k g All- 

 

 

 

Kell looked at the paper again, and still hesi—
tated. The mystery was not explained in the
least, but he felt that he might as Well refrain
from asking the woman any more questions.

The only point was, should he let her in?

She suddenly concluded that something be-
sides intimidation might be Wise upon her part,
and, producing her pocketbook, took out a dol~
lai' bill. ”

" This will repay you for your trouble, she
observed, more graciously.

“ Don‘t want yer money !”

“ N o f”

“ No. Ef you‘ve made a special bargain with
the boss, he‘s the man ter look after the finances.
The terms for the lodging-room is twenty cents
a night. 1 never heerd that there was a price on
t’other room. I won’t take no money!” .

Cobwebs spoke with Vigor, bound to have his
conscience free, anyhow. He could not very
well refuse to obey the note, unless he knew it to
be a forgery, and this he did not know. .

“I trust, for your sake, you are not gonig to
refus« to let me into the room,” continued the
woman, an angry glitter appearing in her eyes.

I s‘pose that’s intended ter skeer me, but I
don‘t skeer very bad. You kin hev 'the room.
I only hope yer ain’t puttin’ up no job on the
boss, fur he is pertic’lar p’izon when his mad is
up. Yer name ain’t on this codicil.”

“ Codicil? Oh! no ; it’s not on the paper. But
I am Madame Hortense Llipierre,”

“ French!” thought the Prodigy. f‘ So was
t’other one. I’ll be thrashed ef thar ain’t a de-
luge o’ sech.” . . .

Madame Lapierrc was looking impatiently .to-
ward the small room, and she was kept waiting
no longer. Cobwebs opened the door and light-
ed the gas.

He had not maligned the room. It was a small
and ill favored place, where but few ladies would
wish even to sit down, but she surveyed it With
an air of satisfaction.

“ I kin get a broom an’ shove out some 0’ the
dirt fur ye———” _ _

So spoke Kell, but she interrupted him.

“ Nonsense! “'hatisalittledust? All I want
is to be left alone. Good-night!” _

She seemed upon the point of trying to shove
him out forcibly, but changed her mind and did
nothing so rash. Reluctantly and unWillingly
the janitor left the room, and the key at once
clicked in the door. Madame Lapierre had made
herself secure from intrusion.

Kell shook his head gravely.

" Can’t get enter it. Whatever possesses that
woman ter want a habitation in there is more
nor I kin guess. She looks like she had some
money, so why should she come here? Hope she
won’t smash around and disturb my lodgers.
They're good, high-toned gents, an’ them as ain’t
full would he kep’awake by a rumpus. That
would be a shame!” _

The janitor shook his head again as be con—
sidered h0w melancholy it would be if such emi-
nent men should be annoyed.

“ But the wall is thick between her room an’
theirs, an’ I reckon they won’t hear her,” be de-
cided. .

He reéntered the main room. All was quiet
there, and the lodgers seemed to be oblivious of
all around them, but onlya few minutes had
passed when the door of one apartment opened
and the Frenchman came out.

His face bore the old, troubled expression, and
he looked around nervously. Approaching Kell,
he began to speak, and had said only a few
words when Monk Merry’s forehead and eyes
ap ared above the wall of his inclosure.

eorge W ashington’s guardian proceeded to
listen eagerly. .

“ My young friend, did I give to you ze name
which is mine?” asked the Frenchman.

“ No. We never take names here.”

’ H Mine is John Smith.”

The ridiculous side of this claim, when the
name was compared with the speaker’s nation-
ality, could not fail to impress itself upon Cob-
webs, but his gravity was proof against all
thin s.

“ 1! right,” he returned.

“ Could you write ze name on ze door to my
bed- lace, young sir?”

“ (great cats! why should I?”

“ So zat any one who comes in may know zat
I am not any one else.”

“ What would they care?”

“ Zey might care much.”

“ You don’t know the character 0’ this here
house,” Kell expostulated, with some warmth.
“ This is a bang-up, first-class ’stablishment, an’
nobody don’t meddle with nobody else. We
don’t keer whether folks is called Smith or
Schmittgruber—not a fraction. Write yer
name on the door? Nary time; ’twould be
ag’in’ all rools an’ precedents. Can’t do it!
You’d better turn in, mister; the night air is
gettin’ raw,an’ bleak.”

Monsieur John Smith yielded meekly, but'he
sighed as he turned away. Plainly, his mind
was ill at ease.

When he disappeared in his own quarters
Mr. Monk Merry’s prying head went out of
sight, too, but its owner shook his shaggy locks
gravely.

“ The old chap is up ter some game!” he mut-
tered. “ I can’t for the life 0’ me guess what,
but I'm afeerd he is on ter me!”

Cobwebs was not given time to think upon
the peculiarities of Monsieur Smith. Two more
customers arrived, and it needed only one
glance for the Prodigy to see that they were
Italians. This was not at all strange; all nations
had been represented at the appy Haven,
and the coming of a Turk would not have sur—
prised Kell. _

The new-comers stopped and looked curiously
around the long room.

“ Want ’cornmodations’s” Kell asked, briskly.

“ Yes,” one of the twain answered, mechanic—
ally, but in quite good English. _

“ All right. Will you go in tergether?”

The man ceased to look around So inquisitive-
ly and, turning his gaze upon the janitor, spoke
in a low voice:

"' You have many patrons, eh i”

(I Heaps Pl

“ They all in now, eh?”

“ Can’t say. They call at all hours.”

“ How many come this night, eh i”

“ Oh! upwards of a dozen, I reckon.”

The questioner stood in silence. but, once more
his gaze traveled inquisitiver along the room.
It was as though he sought to learn more than
he knew, and he hesitated to put in words what
was in his mind. .

His companion, who, evidently, was less in—
telligent, was outdoing him in the matter of
peering about. \ _

Sharply as they looked, there was one thing
they did not see. The moment they entered the
room the door to Monsieur Smith‘s compart—
ment had been pushed ajar just the slightest
fraction, and that man had looked out nervous-

yThe first view of them threw him into a
panic. His face became white, and his legs
shook under him until it seemed as if he would
fall.

“ Mon Dieu .' I am lost!” he gasped, in a whise

er.
p And there at the crevice he stood, watching
with undiminished terror until CobWebs grew
weary of the delay and brought the Italians to
the p nnt with a few business-like words. They
paid for their lodging, and he conducted them
directly toward Smith’s covert.

Then the latter fled to his bed, crawled into
it, drew up the clothes and covered his head.
He left one little place 0 en so that he could
listen, and heardmhe lta ians enter the com-
partment next to his own. _

Profuse perspiration broke out upon him.
He ‘eared these men with an overwhelming
fear. and now they were given quarters with
only a low partition between them and him-

se i.

The bed trembled under his shaking form.

It was not light enough in the compartment
to distinguish faces, but he did not uncover his
own. He kept the small opening free, h0wever,
and gazed at the top of the partition'in the
fascination of deadly fear.

His apprehensions were not without founda-

 

tion. There were soft whispers in the Italians’
quarter: then a lull; and then he saw a human
head rise above the partition.

(To be continued.)

EBB TIDE.

BY BELLA D. EXXON.

The cold, white moon swings low;
The salt sea laves the quiet land,
Away, away the swift sails go—
A dim and ghostly hand.
Soft waves!
Try a newer theme!
That old. swuet strain thrills thro’ my heart
\Vilh ineni’ries of a dream.

The barren rocf s look down'
In silence on the tide. which slips
About them still, despite the frown,
With tender. signing lips.
Faithless!
The Silent rocks know this—
Those soft waves touch too many shores
With lips that cling and kiss.

But when the tide goes out
With farewells full of passion's pain,
The shore, in mingled love and doubt,
Sniilrvs at the low refrain-
‘ S reetheai't!
] leave thee, now forlorn!
The moments flee. I must away
Before the break of morn!"

The moon sinks on! of sight.
One trembling star awaits the day;
And sadly falls the pailid light
Upon the ledges gray l
Lonely
They wait the turn of the tide.
They miss the clasp of that close embrace
Despite- their doubting pride.

The Hawks and Wolves
of New York;

OR,

THE LIVINGSTONB MILLIONS.

BY ALBERT W. AIKEN,
AUTHOR or “ixJUN DICK,” “JOE PHENIX,”
“FRESH or ’rarsco,” are, ETC.

CHAPTER XXIV.
CANARY NEGOTIATES.

MR. GAYA\VAY MUTTLEBUD sat in his office, a
small apartment in Fourteenth street, near
Union Square, his feet elevated upon a table,
and puffing away vigorously at a huge cigar.

The private detective was not in a pleasant
mood and he was givmg vent to his thoughts in
words after the semi—theatrical style common to
the man, who, although possessed of a certain
shrewdness, was a great brag gart.

“ Well, now, if this don’t beat the Dutch you
can take my boots!” he ejaculated, blowing out
a great cloud of tobaccoismoke. “ Eleven days
—eleven precious days I have been on this
trail, and nary scent of hide nor hair can I get.
And yet she is here in New York, somewhere.
I would be ready to take my oath that she is;
but where, that is the question before the meet-
ing. Where is she hiding, and why don’t she
come out and sh0w herself, or is she afraid that
there will be trouble on account of her running
awa ?"

The blundering boaster had little suspicion
that he was entirely to blame for the girl’s flight,
and that, if he had kept his threats to himself,
he would have had no difficulty in securing the

me.

“ This is about as m sterious an affair as I
ever got mixed up in,’ he continued. “What
on earth does the Englishman want of the girl?
and he’s so darned close-mouthed, too, that a
man can’t get an idea out of him. It is for
something important, of course, or else he
wouldn’t be throwing his money around in this
loose way. It has cost him a pretty penny
already, but he don’t seem to mind it! ‘ Hang
the expenses!‘ he says; ‘ find the irl; that is all
I want,’ and I’ve done my level st, but, some
how, I can’t work the trick. I thought the per-
sonal advertisements in the newspapers would
fetch the gal, or, at least, reach somebody that
knew something about her, for if she is in the
city she must be staying with somebody, and I
pitched it pretty strong in the advertisement of
how big money would be paid for reliable in-
formatiOn, but here’s a good ten days gone and
nary a bite.”

Just then the door opened slowly and a benev-
olent-looking old gentleman, attired in a well-
worn suit of black, peered into the apartment—
such a man as nine out of every ten people meet-
ing him in the street would take to be a leading
light in some quiet old church.

Muttlebud, however, knew the man of old,for
he instantly accosted him.

“ Hallo, Papa Canary, what do you want?
Come in; don’t be. frightened: lain’t got any
of the (If tectives here from the Central Office to
pounce upon you.”

“ Oh, my dear Mr. Muttlebud, you will have
your joke!” the old man replied, closing the door
behind him, at the same time taking a rapid
survey of the apartment to make sure that what
the detective said was correct. “ I am not
afraid of the detectives; why should I be? I am
living on the square, now—have entirely shook
my vile associates.”

“Yes; until a good chance comes to make a
big haul. You turn honest? Yes, when the
world comes to an end.”

“ Ah, you will joke just so much; but I
have come to see you on a leetle matter of
business.”

“ Oh, no; you can’t rope me into anything.
Go sing to some other flat 3”

“ You wrong .me so much that you make my
heart bleed!” whined the old fellow, trying hard
to squeeze out a tear.

“ ()h, stow that gammon!
want?”

“ A little ad vertisement in the paper attracted
my attention."

“ Oho!" and the detective took his feet from
the table: do you know anything about the
party .3”

“ \Vell, I am not exactly sure. I happened to
make the acquaintance of a young girl whose
first name was Helen on a. train in Jersey about
a couple of weeks ago when l was coming up to
the city, and she answers to the description that
you gave in your advertisement.”

“ Two weeks ago! That was the time.”

“ Well, what is there to this thing, anyway?
What do you want of the girl i"

“ Have you got. her?”

“ Oh, no.”

“ No use to lie about the matter, you know,”
continued the detective. “ If you have got her
you had better own right up, for if you are in-
clined to be ugly about it, now that I have got a
clew. I will be down on you like a thousand of
bricks!”

“ My dear Mr. Muttlebud, you are only wast-
ing breath by threatening me,” responded the
old man, oily as ever, and yet with a sort of
snarl, showingr his teeth, plain proof that he could
offer battle if necessary. “ Just look at the mat-
ter yourself: I am no chicken : entirely too old a
bird to be caught with chaff. If I had been
mixed up with anything crooked in this busi-
ness do you suppose I would have been fool
enough to come to you? Do you suppose I
couldn’t have sent somebody else to have found
out what leetle game you was up to? Now, I
propose to deal honest with you. The girl was
in my hands—in my house, but she isn’t now,
although if you can afford to make it an object
to me it is just possible I may be able to find her
for you ”

“ Canary. if you have harmed that girl it will
be the worst day’s work you ever did in your
life, and you know better than any one else that
you have had some ugly jobs recorded against
von in your time!” cried Muttlebud, in his blus-
tering way.

What do 'ou

 

“ Oh, my dear Mr. Detective, you are not
half so acute a man as you think yourself to
be 7’ responded the old rogue, conteniptuously.
“ 0 You think that if I had harmed the girl
I would ‘ give myself away ’ by admitting
to anybody that I knew anything about her!
Why, you must think that I am a regular don-
key.”

“ No, no; the man who picks you up for a flat
will get badly fooled.”

“ To business; for my time is worth too
much to be wasted. What is the information
worth?"

“ I ain’t sure that your bird is the one I
want.”

“ She came from South J ersey——somewhere
back of Freehold.”

“ Blazes!" muttered Muttlebud, to himself;
“ no wonder I missed her. lVasn’t she a sly one,
though, to cut across the country to Freehold,
while I was cooling my heels around the (leOL
at Long Branch f”

“ The girl excited my suspicions because she
kept such a close month about herself, for I
couldn’t get a word out of her in regard to her
folks, where she lived, or why she had left her
home; but the fact that she was so mum about
them: matters, coupled with the circumstance
that she hadn’t theleast bit of baggage, made me
suspect that she had given leg-bail and was run-
ning away from home. I suspected, too, that
the name she gave me was not her own, and
from the peculiar way in which,when we stopped
at a station, she watched the assengers board
the train—a sortof frightened 00k upon her face
as though she was afraid that some of them were
coming after her—~rather led me to think that
she had done something and was afraid of being
pursued and captured.”

“ \Vha name did she give?”

“ How much is that information worth i”
Canary demanded, with a dry chuckle and a
wink.

“ Oh, I don’t know that; not much of anything,
I reckon. All I wanted to know for was to see
if it was the party I wanted.”

“She answered to the description exactly—
face, figure and dress; her first name was Helen,
and she was on the train from Freehold up for
New York, on the morning sucoeeding the night
when, according to your advertisement, she dis-
appeared from her home.

“ Now then, if she fills the bill, and you want
to negotiate, well and good, say so, and we’ll
get to work; if you don’t mean business, spit it
out, and I will shake the dust from my feet and
depart.”

Muttlebud looked puzzled for a moment; not
a quick—witted man, despite all his brags, he was
no match for the old scamp who for many a long
year had comfortably supported himself by
“ trick and device.”

“ Well, how much do you want?"

“ “'hat’s your offer?”

" How can I tell what your information is
worth until I know what it is ?”

“You are very anxious to see what cards I
hold, eh i”

“ If I have got to buy your hand it is only fair
I should have a sight at it to be able to tell some—
thing about its value.”

“ I can put you on the track of the girl.”

“ That is what I want.”

“ I made her acquaintance on the train that
morning, as I told you, and when I found out the
suspicious circumstances that surrounded her, I
came to the conclusion that she was just the kind
of girl I was looking for; she was fresh-faced,
good-lookin , innocent-appearing; one to look
at her woul never have sus ted she had been
up to any mischief, and so reckoned that if I
could work her into a sort of decoy-duck I would
make a heap of money.”

“ I see; get her into wealthy families, and
have her find out where the valuables were
kept, so that you and your pals could go for
them.”

“ Ah. Mr. Muttlebud, you must have associa-
ted with very bad men to haw. such evil ideas,”
responded Canary, with a grin.

“ Oh, I know your favorite game, there’s half
a dozen girls in State’s Prison now, sent there on
your acc0unt, but you always manage to‘ get
clear.”

“ Innocent man, you kn0w! Well, I got the
girl to my home all right, but in an hour or two
she contrived to slip through my fingers, and I
tell you she’s a deep one or else she couldn’t
have done it. I’m a kind of a superstitious man,
and I didn’t try to find her, for I had an idea
she wouldn’t bring me any luck, for she escaped
from a trap that never failed to hold its bird
before; but when I saw your advertisement I
thought there might be a few dollars in the thing,
and so I set out to hunt her up. and I suc~
ceeded. Now, if you want to trade, I’m your
man!” '

“ How much? Name your price.”

“ A thousand dollars, say.”

“ Oh, my principal wouldn’t stand that.”

“ That’s the lowest cent.”

“ He won’t give it.”

At that moment the Englishman, Garrow-
croft, entered the room.

CHAPTER XXV.
CATCHING A TARTAR.

CANARY, gifted with a scamp’s quick compre-
hension, the moment the Englishman came in
gues ed that the new—comer was the man inter-
ested, so he resolved, with instant decision, to
ignore the detective and do business with the
principal.

“ Ah! this is the gentleman, I presume. who is
interested in the Helen Waybit matter? How
fortunate it is that I am able to afford him val—
uable information.”

Muttlebud scowled and gave a little gasp; the
cool impudence of the other had almost taken
his breath away; but the unsuspicious English-
man naturally supposed that the detective had
spoken of him to the stranger, so immediately
replied:

“ Yes, sir: I am the party.”

“ I don’t think we can do anything, sir, with
this here cove,” Muttlebud hastened to remark.
“ He, wants too steep a price for his informa—
tiOIl. ’ I

Canary sighed and rolled up his eyes in pro—
test against this insinuation.

“ How much i"demandcd Garrowcroft, sharp—

ly. .

“ A thousand dollars.”

“ Oh. by Jove! Why don’t 'you ask for the
bank of England, you know? Now, if you were
to say a hundred, I think you would be deuced
well paid.”

“ Not for such information as I can give: that
is, of course, if you are interested in the girl and
are anxious to recover her.”

“Won’t you take less ?” asked Garrowcroft.

“ Not a' penny! Oh, I could not—I really
could not, in justice to myself, for I have been
to considerable trouble and expense in the mat-
ter, and I can assure you that if you decline to
play my price and so have to go without my in—
formation, the chances are a hundred to one you
won’t find the girl, even if you spent ten years
in the search.”

“ G minim ! ‘cried the detective.

“ I” i "Y ' I‘anary replied.

Tl -» ii .gli~hman had taken a good look at the
old man, as if trying to make out what kind of
a customer he had to deal with, and now he
spoke.

“ This gentleman may be right.” he said, ad-
dressing Muttlebud. “ Perhaps I would save
money “vi time by paying the thousand. Will
you wait five minutes, while I talk the matter
over With m y friend in the inner room?”

This to the old man.

“ Certainly! Delighted to oblige,” replied Ca-
nary, satisfied that his demand would be met.

The Englishman and the detective withdrew
into the little inner office.

“Who is this old rascal, and what does he
know about the girl?” asked Garrowcroft, the
moment they were alone.

Briefly Muttlebud told all he knew of Papa
Canary and his “interesting ” family, who spent
more time in jail than they did out of it: then be
related the story told by the old man in relatiou
to the girl.

“How can we be sure that he hasn’t got the

 

g'irtll in his possession now!” Garrowcroft que-
rie .

‘.‘ Heaven help her then, if she isl” Muttlebud
exclaimed. “ If she has been two weeks in the
hands of this old scoundrel and his crew she is a
poor ruined creature!”

The Englishman ground his teeth in a rage.

“ If it is so, may the Lord have mercy on all
of the gang, for I’ll havo the deepest and direst
vengeance that money can buy, and if I can’t
stretch the law far enough to satisfy me, then
I’ll take the law into my own hands.”

The speaker was greatly excited, and the de-
tective marveled at the emotion which be dis
played.

“ I don’t think, governor, that it is likely. He
wouldn’t have dared to come forward if he had
harmed the girl.”

“ True, very true! Oh, I’ll give him his thou—
sand dollars, the atrocious scoundrel! Do you
think he will tell me the same story he told you
about the girl .9”

Muttlebud did not exactly comprehend what
the other was driving at, but he replied that he
had no doubt he would.

The two returned to the outer room.

“Sir, I will not conceal from you that this
gentleman,”—and he nodded to the detective—
“ strongly advises me not to give you the sum
you ask, but if you convince me that you can
arrange matters so that I can put my hands
upon the girl, I think we can come to a satisfac-
tory agreement.”

“ No doubt, for I can do that.”

“ Proceed, sir; relate to me all the particulars
of the affair, so that I may judge.”

Canary fell immediately into the trap the
Englishman had laid. Despite his shrewdness,
this time he was tricked, for be related in full
how he had encountered the girl on the train,
how he had carried her to his house, and how
she had disappeared from the apartment in
which she had been placed, suppressing, of
course, the particulars of h0n he had drugged
her, intending to make her his s‘laVe.

“ And when you saw the reward offered for
Helen Waybit, you suspected that it was the
girl whom you had harbored in your house, and
you then hunted her up?”

“ Exactly.”

“ And you can tell us where she is now i"

“ I can, provided you fork OVer a thousand
dollars.” .

“ I think twenty-five will pay you very
well.”

Canary stared: this was a discount with a
vengeance.

“ 'l‘ wenty-five devils!" he cried, in a rage, for
he began to have an idea that the cool English-
man was amusing himself at his expense. “ Say,
Muttlebud, tell this gentleman I am not the
kind of a man to be played with.”

“ Sir, I assure you you are the Very last ar-
ticle in the world I would select for a play-
thing. I am quite in earnest in this matter;
Io,wi!l give you twenty—five dollars and no
more.”

“I refuse—that is all there is about that; I
refuse, and I reckon you won’t be able to find
the girl without my help if you search for a
year!”

Canary made a movement toward the door,
but the broad-shouldered Englishman antici-
pated him and blocked the way.

“Not quite so fast, my friend: I’Ve not got
through with you yet.” I

" What do you mean?” demanded Canary,
much more annoyed, though, than alarmed, for
it took a great deal to frighten this veteran law-
breaker.

“You are a donkey, sir, for by your own
confession it is plain you entrapped the girl into
going to your house, for if she had had any idea
of your character or the nature of the den over
which you preside, she never would havo gone.
You have admitted that the girl was With y u
two weeks ago, and since that time she I: s
never, been seen, so the inference is clear that

you had something to do with her disappear:

ance; so I propose to have you arresth on a
charge of abduction. If you haven’t harmed
the girl, and know where she is, you can very
easily get out of the scrape by either producing
her or giving information so that she can be
found. Mr. Muttlebud, have the kindness to
put your—elf in communication with the superin
tendent of police with the telephone.”

Canary was far too shrewd a rascal not to
comprehend that he was in a tight place. The
chances were a thousand to one that some one
of the neighbors had seen the girl enter his
house with him and would testify to that effect,
and be well knew his bad character would
weigh heavily against him: so, like a wise man,
realizing that he had caught a Tartar, he sub-
mitted gracefully to the inevitable.

“ Well, gents,” he remarked, forcing a sickly
smile, “ I guess you have got me this time, and
seeing that it is you, I will take your offer of
twenty-five for the information.”

“ But we don’t pay the money, you see, until
we know that everything is all square!” put in
the detective, eager to have a voice in the mat-
ter, and rather nettled to think that his princi-
pal had devised a scheme which had succeeded
in getting old Canary “into a hole” when his
wits had not been equal to the task.

“ Of course; I don’t object to anything in
reason.”

And then the old bird of prey related how, af-

ter the advertisement in relation to the girl had

a peared, he came to the conclusion that the

elen Home whom he had met on the train was
the young girl advertised for under the name of
Helen Waybit, and thinking there was some
money in the matter he had gone to work to
hunt her up.

A single clew only had he—the letter which
he explained the girl had left behind when she

'had quitted the house—which tale neither of the

listeners believed, for they had no doubt the
letter had been stolen from the girl. This
letter Canary yielded to Mr. Garrowcroft. In
this note was an appointment to meet the girl
at the obelisk in Central Park. So, up to the
Park Canary went, and after careful inquiry he
discovered that a girl answering to the descrip-
tion of Helen Home, or Helen Waybit, had been
arrested in the Park. and was afterward taken
to the court in Fifty-fourth street. To the
court he went, and after a little trouble suc-
ceeded in disc0vering that she had keen fined,
her fine paid by Senator Bumblebig, and with
that gentleman she had departed.

Keeping to the track like a detective—hound,
Canary at length discovered that the girl was
an inmate of the senator‘s house at Tarrytown,
acting as his secretary.

“ We can decide in regard to the truth of this
story within an hour or two. Sir, we will have
to trouble you to accompany us to the house of
this senator.”

Canary made no objection, and inside of five
minutes the three were on their way.

CHAPTER XXVI.
A DISCOVERY.

AFTER the interview between the two young
men in relation to the Plantagenet estate, as re-
lated in a preceding chapter, social intercourse
between them was almost entirely broken off,
for Denby was of that peculiar. open nature
which cannot conceal ils likes and dislikes, and
after having offered to make Richard 3 free
gift of the princely sum of one hundred thou-
sand dollars, without conditions, to have him
declare that he thought he ought to have a mill-
ion. was the assurance of insolencc, and par-
ticularly~o as the young Englishman had in—
sinuated that if his demand was not complied
With there would be trouble.

Denby had consulted his lawyers, but, as be-
fore, they laughed at the idea of Mrs. Plan-
tagenet making a will without their knowledge,
and advised the young man not to pay any at—
tention to such a ridiculous surmise.

Under these circumstances there was not much
sociability among the three who now dwelt in
the family mansion. although the girl, Viola,
tried to be as agreeable as possible, but with her
quick womanly instinct she saw that the gulf
between the two y0ung men was growing wider
and wider each day, and understood that it

 

b

would be the height of folly for her to attempt
to interfere in the matter.

One day after dinner, just in the dusk of the
evening, all three happened to be in the parlor
together. It was a purely accidental meeting,
for neither of the young men courted the other's
society

lienby was seated close by the window, look-
ing over one of the evening papers, when Viola
had coaxed Richard to come in and turn the
leaves of a new piece of music which she wished
to try, and she had got all through with the
playing before either of them discovered Den—
by ’s presence—oi; at least so they said.

“ Oh, I’m tired of music !” Viola exclaimed,
abruptly. “ I feel just like reading to—ni ht.
Denby, won’t you have the book-cases unloc ed
so that I can have a book 2”

“ The book-cases are not locked.”

“ Oh, yes they are, for I went for a book this
afternoon when you were out and couldn’t get

11

“ Well, I didn’t know it. and I can assure you
it was not by my orders.”

“ Larry said be supposed it was, for you had
the key.”

“ I had the key? “Inst nonsense!” Dcnby
exclaimed, impatiently. “ Call Larry, please;
be has made some mistake.”

Viola summoned the servant, who wag the
waiter of the house, and when he came the
young master questioned him.

" Indeed, sir. I thought that you locked the
book—cases, for I saw the key on the bureau in
your room.”

“ Absurd! Why should I lock the book-
cases f”

“ ’Deed, sir, I don‘t knew, but the cases are
locked, sir, and lam certain I saw the key in
one of the vases on your bureau.”

“ “'ell, I can‘t imagine who locked them—for
I certainly did not, and no one should meddle
with the library arrangem nts without orders.”

“ I didn’t, sir!” proteste the servant, quickly.

“ Oh, I have no doubt of your innocence; it
isasmall matter, though, not worth speaking
about. If you want a book, Viola, Larry can
get, you one as long as he knows where the key
is.

“ “'hat shall I send for!”

" Have you read any of the Waverley novels
lately?” Richard asked, and she answered with
a shake of the head.

“ Try one of them,” he suggested.

“ W hich one?”

“ ()h, it doesn’t matter, let chance decide;
let Larry bring you whichever one he thinks
pr .‘

“ It will be as good as a lottery, won’t it?
Well, Larry, if you will be good enough to go
to the library and bring me a book; you choose
for me: it doesn’t matter which one, any of the
Waverley novels.”

“ Yes, miss," and the man departed.

“Here‘s a chance to win a pair of gloves!”
cried the girl. “ Richard, I will bet you that
you cannot name the book he will bring.r

” That is a safe wager, for the chances are all
in your favor, and I beg leave to decline.”

She bantercd him about his lack of Courage
until the servant returned.

He had chosen “ Rob Roy,” delivered the -

book and then retreated.

“Oh, I’m afraid that I shall not enjoy this
very much!” Viola declared, with the charm-
ing pout which became her beautiful face so
well. “If I remember rightly, it is all about
fi hting, and horrid, rough, savage people who
ta k in the most outlandish way.”

“ You haven’t any Scotch blood in your veins,
it is evident. or you would never dare to asperse
the Highland dialect after that fashion i” Richard
declared. “ But you can look at the ictures if
you don’t like the dialogue, for the i ustrations
ar'ghbeaiétiful.”

e e ition was a magnificent one la e in
size and splendidly illustrated. _ ' ’ rg- .

“ Here goes for the pictures. then!” The girl
opened the book, and ,as she did so she exposed
to view .a folded paper which had. been snugly
hid between the leaves.

]_ “ Oh, my! what‘s this?” burst from Viola’s

ips.
“ A surprisggmrty,” suggested Richard.
Denby look up from his newspaper, his at-
tention attracted by the exclamations.

“ W’hwt is it ?" he asked.

“ A letter, or a business paper of some kind,
hidden away in this volume.”

" That’s odd I" he remarked. .

zExamine it and see what it is,” said Rich-
ar .

Viola turned the paper over; there was an

‘

inscription on the other side, and she read it

aloud :

“The last will and testament of Matilda Van
Tromp Plantagenet.” ‘

There was a dead silence in the room for a
moment, and the three gazed upon each other
with wondering eyes.

The girl was the first to speak.

“ What a strange place to put a will I”

“ Oh, no: I have read of just such things be-
fore,” observed Richard.

“Yes, I have read of such a thing in a re.
mance, but I thought it was all pure fiction,
and I never believed that such things did hap~
pen in reality.”

“ Where else do the writers draw their in-
spiration but from real life?”

“Open the paper and read it, Viola, and
then we will know whether it is what it pur-
ports to be or not,” Dent-y observed, not at all
affected by this mysterious and unexpected dis-
covery, except that it set him to watching Rich-
ard’s countenance very intently.

“I beg your pardon, Denby, for interfering,
but don’t you think it would be better for you
to examine the paper and make yourself master
of its contents before you give it to the world?
You are the head of the family, and'by right
entitled to examine any such paper as this be-
fore nny one else.”

Denby’s lips curled slightly, and there was a
scornful look in his eyes.

“Richard, you are really growing magnani-
mous,” he remarked: ,“Now,see how I have
wronged you! I never should have been will<
ing to believe that you would yield to any such
generous sentiments; on the contrary, I would
have been certain that you would not scruple
to take advantage of any and all means to ad-
vance your fortunes. If this is my mother’s
will, it is, doubtless, the paper of which you
spoke the other day when last we conversed
upon the subject—t e will of which you knew
something and I knew nothing, strange as that
may appear to any unprejudiced observer. If
your statement of the contents of that paper
was correct, then both you and Viola have de-
cidedly more interest in the matter than I,
therefore I prefer that one of you should ascer-
tain what the document really does contain.
If you place it in my hands and it strikes the
blow at my fortune which you predicted, I
might be capable, if I were a Wicked man, of
attempting to suppress it altogether.”

“Oh. for shame, Denby, to speak in that
way!" Viola exclaimed. her face flushing. “ I
am sure you have no reason, for both Richard
and myself have the utmost confidence in your
honor.” -

“1 echo Viola’s sentimenls!” Richard hast-
ened to add. “ I have the most perfect trust in
your integrity, and as Iconsider you the only
proper person to examine this paper, I must de~
cline to do so first.”

Viola brou ht the document and gave it into
Denby’s ban 3, saying:

“ You must read it. for no one else will.”

In the last few weeks the experience of years
seemed to have come to the young man. He
had become distrustful, and had learned to trust
more to the actions of those by whom he was
surrounded than to their words. He was satis-
fied that Richard Plantagenet was a crafty
schemer who would not hesitate long lefore
using any means which he thought would attain
the end he sought.

In thismysterious appearance of the will he
suspected a trap. His mother, of late years.
had not been much given to reading, and he
thought that a book in the library would be the
most unlikely place in the world for her to de-

 

 

 

 

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