the housekeeper, who presently ushered the lawyer into the room. “My dear young lady,” said the lawyer, whose name was Davenport, “allow me to sympathize with you in your bereavement, and also to ex- press my regret at my inability to be present at the funeral of my late esteemed friend, Silas Hale. Business of importance took me to Bos- ton a few days ago, and it was only this morn- ing that I saw the account of this unfortunate tragedy in a New York paper. I immediatel made hasty arrangements to come on, and too the first train I could connect with. I reached the Grand Central Station about an hour ago, and — came right here.” After this explanation he took charge of things at the house. Elise introduced Dave, and told the lawyer that. he was a good friend of hers, who had been with her since the moment of her uncle’s murder. The lawyer, after putting the will in his peti oun that Mr. Hale directed that his money lending business be wound up with all reasonable dis- patch, He gave clear information, in connection with his books, which would enable the executor to carry out his wishes without any special trouble. The lawyer locked the safe, after handing the girl a sum of money more than sufficient to cover immediate expenses, shut the desk and handled the key of the room to Elise, telling her to keep it locked. Been He said he would be obliged to return to Bos- ton by a late train, but she might expect to see — him in a few days. Then he went away. =? . “And now I’d better get a move on, too,” said Dave. , aa “Why? Won’t you stay with me a whil : longer?” Elsie asked wistfully. iS : “I'd be glad to, but it is time I was up and. doing. I’m out on the world now and must make my own living,” replied Dave. ey “But you can stay here with me as long as you care to,” she replied. ‘“I’d love to have your com-. If you go away I shall be awfully lone~ *& “Then you really think a lot of me, Elise?? he said, tenderly. jet “You know I do. I have now.” : = “You forget Mr. Davenport, who will soon be your guardian.” ; “No, I don’t; but he isn’t. just like you. You said you would be my brother.” +e “So I will, dear. And you will be my own sweet‘ = You’re the only real friend sister, won’t you?” “Yes,” she replied softly. - Ps That emboldened Dave to draw her blushing face to his and imprint several kisses on her lips, “I've been driven to work, dear, and I’m age
Page 15
i : DRIVEN TO WORK going to shrink from it,” he aeKt resolutely. “I want you to feel proud of me, and I am sure you couldn’t if I took advantage of your attachment for me to loaf around here and live at the ex- pense of the estate. At present we are as brother and sister, but I mean to have you for my wife some day if you are willing. To be worthy of you Ill have to win a fortune that will in some way compare with your legacy. At present I’m worth nothing. I’m hardly worth the value of a ‘shoe string. Therefore, if I win a fortune ulti- mately I’ll be a living example of that old saying: ‘A fortune from a shoe string.’” But it will take you a long time to mane a _ fortune,” she said. “How long are you willing to wait for me?” z “As long as I live,” she replied, impulsively. “That's a long time,” he smiled. “Then you will be my wife some day?” “Yes, dear Dave, Ye you will have me,” she re- plied, nestling close to him. CHAPTER IX.—In the Shadow of the Law. When Herbert Dent and Gideon Wells fled from the brick house in the Bronx after the tragedy they made their way to the elevated station as fast as they could go. Herbert was so staggered ‘by the shooting of the money lender, although he had taken no part in it, that he was quite dazed, and Wells had to force him along to make him keep up. “Brace up, can’t you?” cried the young man, angrily. ea “Heaven! we’re in a terrible scrape,” fluttered Herbert. “Nonsense! No one will ever know that we had - a hand in the old man’s death.” “Don’t bring me into it. I had no hand in it. You shot him.” _ “He shot himself. It was a pure accident. In turning his arm away so that he wouldn’t shoot -me the weapon went off,-for Hale’s finger was. on the trigger and the ball went through-his own . heart.” “Nobody will believe that. They'll say you ’ shot him, and I’ll be in trouble because I was resent. Heaven! what will my father say when » ~ he hears of it?” © He won't hear about. it. will suspect us.’ 2 “Why won ’t they? _ the trap. be “That won’t make any difference. We can go out of town for a few weeks an a jaunt among the seashore resorts. We can stay till it’s time for us to get back to Princeton. In this way we'll -; never be identified with the occurrence.’ _ . “What will we go on?” : “The twelve hundred, of course. _ that. on account. Had he done so he’d be-alive yet. The trouble with him was he wanted to revenge himself on you because of the forged indorse- ment.” “The police will find that note and my I O Us in tend and then they’ll suspect that we were We'll be” arrested in the morning, sure,” roared Herbert. I tell you nobody That girl saw us through We've got The old man was a fool not to accept it: the a and I dare sa, \ “No, we won’t be arrested. I snatched the, papers out of his hand, minus the envelope, which amounts to nothing. I knew the danger of leaving them behind us to give the detective aclue.”? “Dia. you get them all?” ; “Every one. Now you won’t have to pay: any of them, so you’re that much ahead.” That reflection did more to brace Herbert up than anything else. The I O Us, and partivaiad the promissory note, had been a nightmare tohim, and the idea of being obliged to pay $1,600 for . them had almost broken his heart. Now, according to his companion’s statement, * the truth of which he did not doubt, he was clever _ of the whole business, and he and Wells could use the $1,200 to have a good time with. satel To encourge his companion by. proving to him’ that he had nothing more to fear from the various — promises to pay, Wells stopped under a gas lamp — near the station. “Y’ll show them to you,” he said, “and then we'll destroy them when we get to your house.’ He hauled the bunch of papers out of his pocket. “There’s one of your I O Us for fifty dollars,” — he said. ‘“There’s another for a hundred, and — there’s a third for another hundred.” : “Where’s the promissory note?” asked Herbert, i when the last of the I O Us had been fo eae for. ‘“That’s the most important of all.” ; ae “In my pocket, ” said Wells, searching for fe “er “But it wasn’t, as the reader’ knows. oye: oe went through all his pockets but without result “You haven’t got it,” said Herbert. “You got all but that, and that paper will put the pelts, on our tr ack.” Wells knitted his brow and reflected. i Cre may have dropped out of my pocket along : the route,” he said. “How could it? I am sure you missed that ones and the police will find it.” “Well, it can’t be helped,” replied the young man, coolly. “It will only be a bit of circum- ~ stantial evidence against us at the worst. Noone saw the old man shot. It can be easily shown , that the revolver was his own, and. it will be found clutched in his hand. If we should be ar- rested for this thing we must swear -that:he com- mitted suicide. Who can say that he didn’t?” _ “Tt won’t look reasonable.” “Reasonable or not we will swear it is has actually happened. I will make out a story that we're to stick to in case we are brought to book, — and you must corroborate me, Understand?” i “Ves.” ? “You ought to know. it was an accident any way. You were looking on.’ “Why can’t we tell the truth and say it was an accident?” : “Because we should be held pending a long in- vestigation, probably without bail, and there’s - no reason why we should change that when the sui- cide scheme strikes me as being simpler.” __ “Well, have it your own way. You're ‘olde than I, and I guess you can manage ye & SO: 1 how. I’ll swear to any.story you tell.” ; “That’s right. On the whole I think i be well for us to get out of town till plows over. We can ‘have a good time
Page 16
DRIVEN go further. The Tenderloin is a bit too strenuous for our ressources. We’ve parted with $100 in a night there. We must go a bit slower.” “T’m willing to go anywhere you Say.” : “You can tell your governor first thing in the morning that I’ve received word to go home and - that I’ve invited you to go with me. Then you can ask him for a few dollars for general ex- penses. He’ll cough that up. without question. Then we'll take an early train for—well, we'll decide on that later.” _ Having settled the matter for the time being they took a train to Manhattan, and an hour later were in the house. Neither slept much that night, for there was no telling but that a detective _ might pay them a visit at any moment. Nothing like that happened, however, up to breakfast time, when they met Mr. Dent at the table. He looked hard at his son, and remarked that he was keeping ~— Jate hours. Herbert admitted it, and then said that he had decided to get out of town and take a rest if his father was willing. -“Gid fou..d a telegram at the Provinceton Club last night telling him to come home right away to sign some legal papers connected with the estate. He has invited me to go with him and spend the rest of my vacation at his place. May 79. “J have no objection,” replied the politician, “if ‘Mr. Wells would like to have your company.” : _ “I should enjoy it very much indeed, sir,” spoke up Wells, suavely.. “Very well. You may go, Herbert. Come into the library and I will give you some money for your expenses, and also your next allowance, which will be due in a few days.” : A look of satisfaction shone in Herbert’s eyes as he followed his father out of the dining-room. ‘His father handed him $200, and he joined Wells upstairs at once. Both had taken time by the “foreclock and packed their grips ready to start. ~ In a few minutes they came downstairs pre- pared to leave. - “Going already?” exclaimed Mr. Dent in sur- Spriseve ; as ' “Yes, sir. Gid wants to take an early train, replied Herbert. “By the way, I forgot to ask you where you ive, Mr. Wells,” said the politician. “Our place is known as Great Oak Manor. It’s ‘on the eastern shore of Maryland, about thirty miles from Baltimore, across the Chesapeake,” replied Wells, glibly. _ Mr. Dent made a note of it and put the memo- _vandum in his desk for future reference. Then “he wished his son and the visitor good-by, ex- essing the pleasure he had enjoyed of making ells’ acquaintance: hoped he would see him ain, and told Herbert to write to him soon. pea promised that he would, and then he and Wells hurried from the house. They bent their steps to the Grand Central Station, where they intended to take the 10:10 limited for Boston, en * route for Bar Harbor, down in Maine. About = the time they passed through the gate at the sta- tion a sharp-featured man ran up the steps of the Jent mansion on Madison Avenue and rang the - TO WORK 15 ‘Ts Herbert Dent in?” he inquired of the ser- vant who answered the ring. “No, sir. He and his college friend, who has been stopping here with him since their vacation began, left about an hour ago for some place out of town.” : 5; The caller looked annoyed and disappointed. “Gone out of town, eh?” he said. “Rather sud- den, isn’t it?” “Yes, sir,” replied the servant. Sh dopa give me any idea of where they went, eh?” “No, sir, but I guess Mr. Dent could tell you.” - “Is he in?” : “No, sir. He went out fifteen minutes ago.” “Know where I could find him?” “No, sir. I haven’t any idea where he went. You might find him at the Fifth Avenue Hotel.” At the time of which I wrote the Fifth Ave- nue Hotel was the stamping ground for all the big politicians. It has since been pulled down and a business edifice erected on its site. The caller thought it. likely that Mr. Dent would be there and he started for Madison Square. : “Their sudden departure from the city confirms my suspicions,” muttered the man, who was the sleuth who had called at the red brick house in the Bronx the night before with the policeman, in answer to Dave Darnley’s telephone call; “and I am now sure of the identity of the two young fel-« lows who were present when Hale was shot dead. One of them evidently did the deed, and cireum- stances indicate that it was young Dent, for he is the chap who was largely in the usurer’s debt. These fast young sparks prove dangerous cus- tomers sometimes when driven into a corner. Evie dently Hale wanted his money, and “probably threatened trouble if he didn’t get it, and young Dent, being unable to pay, shot the money Jender with his own weapon in a moment of desperation. Doubtless, in order to hide his guilt, he placed — the weapon in the eld man’s fingers, to give the. deed the color of suicide. That dodge has been tried before more than once. I’m thinking this is going to be a great shock to Dudley Dent. It will take more of a political pull than he has to save his son from the consequences of his rash- ’ ness.” The detective got off the car at Broadway and Twenty-third Street and crossed over to the hotel. To his satisfaction he found Mr. Dent in the ~ “Amen Corner” conversing with the political boss of his party. Excusing himself for the interrup- a tion he said he had heard that his son had just left town. Cae5) “T wish to communicate with him on a matter — of importance,” continued the sleuth, suavely, — without revealing his identity or calling. “Can you tell me where a letter will reach him?” “I can,” replied the politician. “He is going to spend the rest of the summer with his college: friend, Gideon Wells, at that young man’s home on the eastern shore of Maryland, about thirty miles from Baltimore across the Chesapeake Bay. The place is called Great Oak Manor, and I be-- lieve the post-office address is Fairlee.”’ ne “Thank you, Mr. Dent. You have placed me under great obligations. Good-day,” and the de- ‘tective hurried from the hotel. He made his way
Page 17
46 to a nearby railroad office, and inquired what “route a person would be likely to take to reach the eastern shore of Maryland by all-rail. “There are several,” replied the agent, “of which our line is one. You would have to change at Wilmington and subsequently at either Town- send cr Clayton. What part of the eastern shore do you want to reach?” , : The sleuth said he, wanted to get to the neigh- -borhood of a place called Fairlee. The agent jooked, the place up. “You would have to go to Chestertown unless you could get somebody to meet you at Worton Station, three miles this side of the end of the route. You.would make your change at Town- send,” said the agent. 5 After inquiring the price of a ticket to Chester- town the detective left and made his way to police headquarters. An hour later he boarded an ex- press on the Pennsylvania road en route for Wil- mington, quite unconscious that he was following an unprofitable scent. CHAPTER X.—Dave Goes on the Road. - Dave Darnley, having made up his mind to go to work without delay, proceeded to carry his pur- ose out. Elise wanted to lend him $50 to help as along, but he refused to accept it. “Tye got funds enough, I guess, to see me through,” he said. “If I should run short I'll let _ you know.” “You'll call and see me often, won’t you?” she said. 4% I catch on in Manhattan I will; but I saw an advertisement in this morning’s paper that I thought of answering in person. A book publish- ‘mg concern in Broadway wants a well-educated young fellow to travel in the New England States, on a salary, and I think such.a job would just suit me,” said’ Dave. - “But I wouldn’t see you then for some time,” said Elise with a pout. 4 the boy. “Don’t do that again or I’ll kiss you,” laughed “We could write to each other often, couldn’t we?” | “Of course; but that isn’t as satisfactory as see- ing each other.” _“That’s true; but a fellow has to. sacrifice his inclinations when necessity rules the roost. When I return from the trip our meetings will be all the sweeter. I mustn’t count my chickens before they’re hatched, though. I haven’t got the job ‘yet, and I’m afraid the chances are I won’t get _ at, for I dare say there will be a bunch after it.” It occurred to him that th® firm would require _ references, and he wondered who he could refer to. Elise suggested her ‘prospective guardian, the lawyer. “But he’s in Boston,’ said Dave. You can give his name, anyway.” Dave decided that he would, and soon after- ward, leaving his grip at the house, for he in- tended to return, he started for Manhattan. ‘He found a room full of applicants for the job _ at the publishing house, but nothing daunted, he sat down-to wait his turn for an interview. In the course of half an hour he entered the ‘ DRIVEN TO WORK manager’s office. He answered all questions frankly, put up_a good game of talk, and sub- — mitted Lawyer Davenport as his reference. It happened that the manager was personally ac- — quainted with the legal gentleman, and so Daye’s chances rose. y sao a “Living with your parents?” asked the man- — ager, at length. © a “No, sir. They are dead. I have been living — with my uncle, Dudley Dent——” Tees “You mean the Hon. Dudley Dent?” — ee “Yes, sir. I am stopping now up in the Bronx — with a friend,” . “How long since you left school?” : “J graduated about three weeks ago from the © Blankville Academy, and was selected to deliver — the valedictory address.” ee ete “Indeed,” said the manager. “Welly that is all, — I think you may expect to hear from me in a day _ or two. Give me your address, please.” = eee Dave did so,’ and the interview terminated.* After leaving the publishing house Dave went up-— town and called on several of his friends. . said nothing about his having been driven from his uncle’s home, and so they got no inkling of — his change of fortune. Late in the afternoon he — returned to the red house and spent the evening — with Elise, telling her that he had had a very — satisfactory interview with the manager of the ~ publishing house, but could not say whether he would get the job or not. On the morning of the second day thereafter a letter was delivered by the postman addressed to him. It bore the im- — print of the publishing company. In a few brief — lines he was requested to call at once. : Jee “Looks as if I had caught.on,” he said to Elise, — showing her the communication. Pipa wore te He put on his hat and took the'train downtown. — Reaching the publishing house he was shown inte the manager’s office. at ee “We have decided to give you a trial, Mr. = tone of es Dave was then turned over to Mr. Dunne, an that gentleman took him in hand. It took several days to break him into the business, and then he was told that he was to start out on Monday morning for Springfield, Mass. _ aie erin Monday morning came, and after a ten parting from Elise, who cried quite a bit at lo him, he left the house, grip in hand. Ne His trunk, which he had sent for several days — before, he left in’ the girl’s care, and three hours _ later he was aboard a train pulling out of the Grand Central Station. In due time he reached — Springfield, and began his career as a canyasser of high-class subscription books. We will not fol- low him through the early stage of his new fi of action. He soon found that the business w not a path of roses, but hard work. Howey did not get discouraged when he got his b He had been driven to work and he determine face the music like a man. He had his | hard luck as well as his fortunate ones, an
Page 18
s ‘DRIVEN - the long run the balance was greatly in his favor. ‘At any rate his efforts were considered on the ‘whole satisfactory to his employers, and the let- ters he received from Mr. Dunne encouraged him to keep on trying to do a little better each week. After visiting the larger places of central and ‘eastern Massachusetts he was directed to proceed _ to the big towns in Maine. By that time he had been away from New York two months, and sum- mer was practically over. Several things had happened in the meanwhile which would have interested him greatly had they come to his knowl- edge. The day that Dave started out on the road to learn the meaning of the world, a servant, while cleaning out the closet of the room that had “been occupied by Gideon Wells at the Dent man- sion, discovered on the floor an opened letter ad- dressed to “David Darnley.” She took the letter to Mr. Dent, who happened *%o be in his library at the time. He took out the enclosure and read it. The text-of the note astonished him beyond measure, for it was the -eommunication which the man who said his name was Austin, and that he was the treasurer of the ~ €alumet Club, had handed to Dave in front of the house. This was the missing note which the boy had told his uncle contained the instructions directing _ him to cash the $2,000 check and hand the money to Austin. It also contained Austin’s receipt for _ the money, the wording of which was in Dave’s own handwriting. Mr. Dent looked long and hard -at the note. = ; ce ; “T never wrote that,” he ‘said, “but somebody did who is a wizard at imitating my writing as '_ well as my signature. I gave the boy the dis- eredit of forging my signature to the check, and I did not believe his statement about the note he - glaimed to have received from me. He could not - produce it, which was enough to brand him as a “far in my estimation. Now here is the very note - gome to light. Did my nephew tell me the truth '. after all, or is this some of his works linked in his _ scheme that failed him at the crucial moment? If he told the truth and was the victim of some . designing schemer, then I have acted most un- ' justly toward him, and it is up to me to make the --amende honorable. But how is the fact to be established?” : -_ He sent for the upstairs girl who had handed ~ him the note. “Where did you get this letter, Mary?” he asked - her. - “J found it lying in a corner of the closet of the _ front room on the third floor—the one: lately - wacated by Mr. ‘Herbert’s friend,’ replied the domestic. “That was all you found in the room in the shape of writing, I suppose?” : “7 found some torn pieces of paper in one of _ the dresser drawers with writing on, sir. I am “going to throw them out.” %, - “Bring them to me, please.” “sm The girl went upstairs and presently returned with a handful of scraps which she laid on Mr. ‘Dent’s desk. ; aie _ Ag soon as the girl had withdrawn the politician examined the bits of paper. He pieced many of them together, and the result rather startled him. ‘hey showed that somebody had been practicing Z 17 not only his signature but his handwriting in. general. He wrinkled his brow in thought. A week had passed since his son and Gideon Wells went away, and he had received no word from Herbert. 5 Mr. Dent keenly felt his son’s negligence in not apprising him of his arrival at his friend’s home. Fearing that his son might have been suddenly taken ill he had sent a telegram to Herbert that morning addressed care of Gideon Wells, Great. Oak Manor, via Fairlee, Maryland. While he was puzzling over the scraps of paper containing im- itations of his handwriting the bell rang and the servant brought him a telegram, charges collect. This is what he read: : “Dudley Dent, New York City: “Your telegram addressed Herbert Dent, Great Oak Manor, inadvertently opened. No such per- son as Dent or Wells here or known to under- signed. - “William Gay, Great Oak Manor, County Kent, Md.” The contents of the telegram rather staggered. Mr. Dent. Gideon Wells had distinctly told him | that Great Oak Manor was his family estate, where he and his sister lived when at home, and where their parents had lived for years, and yet the sender of this telegram declared that no per- son by the name of Wells was known there. He pulled the memorandum of the address given hini by Wells out of a pigeon hole and looked at it, to make sure he had made no mistake in address- ing his telegram. : “T don’t understand this at all,” he said, in a puzzled tone. “I must send a telegram to this. man Gay, requesting a fuller explanation. It must be that there are two places down there with similar names.” ‘ At that moment the doorbell rang again and the servant announced a visitor. Mr. Dent gathered up the scraps of paper and laid them in a drawer, and told the servant to show the caller into the library. It was: the detective, He had returned that morning from a fruitless search throughout / the eastern shore of Maryland, which had taken — him several days, satisfied that the young men he was looking for had never gone to that part of the country. : “Sorry to bother you, Mr. Dent,” said the sleuth, helping himself to a seat, “but my busi- ness is important.” ; “T will listen to you, sir,” said the politician, who was accustomed to having visits from — strangers. ‘ 7 , “You will perhaps remember my face. I called upon you at the Fifth Avenue hotel a few morn- ings ago and asked you for your son’s address.” “T recall now that you did.” . A “You told me that he went to spend the rest — of the summer with his college friend, Gideon Wells, at a place called Great Oak Manor, near Fairlee,.on the eastern shore of Maryland.” “J did. That was the address Mr. Wells gave — me just before he and my son left the house that morning. He gave me to understand that it was his home.” ; ! “If he did, he told you what wasn’t the truth,” replied the sleuth, bluntly. “Great Oak Manor is — the name of an extensive farm, the property of — TO WORK | ” \
Page 19
18° William Gay, who has lived there all of twenty years. No family by the name of Wells live any- where in that neighborhood, nor, I may say, in any part of Kent County, according to the records at the courthouse in Chestertown, which is the county seat.” “You seem to have investigated the matter pretty thoroughly?” said Mr. Dent. “J have. I was down on the ground, and I pur- sued my search for your son and his friend Wells throughout every county of the eastern shore of Maryland, but without finding the slightest clue to ‘their whereabouts.” é “Your business with my san must have been - very important to cause you to take all that trouble and expense for the purpose of meeting ee mit is.” “May I ask the nature of it?” | The sleuth looked narrowly at the politician’ “Have you no suspicion of what it is?” he asked. “T assure you that I have not the slightest idea of the matter,” replied Mr. Dent, with a growing » sense of uneasiness. “May I ask your name?” “My name is Hawksley. I am a Central Office detective.” “May I ask why you are looking for my son and his friend?” “Because they are wanted in connection with the shooting of Silas Hale, a well-known money ender of this city, who was killed in his home in the upper Bronx one night about a week ago. Doubtless you saw the story of the affair in the newspapers at the time.” Mr. Dent was fairly staggered. - “Jt seems to me. this is a most extraordinary _ charge to bring against my son and Mr. Wells, two Princeton college boys. On what ground do you suspect them?” F a “The fairly accurate personal description of » them given by a witness who saw them in the . room with the dead man a few moments after _ the tragedy, for one thing; but more particularly this paper, which was found clutched in the fingers of the corpse after their hurried departure ‘from the house.” ' The detective held the promissory note before the eyes of the politician. Mr. Dent looked at the _ paper, which ran as follows: “Ninety days from date, for value received, I \- promise to pay to Silas Hale, or order, the sum of Five Hundred Dollars, lawful money of the United States, Indorsement guaranteed to be gen- uine. (Signed) Hersert DENT.” es “Do you. recognize your own signature?” con- - tinued the detective, reversing the paper. _ -Aeross the back of it was written, apparently _in My, Dent’s handwriting, the following: “T personally ‘guarantee the payment of this note. : Ae tes (Signed) “Dupitey Dent.” _ “T-never ¢s -- “Indorsed it,” interrupted the sleuth, with a shrewd smile. “I thought not. It struck me that vou would not do business that way. It is clearly a forgery. An expert in handwriting has exam- DRIVEN TO WORK ‘son. Well, all that remains for me to do is to try ed it in connection with the specimen of your son’s writing on the other side and is of the opin- ts jon that your son did not write it. The question is _ aoe did? Possibly it was Wells. What do you ink?” pos Chee er be ‘CHAPTER XI—Dudley Dent Sees a Light. Mr. Dent did not know what to think. The — detective returned the note to his pocketbook. ‘ihe . “Mr. Dent,” he said, “I suppose it is no use for — me to ask you for the real address of your son and his friend, Wells?” ee “If they are not at Great Oak Manor I don’t — know where they are,” he replied, hoarsely. “I haven’t heard from my son since he went away. I sent a telegram to him, care of Wells, Great Oak Manor, this morning, and there is the only _ reply I received.” ; oe He handed the sleuth Gay’s telegram. : “Tt seems evident, Mr. Dent, that your son and his companion departed for parts unknown after — leaving a fictitious address with you. It is up to ~ me to find them and bring them back.” 3 “I cannot believe that my son is mixed up in- this unfortunate affair,” said the politician, ina tone of intense feeling. : Ee ae, “Naturally. He is only a boy, a college stu- dent, and it does not seem reasonable to connect him with a murder. Still, my dear sir, facts are stubborn things. If he and his friend were in- nocent why should they skip out at an early hour on the morning after the tragedy leaving a ficti- tious address behind? I leave it to you, Mr. Dent, ‘to say what construction is to be put on their — actions when taken in eonnection with this promis- __ sory note found in the fingers of the dead man.” ae 5 : “My son is not guilty,” was all Mr. Dent could \_ say, but the look in his face and eyes showed that he was terribly worked up over the disclosure. The sleuth rose and intimated that he was ready. to go. Mr. Dent, in a dazed way, rang fora ser- - vant, and the detective was shown out. For an hour the politician sat like a statue in his chair, the picture of acute misery. The dinner bell aroused him. af oa “YT see it all,” he muttered, hoarsely. “Gideon Wells is a scoundrel. He has obtained an i and save my son, make abundant reparation to m nephew, and see that justice reaches that scoun: drel Wells. To that end I will spend every dollar of my fortune if necessary.” nae The detective went to Princeton next morning and made many discoveries concerning Gideon Wells in that old town. Some of those he com- municated to Mr. Dent at a second meeting, and — 7
Page 20
DRIVEN loubt that he spoke the truth. ‘ ; ‘Well, I want to find him,” said Mx. Dent. “I intend to take him back and make whatever repa- ration I can to him. I suppose he didn’t tell you - where he was going?” ¢ te Silas Hale’s niece, Miss Preston. He seemed to be pretty thick with her, and I don’t wonder, _ for she’s a beautiful girl. At any rate he re- ned with her for two or three days to my ne live? : . “Where she has lived for many years—at the red brick house where her uncle met with his tragic death. It is on Street, nearly a mile from the Tremont terminal of the elevated road, the northwest. You had better go to the station and get an officer to show you to the house—it will save you time, as I presume you are unfamiliar with that locality,” said the detective. er the detective’s departure, Mr. Dent put his hat and started for the red brick house hich he had been directed. He reached it in me and inquired for Miss Preston. ‘he housekeeper told him that the young lady had been sent to the country for the summer by her guardian, under her uncle’s will, Lawyer Davenport. os She said she could and went to her room to unt it up. Ina few minutes she returned with zoe r, and Mr. Dent made a copy of the writing _ on it, When he got home he wrote a letter to Miss ' Elise Preston, stating that he was David Darn- uncle, and that he was anxious to get into ommunication with the young man. It was near- ly a ‘week before he got a reply, and then he arned that Dave was traveling for the National vical Publishing Company, No. — Broadway, ‘New York City. : , . Elise adinitted she had received a letter from _ him that morning, inclosing his route for the fol- - lowing week, and she sent Mr. Dent a copy of the ie. The politician immediately wrote a letter ve, and addressed it to one of the towns in- ated. -This letter did not reach our hero, as e received instructions from Mr. Dunne which ised him to make a change in his route which th ‘town out, therefore he remained in ignor- ice of his untle’s change of heart toward him. Mr. Dent waited in vain for a reply to his ter, and was azout to call at the publishing se when he was hurriedly summoned to Wash- on on business of great importance. the meanwhile Detective Hawksley was try- to find _a clue to the whereabouts of Herbert “He did not. You might find out through the ideon, Wells, but met only with bes ¥: * os —~ ¥ The Witherses and Jacksons occupied adjoining —_ cottages and it was arranged that Dave should!) — stay at each place four days. Yo Will and Joe tossed up on the train to see which should have him first, and the lot fell to Withers. { fins A few hour’s ride over the Maine Central) — Railroad from Bangor landed them at Elsworthi — in time to catch the regular boat for Bar Har-i: bor, which is situated at the northeast end oft Mt. Desert Island. BS ne They landed at the steamboat wharf and with / their grips in their hands the three boys made; ‘their way to the Withers cottage. ; , Will introduced Dave to his folks and they gave him a cordial welcome. x 3 Then they sat down to lunch, Joe joining them, ~ after reporting his return to his own sanpie rE : , Will and Joe had a lot to tell about what they; stow ee had been doing while away from their folks, and; — they monopolized the conversation. __ he ee Daye and Nellie Withers entertained each other on the opposite side of the table, and the young ,~ lady soon learned that their visitor hailed from New York City, and was the nephew of a weal-, thy and distinguished publicman whose name she. had often seen in the public papers. + Pete: She also learned that he had~just graduated. * from a well-known Westchester (N. Y.) academy,” 6 attended only by boys whose connections were well off. eres “And where have you been summering?” she. _ asked him, expecting he would name sdéme_ ee on os pees ee ae ; aven én. summering ‘anywhere iss Withers,” he answered... . a eS Fs Fine _ “No?” she exclaimed:in some surprise. 5. | aks
Page 21
es had vi 20 DRIVEN TO WORK “No. I’ve been out traveling for a New York a apres house.” “Is it possible? Why should you do that?” _ “J wanted to gain a little experience,” said Dave, in an off-hand way. . “Dear me, you boys do the oddest things,” 7 laughed the young lady. “Will and Joe Jackson left us about a month ago, right in the middle of all the gaiety, to go off on some hair-brained trip . they had taken into their heads. I’m sure I can’t see what they have gained by it.” «Of course you don’t Nellie” eried Will, across ~ the table. “You girls never have the times that we fellows do. But that’s what you get for being a girl.” “The idea! . Just as if we could help that.” .. After lunch Joe led the way to his cottage, as he wanted to make Dave acquainted with his folks right away. -They remained twenty minutes at the Jackson ecttage and then the boys started out for a stroll Geen Bar Harbor. Will and Joe pointed out various places of in- jerest to Dave, and finally they entered a sort of easino, where there was an orchestra playing, znd tables at which visitors could sit and sip cooling drinks while listening to the music and observing all that went on around them. 1 The boys took possession of a table not far from the orchestra, and Will asked his com- panions what they’d have to drink. “T don’t drink hr to speak of,” replied . Dave. “Take a cream soda or something of that sort, then,” said Will. A waiter came up and Will ordered three cream * sodas. ~, The casino was pretty well attended that af- ternoon. Will and Joe bowed to a great many ladies and stylishly attired girls still in their teens, and nodded to various lads of their own age, several of whom came over to their table sd asked them where they had been for the past hree weeks. <; Will or Joe told them where they had been, but went into no particulars concerning their trip, though they answered all questions put’ to them. « In every case they introduced Dave as a partic- ular friend of theirs, and the other boys ex- ypressed the pleasure they felt at making his ac- quaintance. One of the tables near that occupied by Dave and his friends became vacant. “Presently a boy of nineteen, and a young man three or four years his senior, sauntering into the building and looking around, spied the table, pwalked over to it and sat down with the air of people who owned a slice of the earth. . ‘hey ordered drimks, which were served to .them, and then amused themselves looking. around and saluting their acquaintances. ~~ Dave did not notice them at first, but utter a few minutes he happened to look in that direc- ~ tion and encountered the astonished stare of his _cousin Herbert Dent. ~ Our Hero was equally surprised to see Her- bert way down in Maine, -Glancing at his cousin’s companion he saw it vas Gideon Wells. At» that eee Wells 5 lophked at oe and- srekceniing him got up and, walked over to ee able. ae “Upon my word, this is a great surprise ‘ta | meet you here, my "dear fellow,” he said, holding” out his hand in a friendly way. “Not more than for me to see you and my cousin here,” replied Dave. “How long have you been here?” VES Sees “Since the first-week in July.” : at) “That’s a long time. Let me make you ac- queintes with my friends. Will Withers, Mr,. : ells, Joe Jackson, Mr. Wells.” Wells shook hands with the two boys and said he was delighted to know them. “Bring Herbert over,” said Dave. 2 Herbert came after some hesitation, and Dave 2 introduced him to Will and Joe. : “Where are you stopping, Darnley?” asked Wells. “With Will Withers at present,” replied Daye. : “You disappeared rather suddenly from the house, Darnley—didn’t even let Herb or I know PAs you were going off somewhere,” said Wells, “Yes,” replied Dave, flushing up; “cireumstan- ces over which I had no control caused me to light out in a rather unconventional way.” Herbert grinned with a knowing look which — seemed to say he knew why Dave had taken his | hurried departure. 2 He and Wells drew chairs up to the boys’ ‘table and proceeded to make themselves at home there, * “How long do you expect to stay here, Darn- . ley?” asked Wells. “Till season closes?” es “Not over a week, then I must get back to basis ness,” replied Dave. . “Business!” exclaimed Wells. “Are you work- ing?” “I’m traveling for a New York publishing house.” ; “How long have you been abit?” “About two months.” : “You don’t say. Have you given up the idea a3 se coming to Princeton? fae 8 “T have.” Herbert grinned again, rather maliciously. “How came you to tackle work, and during you vacation time, too,’ continued Wells, who knew the reason as well as Herbert did, but pretended ignorance. : “T had my reasons, which it is hardly neces- sary for me to state.” “Well, I must say that you are a most uncom- mon chap. Come, Herb, I guess it’s time we we making a moye.’ : He said good-by to Dave and his two friends, and taking ‘Herbert by the arm they left. th building together. “So that’s your cousin, and he’s the son. of ‘the Hon. Dudley Dent,” said Withers. : “Yes,” veplied Dave. “This esehes was rather a surprise “ape ‘yo! both.” EG certainly. was,” admitted the other. “Well, you never can tell when you'll run against somebody you know at these resort remarked Joe Jackson. “A good many rt a Yorkers come down here to finish up the aes after spending the best part of the: Seaso Ss where.” \ vi 1 “Suppose we get a, move on," Withers. : ‘gia
Page 22
DRIVEN ei Dave and Joe were ready to go, so the three left the casino. CHAPTER XIII.—A Crooked Game. Bar Harbor adjoins the finest scenery in Mount Desert Island, and the boys spent the next two davs exploring the recesses of Utter Creek, whose wild mountain passes equal in grandeur the - Notch of the White Hills, and rambling about the _ gigantic cliffs of Great Head, Schooner Head and the other “hoider, recky promontories rising for ~ hundreds of feet directly from the sea, which make the island so fascinating to the, landscape - and marine painter. - . During that time Dave saw nothing more of ~ his cousin or Gideon Wells. Z He had not asked them where they were stop- _ ping. Bic cs After staying the first four days at the Withers ~ eottage, Dave carried his grip across the lawn to * the Jackson cottage, and took up his quarters in a room adjoining Joe’s. - He was having so good a time that he looked forward with regret to the hour when he would have to part from his new friends and face the stern realities of life once more. ~ But he wasn’t a boy to hang back when duty called. - He had something besides the necessity of pro- viding for himself to spur him on, and that was the bright eyes of Elise Preston. She was his star of hope and encouragement— the goal of his ultimate ambition—and his blood always quickened in his veins when he trought ~ of her. On the evening of his fifth day at Bar Harbor a he got separated in some way from Will and Joe, after they started out together, and he wandered around to one of the hotels of the place. He entered the house and walking around pres- into a small inclosure near the steward’s office and the kitchen. is Turning to retrace his steps he came to a win- ‘dow nrotected by blinds through which the elec- tric light shone. : ' The window was wide open on the inside, and as he was about to pass it his’ attention was ar- ested by familiar voices. : Peering through the shutters he looked into a small room furnished with a single round table and four chairs. _ Two of the chairs were drawn up to the table, -and on these sat Herbert Dent and his college. friend, Gideon Wells. They were playing cards, and the money that lay before them showed that they were playing for stakes. A bottle with a whiskey label and two glasses stood on the table. Herbert looked as if he was not exactly himself, for his hair ‘was awry, and his eyes blinked in a sleepy and iotic fashion at his cards when not directed at 3 companion. “J never had such rotten luck in my life,” he aid, thickly, as he threw down his hand and re at Wells as he gathered in a small bunch buis. = ae ‘Things are bound to come your <z 43! 7 = se wie ? ently found himself in a passage which led him . 2 s TO WORK 21 way presently,” chuckled Wells, as he began to shuifle the pack preparatory to a new deal. Dave regarded the scene and the participants ~ with some surprise. He had never known before that his cousin indulged in intoxicating drink. oy that he played cards for any considerable stakes: As he watched them he was treated to another and more disagreeable surprise. He saw Wells deftly extract a couple of tens from the pack and drop them into his lan. After_each had put*u* a dollar bill to open the pot Wells manipulated the pack so that he dealt Herbert two aces, tw6 kings and a queen. Dave got a view of Wells’ hand and saw that he held two tens, an ace, and two lesser cards, which he discarded, drawing itt place of them a queen and a nine spot. Herbert called for one card, throwing out the queen. “You must have a good hand this time,” re- ~ marked Wells, dealing him another ace. d “Oh, so-so,” replied Herbert, pushing a $5 bil forward. : * “That looks like business,” said Wells. “Well} seeing that I’m ahead of the game, I’ll take a chance that you’re bluffing. I’ll see your V and © go you ten better,” and he put up the money at the same time dropping the queen and nine spot into his lap and picking up the two tens. = “Y’ll copper your ten and raise you ten more,” said Herbert, with ill-concealed exultation, fot with three aces and two kings he felt sure of — winning the pot. 4 Wells seemed to consider whether he would see the raise or not. “I believe you’re bluffing me,” he said, with a sardonic grin. “Maybe I am, but it’s up to you to cail me,” replied Herbert. “No, I won’t call you. nerve you’ve got. twenty better.” t “You can’t bluff me that way,” laughed Her! bert, in a silly way. “‘There’s my twenty, and he shoved up three fives, and I’ll go you .ant other twenty,” putting his hand in his pocket. for more money. 2 2s “Hold on there, Herb, you’ve only put up fifteen,” said Wells, pushing the bills apart with his finger. : “That’s so,” admitted Herbert, and then he put up another five and a $20 bill. ¢ That made $112 in the pot, and Daze almost gasped at the size of the stakes. ; “How much money have you got left, Herb?” asked Wells. : “Why?” T’ll see how much I see your ten and go vou “Y’m going to see your twenty and go you as much as you’ve got.” Herbert gave a gasp. all “Don’t do that,” he fluttered, losing any nerve he might. have had. twenty and call you.’ . “Too late, Herb, your money is up, and I've Pos seen it and go you, well, $50 better.” “Oh, I say Gid, I don’t want to risk any more,” said Herbert. “There’s too much up now.” = “Are you going to back out?” sneered Wells. “If you are Ill rake in the stakes.” : YA “Tl take hack that extra — J : ; He began to realize that « _ his companion must have a corking hand after
Page 23
ei - “Pake back your $70 and let it go the way I said. There'll be *most $100. in the pot then.” i «Gouldn’t think of it. I know you're bluffing “me now,” chuckled Wells. “. «No, I’m not bluffing. I’ve got a good hand, “put I don’t want to play for so much.” % “Why didn’t you call me, then? You had - "cehances to do it.” “J thought you’d call me.” ; “Well, V’ll take back the $50 to oblige you and make it $20. See that and call me.” : w “All right,’ said Herbert, desperately. “I'll s@e you and call you. Hold on, let’s see how “much is in the pot,” he added, after putting up _ ithe $20. The bills were counted and they footed up 12. ive got four tens and an ace,” said Wells, spreading his cards out. : “Herbert gave a gasp. F ? “ye three aces and two kings,” he said. 4) “Fouf of a kind beat three aces any day,” laughed Wells, reaching for the’ stakes, » Dave, whose indignation was a over, thought it time to interfere. He grabbed the “blinds and pulled them open. z .. “Hold on there, Mr. Wells,” he cried, “you -hayen’t won that money fairly.” € 3 CHAPTER XIV.—A Golden Shower. a Herbert scowled at his cousin, evidently resent- ng ‘his appearance. An unpleasant look also game over Wells’ face. 2 _ “What do you mean by saying that I didn’t win fairly?” he said, aggressively. . “Because you didn’t,” replied Dave firmly. » “What do you know about it? You’re not a ‘card player,” sneered Wells. as “J can play, but I never play for money.” ~-_. “No, I s’pose not, “ You’re one of those chaps who look at a dollar a long time before you let it get away from you.” . “That fact needn’t worry you if I am,” retort- “ed Dave, angrily. “At any rate, I wouldn’t swindle a confiding friend out of his money.” * “What's that?” roared Wells, angrily. “Do ou call me a swindler?” “J do, for that’s what you are.” » You shall answer for that.” , “I expect to answer for it now. Herbert,’ look in Mr. Wells’ lap, you-will find two cards, a queen and a nine spot, which he drew on the dis- card. Before he began to deal he dropped two tens there, and as soon as you began to raise _ ,the stakes he picked them up and dropped the _ yueen and nine spot in their places. That gave aim the four tens by which he claims the stakes. _ The pot is rightfully yours, for if he had played air his hand would have contained only two tens -_ -nstead of four.” : “You're a fiar!” roared Wells, rising and ' “hrowing the pack at Dave’s face. _, The two cards he had held out fell to the - joor and Herbert saw them. In a moment Dave pean in through the window and grabbed ‘Wells. vi ees oa “You'll take that insult back or I’ll break DRIVEN TO WORK * over the coals so hard that my cousin would think In another moment the two were struggling around the room, making a terrible racket that — attracted people. from the outside. Although — Wells was four years older than Dave, and — something of an athlete, he found that he had met his equal, if not his master, in the boy. The chairg were scattered and the table went over. Herbert, who began to understand that he had | been. cheated, gathered up the money and put it — in his pocket..:Then he opened the door and — rushed from the room, leaving his cousin and Wells to fight it out. The scrap, however, did not last long. In swinging Wells around, Dave tripped and they fell over the table. Dave was — on top and his weight flung Wells’ head against — the edge of the table so hard that the Princeton man was stunned, and his arms dropped by his — side. Just then several of the hotel employees — rushed in and separated Dave from him. They picked Wells up and carried him outside, where they soon brought him to. Spee pe Dave was asked what the trouble was, and he ~ bluntly told his questioner that he had caught the young man cheating his cousin out of a con- siderable sum of money at a game of cards. © i As card playing for money was nob-supposed — to be permitted at the hotel the attaches decided that the matter must be hushed up. Sat ce Dave was told to keep the matter to himself, — ce and Wells was also taken one side and inter : viewed to the same effect. Seed As for Herbert, he had disappeared and could not be seen anywhere. * aed Dave left the hotel and hunted around for Will and Joe. Ct eS uae He found them after a time. oC Te aa “Where have you been? We’ve been looking for you for more than an hour,” said Will, Dave replied that after getting separated from them he had gone to the Blank Hotel and walked in, and as he had never been there. = Sete »Then, on their promise of secrecy, he told them * of the incident we have just described. eS Of course, Will and Joe were much surprised — at Dave’s story. x “You ought to hunt your cousin up and give ~ him the tip straight,” said Joe. pies “And probably get snubbed for my trouble,” ° replied Dave. “We never haye pulled well to- “tithen a vaclegt “Then: it’s your duty to notify your uncle,” — said Will. - DN ee “I'd rather speak to Herbert himself. Ii his — father heard about his goings on he’d pull him a cyclone had hit him. I don’t want to put up against that if I can help it.” ed Next morning Joe proposed that they take walk into the interior of the island and pay a fee to an old ruined mill near the top of a steep ill. } ; Providing themselves with a light lunch, they couldn’t tell when they’d get back, the t boys started on their excursion, tO Tee ‘Their walk led part of the way through a wood, where they occasionally caught sight. squirrel or a rabbit. “Say, there’s a house ahead.” said Dave. see,if we can get a glassof milk.” 29 = They got the milk, paid for it and continue on. ft pert E e ; i She's RS ior r 4 ax
Page 24
DRIVEN ~*- About noon they reached the foot of the hill on ‘top of which they could see the ruin—they had come to visit. When they reached the mill they “tried to decipher a date that had been cut in the heavy beam above the doorway, but were unable to do so. + “It’s a pretty old building,” said Dave. “Bet your lite it is,” replied Joe. “Must have - -been put up as long as the time of the Revo- lution. Maine was part of Massachusetts then. - “Come inside,” said Will. ae ‘They followetd him in, and found the building _ dark and crumbly. A wide, solid looking ladder led to what had “once been a floor above, but it was now open to the sky and the four winds of heaven. “Not much to see after all,” said Dave, as they stood at the top of the ladder. * “No; but it will be something to say that we’ve been in such an old building,” said Will. " They returned to the lower floor and looked around. . _ “Somebody has been here and left that hammer and lantern,” said Joe. - €There’s a trap-door under the ladder. There - must be a cellar underneath,” said Dave. _ He reached down, seized a ring and pulled on _ the trap. é Somewhat to his surprise it yielded easily. . Tt works pretty easy for an old trap,” he re- marked. . The three ‘beneath. ; ; _ “J wouldn’t go down there,” said Will. - “You couldn’t see anything if you did,” replied ‘Joe. - > Dave picked up the lantern and looked at it. looked down into the dark depths going to light it and then we can explore the ellar.” ; “You won’t find anything but cobwebs and dirt,” said Will. ‘“What’s the use?” “Ym going down anyway,” said Dave. “Who knows but wnat we might find a chest of treas- ure,” he added. with, a grin, as he struck a match and lit the candle. - They followed without any great enthusiasm. They landed on an earth floor about ten feet deep. Flashing the lantern around they saw plenty of dirt and cobwebs, the latter hanging in black estoons from different parts of the ceiling. The only things they saw in the place were an empty barrel and a home-made ladder. - - “I wonder why that ladder is here?” said Dave. “There is no dirt on it so it can’t have been here long.” : “Ask something easier. Somebody left it here, - ye sure he’d find it when he came back after it, ippose,” said Joe. a oF, Ss Say: fellows, I see a trap-door in the ceiling. “I wonder what that was used for?” . - Dave placed the ladder under it, climbed up and ied to push the bolt back. “What are you doing that for?” asked Joe. “Just for fun.” ©The ae . this lay scattered all about. “There’s part of a candle in this,” he said. “I’m — TO WORK 23 “Go up and fetch me that hammer.” “While you’re up there see if you can tell whether the trap opens down or up,” said Dave. Will went upstairs, picked up the hammer and | then walked over to the spot where he supposed the trap-door was, but could see no signs of one. He reported the fact when he returned to the cellar. “That so?” said Dave. ‘Hand me the hammer and I'll see whether it’s a trap or not.” ; Dave gave the trap-door a blow with the ham- - mer and the bolt broke. ‘ Down fell-the door and with a shower o gold coins. Cries of astonishment escaped his two friends, and Dave descended the ladder. LA = CHAPTER XV.—Conclusien. “My gracious!” cried Dave. “Money! and gold at that!” He stooped and picked up some of the coins, and his companions did likewise. Most of the money had fallen through the rungs of the ladder arid lay in.a heap on the earth; but some of it* had rebounded from Dave’s head and shoulders, and They proved to. be old, discolored $10 pieces. It was some minutes before the boys got over their astonishment. “You’re a lucky chap, Dave,” said Joe. “You mean we’re all lucky,” returned Dave. ‘ “No, I don’t. The find is yours. We’re out of lw. “How are you? We’re together, and you fellows — have an equal right to share in the money.” “We don’t want any of it, for Joe and I hav2 me each got a fortune coming to us when. we're twenty-one. You have to earn your living, so it will come in good for you,” said Will. Dave, however, wanted to argue the matter, fo: there wasn’t anything selfish in his nature; bt: the boys stuck to their resolution not to share in ; his luck. “Come, now, let’s pick it up. Too bad thet isn’t something around here we could put it in,” said Will. : They gathered up the scattered pieces first. “T think there’s one or ‘said Joe. Dave pushed it aside and it rolled over, revea)= img a meal bag underneath. “How lucky!” he exclaimed. want.” : two behind that barrel,” “Just what we They put the money into the bag and it mad: — = it. “This is going to be a nice job getting it to Bar Harbor,” said Dave, when he had landed the bag — outside the daor. “Consider what it’s worth. do it if he could secure its weight.” “We'll count it and see when we get to the cot-- tage,” said Joe. ; ; “If we had three bags the job would be an easy one,” said Will. a _ “We can make it fairly easy by finding a stovt limb of a tree that isn’t too long and suspend t! bag from the centre of it, Then the weight w a heavy load, as they discovered when Dave lifted xr Ww! Most any man e ; would strain his back and welcome the chance to’
Page 25
24 be equally divided between two of us,” said Dave. “Good idea,” said Joe. “Ill look for one.” It didn’t take him long to find a suitable stick, and in a few minutes they started on their return journey with the bag between Joe and Dave. “Hold on, fellows,” said Will, when they reached the foot of the hill. 3 “What’s the matter?” asked Dave. “Tet’s lunch. No use carrying our provender back with us. I’d rather carry my share in my stomach than in my pocket.” ; Will’s suggestion met with instant approval, and the boys sat down by the roadside and ate what they had brought along: ; “A glass of milk would go fine with this,” said + Joe. pa catch a cow and milk her then,” laughed ill, ’ They got along without the milk for the pres- ent, and after a rest started on again. It was four o’clock when they reached the Jackson cot- tage, and the trio went up to Dave’s room, The money was dumped out and counted and it totaled ip $18,680. ~ “That’s isn’t so bad,” said Will. “Suppose you fellows divide the $680? Highteen thousand is enough for me,” said Dave. Will and Joe agreed to that, and pocketed $340 each. They told the story of their find -at the dinner table to their respective families, but their astonished auditors were requested to keep the -. news a strict secret, until they returned home, at any rate. When they went to the casino that _ evening the cashier, whom they knew, told them there had been some excitement in the place that afternoon. “What about?” _. “Two young fellows, who have been here all _ geason—their names are Gideon-Wells and Her- bert Dent—were arrested by a detective from New pow ork..! . 4 “ Dave couldn’t imagine what his cousin» and ‘Wells were wanted for, and had to'give it up. - Dave bought a new grip and divided his money between the two. : ‘ ; Monday morning came around, and bidding -_ adieu to his friends he started for Bangor, prom- jsing to visit the boys at their homes in Boston. When he reached his hotel he found several let- ters awaiting him. Two were in Elise’s handwrit- ¥ = ing and he opened and read them first. One of _ them, which had been three weeks in reaching him, had the following surprise for Dave: “Tt will astonish you to learn that I received ~ a note from your uncle requesting me to furnish him with your address, as he said he wanted to I copied your last route I trust this communicate with you. “in Massachusetts and sent it to him. means something good for you, dear.” _ “The next letter he picked up bore the imprmt '. of the publishing house, and contained a check for his vacation week’s salary, without the usual ‘expense addition. There were also some instruc- tions concerning his work for the forthcoming ‘week. The last letter also bore the imprint of his publishers. He found that it contained a letter addressed to him in his uncle’s handwriting. “Now I'll learn what is in the wind,” he thought. e eagerly tore it open and found a long letter om his uncle, who said he had discovered that Fe x $e DRIVEN TO WORK + WALL STREET.” 9 apes he had acted wrongfully toward Dave and earnest _ ly begged his pardon, Dave, glad as he would have been to start for — New York at once, felt that he could not, in jus- — tice to his employers, who had treated him well, drop the business before the firm had sent some- — body to fill his place.. After considering matters he sent an explaffatory telegram to his uncle, say- ing he would re as soon as he could consis- __ tently do so. Then he wrote a long letter to the manager of the publishing house, explaining the change in his prospects, and how it would be nec- essary for him to give up the job, at the same __ time thanking him for the consideration he had received since he went to work for the firm. % Next morning he went to the Bangor National Bank and bought an $18,000 draft on New York with his gold. Three days later he got a letter from the manager of his firm, expressing regret — that Dave was vubliged to sever his connection” with the house, and complimenting him for the progress he had made since he started out. He was informed that his successor would connect with him on Saturday and take the work off his hands. Dave wrote Elise that he would be in New York Sunday, and he sent his uncle word that he would be home that day. He reached ~ New York by boat Sunday morning, and re- ceived a warm welcome from his uncle. Then he learned of the trouble that had threatened Her- bert, and was amazed to find out it was Herbert and Wells who had been at Silas Hale’s house on the night the money lender was shot. When they were taken back to New York, Wells concluded it would be best to tell the truth, and did so. — This let’ Herbert, who corroborated the story, out of his scrap2, and the fact that it was estab- lished that the money lender had been shot with his own weapon, found in his hand, caused the. authorities to release Wells also. Wells’ made full confession to Mr. Dent concerning his forg- ery work, and the politician finally concluded — not to prosecute him, with the understanding that he would have nothing fufther to do with his son Dave went to Princeton with Herbert and in due time graduated. Then he and Herbert were estab- lished in business by the politician, and soon after he married-Elise Preston, who had come into full — possession of her property, Dave never regretted that he was driven to work, for it not o enlightened him greatly in the ways of the work but brought him a small fortune “from a shoe — 7 ” 1 aise Next week's issue will contain.“THE WAY Tes = MAKE MONEY; OR, TAKING CHANCES IN LOVE LURE DARING! This mysterious perfume attracts and faseinates. It’s rare and exotic fragrance surrounds you with. charm and enticement that ; a a ietive cl # y ,f postman only $1.85 plus posts = $ Secret Directions FRED. sealed, WINEHOLT CO., L-87. We
Page 26
2 Ninety Degrees South or, Lost in the Land of Ice By GASTON GARNE (A Serial Story.) CHAPTER XV.— (Continued) _ Where the Pioneer had sunk new ice was form- ing, but it was not all thick, and on the edges _ Phil was able to pull out doors, bits of woodwork, some of it charred, and, auite as valuable, several tins of beef, pemmican, vegetables and other foods. : é ‘Either lying on the ice or only slightly frozen in, they fend many things that were of use to them, these having been left on the ice when all ids were ashore on the previous day. _ These were all taken to the cave, which was und to be winding and of considerable extent, and before long they were really comfortable. _ They saw nothing of Wills, and did not care, so ong as he did not disturb them, but continued to : tice things for their strange home, so as to ake it more and more habitable. — ; The next day they were out on the ice gatherin 7 material when they heard a loud hail, and, ooking up the pass, saw several men approach- ing, whom they at once recognized.as Captain ssex and his party. that delayed us, but we have discovered’ land to the south of us and considerable open water, so hat I think that if we have boats we can get to ninety degrees south.” Bare ~ “Some of the boats may have floated, sir,” said 1, “but I have not seen any. Wills may have taken them. We have found several parts of ‘boats, however, and have a considerable supply of rewood and oil, and haye a comfortable home, to ch we are glad to welcome you.” “as my collection been lost, and my lectures?” _ Muttered Professor Waddles. “Dear me, how un- eS An hour later Professor Waddles arose, looking very uncomfortable, and said: “Dear me, this is most extraordinary. What should make me seasick? Am I dreaming? Do. any of you feel any motion? Am I then only the victim of a strange hallucination?” pox “There is a motion; I can feel it,” said Sadie, “We are floating; there is no doubt of it,” ‘ The professor suddenly made a dart for the door, threw it open and rushed out. A strange sight met their eyes. ; They were afloat on the open water beyond their cave, and at some distance from the latter. “What does it mean?” cried. Phil. “It means,” said Captain Essex, “that this half of the cave is ice, that it has broken from the bluff in some strange manner, that all my instruments are in the other half, and that we are lost in the land of ice!’’. CHAPTER XVI. Unwelcome Visitors. — The entire party, with the exception of the — poor professor, who was in too miserable a state to do anything but groan and lean against an ice | hummock, all hurried into the cave and toward what had been the entrance from the pass. ; Before long they saw the light of the aurora’ in front of them, and the captain cautioned them to go more slowly for fear of accident. In a few minutes they came out upon a ledge of ice and saw the watér stretching away for some distance. | “We are simply on a berg which has been de- _ tached from the shore and now we are afloat,” said the captain. “It is not at all uncommon to - find great fissures like this in bergs, and that is why we were deceived into thinking it only the continuation of our main cavern,” ; ‘ “But we ought to have been able to tell -ice from rock,” said Phil musingly; ference enough.” “TI think I have it,” said the captain. “At the “There is dif- time of the fire great clouds of dense, black smoke — S were driven upon land by the fierce wind which — the heat created, and this smoke was driven into the other opening of the passage, the heat melted. the ice, somewhat, and the soot settled thickly upon it, giving it the same appearance ag the. black rocks on shore, and that is how we have been deceived.” : ; “It is quite feasible, sir,” said Phil, “and in the = ott ee. ies
Page 27
darkness which prevails for so long a time every day, it is not at all strange that we were de- ceived, but I am sorry that we did not discover our position before.” “So am I, my lad,” said Harry Essex, “but grieving over the matter will not benefit us. We must simply see just what our position is and then make the best of it.” “But without instruments to determine our lo- oe how are we going to find the Pole?” asked il. ; “Perhaps it is not as bad as all that,” said Dick, cheerfully. ‘Let us hope for the best.” “That’s all right,” said Sadie. “We can’t do any good by fretting, so let us do as Captain Essex says, and make the best of it.” “You ought to have been a boy, Miss Sadie,” laughed the captain. : __ “Then I couldn’t have had Phil,” said Sadie, blushing, “so I really think I am better off.” “Well, that’s.a cheerful way of looking at the matter, and I see that you have all a man’s cour- age even if you are not one.” . After trying in vain to locate the position of the bluffs, or to see any traces of men upon them, the party ventured to the other entrance, where they found Professor Waddles sitting on a block ; of ice, anxiously studying the moon. a “I have heard of persons being affected by yonder planet,” he remarked, when Sadie spoke to him, “and I have come to the convlusion that _* Tam one of the number.” , “What’s the matter, Uncle Jerry?” asked the girl. “What ails you?” “Well, my dear, either I am crazy or that moon is the most erratic planet I ever saw.” “What’s the matter with it?” “Why, at one time it’s here,and at another it’s there, and then it is somewhere else, and I don’t know whether it is in the north or west or where it is.” The captain laughed and then replied: “The explanation is that our berg is caught by opposing currents and swings about, so that you see the moon from different points. We are adrift, and may expect to see the moon in man places.” ¥ fa, “Adrift!” gasped the professor. “We are floating on the ocean, not fixed on firm land?” ’ “Yes, we are adrift.” “Dear me, then that accounts for it,” and the luckless professor clapped his handkerchief to his mouth and disappeared around an ice hummock. ‘ _ They were safe for the time and quite comfort- -able, being made more so when the further en- - trance to the cave was closed, but in the course of five or six days they had drifted in so many different directions that at last they were quite lost, and when the moon and stars were hidden, had no idea whither they were going or where _ they were. : On and on through the darkness of the south- ern polar night they drifted, sometimes pr close to other bergs or to great patches of fiel ice, miles in extent, and then apparently alone on an open sea, with no other ice in sgt One day a large flock of great birds a ighted on their berg, and they weré able to kill dozens of - them, finding their flesh palatable, and their down under vests. 26. _ FAME AND FORTUNE WEEKLY fessor, spilling hot tea on his hand in his sudden ‘and feathers excellent material for shirts and _ ee Another day their floating home joined another berg, and they came across two or three huge white bears, which they killed after a fierce strug- gle, in which even Sadie and the professor en- gaged. Bis “Well,” mused Phil, as they were skinning the animals, “we have meat and fat for burning, as well as warm clothing from these fellows, so that — we are not as badly off as we might be.” Be “When I was six years in the whaling trade,” said Johnson, the one able seaman of the party, “we used to live for weeks at a time on bear meat when we were in these latitudes.” 7 : “Oh, you were six years in the whaling trade, were you, Johnson?” asked Phil. b YVées sir. “And another six on the gold coast of Guinea,” chuckled Dick. “You are quite a traveler, John- son. oe on “Yes, and he was seven years in the seal fish+ eries up by Behring Strait,” laughed Sadie, “be- cause he told me’ so.” oe “Dear me, Johnson, is that so?” asked the pro- fessor, taking out his notebook. ‘You never told — me that. I knew that you spent eight years in the sea trade, out in China. You are really a famous traveler.” ae “Or a good spinner of yarns,” added Captain Harry Essex, with a laugh; “but come, the sky. has a bad look. and I think we are going to have _ a change of wind or a storm, and we had better i get under chelter.” i ma He pruved to be a good prophet, for during the — next two or three days they were in a tremendous — storm of snow and wind, seeing neither moon nor ~ stars nor daring to venture out. fe 7 The sides of the principal room in their strange — abode were hung with bear skins, and one was’ stretched c7zer the door to keep out any possible draughts; they had oil lamps and a stove upon. which to cook their food and make tea and coffee," so that they had light, heat and comfort, the air — in the place being changed every few hours, so that it might not become foul. ae They sang, chatted, told stories, prepared their’ — meals, made and mended their clothes, and kept. _ themselves*so busily employed that they had no™ time for doleful thoughts, but made the best o everything. ; During the most of this time they felt ver little motion, and at times none at all, but once when Phil lonked out and reported that the storm had ceased, although the sky was still overcast there came a sudden shock which caused him to” seize the door-frame to keep from falling, =~ “What’s the matter, Phil?” asked Dick. os cae “J don’t know. Struck something, perhaps. 2 can see nothing.” cee There were no further shocks and the incident was soon forgotten. Ror as Two or three hours later, when they were all sitting at their supper, there came a loud most peremptory knock upon the door. ip “Dear me, is that thunder?” exclaimed the pro- f surprise. ; (To be continued) ©
Page 28
S temne ahd Fortune Weeldy _ "NEW YORK, JANUARY 13, 1928 TERMS TO SUBSCRIBERS HOW TO SEND MONEY—At our risk send P. 0. _ Money Order, Check or Registered Letter; remittances _ fm any other way are at your risk. We accept Postage 1 ‘Stamps the same as cash. When sending silver wrap the Coin in a separate piece of paper to avoid cutting _ ‘the envelope. Write your name and address plainly, ~ Bisel eg oe ae a ean Zs & Postage Free 8 cents @ne Copy Three Months ........ * bad .00 _ @ne Copy Six Months........... # us 2.00 _ @ne Copy One Year.............. Hh Me OD a >: Canada, $4.50; Foreign, $5.00 Address. letters to : WESTBURY PUBLISHING CO., Inc. * . i 140 Cedar Street, New York City. FRED E KNIGHT, Pres. and Treas, B. W. MARR, Vice-Pres. and Sec. INTERESTING ARTICLES _ PLANE OFF FOR TEST _ The Consolidated-Sikorsky bomber, Guardian, ‘zécently completed and tested for the Army Air 4 _ Corps competition to select a type for quantity ~ duction left, Curtis Field yesterday for Wash- on, where \it will be demonstrated to Govern- t officials before being taken to Wilbur Wright 1d, Dayton, O., for a series of exhaustive tests. h Wade and Henry White were at the con- trols, being accompanied by Igor Sikorsky, de- .SHINGTON HAS DESCENDANT OF THE 3 “FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE” 1 the Holy Thorn of Glastonbury, the legen- rigin of which is one of the cherished tra- ns of English Christianity. a The story is built around Joseph of Arimathea, the “rich man” who gave up his garden sepulchre = ace of entombment for the crucified Christ, s journey to. Britain in the dawn of the Shristian centuries. A black letter copy of the Ecclesiastical Annals by Cardinal Baronius, six- mth century author, in the Library of Congress, fixes the date of his arrival in Britain as A. D. 41. STRANDED FRENCHMAN f a friend twenty miles away as an inter- ee cabled Dr. J..J. Mertens, a World War an, to help a French veteran who was ‘gptranded in. Gettysburg, Maryland, whereas he Was bound here. : ‘He was taken to Dr. Mertens as having a wledge of French, but his knowledge could not nslate ‘the rapid-fire tale of the stranger. He alled a friend in another town who could talk ich fluently, and, calling him up, turned the over tothe Frenchman, FAME AND FORTUNE WEEKLY ner of the ship and several of his employees. - apples, says the department, : ts le ani’ The latter told his troubles to Dr. Mertens’ ° friend and the latter informed Dr. Mertens. The doctor then helped the Frenchman to go on, to his destination. ~ ° $ NEW YORK SHIPLESS PORT 60 HOURS>» UNTIL STORM-RIDDEN PATRIA ARRIVES! New York was virtually a shipless port recently 2 until the Fabre liner Patria, battered by mid-‘ Atlantic storms and forty hours overdue, arrived from Lisbon, the first vessel to dock in sixty? — hours:- Immigration and customs inspectors said they could not recall another period, except during the war, when New York has been so long without ! incoming ships. \ Capt. Juste Tempesti,.of the Patria, said he was forced to steer his ship three points southward to prevent damage from a 100-mile wind which sent . spray from the high rolling waves over the Pa-- tria’s bridge, forty-five feet above the water line. ft The Captain said his passengers had to kee to, their cabins from the time the Patria left Lisbon, | Noy..30. * ; : Another belated arrival recently was the Ward liner Mexico, which ran aground off Vera Cruz, on the southern trip and will go into drydock for i, repairs. i H TREE ANTAGONISM ~ - Choose between red cedarsand apples, says the; United States Department of Agriculture, In the Eastern United States, and perhaps in some other parts of the country, a neighborhood may have. either but not both of these trees without danger . of trouble for both. The cedar and the apple have, been found to have ism—similar to that existing between the bar- berry bush and wheat, in which each is affected- by one of those strange fungous growths in which. one generation of the fungus develops on one. plant and cannot reproduce on that plant, but. only on the other of the pair of plants so strange- ly coupled. . ies For years apple-tree rust was familiar to scien- tists, as was also the Virginia red cedar rust, which produced galls. The two were supposed to be distinct, but after the wheat and barberry — coupling was established further studies revealed — that a similar relationship existed between apple; trees and red cedars. Spores from the cedar are blown to apple leaves and fruit, where t eyr reproduce and cause damage within a few weeks, i after which the spores of this second generation. return to the cedar for a lifetime of about twen-: ty-two months. : At first the apple rust-affected only native crab ; apples, but from year to year it extended its dam- tie age to one supposedly resistant variety after an- — $5 other. Spraying, fatal to most other fungous) growths, did not kill this rust, and Virginia apple 3 growers found that the best method of prevent- ing damage was to kill the cedar trees within a! distance of a mile to two of apple orchards. When ~ Z this was done damage from apple rust céased.\\ Or, conversely, in case the cedars are the more: valuable, they should be protected from L t a relationship—or antagon- — 7 i. all = = > =
Page 29
28 pe A Telltale Vision By KIT CLYDE , John MacDonald, a well-known itinerant ped- dler, had, on a dreary winter evening, attended.a rustic wedding and merry-making at the “farm town” of Assynt, where, among the fair damsels assembled, he had contrived to considerably light- en his pack. No one had observed him leave, and for a month afterwards nothing was heard of his movements. His absence excited no surprise among the country people, as it was supposed that he had gone to visit his relations who lived in Rosshire. They, however, ignorant of his move- ments, and seeing him only at distant intervals, were of course not troubled at his customary ab- sence, and the peddler might have been away - much longer before any suspicion could have been excited. : = But exactly, four weeks after the festivities at Assynt, a farm servant, passing a deep and pre- cipitous turn on the mountain road which lies between the farm-town and the Clachan of Assynt, _ observed by the imperfect dawn-light a bundle _ floating upon the top of the water, then unusually - Jow and clear. A rude raft was constructed and -_ with his aid the neighbors dragged the corrupted body of a human being to the shore. Though ‘much decomposed, all who were present im- mediately recognized the body of the missing ped- dler. The clothes were the same which he had worn when last seen, but the pockets had been carefully turned out and rifled, and nothing of ‘any value had been found on the corpse. Notwithstanding these suspicious appearances, the simple people, among whom a murder had never been committed, concluded that the un- fortunate man had fallen accidentally into the tarn. So confirmed were they in this opinion _ that they at once buried the body, and John Mac- Donald and the tragedy connected with him were - jn‘’a fair way of being forgotten. The parish minister, however, had accidentally learned of the discovery, and he forthwith forwarded informa- - tion to the proper authorities. The sheriff of the ~ eounty and the public prosecutor immediately eame down to the district and commenced a searching investigation. Under the guidance of John Cameron the school-master—who was recommended to them by _» the minister as a skilled and trusty person on whom perfect reliance might be placed—and ac- companied by the medical men of the island, the _ sheriff visited the spot where MacDonald’s body - had been buried. It was disinterred in his pres-- ence, and on examination several deep wounds . were discovered on the back of the head, any one of which; the doctor reported, would have been sufficient to cause death. Coupled with the fact _ that the clothes had been plundered, no reason- able doubt could remain that a murder had been _ committed. 3 : It was well known in the island that MacDona‘d, who had made considerable money, carried his fortune’ on his back—banks and stock being un- 10wn institutions to those primitive people. + FAME AND FORTUNE WEEKLY Saf fay But for many days all the ingenuity of thelaw was baffled to obtain any trace of the murderer. ' No one had been seen with MacDonald after he _ left Assynt; no article of any kind could be iden- tified as his property. She The search appeared. fruitless. Several mur- ders, however, had been recently committed in the — northern counties; they had remained un-_ punished; it was therefore a matter of much s public importance that in this case an example — should be made. The sheriff established himself en permanence at a roadside hotel in the vicinity, — and announced his determination toexamine every — resident in the island. pees During these investigations the sheriff-was in- — variably accompanied by Cameron, who, through his acquaintance with the Gaelic tongue, and his knowledge of the inhabitants, proved of great assistance as an interpreter. One morning, how- ever, the sheriff went. down to the district post- office alone, Cameron being for the first time ab- sent. During a desultory conversation the post- master incidentally stated that soon after the — date of the murder he had given change of a ten- __ pound Bank of England note to a person whom _ he did not think should have had 80 much money in his possession. Bess ee Who was this? sen ae John Cameron, the schoolmaster, Spee Cameron was sent for, was asked how he came ~ to have the money in question, and peremptorily — denied any knowledge of the transaction. His — statement, though made without apparent embar- rassment, excited suspicion, and he was arrested, — charged with the murder. ine For some time, however, no facts appeared to | confirm the ee Cameron’s house, which stood on a hillside by itself, was minutely searched, but none of the peddler’s property was found in it. His sister, who lived with him, was evidently perfectly ignorant and innocent. She was a young and pretty girl, and for her station in life, intelligent and cultivated. When told of © the charge she indignantly refused to believe that her brother was guilty, and in deep distress ‘fol. lowed him to prison. : Be = One or two casual incidents, however, of which _ she spoke, proved of unhappy importance on the ~~ trial. Even then, however, though well aware of — the fatal effect of her answers, she spoke Een lessly and truthfully—with Spartan-like honesty vay yee Pat th) aoe “e meting out her brother’s doom. A fearful dilem: honesty to tell a lie! apie Seen Cameron, though undble to account satisfactori-~ ly for the money, was on the point of being lib ated, when a singular incident occurred. A workman, McLeod by name, had on thr successive occasions dreamed that he had sec Cameron follow MacDonald to the waterside, — strike him a number of heavy blows with a ham- mer, rifie his pack, cast his body into the tar and the dreamer was brou So strong and vivid, he sai
Page 30
% tion of the incidents of the dream that he could undertake to point out to the criminal officer the exact stones under which the property was con- ‘cealed. They went together, and ultimately dis- - covered the articles in question concealed under several large stones, which McLeod declared ex actly resembled those impressed on his memory. - Here was an important fact—to begin with— - the property of the murdered man found in the _ immediate proximity to Cameron’s home. Next day another link was obtained. : + A week or two previous to his apprehension, Cameron walked, one rainy morning, to the other _ side of the island, got wet, and at a country inn ‘obtained from the landlady a pair of stockings, leaving his own behind to be dried. These were - now produced, and, after some hesitation, a cot- ter’s wife declared that, from a peculiarity in the - work, she could depose that they were of her own making, and added that the day before his disappearance the peddler had bought two pairs -from her for his own use. Those now produced was one of them; the other_was discovered in Cameron’s house. : _A variety of similar circumstances gradually came out, and, after considerable delay occasioned py the difficulty of the case, Cameron was brought - to trial. - The trial took place at Inverness. It lasted om ten o’clock on the first morning of the --assize till the same hour next day—twenty-four consecutive hours, during which time the judge, jury and spectators sat uninterruptedly. The ‘prime interest to the superstitious Highlanders ay in the mysterious fact of the vision, and the eer was an object of interest when he entered e witness-box. He suffered a severe cross-ex- nination from the prisoner’s counsel, without the substantial value of his evidence being affected. No one who heard his examination could doubt ‘that he was stating what was actually true; no reserved throughout the trial 4 composure) arose and with the - cell plete Plete ~ commercial vehicles. ee: FAME AND FORTUNE WEEKLY ae Donald leave; had followed: him unobserved; had . made up to him, and walked along with him to the tarn; then, with a heavy hammer which he was carrying home, he had struck him several blows from behind, and, after rifling the corpse, had thrown it into the water. For some weeks it had remained at the bottom— at least, he could see nothing of it, and he had gone once or twice every week to look for it. The evidence of McLeod parece and startled him. The property had been hidden the same night— a dark, wet, misty night—immediately on his re- turn home; and it was impossible he thought, that McLeod, with whom he was merely acquaint- ed, could have come by his information in any natural way. . The fact is curious, and may furnish a problem for those who_are curious in psychological mys-- teries. The murder had, of course, been the main . topic of interest in the island for many weeks— it had no doubt become strongly impressed on McLeods imagination; some slight link of fact, a word or gesture, probably existed, and of these inchoate materials the story might gradually shape itself into a form not unlikélijthe actual, be- cause a natural and logical arrangement of the whole facts was known or surmisc! at the time. < And, going on with the story to its close, the dream would accompany the murderer after the commission of the crime, depict his horror and contrition, his frantic desire to put away from him any evidence of the accursed deed which lay heavy on his soul. The place where he con- 3 cealed the property was that he would naturally select—out of his own house, indeed, but. not so distant from it but that the articles might easily = Atos after the first dread had heer sub- ued. People who have disenchanted the unseen, and who consider a man’s muscle the best part of him, will probably explain the mystery in some ie such way. “The light of common day” has become too strong for the supernatural. HALF MILLION VEHICLES HAVE USED HOLLAND TUBE The 500,000th vehicle to pass through the Hol- land Vehicular Tunnel !ately was a five-ton truck 3 loaded with Christmas trees, which entered from the New Jersey side. ee Bae Since the opening of the tunnel, at 12:01 A.M., Noy. 138, no serious accidents have occurred and traffic has not: been slowed up except for a few minutes. : = Passenger vehicles made up 85 per cent. of the traffic that used the tunnel, 1 per cent. were — motorcycles and busses, and 14 per cent. were 5 Only fifty-one vehicles which broke down had — to be towed out of the tunnel, and sixty-five ran — out of gasoline in either of the two tubes. 2 ~The heaviest traffic for any one day was rec- orded on the opening day, when 51,694 vehicles used the two tubes. The daily average for the © first week was 22,562; for the second, 25,223, and for the third, 19,459. ag
Page 31
wor one ae orew. * FAME AND FORTUNE WEEKLY ‘ GOOD READING HUNT WOLVES IN PLANE Wolves, whose forays on. sheep have caused ‘heavy losses, were sought today by airplane and “by ranchers in automobiles in a drive to rid West ‘Texas of the animals. The airplane was used to locate the packs and guide the hunters to\them. * COMET NEEDS A TELESCOPE Prof. Edgar B. Frost announced bg at ‘Yerkes Observatory that the new comet, Skjel- lerup, discovered Dec. 4, at Melbourne, Australia, now is telescopically visible in the Middle West. ' It was observed Sunday evening. on the south- .west horizon, 11 degrees north of the sun, and ‘may be seen best about one-half hour before and ‘one-half hour after sunset. His observations have shown that the comet will ‘move only a little north of the Equator, instead » ' . of far into the Northern Hemisphere as first in- dicated, and asia result it will be visible only with the aid of the telescope. ~ ROUMANIA PURCHASES AMERICAN ‘ PARACHUTES American parachutes have invaded Europe, and _ the Roumanian Government to-day added its name to the list of sixteen European countries using ‘American parachutes of silk. It contracted for the purchase of 400 of these at $400 each. Paul A. De Weese, an American parachute jumper, who has nearly 500 dangerous descents to his credit, gave Roumanians a thrilling dem- onstration in the use of the parachute made by ‘the Irving Airchute Company of Buffalo, N. Y., which supplies the United States Army. In bitter cold he dropped from the tail of an army air- plane from a height of 11,000 feet, narrowly miss- ing colliding with a huge factory chimney. He told the. Government that the silk parachute was similar to the one which Lindbergh used on four different occasions, q MARINER RECALLS FIGHT AT SEA ON ‘ CHRISTMAS OVER PLUM DUFF ’ An ancient mariner, now permanently domiciled ashore in New York, recalled recently a Christ- mas at sea many years ago when he had a fight with a fellow apprentice off the point of Cape Horn because the latter had stolen his plum duff while he was at the wheel. The clipper was pitching and rolling wildly in the ah oot white topped-seas and the belligerents hit the bulwarks and the spars lashed down outside the galley far oftener than they struck each other. The combat lasted forty-five minutes, ‘while the albatrosses, with their great wings outspread, shrieked wildly overhead. . The two youths were quite exhausted and the captain, who had been watching them from the break of the poop, where he stood smok- ing his long clay pipe, ordered the steward to vive each one a slice of plum duff and a glass of port wine, which roused the envy of the entire . to require confinement to bed. ‘ deaths for each 1,000 inhabitants. _BELLANCA TEST PUT OFF Motor trouble yesterday prevented proposed flight tests of the first airplane built by Giuseppe M. Bellanca since, the monoplane Columbia, de- signed by him, was flown from New York to Ger- many in the long distance flight record of the world by Clarence D. Chamberlin. The new ship is similar to the trans-Atlantic plane but has four __ feet more wing spread (50 feet) and a new de- velopment of the “tin pants” landing gear de- veloped by Mr. Bellanca several years ago, only the lower part of the wheels being exposed. Chamberlin, Roger Williams and Harry Smith were on hand to: test the machine for A. R. Mar- tine, its owner, but the Wright whirlwind engine ~ proved a little balky and the flight was postponed until today or tomorrow. ; % FINDS EACH AMERICAN IS ILL ABOUT eA ONCE IN EVERY YEAR 5 i The average American is ill about once every — year, according to conclusions reached by the United States Public Health Service after-a sur- vey it conducted. / eS For the purposes of the investigation, the Health Service selected a small inland city which ii held representative of the average American city. Pas Rs Inquiries were made twice a month over a pe- riod of 28 months at every residence as to past illnesses of the occupants. The resultant figures — revealed that there had been an everage of 1,050 illness yearly for every 1,000 inhabitants. Forty per cent. of the illnesses were of sufficient gravity The annual death rate for the period was 9.3 BRI€KLAYING COSTS UP A Chicago newspaper prints the following story about the comparative cost of laying brick per thousand in 1900 and 1926: Noeees “In 1900 the price of brick was $4.50 a thou-_ sand, the bricklayer received $2.50 a day, and he laid approximately 2,000 bricks a day. | Pig as “In 1926 the cost of bricks was $21 a thousand, the bricklayér received $14 a day, and the laying of 600 bricks constituted a day’s work. The cost — of laying brick was $5.75 -per thousand in 1900,— and it was $37. per thousand in 1926.” This statement is being disputed by the brick- layers’ union, who claim that in 1900 the brick- layers worked ten hours a day instead of eight and that the cost of brick and the cost of laying them has been considerably increased, which ac- e counts for the high cost of laying brick in’ 1926. — The union officials say that a Chicago brick- — layer cannot hold his job unless he lays an aver- age of about 1,800 a day. Contractors say that the estimate of brick laid in Chicago in their ~ judgment is actually just about one-half of what the statement says a bricklayer lays
Page 32
: FAME AND FORTUNE WEEKLY 31 — CURRENT NEWS ae NAMES FOR LOCOMOTIVES Unlike America, Great Britain uses names in- stead of numbers as designations for its loco- _ motives. Among the titles are Florence Night- _ ingale, William Penn, Dick Whittington, Sherlock Holmes, Charles Dickens, Lord Byron and Sir P Prancis Drake. Locomotives are also named for ‘England’s Kings. 7 - BIRD HOUSES AS YULE GREETINGS ARE od SENT BY GOVERNOR OF OHIO - Birdhouses of his own handiwork are being sent his friends instead of Christmas cards by _ Governor Donahey this year. _. “My offering to you, my friend,” the Governor wrote in a letter accompanying his unique greet- ing, “is a little fine wood salvaged from the city _ dump (cantaloupe crates). A few nails and a _ half ounce of paint with my best wishes for you and yours during the year. _“A wren box placed where it ean be observed - from day to day will furnish an extraordinary _gexample of devotion, loyalty, courage and energy for a little mite of a bird that will enlarge our conception of ‘peace on earth, good will toward ‘men.’ ” ' The Governor made the houses last Summer. THEY FORGET “BOCHE” WASN’T POLIT Ro IN BERLIN. * -Washington.—A_ perfectlys good arrangement for the exchange of official American and German Wort War pictures has gone awry. After nego- - tiations over a considerable period an agreement _ for the exchange was reached. The War Depart- _ ment sent over to Germany a large assortment of American war pictures, expecting to receive in return and*without delay a similar collection of German photographs. ; Nothing happened except hectic expressions of indignation in Berlin, and the German pictures are still on the other side of the Atlantic. Instead of taking account of German sensibilities and deleting harsh words from captions, “Hun” and ‘Boche,” and such like were left in. » Now the War Department does not know - whether it ever will receive any official German ~-war pictures. : lw PARIS DECLARES AMERICANS ARE NOT . SUCH “EASY MARKS” mericans are losing something of their rep- tation as the star spenders, the “easy marks,” in France. | Seared from the country where the French seem to think every one is a millionaire are re- ‘ported to be looking twice at the price of things— ~ ‘and not always buying. _ The highest priced movie house on the boule- yards complains that Americans distinguish them- selves at the box office by looking over the price sign—20 francs or 80 cents—and frequently fad- hy san d prices . ' sawdust as will not stain is useful in the manu-~ ' nually.—N. Y: Times. | tourists will go home to spread word that Paris is expensive, even for them. Few recognize that as the france is virtually stabilized at 4 cents, world prices prevail here and many things; made ~ in smali relatively inefficient factories here, cost much more than similar products, made by ma- chine and in great quantities, in America. SAWDUST FROM- VARIOUS WOODS HAS ITS VALUE IN INDUSTRY The sawdust man fills an important function in the city. The meat and fruit markets and pack- ing houses would not be themselves without their carpet of sawdust on the floor, and the sawdust man is responsible for bringing it there. He makes his regular round of the city planing mills and wood-working factories and fills his bags from their sawdust piles for delivery to his cus- tomers. There are also dealers on a larger scale who use carload or truck lots, feeding it into ma- . chines that screen and bag it; then it is stored away according to size, species and grade to be sold for a wide variety of purposes. Disposal of sawdust is a real problem of the | wood-working industry. It may not be dumped into streams or tidal waters, according to the laws of most States; and burning it often gets the manufacturer into difficulties since much of it is likely to blow about and be rated as a nui- sance by neighbors. Industry, however, is now consuming more and more of it—not only for fuel, »— loose or in briquets, but in industrial processes; for sawdust is not just sawdust, but a whole fam- ily of product varying in use according to the kind of wood from which it comes. Some 30,000 tons of sawdust are used yearly, it~ is estimated, in the meat-curing industry.. Hick- ory is most in demand, but oak, mahogany, maple and other hardwoods are used to some extent. More than 22,000 tons are used as a filling medium in plaster board. In magnesite compo- ’ sition floors of residences and industrial build- ings and under ship decking as a covering for, steel plate more is used. It is also mixed with clay to make porous hollow building tile—the — sawdust being consumed in firing, leaving the de- sired interstices. In the building of houses saw- — dust is used as insulating material for heat anc sound, between the beams in the walls. - The California grape-packing industry con- sumes more than 4,000 tons a year, sawdust prov-. ing superior to the cork dust formerly used, on account of its cheapness and retention of mois- ture. Spruce sawdust is preferred for this pur- pose. Sometimes it is mixed with douglas fir. Bottled and canned. goods, too, are sometimes packed in sawdust. Moistened and sprinkled on + the floor of the cars in which nursery stock igs ~ shipped, or packed around the burlap coverings it keeps the roots from drying out in transit. Such facture of certain leathers, the hides being left overnight on damp sawdust piles to, be condi- tioned for kneading and stretching. The leather industry consumes approximately 1,160 tons ee ree in
Page 33
KF: ame and Fortune Weekly — Latest Issues — 2 1114 Ralph Roy’s Riches; or, A Smart Boy’s Run of Wall Street. 1115 A Castaway’s Fortune; or, + Hunt for-a Pirate’s Gold. 1116 The Little Money Maker; or, The Wall Street Boy Who Saved the Market. 1117 Rough and Ready Dick; or, A Young Ex- press Agent’s Luck. - 1118 Tipped Off by Telegraph; or, Shaking Up the Wall Street “Bears.” 4119 The Boy Builder; or, The Rise of a Young Mason. 1120 Marty, the Messenger; or, Capturing Coin in Wall Street. 1121 The Stolen Bank Note; or, The Career of a Boy Merchant. : 1122 Digging Up Dollars; or, The Nerve of a (3: Young “Bull” Operator. 1128 A Runaway Boy; or, The Buried Treasure of the Incas. ' 1124 The Old Broker’s Heir; or, The Boy Who Won In Wall Street. 1125 From Farm to Fortune; or, The Boy Wh ie Made Money In Land. 1126 Rugged Rob of Wall Street; or $50,000 From a Dime. 1127 The Boy Railroad Magnate; or, The Con- tract That Brought a Million. 1128 Dandy Dick, the Boy Boss Broker; or, Hus- _ thing for Gold in Wall Street. 1129 Caught By Cannibals; or “The Treasure of the Land of Fire. 1180 The Little Operator; or, Cornering the “Bears” of Wall Street. 1181 Air Line Ed; or Building a Telegraph Line.’ 1182 A Boy of the Curb; or, The Secret of a Treasury Note. 1183 From Foundry Boy to Steel King; or, The je Rise of a Young Bridge Builder. 4134 The Missing Box. of Bullion; or, The Boy z Who Solved a Wall Street Mystery. 1135 Claim No. 7; os A Fortune ftom a Gold Ate Mine, » 1136 Out for Big Money; or, Touching Up the Wall Street Traders. 1187 The Boy Ice King; or, Coining Money From ‘ the River. ‘ money or postage stamps. 3 140 Cedar Street, _ For sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent to any. address on receipt of price, 8 cents per co WESTBURY PUBLISHING CO., Inc. 1138 Four of a Kind; or, The Combination that Made Wall Street Hum. (a 1189 Bob Brandon, Contractor; or The ‘Treasanee ear That Led To Fame. : VS. 1140 A Boy From the South; or, Cleaning Out au Wall Street Crowd. Hal, the Hustler; or, The Feat That Made * Z Mim Famous. wis) A Mad Broker’s Scheme; or, The Corner that Couldn’t Be Worked. Dollars From Dust; or, The Boys Who Worked a Silver Mine. » The Billy Black, the Broker’s Son; Worst Boy in Wall Street. Adrift In the Sea; or, The Treasure of Lone Reef. The Young Wall Street Jonah; or, The Boy Who Puzzled the Brokers, Wireless Will; or, The Success of a Young oii Telegraph Operator. Wall Street Jones; or Trimming the Tri Traders. Fred the Faker; or, The Success of a Young Street Merchant. The Lad From ’Frisco; or, Pushing th “Big Bonanza.” The Lure of Gold; or, The Transtse Coffin Rock. Money Maker Mack; or, The Boy Who Smashed a Wall Street "Ring, i“ jaeahh Missing For a Year; or, Making a Fortun } in Diamonds. Phil, the Plunger, or; A Nervy Boy’s Game ‘ of Chance, = Samson, the Boy Blacksmith; or, From th Anvil to Fortune. Bob’s Big Risk; or, The Chance That Gam But Once. : Stranded in the Gold Fields; or, The Tre ure of Van Dieman’s Land. : “Old Mystery,” the Broker; or, Playing be sea Daring Game. ae Capital, One Dime; or, Boring His Way to r Fortune, if 1160 Up Against a Hot_Game; or, Two Colleg Chums in Wall Street. 1161 A Big Contract; or, The Poor Boy Who 1162 Benson’s New Boy; or, Wocpee ‘up Wall Street Market. ; ae 1141 1142 1143 1144 bis 1145 1146 1147 1148 1149 150 1151 1152 1153 1154 1155 1156 1157 1158 1159