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V01  Pnbliuhed Ever; (Beadle g} dﬂdams, Spablishers, “Noumea” NO 

Wednud‘i- 98 WILLIAM STREET. N. Y.. Much 4. was. 35-00 l Y0".

 

-2113

  
 

 

The Masked mlery of the Tower.

A Story or Strunge Fact: or Mlny
Years Ago.

 

BY COL. THOS. BUYER MONSTERY,
('hampion-at-Arms 0anth and South America.
AUTHOR OF “ THE DEMON DUELIST,” ETC.

 

CHAPTER I.
THE TOWER OF LONDON.
THE last visitor had departed, and the gloomy old
Tower of London had sunk into its Usual quiet for

THEY SAW rm: STRANGE 7mm TAKE A FLYING LEAP, cquuNG um BROAD non the night. '
As H? n HAD BEEN A CUTTER. General Bend. the Constable of the Tower. was

/

‘

2

 

 

Spring-Heel Jack.

 

 

smoking the long hookah, which he had kept as
a reminiscence of the bright skies of the East, in
the midst of the murky fogs of London.

His black and obsequious servant, whom he
had also brought with him from India had re-
tired, after ﬁlling the bowl and setting tire tothe
dark, sweet-scented tobacco.
ing in the back part of the room, waiting to be

dismissed to his supper, when his master said to 1

him: -
“ Chundoo, what has become of Miss Rose?”

Miss Rose was the general’s daughter, who was
in the habit of pouring out his ten in the even-
ing, after the lapse of an hour or two from his
late dinner.

Chundoo shrugged his shoulders, and looked
as politely ignorant as possible.

' General sahib wish to see Missy R056?” he
said inquiringly. “ Me go ﬁnd her, if the mini;
wishes

“ No, never mind,” said the old
a put! and a frown. “I suppose s 9
thing else to do, before she comes. You can go,
Chundoo. I’ll ring when I want you.”

Chundoo made the deepest of salaams, and
backed out of the room; while the old eneral,
who was sitting stout and disposed to umber,
after his 'nner, gradual] let the mouth-piece
of the hookah drop from is li , and was soon
snoring gently, with his he inclined on his
breast, as he sat in his bi arm-chair, with the
last rays of the declining wiliEht shining in on
him, from the window whic overlooked the
river, at which he had been accustomed to sit,
ever evenin since he had been, by the favor
of t egood 'n George assigned tothe easy
berth o Constab e of the ower.

It was a leasant life he led; but he had done
a great den of hard work before he earned the
galace in which he was passing the decline of his

s

neral, with

He had seen man battles; sieges innumera-
ble; hazardous em assies to native princes; in
all of which he had not been unmindful of the
fact that he was a Scotchman born, and had his

:kets to ﬁll, against the time when he would
Egretired from service, on half-pay.

He was said to have come back from India
with that comfortable sufficiency of this world’s

oods known as a “ lum” in England,"I but, in

e accumulation 0 this competence, he had
done his duty so well by the crown and the com-
pany, that, when he w too old for further
service in the ﬁeld, he ad been called home and
established in the t of Constable of the Tower,
which he had hel for twelve years, and bid fair
to hold for another twelve after it.
is: a we.“  mg

a ug w om e o s an
t over, by turns. Rese had n born
in India but had come to En land after the
death of'her mother, when her ether followed
her in a few months to his native land.

8 ewasnowa l of e hteen, tall and slen-
der, with a pr on of b onde hair, a delicate
complexion, health not too robust; but a great
capacity for all sorts of romantic and ' na-
tive-stories, of which her memory was to
ove owing.

The general had become so accustomed to
have her gin out his tea in the evenin , that
he felt ill- pered at her absence for t e least
fraction of a second, at the ap inted time; but
he had toomuch pride to let be seen before
his Hindoo servant, and therefore he had taken

his usual done though Bose was not there, wait-

in fd' his waikiugi
int the old 11 eman had lived too re a

lifetoomitw i attheinstanthe {did
and, when he at opened his eyes, he ound
that his daughter had not yet come back.

The only ght came from the few glimmer-
ing emberso the sea-coal ﬁre, that burned in

' the old-fashioned ﬁre-ghee; and by this light

the old man saw that t e room was vacant and
for the first time, he felt a vague sense of alarm.

He rose from his chair slowly, and went to-
ward the door, which he opened.

The light from the swinginghoil lamp in the
long, stone corridor, shone an e gray flags of
the vement and the vaulted roof overhead;
but ere was no living being in sight.

Far away in the recesses of the buiiding, he
heard the clash of arms, as the sentry over the
magazine down in the basement of the Tower
paced to and fro on his beat, and an occasional
echo of voices and laughter in the guard-room
told that thing?l were oing on as usual.

But for all t '8, he to t unea. at the absence
of his daughter, and was just s p ing out into
the corridor to investi to, when is ears were
surprised by the soun of a shriek which he
knew came from the Anne of the Tower; the
veice, that of his own do. h r.

The shriek was repea , and the old general
caught up a sword from the table where it had
been lying since he came in from evenin pa-
rade, and rushed toward the Armory, shou ' g.
as he went:

Guard!”

“ Guard! .

With a celeritg that surprised himself—for he
was getting sti iii the Jmnts—he ran u the
stone steps at the end of the corridor, an into

 

'A hundred t ousand pounds sterling. or about
a million do are. '

He was now stand- ;

some- ‘

,i the great Armory, when he uttered a cry of ter-
ror as he saw Rose at his feet on the ﬂoor, pale
1 and insensible.
I There was a light in the Armory which burn-
ed all night; and this—a swinginlﬁnlamp, fed
' with whale-oil, hunr from the 06' ' g—cast a
dim radiance over t in ﬁgure of the msensible
girl, and shone on the long rows of martial ﬁg-
ures of the kings of England in their armor
i rinaly guarding the secrets of the TOWcr o
n on.
I There was nothing else in the room, as far as
he could see, but the silent lines of men in ar-
mor and the girl on the stone ﬂoor before them;
but he heard the sounds of men’s feet on the
step: outside, and a tall sergeant of the Beef-
Ea rs came rushing into the Armory a moment
later, followed by a dozen men.

The sergeant seemed to be dumfounded at
the sight of what had hagpened, and stood for a
little while speechless, w on he was recalled to
his senses by the sharp voice of his chief, say-

mﬁWhat the deuce are you starin at, Hodge?
Some of you fellows take up the y and carry
her down to my rooms.”

The order recalled the yeomen to themselves
and they hastily raised the young lady and
carried er down-stairs, when they were met,
as they came out of the Armory, by a young
oﬂicer of the garrison who was on duty that
night and who asked hastily:

‘ What is the matter, men?”

Then, as he ca ht sight of the stern face of
the 01d Constable, e ad ed apolo eticnlly:

“ beg your pardon, general; ut I thought
something had ha pened.”

“And so somet 'ng has happened, Mr. How-
ard,” the old officer snap out. “Why don’t
you attend to your duties better sir? Some-
thing has mime the Armory, w ile you were
Swziéy,,and frightened my daughter nigh to

ca .

His words seemed to strike the youn officer
in a tender spot, for some reason or at er; for
be colored deeply, and then turned 16, as be,
for the ﬁrst time, saw the body of t e senseless,
girl borne past him, and murmured to himself?

“Heavens! who would have thought it?”

The old Constable did not hear him speak for
he was too much occupied with the care of his
daughter, and the men were carrying her down-
stairs, into the apartments of the chief officer of
the _ eat building.

L eutenant Howard rubbed his forehead, like
one bewildered as he saw them go down—stairs.
When they had departed, and he was left alone,
he stared round him at the grim-looking statues
in armor and muttered to himself:

“ What can have happened? I left her here
not five minutes ago.”

He noted the spot where she had been lying,
for it was marked by a little spot of blood on
the stone pavement, where the girl had struck
her head in falling or done something else,
“ital malt-ile tilt” 1m? ' t f ed ﬁgure 1

was n mu 0 an arm - n
the steel magi] that had once covered the 
form of England’s greatest warrior, King
Edward III.

The t wooden war-horse towered above
the spo , and the figure on its back seemed to be
stari overhead, as if serenely indiﬂerent to
an g that went on in these times.

CHAPTER II.
In: uvs'rnnious Visrron.
Tin: old generalhas soon as he got into his
to

 

roo began out excitedl :

“13;, 'a! Where-the deucey is that con-
f ayah! Buryia, come here, you lazy
black hussy!”

The second call summoned into the room a
thin woman with Very sparkling black es,
and the outlandish dress of an Indian ay or
nurse. Sur in was the ayah who had brought
Rose to Eng nd, and had been her faithful ser-
vant ever since; for the household of the old

eneral, like that of most Anglo-Indians of his

y, remained the same, after he gottoEn land,
as far as he could make it, as it had been In-
dia: and all his servants were Hindoos, from
Chundoo, the kitmagar or butler, to Suryia, the

a ah.

ySuryia seemed to be used to the irascible ways
of her master; for she came forward, quite
calmly, to take care of her young mistress, and
set to work, as if she had done the duty, required
of her, many a time before.

The old general, who had faced the ﬁre of
many a battle-field without ﬂinchiug, was com-
pleter unnerved by the ml to his daughter,
and stood trembling by b quiet ayah, till the
efforts of the dark-s inned woman. were succcm-
ful; when the girl heaved a deep sigh, and open-
ed her eyes.

When they fell on her father, She smiled, as if
the sight reamired her, and thenthcy wandered
to Suryia and over theroom, as if shehadbegun
to think 2: e had never left it.

The old general turned and made a silent sign
to the big sergeant, who had ventured to hover
near the door, in his sympathy for the young
lady. The ser cant was a veteran, who had seen
service with
often taken little Ruse in his arms, when she

 

.neml Reid in India, and had;

 

had been a baby; so that he had ventured
to come in, when he ought to have retired
with the rest of the men. The eneral madea
signal to him to get out of t e room, and
honest Hodge turned very red, and stole out,
on tip-toe.

With all his caution, however, the sergeant
was too large and solid :1 man to retire noise-
lessly; and the girl heard his creaking boots,
when she started and rose on her elbow,
staring at Hodge. The sight seemed to waken
up some memory in her, for she cried out sud-

denl :

“ What is the matter? Where have I
been !”

Then she covered her face with her hands, and
shuddered violently, murmurin :

“ Oh, take him away! Take iim away!”

The old general, who thought that somethin
had made the sight of Hedge odious to her, sai
soothingly:

“ Don’t be alarmed, my child. It’s only poor
old Hod . Nothin can harm you here.’

But t 9 Words did not seem to reassure her-
for her terror seemed to increase, as she stared
round the room, repeating:

. “ Are you sure? Are you sure I Did you see
it? Did you see it?”

“ See whatl’z‘asked her father, now thorough~
go pg’zzled. W hat has happened to you,

se

The girl sat up on the couch, and looked at her
father and nurse, as if she were slowly recover-
ing her senses. ‘

‘It is not possible it is a dream,” she said, in
a half-doubting way. “ Tell me, where did you
ﬁnd me? Was it in the Armory?”

The old general, without pausing to consider
whether he should tell the truth or not, said:

“Why of course it was; but—”

He was interrupted by another shriek from his
dau hter, as she cried:

“ knew itl I knew it was not a dream! Oh
sir, save me save me! The creature will kill
in if it catc es me a ”

d then she shud ered so violently that the
old general became more alarmed than before
and hastily ran out into the corridor, to tell
honest . t Hodge to run for the surgeon,
and tell him to “ come at once, as the Constable’s
daughter was very ill.”

Hodge started off down the corridor in a
hurry, and, as soon as he was grime, deneral
Reid came back and sat down by daughter’s
couch doing the most sensible thing he could
have one.

He contented himself with smoothing her hair
with his hand, and 1e ' her feel the touch she
knew so well, saying not ing; while the a ah
chafed her mistress s hands, and bathed er
forehead with eau-de—cologne.

Under this see treatment the

of the girl gradually sci-eased, andshe

calmer, till at last she dro into a done,
from which she awakened oet immediately
with a start, round at her father and
the ayah and th into the corners of the
room, as if she to see some there.

What she wo have said is unce ; but

at that moment the sound of the doctor’s foot-
ms in the corridor, served to divert her mind;
an the physician came in, smiling, as a lady’s
doctor should to inquire:

“ Well, well, and what is the matter with our
wild rose, to-night? Too much green tea, I’ll be
bound. A case of nerves. , come, let me
see your tongue, and feel that pulse of yours.
Don talk. ’11 ask any questions I want, after
I’ve tried .your pulse. ”

And, by engaging her attention, he mm
to quiet her down, and gave her an opiate, which
soon stupeﬁed her.

Then, and not till she was asleep, he said, to the
old‘ eneral, inha lowftone:

me on ere, i on lease. I want to 88y
a few words to you, aboutpthis affair.”

The general, who seemed to be quite overcome
by the mysterious danger to his daughter, Obeyed
the injunction, and led the way 1’0 his Private
room, where he pointed the doctor to achair,
nail sat down, as if awaiting the questions of the
0 er.

But the doctor did not seem to be in the mood
to question an one; for he' sat, thou htful
and stem, by 9 ﬁre, and it was not the
Constable coughed,,to rouse his attention, that
he said slowly: '

“ Reid, this is a. very strange affair. I did'
not ask the child any uestions; for I saw that
her system had receiv a shock and she might
have gone into ﬁts; but Hodge told me all
about it. Something has frightened her, alm08t
to death in the Armory. Can anything get in,
without the knowled e of the guard?"

The era] _shook is head.
“ N ng bigﬁer than a rat or a mouse. But
Roseisnotsom yas to be afraid of them. I

can’t understand the thing."
The doctor pursed his lips thoughtfully.

“Ve strange indeed! I don’t understand
it. I; re any one who was with her, at the
me

“I cannot think so. Rose had a habit of go-
ing into the Armory, after the visitors had gone
for the da . She hates crowds, and likes to
make up sorts of stories to herself, about the

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spring-Heel Jack.

3

 

 

men in the armor. I missed her at tea-time, but
I had an idea that she was out on the river,
with young Howard, in the state barge—I—by
the by, where is that young fellow? He must
know something of all this.”

And the general hastily rung his bell, and said
to Chundoo, who answered it:

“ Tell Hodge to give my compliments to Mr.
Howard, an ask him to step up to my room.”

Then, when Chundoo had gone out, he said:

“ The young fellow and Rose had been a good
deal together of late, but I haven’t minded it.
He hasn’t a rap, to be sure; but then he stands
in the line of succession, and the 01d duke has
no children.”

The doctor was an old friend of his; so he
talked openly. 'In fact, every one in the Tower
was an old friend of everybody else with the
exception of the garrison of w ich Lieutenant
Howard was a member, which was composed of
troops shifted at times, but general] composed
of one or the other regiments of t e“ onse-
hold," otherwise known as the Foot Guards.

Doctor Tatham was the regular surgeon of
the Tower, and also a fashionable hysician,
who took but little trouble with '8 Tower
patients, but drew his salary re arly.

When Reid spoke of young oward, the old
doctor pursed up his hps, and presently ob-

rv :

“Well, you know your own business .best,
Reid; but it seems to me that I would not en-
coura e the affair. Those Howards are all
tar with the same stick, on know. This
youn fellow may be all rig t; but he has a
scan lous reputation.”

The old general shook his head testily.

“ Confound it, Tatham that‘s not the same
man at all. It’s Oliver that does all those wild
pranks. George is one of the uietest fellows I
ever saw. But if he was wit Roae, at any
time this evenin , he must know something of
what frightened er. And here he comes.”

For there was a step in the stone corridor, and
the next minute the y oﬁcer came. to the
door and stood there, saluting respectfully, and
inquiring:

Did on wish to see me, general?”
The 0 d doctor, who was generally cross-
ined when young men were in uestion—
probably from memories of what he been
when he was youn himself—could not but ad-
mit as he looked a the young man, that he was
asflnea specimen ofhisclassashehadever
’seen.

George Howard showed the mental eﬂect of
many generations of brave and wise ancestors
in every line of his face; while his broad shoul-
ders and well-knit form evinced that he had not
de enerated physically.

fie wore the uniform of the Coldstream regi-
ment, to which he belonged; and looked every
inch a soldier.

“ I sent for you, Mr. Howard,” said the old

eneral, “to ask you if dyn'ou could throw :3
ﬁ ht on the fright my ughter has suite .
Egave you been with her this eve ?”

The young man had shown, to t e beam
of the doctor, some uneasiness, when he
came to the door; but that uneasiness seemed
to be redoubled now, at the question of the old
general; for he colored deeply and stammered:

“ General—I—I—can’t answer.”

CHAPTER III.
INVESTIGATION.

Tn old general turned his face on the “youﬁ
man; a deegﬁush beginning to rise,that ow
how angry e was getting.

“ What do you mean sir?” he growled, in a
tone that George knew m experience, would
soon become a roar while the octor looked as
if he had suddenly discovered a lunatic at large
in tlie Tower. ”

“ mean, gene , said the yo oﬁicer in
the same respectful, but hesitatinuné'ay “ that
I can’t answer that question, wit out t e per-
mission of the you! lady herself.”

Had some one in t e ranks suddenly jum
out in the middle of a reds and slapped n-
eral Reid in the face, e could not have looked
more utterly outraged and savage, than he did
at that moment. As for the old doctor, he turned
P 165‘, and had to take out his snuff-box to con-
oea his feelings. ,

The general red up from his chair—he
was too old and to 'ump—and roared, in the
tone he assumed when 0 was particularly in-

 

ceased:

“ You infernal o u py, how dare you
talk to me in that is? o Iyou suppose that a.
father is bound to ask his daughter‘s permission,
as to what he shall say? I ask you, have you
been in the state barge, with my daughter, to-
nightl,’or not? IS that a question you can an-
stver

“ Yes, general, I was there; and the men
rowed us up to Hampton Court, and back to the
Tower stairs. Is that all you wish to ask?”

response seemed to pacif the old man a
little; for the color faded rom ‘ face, and he
said more uietly:

“ What e ‘d you get back?”

.1 “ About half an hour after sunset, sir. Miss
Reid wanted to see the moon rise over the river,
and the boat went slowly as we came back.”

 

l
“ And did you leave her at the stairs, or take i and George Howard turned on his heel and left
her back to m rooms, sir? I have not seen her ' the room; not quite certain how his news had

since dinner-time; and, as you were the last per-

been received by the father of the lady whom he

son with her, I want to know when you saw her i loved.
!' “'hen he had gone, the doctor looked at the
But the young oﬁicer’s lips seemed to be sud-  general, and the old oﬁiccr shook his head in a

last.”

denly sealed again by the

silence, and the irascible o d Constable ﬂushed ;
, understand,” said the physician.

redder than before as be snapped out:

1

uestion, for he kept i grave way.

“There is something in all this I don’t
“I had an

“Well, sir, why don’t you answer? One Would ‘ idea that the child had been agitated in some
think there was some crime between you and my ' way; and, when the young man told about his

daughter, from the way you behave.”

Howard turned redder than before, as he said:

“ That is not it, sir, but—”

And here he looked at the doctor so express—
ivel that Tatham ot up, saying:

“ he young gent eman won’t speak till you
are alone, Reid. I’ll go.”

But the obstinate old general snap out:

“ There is no need for you to go. ou are the
doctor, and you ought to know about this thing.
Speak out, Mr. Howard, and tell what you have
to tell. I will be responsible for the doctor not
making an bad use of what you say.”

Thus ad ured, the young ofﬁcer went to the
door and s ut it, after looking into the passage,
as if he feared that some one might overhear
him. When he came back, he spoke low and
rapidly, as if he wanted to get through the task
as soon as possible.

“ The fact is, sir, that Miss Reid and I were
in the Armory, not ﬁve minutes before the
trouble occurred. We were talkin , and she
was lookin at the armor speaking a ut what
a strange t ing it would be if the men who had
once worn the suits should come to life again. ”

“ Yes?” said the father, as he saw the young
man hesitate at this point. “And what hap-
pened next?” .

Howard colored deeply.

“ Well sir, the fact is, I suppose I was fool—
ish, and ought to have spoken to ou ﬁrst;
but the fact is— Well, sir, you must ave seen
my feelin toward the young lady; and we Were
alone; an it occurred to me that there was no
time like that-so—so—I spoke out to her, and
offered her all I have in the world. That is the
reason I hesitated to tell you before a gentleman
who is not one of your family.”

The old Constable listened with a frowning
may, but he spoke in the driest of tones, as be

“Well, sir, go on. That was not what fright-
ened her, was it?"

“ No, sir. Inrfact, sir we had about arrang-
edthematter, andthatlwastoc‘meaktoyoum
the mornin , when I heard the of the guard
below, and to leave the young lady, promis-
ing to return at once. I feared she might be
nervous, all alone in the Armory, and asked her
if she had not better go down to your rooms;
but she told me that she did not mind it, and
that she liked the romantic thoughts that al-
ways crowded round her in the Armory. So I
left her and went down-stairs, and the: rd had
not gone over its round when I card the
screams. The rest you know.”

“ And that is all you know?” said the general
thOifhtfully.

“ ll, sir, on my honor. I cannot ima no
what can have got into the Armory, to frig ten
m; Entire tor dd nl terpoeed

ere 6 oc ~su e y in :

“Where is that brother of ours—Oliver, I
mean! Isn’t he in the Guards so?”

The question seemed to be mal-a s for
the young ofﬁcer drew himself up, asi offend-
ed, and said stiﬁly:

“ I am speaking to General Reid, sir.”

The old sur n shrug ed his shoulders; for
he was too 01 to take 0 ense at the refusal of
the youn man to admit him on terms of conﬁ-
dence. e took out his snuff-box, and indulged
in 8. inch, observing:
ti “ "ery good, sir. Only asked for informa-

on.

“ Where 1': Oliver?” asked General Reid in his
turn, as if the question interested him also.

“ It is his day of! duty, sir; and he is not in
the Tower,” sa (1 Howard stiﬂly. “ I have no
idea where he goes; for his tastes and mine
differ, as you are aware.”

A ghost of a smile ﬁitted over the old neral’s
face; for the difference between .the rothers
was well known to the rrison. There were
not wanting those who said that the could not
be real brothers at all for they no only were
unlike, but seemed to hate each, other as we
mics, and were never seen together, save when
dut com lled them to stand near each other,
in t 0 ran 8 of the ofﬁcers at rade.

“ Ay, ay, we mi ht know t at,” he said to the
doctor, in a half-w isper. “Well, Mr. Howard,
there is only one thing to do, and that is to ﬁnd,
from my dau hter, what has happened, when she
is not in sue a nervous Condition as to-night.
In the mean time, I positively rohibit any
more talk between you, on the sub£ct you have
mentioned. You have taken a. li rty, as vou
are aware; and it must not be repeated. You
can go to our du , sir, and remember to make
a thoroug inspect on of the Armory every half-
hour, to ﬁnd what was there, if it can be done
without disturbing the young lady. Good-
Digit, sir.” -

e nodded coldly, as if to dismiss the other,

i

being with her in the Armory, I thought he had

5 come to the secret; but that can’t be it now. Is

 

there no way any one can get into the Armory,
and hide there?”

The Constable seemed to be musing.

“ No, I can think of none. There is only one
staircase, and that is the one we went up by. If
any one had been there, trying to frighten
Rose, and made his escape we must have met
him on the way dovm. Hut there was not a
sound in the room, or we should have heard it.”

“Then the thing that did it must be there
yet,” said the doctor slowly. “ I say, Reid, sup-
pose we were to make a eneral search in that
place, and hunt the rasca out It must be some
one in the Tower; for no one from outside could
have got into the Armory.”

The old general brightened up at once.

“ Wonder I never thought of it before. By
Jove, I’ll do it at once.”

He rose, and, followed by the doctor, went
down to the guard-room.

The sentry at the door, seeing him, and fancy—
ing that he came on some ceremonious night-
alarm, or inspection, called out to the corporal,
and the clash of arms, inside the guard-room,
told that the solders were rousing from their
benches, and turning out in haste, with their

arms.

The Constable of the Tower waited till the
guard was in its place, when he said to old Ser-
geant Hodge, who was in his command:

“ Where is Mr. Howard?”

“ In his room, sir.”

“ Call him out at once.”

H saluted; wheeled on his heel to obe
the or er; and, very soon after, the young 0 -
car of the night came into the room.

When he saw the general and Dr. Tatham, he
seemed to be somewhat surprised, but saluted
his commander at once, and ed:

“ What are the orders, sir?”

“ I am ﬁgmgﬂto make a. thorough search of the
Armory, r. oward; and want you to come
with us,” said the Constable. “ I am determined
to ﬁnd out, before this night Basses, what it was
that ‘got in there, and half ki ed my daughter."

“ er well, neral ” was the reply.

Then owar turned to the soldiers who were
in the guard-room, and gave them the order.

_A..—

CHAPTER IV.
THE GHOST or THE rowan.

THE men of the guard were enough for the
search they required, and Howard a
sentry at every turn in the passage, as they
went up to the Amory, with orders btgii'gnal
anything suspicious, that they saw or , to
the next man in the chain.

When they arrived in the long hall, which
was used for the eﬁigies of the kings in their
armor, the place looked just as it had many a
time before, with its silent rows of chargers,
and the grim, steel-clad images, in the deep
saddles of long past ages.

The hall was gloomy enough at the best of
times, in broad daylight; but, at night, with
the light of the single swinging lamp to cast
deeper shadows on the stone pavement, it was
enough to arouse superstitious thou hts in the
breast of the most hardy; and the so diers, who
were for the most rt originall i orant rus-
tics, cast uneasy g nces aroun m, as they
followed their ofﬁcer into the room.

Howard sent for some lanterns to make a
better light, and proceeded to search the place
thoroughly, but without avail.

There were the big wooden horses, and the
men in armor; but nothing alive could be found
there, and, after a long and painful search, they
had ahnost concluded to leave the mystery alone, a
when Howard suddenly observed:

“ If anything alive is in here, it has got into
one of those sints of armor.”

He had hardly made the remark, when there
was a deep groan from one of the darkest oor-
ners of the room, and the soldiers all started to-
gether, while Hodge eizc-ulatcd:

“ By Heavens, it’s t ghost of the Tower.”

He spoke under his breath, but the silence in
the Amory was so deep, that his words sounded
plain, and they were echoed by another deep
groan from another part of the room entirely,
at which one of the soldiers began to move
stealthily toward the door, when he was re—
called by the stern order of the young ofﬁcer:

“Come back here, sir. What are you about?”

The man halted, with the instinct of military
obedience; but his eyes wandered from corner
to corner, and, when a third groan echoed
almost over his head, Howard heard the .
rattli of the soldier’s arms as he trembled
violen y. .

When he looked at the rest of the guard, ,
he saw that they were all pale, and that the

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name of the “ghost of the Tower” had frigh-
tened them half out of their wits, brave though
they were at most times, being all veterans of
active service.

“ Stand your ground, men,” he said, sharply.
“ It is only a trick of some scoundrel who has
got in here, and is hidden ’somewhere. Don’t
you know there are no such things as ghosts?”

But the words were hardl out of his mouth
when one of the men utter a. cry of fear, and
pointed to the opposite wall of the room, on
gvhilcfh the shape 0 a ﬁgure was slowly outlining
tse

And a horrible ﬁgure it was, with long skinny
ﬁngers like claws outstretched, glaring eyes,
that glowed like fire; while more groans were
heard in ever quarter of the room, and one of
the soldiers fel down in a fit.

Then even the restraints of discipline gave
way, and ﬁrst one ﬂed, with a shout of terror,
out of the doorwa which was furthest away
from the horrible t ing on the wall. Then there
was a stampede of all the men, and the oﬁicers
were left alone with the shadowy form on the
wall before them.

Even George Howard’s nerves were tried to
the utmost, though he was not superstitious,
but he drew his sword and made a rush at
the specter, when it vanished with a mockin
laugh, and the next moment old General Rei
called out, in a tone of fear and amazement:

“ M God! what’s that?”

He been starin at the long lines of men
in armor, and one 0 them had suddenly he-
come alive, besides changing its appearance in a
very wonderful manner.

It was the ver statue in the armor of Ed-
ward III. at w ose feet he had found his
daughter, and the whole ﬁgure was now lighted
up with a 8:113 ﬂame of ﬁre, while the man in
the armor risen to his feet in the saddle,
and stood there.

Then came a great clash, as the creature,
whatever it was, leaped from the back of the
wooden charger turning a somerset and came
stridin toward them. .

The 0 (1 general drew the sword he had put on
when he started on the search, and made a pass-
at the ﬁgure; when, with a wild laugh, that had
a hollow sound in the recesses of the helmet, the
strange being put out one of the long claws with
which they now saw that its hands were armed-
caught the weapon b the blade, and wrenched
it from the nerveless nd of the old man, when
it caught him with tremendous strength, threw
him on the pavement half stunned, and e a
grab t the doctor who was unarmed.

Th4 t claws were almost on the physician,
when latter, with a happy inspiration, threw
HI mud-box at the creature, and the deed had
its eﬂect.

, A The man in armor turned round and ran

away with the swiftness of an antelope, making

' huge leaps as he went, and at every leap utter-
inﬁa cry as if in in or terror.

" oward, who seen the whole thing, now

ve chase to the ﬂying ﬁgure; but, with a sud-
sznness that was the most amazing part of the
whole apparition, it turned round on him, came
at him with a bound and can ht at his naked
sword with its long talons, as it d done at that
of the old general.

. But George Howard was youngl and vigorous
a ve different antagonist to t e general, an
he di  let the swordfbe caught.t an the con-
trary e made a ter pass a e strange
thing opposite to in, more than ever convinced
that it was human, till the sounds of shouts, in
the outside, shOWed that the soldiers
were Co ng back, ashamed of their fears, and
that help was at hand. j

“ Now I have you, you scoundrell” he shout-
ed, and with that he pressed his antagonist
closer than before.

Then the queer being he was ﬁghting suddenly

back and turned a somerset in the air,
ing the swin ng lamp, which was the only
illumination of t 0 place so that it went over
with a clash, leaving the long Horse Armory in
total darkness. T on George felt something
strike him in the darkness, which he knew to be
one of the big gauntlets of the strange being,
and when [he struck at it with his sword, the
monster was gone.
V \ Where it had gone to, no one could tell.
' The soldiers came hiﬁ in, with a quantity
’of torches, aslf— t y wan to gain courage by
I: ' a great lig t; but when they got in and
A pic ed utgathe Constable of the Tower, there was
no Sign t anything had been disturbed.
The statue of Edward III. was still in its
co, and there was no symptom that the armor
been tampered with. ‘

Howard, sorely puzzled and alarmed at the
, whole affair, went over the whole room again,
With all the men, the li ht of torches shining in
‘ every place he could th nk of but in vain.

. The mien was absolutely untenanted, and
~ no one (1 tell which way the eerie being, that
‘ . m leftmohtokensof its presenceon theirfaces

bodies, had gone.
‘ Howard even had the soldiers take the armor
: otthekingtromthehorse toseeif itwerepoe-
 dble that some one Eight be there yet, but the
‘ woobn ﬁgure that always occupied it was
was found.

 

Com'plletely puzzled at the whole thing, he re-
luctan y gave the order to march the guard
down-stairs, and left only a single sentry at the
door, to give the alarm if anything occurred
during the night.

Then he went to the guard-room, and passed
the rest of the night awake, but with no result,
as far as the return of the mysterious visitor
was concerned.

When the morning dawned over the city of

London, and the long Amory was fully visible, ‘

he id it a s ial visit, just after sunrise.
he light 0 day revealed something that had
not been visible by the light of the torches.

The statue of King Edward III. (or rather the
suit of armor which had once been worn by the
king) was in its place as before; but the back-

iece of the cuirass had a smoke-stain on it, as
if some ﬂame had been applied thereto, and
Howard remembered that the ﬁgure that had
startled them so much had come from thence.

The stain was a small one, but plain, when
looked at by the light of (lay, and it set Howard
to thinking.

He had recognized the fact that the ghost,
which had so terriﬁed the superstitious soldiers,
must have been produced by a magic lantern or
something of the sort, and the smoke-mark on
the back of the cuirass showed him where the
lantern had probably been placed.

But this left him as far as ever from the ques-
tion where the person who had held that lantern
had gone to.

That he had been a real person, and one of
great strength and agility, he knew, from the

erce ﬁght in which he had himself been en-
ga ed, with the monster.
is face was still marked with a lon scratch
which had been inﬂicted by the huge c aws, and
yet the creature had disap red from the
midst of the soldiers, withou leaving a trace
behind!

Where was it gone to and what was it?

' ing over this, he was startled by the
voice of his brother, Oliver Howard, who had
just come into the Armory.

 

CHAPTER V.
'rwo Baornnas.

OLIVER HOWARD was the younger brother of
the ofﬁcer of the guard, and as great a contrast
to him as could be imagined in personal appear-
ance and character.

George was tall and broad-shouldered, with
blue eyes and fair hair, which he wore long, in
the fashion of the time, but unpowdered; while
Oliver was slender and dark, With the most bril-
liant of black eyes and olive skin.

Geor e was quiet and reserved in his manner,
stiff in is demeanor at most times; while Oliver
was a great talker, restless in his movements,
free an easy in his behavior, to an extent that
scandalized a good many worthy people.

The only thing in which they resembled each
other was in the fact that both were handsome
men in face and ﬁgure, though in such very dif-
ferent styles.

Geor e was English, of the old Norman—Saxon
type, big and brawny; while Oliver looked and
acted so much like a Gypsy that most people
were convinced that he must have Gypsy blood
in his veins in some mysterious wax.

Those who were ac uainted wit his parent-
a e, however, knew t t he was the brother of

r , by the same mother and father, so that
thei ea was never alluded to by any but stran-

ers.
8 Oliver looked like a Gypsy and acted like one.
He was an inveterate gam ler and horse-racer,
given to low taverns, where his more aristo-
cratic brother never deigned to be seen, while
his man eccentricities had given him the name,
amon iis brother ofﬁcers of the Coldstreams,
of “( liver the Devil,” or “Oliver Imp.” The
last had been generally shortened to “ Imp,”
pure and simple, and he actually seemed to glory
in the title rather than otherWise.

George had not heard him coming and was star-
tled by the sound of his voice, close behind him;
for Oliver had a light, stealthy step, and a way
of coming on one by su rise, which was one of
the things that repelled rge, though he could
hardly have told why.

Now he came behind his brother, and saluted
him with a rallying, sarcastic sneer:

“ Holloa, Sobersides, what makes you so full
of duty this morning? Has the deVil broken
loose, or has old Stick-in—the-mud, ordered a gen-
eral scouring of the tin plates?” '

George turned round on him sternly.

“ I don’t understand you, sir,” he said.

He always called his brother “ 811‘,” and sel-
dom greeted him save when the other forced the
conversation on him.

In fact, the coldness between the brothers
was marked by every one who knew them; and
George, being the silent one, usually get the
blame of beingesn unnatural brother,

Oliver laug , with a sneering sound.

“ Don’t know what I mean? I mean old
Reid. Has he been ordering the armor cleaned
up, or what has brought you here at this time of
mornin l”

“ I th nk, Mr. Howard, that it would be ﬁtter

 

 

for a mere ensign of the Coldstrm to speak
of the Constable of the Tower with more re-
spect than you are showing,” said George, se—
vere] . “I am here to investigate something
whic happlened last night, and if ou had been
here, I mig t have been inclined to ay the blame
on some of your wild pranks. Miss Reid was.
seriously alarmed b some scoundrel who hid in
the Armory, and if e be found it will go hard
with him.” .

Oliver looked surprised, and grew grave at
once.

“ thy, brother,” he said: “ I was but jesting,
and should know as much. What has hap—
pen

George gave him a short account of the
mysterious a )pearance of the night before and
the oun er ln'other listened to it attentively.

W hen rge had ﬁnished, Oliver said:

“And how do you sup ose the fellow got;
out of here, after he frightened you all so-
famously?”

“That is the mystery,” said George, thought-
fully. “ There is no way I can see.”

Oliver whistled in his usual thoughtless fash-
ion, and walked up and down the room, look—
ing at the diﬂerent places that had been men-
tioned by his brother, in the story he had
heard.

“ There is no way he could have
said at last, “ but out of the window.

George cast a glance in that direction.

“He could not have done that,” he said.
“The windows are sixty feet from the ground,
at least.”

Oliver whistled again.

“Then it must have been the devil himself,”
he said, carelessly. “Anyway I can’t stop to
think about it. By the by, GeorF'ge, I had a,
famous time, last night, at the ives Court.
There was little Jimmy Sprin , the butcher,
beat a man forty unds heaVier than he in
twenty rounds, and won a pot of money on the
event.”

George drew himself up, for he hated the low
associates of his brother.

“ I am sorry,” he said, severely, “ that a bro-
ther of mine, who bears the name of Howard,
should so far forget himself as to o to such

laces. I have no desire to hear an ing as to
he {)i'izeﬁghters of this kingdom.”

O iver laughed sneeringly.

“Ay, ay, you were always a milksop. If a
chairman was to give youa crack on the crown,
you would not know how to take care of your.
self, I'll warrant. W'ell, I haven’t time to spare
to talk to you now for it is my turn to go on
guard to—day, and I feel so uncommonly sleepy,
after being up all ni ht, that I must positive-
ly take a snooze, be ore guard-mount. Good—

And he sauntered oﬂ, whistling, while George
continued his search over the room, but with no
further result.

Then as a last resort, he examined the win-
dows, the careless suggestion of his brother hav-
ing‘ directed a vague suspicion that way.

hey Were, as he said, at least sixt feet from
the ground of the great Tower an there was
a moat at the bottom, with a raw—brid e and
all the apparatus of medieval war, Whic had
been reserved in the modern time.

Not ing came of his visit save the discove ,
on one of the windowdsill's, of a mark in t 0
(11111813 that covered it, as if some one had been
t ere. ,

It was in one of the windows rarely visited,
being high above the floor, and George had been
159me to let it go; for he had to take a step-
lad er to get up to it.

When he saw the mark in the dust, be con-
gratulated himself on having gone there, and
opened the easement to look out.

As he did so, something dropped out, and, by
a rapid glance, he saw that a rope was han g
from the window, from where it had n
jammed in a creVicc, and that it had fallen into
moat of the Tower below.

The way of escape of the strange creature that
had made such a scare in the garrison was now
plain, and Howard hastened to the guard-room
to tell Sergeant H e, and get the news spread
in the garrison; for e knew that their supersti-
tion had been great] excited by the ap an'tion
of the previous nigh , and a natural exp anation
of the the thin r would, he_thought, go far to
making a repetition of the Visn; imposs1ble.

The sight of the window and the rope bad
its effect on the soldiers, and made more than
one of them ashamed of his terror of the previous
night, now that it was brought home to him in
the light of day.

They did not say much before Howard, for
the were all old soldiers, and used to the

nts of disci line, which forbid them
expressing any opi on before an ofﬁcer; but he
saw in their faces that the sw relieved them.
and went to his room 00me by the thou ht
that, if he persevered, he would eventually d
out the secret.

He ventured to call at the doors of the
Constable’s rooms to ask after the health of the
oung lady who had suffered so severer the
ri h of the revious night, and was re eved
to ear that was sleeping still. not having
recovered from the eﬁ'ect of t e powerful opiate»

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which had been administered .to her by Dr.
‘Tatham.

The hour for guard~mount approached, and
the old Constable of the Tower, who very often
came down to see it, made his-Slppearance, and
e ed the new guard thoughtf y, all the time
t e ceremony was proceeding.

The new officer of the guard was Oliver
Howard, and the Constable seemed to take great
interest in watching the we in which he went
through the ceremon , whic the volatile young
man had a habit of shghting.

But on this iarticular morning Oliver was as
grave as a ju( ge, and went through his duty as
well as a veteran could have done.

\Vhen the new guard had been posted and the
doors were opened to the public, which has its
daily fill of gazing at the Wonders of the vener-
able building, the Constable beckoned to Oliver,
and the young man followed him to his rooms,
where the commander of the post asked him:

“ Mr, Howard you have heard of what
hap ned last night, I )resume.”

“ 'es, sir,” respond the young man, without
evincing any special interest.

“ Then you will please remember that it is in
the dut of your post, to-da , to see that no one
gets a c ance to hide in the uilding in any way
whatever. I do not wish a repetition of the
fright of last night.”

‘ It shall not hap n ” said Oliver, with a
sort of sneer on his grit, handsome face. “If
I had been here last night it should not have
happened at all, sir; but as you know, that
brother of mine is given to moon- ing, and a
dozen might have got in for all be new. I hear
that the found a rope dangling from the
window by which the man ot down, after he
had frightened my bold brot er."

His tone was openly sarcastic and scornful.

/ ——

CHAPTER VI.
ran an“) or ran nousn.

THE old Duke of Norfolk, who headed the
lords when the went into the House, had the
double distinc on of being theizpremier peer and
the most ill-tempered man in ngland.

With more riches than any other lord in the
House, and all that heart could wish for in the
way of splendor and comfort, he was yet an un-
happy man, for the reason that he was childless,
and that he knew, after his death, his inheri-
tance would go to a distant kinsman, who in the
mean time was plain Mr. Howard.

And this fact made the old duke ill-tempered
and morose, the more so that he was getti
old, and that his health never very good,
iili1 the last years made  a prisoner in his
e air.

Yet it was a curious thing about him, that he
would not 've in to the inevitable, and that,
though he ew the next heir to the title was
young George Howard he had never in any
way recognized him, while the youn man, on
his M had never called on his aged; kinsman,
through pride.

George s yOImger brother, Oliver, had not
been so scrupulous, and had frequently visited
at the house, with the result that the old duke
was more incensed against his next heir every
time that he received a visit from the heir's bro-
ther. He had been a wild youth in his own
time, and was suffering the consequences in his
old agghwherefore there was a certain bond of
sympa y between him and the wild young

; but of all this Geo was pro-
oundly ignorant, for he never dei ed to in-
uire where his younger brother been, and

t e other never volunteered the information.

Yet it was a thing that on the day
after the incident in the Tower, rge I-Iow-
ard, for the ﬁrst time since he had been in Lon-
don,  the resolution of maki a formal
visit to his aged kinsman, and foun himself in
front of the old duke’s residence, about three in
the afternoon _ .

A gorgeous-liveried _tlunky took his card,
with an air as if the Visitor were a mere nobody,
and the young officer was left/to cool his heels
in an ante-room for nearly twenty minutes
before the gorgeous ﬂuuky came back, to say,

more respect thanhe had shown at his
ﬁrst reception of the httle square of paste-

“ ’Is grace will be ’a y to see you, sir.”

Then Geo went ugpthe broad staircase, and
was ushered ate a large library where the old
dukg, 1001Kth morose as usua , was seated in
a big —0 r, with his foot up on a stool,
in from him,  in ﬂannel, the result
of a severe twinge 0 he ut.

But thou h the old nob e was cross and surly
he could no forget the habits of a lifetime, and
had not  be a gentleman; for he spoke
as soon as his young kinsman entered the room,
saying, in a weak voice:

‘1 must apologize sir, that I am unable to
rise to receive you; but illness must be my ex-
cuse. The gout and I are old friends; but the
scoundrel has a way of staueezing my foot,
that is not altogether agreeab e."

“I hope your grace will not trouble yourself
“ rise on my account,” said George politely.

I young, and your is no longer as
young as of old time. hope that you will

 

soon regover, sir, and be well again for many
a car.

e took the seat to which he was motioned,
as he spoke; and the old duke eyed him sharp-
ly; for it was the first time that he had seen
his young kinsman. The old man had sharp
eyes and heavy brows and he wore a sort of
uncertain smile on his lip, as he said slowly:

“Hope that I shall be well for many a year?
That is well said, sir; but where would your
fortune and title he, then?”

George colored slightly; for he had not ex-
pected that the old duke would speak out so
plainly; but he answered at once:

“ God grant your grace long life, is my wish.
I am not one of those who Wishes to step into
the shoes of dead men, before their time. It is
not my fault that I was born where I was, 'our
grace, and I have reproached myself, of ate,
that we, who are near kinsmeii, should have
seen so little of each other.”

The old duke bent his brows thoughtfully.

“I am grateful for your sentiments, sir,” he
said slowly; “ but there was no reason we should
feign an affection that we do not feel. You are
the next heir to the title, and, since I have seen
you to—day, I am free to confess that you will

ace the robes well, as far as looks go. But the
ove betwoen us can never be great, and the
sight of you always calls to mind the fact that,
some day, I must die, and you step into those
shoes of which you speak so scornfully. Nay,
sir, spare me your protestations. They are un-
necessary. nstead of making them let me ask
what has procured me the honor of this visit,
aside from that kinship which you have forgot-
ten till to-da 7”

George hesitated for a moment, and then
looked up at his old kinsman.

“ You are the head of the house of Howard,
duke ” he began.

“ That goes without salyingz sir,” the other in-
terrupted rather sharp y. ‘If I were not, I
mi ht never have seen you today.”

rge bowed.

“It is as the head of-the house that I come to
your grace. I contemplate marriage in 11—”

Again the duke interrupted him, this time,
with positive rudeness.

“I have no power tomake or mar you, sir,
and my consent is unnecessa‘iy."

“ I am aware of that, d 'e; but, being the
head of my house, I thought it but a matter of
courtesy to come to you, and tell you.”

“ You are exceedingly polite, sir.”

The tone of the duke was sarcastic.

“Furthermore,” pursued George tranquilly,
“to ask you whether you have any ob 'ection to
the daughter of General Reid, Consta 1e of the
Tower, as the future duchess?”

The old duke raised his eyebrows.

“Indeed, sir? And suppose that I told you
that I had a decided objection to anything of
the sort, would that make any difference in the
match?’

“ It would, duke.”

The old man‘s face was screwed
queer expression as he said:

1;;1'hen you came here for a purpose, after
a

“ I did, our The fact is that, General
Reid has orbid en me to mention the matter to

up into a

his da hter, and I have concluded that, if our
grace eases to say a word for me, the 0 le
would removed at once.”

Then he sat back in his chair, and watched
the face of the old noble who seemed to be over-
whelmed with astonishment.

For several minutes there was a dead silence
in the room, and then the duke asked sarcastic-
ally, looking at the young officer as if he were a
stra animal:

“Sir, did on ever hear of Jack Howard of
the Blues, w 0 went by the name of Handsome
Jack 1”

“ I have only heardhisname, your grace. He
was I believe my uncle.”

“ He was, r, and had the re utation of bein
the most iingudent scamp in al ngland. I fin
that his nep ew has the advantage of him in the
gualities he most affected, as in looks also. I

on‘t deny, sir, that you are a confoundedly
handsome young dog; but when you come to as
me to intercede with the father of some lady, to
get him to give his consent to make a duchem
out of his daughter, and take the title out of the
direct line into your own—confound it, sir, you
take too much liberty. The future duchess, in-
deed! Why, confound your impudence, you
young puppy, do you suppow that I am too old
to ma etl I may make a duchess if I want
to, out of t e ﬁrst G I pick up on Hampstead
Heath. Go and ht your own battles, sir.
Don’t come to me a tthem. Good-morning,
Sir and better sense to you.”

And the old gentleman rung the hell on the
table beside him, at which the door opened in-
stantaneously, and the tall hunky appeared, to
whom the duke sna ped out:

“ Show the door this gentleman at once.”

Howard had risen, when he was thus perem
torily dismissed and, as he swept to the door, e

“363% bimgraceriy: l I th ht that th
our cases. e
duty ofya youn weiddoggtaken as it

was meant, kin y; but, since you repudiate it,

 

I am left only one resource. There will be one
less mourncr at our funeral.

The old duke Ilistened with his head averted
and his cheek paled slightly, as it alwa s 
when death was openly mentioned before im.

He cast a malignant glance at the retiring
ﬁgure of the youn oﬂicer, as he went throng
the door, and chuck ed as he said:

“ I ma disappoint you all, some day. I am
not too 0 d to have an eir yet, sir.”

George Howard made. no answer, but went
out; and the old man, as soon as the young one
was gone, began to shiver and shake, as he al-
walys did after any agitation.

he thought of death was never welcome to
him, and it had been growing more hateful as
the prospect grew nearer.

He looked round the room, and muttered to
himself:

“ Ay, ay, I’ll have to leave it all—all. Can‘t
take a thin with me. What a queer waken-
ing it will I in the next world if there is
any. One moment the Duke of Norfolk, with
all the World at my feet: the next, nobody at
all. I wonder if that will be the way.”

But, as there was no answer to t e question,
which so many rich men have asked themselves
before, the old man ew gloomy and thought—
ful, till he was roused y a twinge of utin the
foot, that he had almost forgotten, w en he be-
gan to curse and swear at the pain and his
youn kinsman, whom he consigned to avery

ot p ace, as he grumbled away.

In the mean time, George was on his way
back to the Tower.

CHAPTER VII.
rm: GYPSY.

As George Howard approached the Tower, he
hadtopassthro hagoodmany narrow dirty
streets, near the at , and in one of these he en-
counted a tall, dar man, evidently a Gypsy,
who begged alms of him, with the nest:

“For the love of a poor man wit a
family, your honor, who hasn’t a morsel to ut
into the mouths of one of them, give a 617
pence.

The young oﬂicer looked at the tall and well
built ﬁgure of the other, with surprise.

“Whatdoesamanofyoursizedo, ' i”
he asked incredulously. “ y, you are ig
enough to be enlisted in the Guards. You
needn‘t go round asking aims.” '

The man did not seem to be hungry, althogg
his clothes were ragged and his feet bane.

weather was warm, so that there was nothing in
his appearance calculated to inspire pity and
the question of the young officer was natural.

The Gypsy favored him with a spiteful look.

“ I dont want no soldier business," he said.
“ I know all about it. I don’t want to get tied
up at the triangles,* or have to take off my ht
to every ofliccr that passes. e don’t want
to give a cove a penny, go to the evil."

The transition from w ' ' mendicancy to
ogn insolence was so sudden, that the young
0 cer was irritated, and gave the other who
had got right in front of him, a push to on
side, that would have sent most men into the
gutter, for George was str .

0n the Gypsy it produced little or no effect.
and he grinn as he said:

“Try it again, m cove . I ain’t the sort
they makes sogers o , but can ﬁght too.”

Sosa ing,heput himself intoanattitude of
decid y pugilistic intent, crying:

“ Come on, my hearty. I’m the man to warm
your jacket.” ,

For a moment the young oﬂiccr hesitated. He
was of a phlegmatic temperament, and not given
:31 but, when he was excited, he forgxt

S.

His facetpaled to the lips as he saw the men»-
cing attitn e of the Gypsy; and, without wait-
ing to think of what he was doing, he sprung at
the other like a tiger, and sent in a shower of
hard and well-directed stabs, with both ﬁsts, at
{123% were fencing, with a small—sword in

'He made no pretense of defending himself;
for he had never been given to boxing, and only
thought of hittin the other.

Had he been ess werful than he was he
might have fared y, but, as it was, he drove
the Gyps back, striking as he went, and finally
knocked ' ﬂat into the gutter, when the man
raised his hands, crying, with the blood stream.
ing down his face:

“ That’ll do. Your honor’s a better man than
I thought. I knocks under.” ‘

George stared at him, with some surprise.

“ Get up,” he said. “ You are a scoundrel to
beg, with that tough frame of yours. If you
want to enlist, I’ll take care that the sergeant
brings you down to your bearings pretty soul.
“13.2%?” “yam?” “335‘” i the blood

3'}le 0W Y P099 W
from his face, where George's  near
broken his nose. He did not seem tobcat
put out by the encounter. '

“ Your honor’s a better man than I thought.
and I'll go with your honor,” he said, civilly

‘ “Triangles,” were madetotie u aseldicrwhen.
being ﬂogged. p

 

:0 -r‘. .

; -—~_.——-

'4' 1‘

9

2,: xx. .SKT‘W ﬂ.l...’ as

6

Spring-Heel Jack;

 

 

 

enough. “I swore I wouldn’t never go under
no gentleman, but when I meet a man, I’m not
the one to bear malice for a ﬁght. If our
honor will take me into your company, I’l be
proud to sarve there.”

“ Come on, then,” said George shortly.

With that, he took his way to the Tower, and
the Gypsy followed him as quietly as if he had
known him all his life.

When they got to the guard-house, the young
ofﬁcer said to the sergeant of the guard:

“ Here is a man who wants to enlist. Tell the
corporal to take him over to the recruiting
office, and see if he is sounc .”

The sergeant stared at the recruit, as much as
to say that he did not like the looks of him; but
as the new man was undoubted] a tall and
well-built fellow, and the morals o the soldiery
were not ex cted to be above reproach, and as
his oﬁicer ad brought him in, the worthy
“ noncom ” saluted respectfully, and said to the

‘ V ait ’erc.”

Then George went into the Tower, and forgot
all about the new recruit, who was presently
taken off by the corporal to the recruiting ofﬁce,
which was not far from the Tower, and duly
taken into the service of the Government.

As he was beiu taken from the oilice to the
Tower laarracks— e had been assi ed at his
own request to Hoard’s com anv—t ie new man
who had given the name 0 “John Spring,” in
answer to the question, cast a glance up at the
side of the great building, and laughed softly to
himself, at which the corporal asked him:

“ What beest laughin’ at i”

The co ral was a rustic, who had not yet
got over his country accent.

S rin laughed again.

“ be aughin’ to myself,” he said, mimicking.
“ Can’t a man laugh in the army?”

“Not afore his oﬁ‘icers,” responded the cor-
poral stiflly. “It ain’t military. Shut thy
cad, or that tongue of thine ’ll git thee in trou-
ble my man.”

The new recruit did not laugh again, but he
smiled to himself all the way to the lace where

The corporal who was not above petty
tyranny, did not fail to “take it out of him” as
he would have expressed it, when he ot him
into the drill~room, to put him through is fac-

mos.

Ila was surprised to ﬁnd, however that the
new man was unexpectedly ready with the fac-
ings and marchings, so that, after he had tried
him with all sorts of orders, and found that he
knew the meaning of all, the corporal suddenly
observed:

“Thee’st been in the sarvice afore, man. I
mistroost thee’s a desarter.”

The new recruit cast a glance at the other as
if he found it hard to restrain his risibility; but
made no answer, and the corporal added:

“ Coom wi’ me, man. A’ll find out who thee
beest.”

The recruit followed him to the guard-room,
where the co ral reported to the officer that
the new recrui acted to him like a deserter, and
asked what he should do with him.

The officer of the guard that day was Oliver
,Howard, who, when the new recruit came into
the room, eyed him sharply.

When the corporal re rted, Howard looked
at the new man with sti more sharpness, and
the other faced him, with the innocent air of
one who had never known guile.

“Well, m man,” said the young ofﬁcer,
“you hear w t the corporal says. ow is it?
Are you a deserter or not?”

Spring stared at the omcer hard. ‘

“ Your honor ought to know,” was all he said.
“ I know a thing or two. If your honor wants
anew hand, that don’t need to be drilled, seems
to me it ain’t much the sarvice is goin’ to suf-
fer.

Oliver seemed to be pleased with the reply,
for he turned to the corpora], saying:

“ We mustn’t ask too many uestions, cor-
gral. If we t a ood man, an he turns out

be ood in his dril , it is not for us t9 pry too
close to his affairs. Put him on guard, and
we’ll see whether he understands that, as well as
the rest of the business.”

80 John Spring, the Gypsy, against all the
rules of the semce, hap nod to be put on
guard the very day on w ich he enlisted, and
was placed at the door of the very Amory in
whic the trouble had taken place t e night be-
fore, where he attracted attention from the
country visitors who crowded the Tower during
the day by his tail , and dark, handsome
face, both set of! by e new uniform which he

wore.

That eveningl at the closing of the gates, the
Constable of t 9 Tower, who felt naturally ner-
vous as the darkness 9. preached, fearing a re-

tion of the scene of he previous ni ht, came
‘ the door of the armory, as the “ Bee Eaters"
mar-baled out the last of the crowd, and stand

. he was finally rigged out with a uni orm.

‘ihrdatthenewrnan who wason guard.
John 8 ng stood at “attention,” when he
saw the hie coming, and presented arms

in the stiff way of, an old soldier. The Constable
fromheadtofoot,andsaidtohim:

I q“Umphl You're a new mam-hey?”

 

1“Yes, sir,” was the perfectly respectful re-

P Y-

“ “Then did you come into the guard?” asked
the old genera .

“ This arternoon, sir.”

“ Umphl “We put you on here?”

“ Sergeant sir.”

“ Umphi How long have you been in the ser-
vice?”

The new recruit seemed to be pondering a mo-
mcnt and then answered, rave ':

“ ’liout four hours and a arf sir.”

The old general colored slightly, for he thought
the recruit was chaiﬁng him, and he snapped
out:

“ How dare. you answer me in that manner?
How long have you been in the service, alto-
gether ?”

The recruit appeared tobe thinkng again, but
he answered as before:

“ Four hours and a ’arf, sir—leastwise it might
be threequarters, now.”

Then the old general turned and stumped down
to the guard-room, when he inquired angrily of
the sergeant “ How he dared to put a recruit on
an important post like that?”

The ser eant laid the responsibility on the
ofﬁcer of t e guard, and Oliver Howard was at
once called for.

He came, looking as innocent as possible, and
in answer to the query what he meant by putting
a new man on such a t, answered:

“ Because I wan a man I could trust, sir.
Last night all the old soldiers, as I am told,
showed the white feather, and the new man
looks as if he Were a brave fellow.”

“Then, understand, sir,” said the general
sharply, “ that he must come off at once. I will
not trust a st like that to a recruit.”

So John pring was sent to the barracks for
the night.

 

CHAPTER VIII.
THE DUKE cars A vIsrr.

THE old duke, on the evening after his surly
reception of his young kinsman, was in a worse
humor than usual, and this was aggzavated by
the fact that his gouty foot began pain him
so severely that he had to send for the doctor,
the same who was ofﬁcial surgeon of the Tower.

The doctor managed to relieve him of his
pain and amuse his mind at the same time.

The ﬁrst he did with some soothing applica-
tions, and the second he effected by telling him
the story of the mysterious apparition, at the
Armory, the evening before, at which the duke
expressed incredulity insistin that the men
must have been all drunk, an that the whole

thi‘%1 was a fabrication.

en the doctor told him what he had him-
self seen the old noble ‘was red, but con-
cluded that the physician must ve also had a

“ dro too much,” and with that he added: .

“ on know, doctor, that such things cannot
be in the nineteenth century. They are impos-
sible ou know.”

“ evertheless I can swear to what I saw,”
said Tatham stubbornly, “and if your grace
does not choose to believe it, that makes no dif-
ference in the facts. I don’t argue that it is a
ghost, at all, but, on the cont , I am con-
vinced that the man who did t e trick is a
very skillful fellow.”

“Ah, then, on admit that there is no host
about the a air. Well, then, who can ve
done it? I d like to see such a thing happen in
my house. I don’t believe that it could.

‘ I hope it never will, duke,” said Tatham,»
rising to take his leave. “Ifgvour grace were
to see the thing I saw last nig t, it would be a
giadh thing for the foot, and you too. Good-

g t.

And the doctor left the house, more than
ever convinced that the duke was the most dis-
agreeable old man he had ever met.

In the mean time, the old duke himself, after
the de rture of the physician, be an to ponder
over w t had been , 1 him; ant , as the light
faded away, and the darkness supervened, he
began to grow nervous, in spite of his bold
words. ‘

He rung for candles, and the ﬂunk brou ht
them in, of whom the old no le ed
whether he had heard anything of the trouble
at the Tower of London, the ni t before.

The man was a big, stoutfe ow; but, as the
duke asked the question, he grew perceptiny
paler and said in a nervous way:

“ Please your grace, es; but we all ’opes that
the thing won‘t come t 3 way, your grace. It’d
scare the maids ’arf out of their wits, and there
ain’t none of us wants to ’ave the Old Scratch
’imself comin’ ’round."

The old duke saw that the big fellow was
really frightened, and he asked him, sneer-

l .

‘ hy, Jarvis, you surely are not afraid of a
manPllike yourself ’ ” said Jami tr
“ ease our grace 8, respec
fully but , ‘if ethin weretooome
‘round ’ere in t 0 night, I ’t ans or for
thewa hany of us would act. Itain tobe
an that it will; but the maids is all scared
’a to death a’ready, and they do say the thing
’u been ’r town for more than amonth,

your grace.”

 

This was news to the duke, so he continued:

“Where and when, Jarvis?”

Jarvis lowered his voice, and looked around
the big room, now dimly lighted with a pair of
wax candles, as if he was afraid of being over~
heard, as he answered:

“They do sag, ylour grace, that it was seen
on ’Ampstead ’ at and Windmill ’Ill, and ’Igh
’Olborn; and the folks in ’Ampstead Court is
that scared that they dassn’t go to bed at
ni hts.” _

_dhe duke mused for a few moments, and then

I .

“ Well, if he comes around here, I shall know
what to do with him. Jarvis, I am oing to
take a turn in the garden. Get my chair ready,
and brin me my pistols. I have a fancy that
this wil scamp, whoever he is, may pay us a
v1s1t to-night, and if so, we will try what we can
do with him.” '

Jarvis turned paler than before, and gasped:

“ Your grace must be joking !”

The old duke favored him with one of his most
stony glances, as he answered:

“ never joke with my servants, Jarvis. Go
and get the chair ready, and bring the pistols,
as I said.”

Jarvis, who well knew the value of his place,
made no more ado, but went and got the rolling-
chair, in which the old noble was used to taking
as much of the air as was possible to one of his

e and habits.

B‘gl'le also brought a pair of handsome dueling—
pistols with which in the days of his youth the
old duke had fought more than one combat, and
acquired the reputation of being one of the best
shots in England.

Then the obsequious flunky wheeled his mas-
ter into the glarden of the palace, which stretch-
ed down to t 8 margin of the river Thames, one
of those quaint, old-fashioned places, only possi-
ble to the ve rich people in London, where
land is sometimes worth from two to three
guineas a foot.

The
a. half in extent, laid out in the formal st le that
came in with the reigns of William I I., and
“ good Queen Anne,” and terminated in a ﬂight
of stone steps, at the top of which there was a
summer-house that overlooked the river, in
which the duke was wont to sit in the summer
evenings and muse sadly on the fact that he
could never hope to be young again.

On thisevenin he had his c ir wheeled to
the old place an told Jarvis that he could o, a
permission of which the man gladly availed im-
self, for he was undeniably afraid in the dark,
in common with many other good peo le in the
city of London, since the ranks 0 Spring—
Heeled Jack had begun to played, inall -
rections round the town.

The duke had heard of the strange peppear-
anoes before, and had given them but Ii 6 at.
tention; for the chief exploits of this mysterious
being had taken
of the suburbs, an it was only the ni ht before
that he had, for the ﬁrst time, made h 8 ap r-
ance in the midst of civilization, spite o the

ds of the Tower itself.

But the old duke, who was as brave as a lion,
and relied on his shooting wers to save him
from harm‘if the monster ould make its ap-
pearance, sat quiet] in the summer-house for
some time: heard e cloek of the Tower strike
ten and eleven; and still nothing appeared to
disturb his quiet; though the last waterman on
the river had, long ere that, rowed past, and
the silence of night was over everything on land
and water.

He had told Jarvis to call him at eleven, and
soon after the strokes of the clock had died’
away on .the night, heard the step of that wor-
thy semtor approaching, to whom he called

ut: .

“ Well. Jarvis, all safe and sound, so'far.”

There was no answer, but the step came on,
and the duke turned his head to see who was
coming toward him.

It was a tall personage, about the size of the
hunkyi who usually attended him, but wrapped
in a ong cloak and the old noble, with an in~
stinctive fear t at all was not right, snatched
up his pistols, and called out to the approaching

man:

“Halt, there, I tell you! You can’t f1 ighten
me with your tricks, sir.”

And so saying, he leveled a istol at the per—
sonage in the cloak, and cock both weapons.

The click of the hammer was plainly audible
in the stillness of the night, and the duke heard
more steps a roaching from the back of the

rden, in w ch he recognized the heavy foot—

all of the worthy Jarvis:

“ Help! help!” he shouted; for the Visitor was
still advancing; and the old man found that he
could not see t e sights of the pistol in the night
and would have to aim by guess-work.

T asgoodaimasheoouldheﬂred,and
the t astonished him.

The stranger in the longlcloak suddenly threw
off the enveloping man 9, and displayed the
ﬁgure of Spring- eel Jack, clad in half-armor,
from the waist up, but with a huntsman’s
breaches and boots on his lower limbs, that had
a most queer and inoon ous effect; while, in-
stead of spurs on 

ardens of Norfolk House some acre and.

lace in the outlying districts.

ls,hehsdtwognat~

 

 

 

mm.“  ‘ \jraﬂw‘qﬂoa 1'4 VS» 3 ' ‘.

if.
.i

 

 

Spring-Heel Jack.

'7

 

 

He m
in} books, and threw a. complete somerset;
UNI] made for the duke.

With lofty leaps he came toward the old man,

who hastily leveled the remaining pistol, and horse that had been at the

ﬁred with a trembling hand, shouting for help
as he did so.

The stran r uttered no sound, but made a

i
4

Mother Spring sneered.
“ Fine trade thou’lt make of it. Why, lad,
when Mathias was thy age he could take an old

make a yorgio think it a co t.
ne’er do that.”

l
1

links, that appeared to be powerful springs. ' and Jack didn’t get back last night. SoI’ll have .
e a jump up in the air, came down on to do the trading myself.”

Jack shrugged his shoulders.

“ And thats for the sergeant to ﬁnd out. I
just took my cap and went out of the door, when
the rest were lookin another way, and when the
roll comes to be ed, there won’t be none to

low all its life, and , hanswer the name of John Spring and they must
But thou canst whistle for hm.”

The face of the elder Gypsy grew graver at

Then she looked back to the tent by which the i once, as he asked:

second leap In the air, and came down by the 1 other man was standing, and called out, in her
chair, when he darted on the old man, and the f shrill tones, cracked with age:

duko saw that the hands of the fi re .were arm-
ed with the same long claws 0 which all the
poo 1e who had hitherto seen the monster had
s )0 en.

IIn a moment it had clutched the helpless old
nobleman by the shoulders, and though the
duke, iii the energy of his terror, struggled with
a force that su ri himself, the monster
dragged him out o the chair as if he had been a
baby, and thence to the border of the river,
where it caught him up and held him over the
tide, as if about to throw him in.

The old duke struggled and shouted, in a
voice that was growing weaker all the time, and
the steps of men running were audible in the
garden, while JarVis was eard shouting to the
rest of the servants to “ hurry, for the duke was
being killed.”

Then the monster seemed to realize it might
be dangerous to stay where it was any longer,
and threw the old duke down on the ground,
by the side of the river, ﬁrst inflicting a scratch
on his face and down the side of his neck, that
looked like stab of a knife.

\Vhen the horriﬁed Jarvis and his fellow—ser-
vants came 11 n the scene, they found the
old duke on t e ground, but the monster had
gifsappeared, and no one knew what had become

it.

 

CHAPTER IX.
THE GYPSY our.

HAMPSTEAD HEATH, to-day would seem to
be a place where mystery has but little chance
to lurk, but fifty years ago the case was dif-
ferent.

.Even to-da , when the ﬂood of buildings has
swept far on ide of the original limits of the
old cit of London, and has made a wilder-
ness 0
day‘s journey to traverse it from one end to
the other, 0 as straight as a man can, the
Heath has left open for the delectation of
the people who ride donkeys and disport them-
selves on Sundays and holidays.

The mo after the mysterious amault on
the duke of orfolk, in his own garden, the city
was all with the news that Sp ' ~Heel
Jack had n at hispranks again, and epo-

licemen were scouring the town in search of in-
formation that might lead to the apprehension
of the person or persons who had contrived to
outrage the dignity of the premier peer of the
House of Lords.

Such a. thing had never been heard of before,
and the indignation of the peo 10 was propor-
tionate to the enormity of the o ensc.

The naturally ﬂunkyish nature of the aver-
age British shopkeeper was roused to the bot-
tom of its soul; for who knew whether-the atro-
cious villain that had assaulted the ﬁrst noble
man of England might not, if he were not dis-
covered la his impious hands on myavlitiy itself?

And, let orei ers dream as they of the
possible ub canism of the average English
citizen, he a wholesome reverence for the
name and state of royalty and nobility, in the
hope that he himself may, some day, attain to a
small measure of the same di 'u'.

put on Hampstead Heath, e monster, it was
said, had made his ﬁrst ap cc and there
he had frightened women and children by the
score so limit, though the number of his vic-
tims had not yet reached a round dozen.

It was on m Heath, the day after
the news read t t the Duke of Norfolk had

. been attac ed by Springdieel Jack, that a small

cam of G 'es, composed of two men and three
wonizan, whflseveral children, had been pitched
in a. remote part.

A donkey cart had been unloaded. and a little
barrel-aha tent erected, in the ordinary
Gypsy f on, witha ﬂreburning in the o n
air, over which swung a pot on its tripod, w ile
an old woman, with gray hair and the elﬁsh face
of a witch, stirred the contents. In the eyes 0f
the visitors that strayed that way these roba-
bly consisted of all sorts of magic cuts,
but were really the remains of chickens and a

oung pig, which were  ‘ , that morni ,
from the cottages of the pe0p who resided
the nei hborhood.

As 3 e was st' away, one of the men
came and stood beside or, asking:

“ Well, Mother Spring, when will the pot be

read i”

Mgther S ring salutedhim with a scowl.

“ When Iptell co, and not afore, J Win-
terbotham. Thou alwa s a stomach for
food but no hands to get the ' with.”

“bon’t be crusty, mother,” said the young
Gypsy, not ill-naturedly. “ I onl asked be-
cause there is a gorg‘o" coming to horses,
V ‘ Astrangormotofamyblood.

I
I

bricks and mortar that takes a full'

I

l

 

“Hey, Mathias, thou lazy hound, I want
more wood, or the pot ’11 nc’cr be done.”
The person addressed was an old man, with

‘ hair as gray as her own.

His ﬁgure was bent, but had the remnants of
great strength and activity. His shouldere
were broad llS limbs long, and the decrepitude
of age could not hide the trim outline of what had
once been the figure of an A )0110.
was still handsome, in s ite of t e ragged gray
beard, that seemed to ve been left unkempt
on purpOSe to make it as unattractive as pos-
sible. He was clad in rags, and his black eyes
glowcd with anger, as he called back to the old
woman:

“ Get thine own sticks, Ghita' for if I come
over there, I’ll give thee what I get, in a way
thou wouldn’t like.”

The old woman favored him with a malevo-
lent glance, but she had experienced castigation
too often to o my rebel, and she set to work to
gather sticks rom the ground near her, where
they had been lying all the time, she being too
lazy to pick them up.

Mathias, in the mean time, watched her, and
when he saw that she was really at work, he
came up to the ﬁre and helped, in a way that
showed his “ bark to be worse than his bite,” as
the sayin runs; for he helped his wife materi—
all ' with er labors.

he did not give him any thanks for it, but
returned to the stirring of the pot, as the old
man ranged the sticks under the' ﬂame, till he
asked in a use of his labor:

“ Where gid Jack go?”

The old woman waved her hand toward the
distant smoke of the city.

“Over onner, ye may know. Jack’ll never
be easy till the lobsters" gets ’im again, and
gives him what 1:113] gave many a gorgio before

im. The boy’s ers venturesome, Mathias,
and thou know’st that as well as I do. By the
time ’e’s been gape, I mistroost we’ll not see "an

a .

in
Old Mathias made no answer, for it seemed as

if the words of his mused gloomy thoughts
in his own breast, t he stood ' into the
ﬁre, as if ' of something till th were

startled by the voice of Jasper ’I’Vinterbotham
callin _ out to them:

“’ re cooms Jack now; and if ’e ain’t gone
and took the bounty 1”

And presently over the heath, among the
gorse-bushes, they both spied the tall ﬁgure of a
soldier in his smart undress-suit, the ﬂat cap on
his head settin off his handsome face, and recog-
nized in him he straying son, who had gone
from the cam ,two days before, into London,
on an exped tion for begging, thiev' , or
bwahagever could be done for the proﬁt 0 the

D .

Jack S ring cameu looking' handsome and
as well aspever, and hispﬁrst words to his mother
were, as he smelt the savory emanation from the
pot on the ﬁre:

“ ’Elloa, mother, I’m as ’ as a wolf this
mornin’. Give us somethin’ out of the pot, in a
’urr , and be ’ ed to thee.”

T e old woman did not seem to be offended by
the rude salutation, for she actually smiled as
she looked at him, and rose with alacrity to
obey his request, while the other Gypsies gather-
ed round his handsome iigure, as if they all

admired him, strongest and bravest of their

band, and dispute.

The 01 man called Mathias was the only one
that did not seem to be pleased, for he made no
motion to welcome the new-comer, and when the
rest had spoken to Jack, observed 1 :

“ And so thou’rt a lobster again.”

Jack grinned.
“ Ay ay, as much as I choose' no more, fey-
ther. I know what to do, and when to do it, as
well as the next man. I took a fancy to soger
again for a while' but when I want to get out,
I can do it as we as the next. And where dost
think I was last night? Whg, in the Tower, of
all places in the world. An , feyther, there’s a
’eap of fun a-goin’ for the Romany, and they
want to take it. Who dost think went to the
Tower t’other ht, and raised sich a rum us
the guard ’ad to urn out to ketch him. y,
Spring-’Eel Jack, to be sure. Hey! what fools

those fforgios are!”
An thetall G threw back hisshoulders
and roared with ughter while the other mem-
to be amused at what

bers of the band see
hehadsaid.
“ And 'ow coomst thou ’ere to-day?” asked

Mathias, when he had allowed a smile to
fade from his faoe. “Do theyle recruits go
out as free as all that!”

 

' “ lobsters" is the out word for soldiers in Eng-
land, from their red costs.

t

His face ;

i

i

 

“ And dost mean thou’it goin’ to desart, and
thee only two days in the sarvice? Lad, it win-
not do. I was a soger once, in self, and I tell
‘ee it winnot do. Thou mun o k to the bar-
ricks, and be quick about it.’

Jack did not seem to be much troubled, for he
continued his meal which he had taken from
thenpot as soon as he came, with perfect tran~
qui ity.

“Ay, ay, fe her,” he said. “I‘ll not get to
the triangles, iut an I tell ’ce ’00 ’tweere that
listed me, thou’lt be s’prised.”

“ ’00 was it, lad?” asked Mathias.

“’00 but the gorgio heir, feythcr—and—say
—"c"s a better man than I gave ’im credit for:
and ’6 can ’andle ’is ’ands like a ood ’un; so ’9
can, now. Noll’s wrang about im, and so ’e‘ll
ﬁnd out some day, when ’tis too late. Tell ’ce
the man can ﬁght. Gave me a smack o’ the’
cho s, laid me ﬂat, and I ain’t no fool, nuther,
as t ion knows, feyther.”

The old man favored his son with a malig-
nant glance as he said:

“ So much the worse for ’im, then.”

CHAPTER X.
THE RECRUIT.

GEORGE HOWARD had gone on drill as usual,
on the same morning when Spring visited his
family, and bein_ in command of his co y,
in the absence of 's captain. he received 9 re-
paint of his sergeant that the Gypsy recruit had

ken his departure without cave, tho h the
ﬁrgeant did not think he had exactlyuﬁesert-

 

The young ofﬁcer was angry at hearing the
report, and gave orders that, as soon as
Gypsy returned he should be put into the guard-
room and punished.

Having “yea the order, he forgot the matter,
till it wasb rglilight back to hist,memory, in thtllie
evening, y e same sergean re rting t
therecruithad come back,andhad’0resistedar-
rest sothattheyhadtoknock him down with
the butt-end of a musket, and that [he was in
irons in the (guard-room, where he had sent for
his comman ing ofﬁcer and asked if he would
11%;? me “ﬁnd tated fOboim‘ b ﬁnal]

rge esi a at going' at
ashe was naturally kind-hearted, went to (3
place where the prisoners were conﬁn and
ound Jack Sp ' wing in the dark his
headtiedu inab 'bandage,hishandsand
feet ironed  .w his uniform was torn
and spotted with lood.

As soon as he saw the young oﬁicer,hebe—

gun:

“ 'Well, your hono~ , this ain’t the way to treat
asoger,is it? I di ’t’list for no sich treat-
ment.”

“ It’s what you deserve for absence without
leave,” said Howard, sternly; for he saw that
the man was dumk still, and insolent in de-
meanor. “I told on that the sergeant would
bring you to your bean'ngs, if you tried any of
you; trigzks on him. What did you want to see
me or

The G stared up at him with scurious
glance, h cunning, 
“ Iwanted to see if your nor wouldn’t let

me of! punishment, this time; if I promised to

do well for the future. Your honor recruited-
me, and it won‘t do your honor no credit, if ‘
your man goes to the triangles, the ﬁrst day af-

ter ’9 joins.

Howard frowned.

“ You’re a worthless impudent dog; and if you
get a good dose of the cat, inthemoming, it
will teach you to kec your insolent tongue to
yourself,” be said. “ shall not interfere with

your punishment. ”

He was turning away from him, when the
Gypéy called out eainostly:

‘ our honor will beso , if I don’t get of!

from the triangles. Mark ee that, now, don
thﬁbuttons.”
oward paid no further attention to him, but
went off and paid a. visit to the Constable of the
Tower in his quarters. ,_
General Reid had always been glad to see
him and ially when the yo oﬁlcer
would a , a e of chess; minded, like
d ndnn 0_ core, was passionately fond
of the game, in which the native Hindoos are so

e rt.
hadneverbeenmuchofa till
heenteredtheTower wanna-em

which date he had develo a t lo’ve'for
the ,andacorrespon umbilical: for
thesocie ofanold oﬁcer, whom whenheﬁrst
saw him, hadthought onset the stiﬂestold
martinetshehadevermet. \\
Since  hadgoken to him soda»
cidedly on subject his da hter, the
young man hadnotdaredto thinko going to
seekerindisobedienoetoorders'butwhenthe ’
generalsctullyukcdhhn“whyhedidnot '

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are a: v

:55“; gri-

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. '1 in...

as ~ .r’t n.- .v.~v~..r‘;+; "a
.

{Kim-“gym m; i, ._-.«W« «

. Jr 

-‘

8

Spring-Heel Jack.

 

come in to have a game of chess in the even-

ing,” Howard, with all the eagerness of a lover

to catch at straws in his favor, accepted the

tacit invitation and came there in the evening

hoping, after what was really a penitentia

ﬁaame with the father, to get a glimpse of the
ughter.

In this he was not disappointed; for the ﬁrst
person he saw, when he entered the room of the
commandant, that evening, was the face of
Rose, lookin pale, as if she had not been well
but with a sight, happy smile on it, that told
him a good deal.

The old general was remarkably cordial in his
manner, and treated him as if nothing had hap—
pened to disturb their relations; but he insisted
on tying him down closely to his game.

George did not dare to let his attention wan-
der; for the general was testy and detected
an; signs of want of skill, as well as attention.

inally the young oﬂicer got interested, in
its of himself, in one game, wherein he got
t e best of the eneral, who was a very superior
player as a ru e, and actually forgot all about
the presence of the young lady, who was seated
b the table, with her fancy work, till he was
agle to say the important words “ check-mate ”
to the discomﬁture of the old general, who said,
as he ushed away the table:

“Mg. Howard, you have improved wonder-
fully, since you came to the Tower. In a little
while, if you will only pay attention to the
position 0 all your pieces, en mi ht venture
to play with a stranger in In ia; an that, I can
assure you, is not what every man can do. Rose,
m love, suppose you give us some tea.”

9, much relieved at the close of the
game, or the strain on his mind to beat the
wary old general was by no means light, had his
ﬁrst opportunity, that evening, to take a good
look at Rose, as she rung the bell for the ser-
vant.

He thought she looked as if she had suffered
from the terror of the night when such a sin -
lar accident had hap nod to her, and he a
strong desire toask a ut it, but did not dare.
It was the oungolady herself who relieved him,
presently, y sayiptgz .

“ Have you hea anything about that mon-
ster the call Spring-Heel Jack Mr. Howard?”

The 0 d general started slightly, and said, ina
nervous way:

“Now, Rose, Rose, don’t you remember that
Dr. Tatham positively interdicted any mention
of that?”

“ I know it, sir,” she answered; “ but the doc-
tor does not know eve thing, and he cannot
tell how I am tormen with curiosity. If I
could on] learn something about it, an not be
commll to nurse m own fancies, I should be
less ghtened than am.”

“ But Howard doesn’t know anything about
it,” the general interru ted her, in the same
nervous way. “If he di , he would tell me, and
he hasn’t. ”

Geo looked at the oun lad , and then at
her fat er, and, seeing hat t e o d man did not
forbid him to speak, said:

“There is no news, Miss Reid, save what you
have probabl heard already.”

“And wha is that?” she asked, with vivacity.
“ Papa did not tell me anything.”

The old general shrugged his shoulders, in an-
swer to the in uiring 100 of George.

“Tell her about it,” he said. “ Tatham
says that anything is better than letting her
brood over the matter.”

“ There is only thistosaﬁ,” said George; “that
the man who is doing all t is, attacked the Duke
of Norfolk, in hisown )garden, last ni ht. The
police are after it, and hope they wil ﬁnd out
comet ; for the whole affair is a dis race to
them. 0 think that one man can efy the
whole of London in this way and make his es-
ca so often! it is a shame.’

0 young lady shuddered.

“But are you sure that it is a man?” she
asked in a low voice. “ To me it seemed more
like a wild beast of some kind. No, father, on
cannot silence me. I must talk about it. on
don’t know anything about what happened to
me on that night, when you found me in the

“ lodgn’t want to know,” said her father hasti—
ly. “ That is—Tatham gave strict orders that
on were not to excite ourself; and the story
3 sure to excite you. lease try not to think of
it at all."

“But I must think of it,” she retorted sharp-
ly. “ I cannot get it out of my mind; and it is
better to speak out and share t with you than
to keep it to myself, and go mad, thinking it
may come aﬁp.”

‘ ,That it s 1 never do,” said George How-
ard earnestly. “ I will give my life to defend
"you from an such visitation.”

She look at him vely.

“ I think you woul , and so would my father;
but what are we to do, suppose that he were to
001?: to me, when you were neither of you near
me

“Then you must not go away from us,” the

Promise

old interposed anxiously. “
me, , that you will never go where you can-
notsunn’ponhe ,as soon as you see anything

 

“I will do that,” she said, with a slight shud-
der. “There is no fear that I shall be venture-
some, after what I saw. Oh, it was fearful!

I i

.)

once down the corridor and vanished in a dark
place beyond the stairs to the Amory.
There was no sen in that direction, and the

was alone in the Amory, and the lamp was , Hindoo was too muc relieved at the departure
swinging from the ceiling, when the thing sud- ! of the unwelcome guest to dare to chase it any

denly made a spring from the back of the
charger, and came boundin
great ape. It seemed as if could not stir, as it
came and it cast its hair arms round me, and
then must have fainted: I remember trying
to scream, and the sound seemed to be smoth-
ered in my throat; and after that I saw noth-

toward me, like a ,-

ing, till you were all round me, and I was in my 3

own room.”
Howard listened attentively.

The ﬁgure seen b Rose was evidently not the l to know the facts and make a thorou
‘ in the building, in which he felt conﬁg

same he had seen himself; for she spoke of it as
“ a great ape.”

The girl, for a few moments, was so much
overcome by the recollection of the horrible
sight she had seen, that she trembled violently;
but, after a little she recovered her calmness,
and asked Howar :

“ W'as that the way it appeared to you ?"’

He was about to answer. when they were in-
terrupted by the arrival of Chundoo, who came
in, bearing the tea-tray, and set it down by
them, his black eyes rolling from one to the
other, in a way that attracted his master’s at-
tention, for he asked:

“What is the matter, Chundoo? Has any-
thing frightened you?”

Chundoo tried to salaam in his usual manner,
but the rollin of his eyes increased, and his
teeth chatte as he glanced at his young mis-
tress aud answered:

“ Not’in , sahib, not‘ing, not'in .”

George oward saw that sometﬁming had hap-

ned, and connected it, in a moment, with

ose and the reappearance of the monster. He
saw that Chundoo was making great efforts to
keep down his terror, on account of the youn
lady, and he had much respect for the self-contra
of the Hindoo, who was natural] very timid.

He made a signal to General id, which the
old gentleman understood and asked no further
questions; the more so as he saw that his daugh-
ter had caught sight of Chundoo’s face, and was
be liming to tremble again.

oward tried his best to turn the conversa-
tion on other things by referring to the game
which he and the general had been playing, and
making a comment on the last move which had
given him the victory over the well-laid scheme
of his veteran adversary.

The ruse succeeded, as far as the general was
concerned; for he was ready, at all times, to talk
chess with any one, and Howard managed to get
Rose into the conversation, by appealing to her
on a point in dispute between them.

Chundoo had time to get out of the room, and
so take out of the range of her observation his
visible terror. Then she poured out the tea,
and the conversation grew animated, till the
time came for the young man to take hisde-

parture.

When he rose to go, the old general had for-
gotten all about Chundoo’s queer behavior; and
the young ofﬁcer was not in the corridor, and
the door of the Constable’s apartments closed,
before he saw Chundoo again.

Then the Hindoo came toward him with every
mark of terror on his brown face, from where
he had been hidin in a corner of the corridor,
and whispered to im:

“ 0h, sahib, debbil come again I”

 

CHAPTER XI.
THE mum VIsrr.

“ Where did you see it?” asked Howard.

Chundoo pointed to the end of the corridor, on
whic‘laid George knew that the room of Miss Reid
open .

“ Su ia see it, sahib,” he whispered. “Come
in—frig ten her to death.”

“Come with me,” said the young oﬁlcer,
uietly. “ We will see what has appened. Is
iier able to k?”

C undoo nod ed vehemently.

“ Yes, sahib. Me ﬁght for Missy Rose. Me

drive him away. ”

George followed him to the place where he had
indicated, and found the ayah, crouchin in a
corner of her mistress’s room, quakin wit fear
but able to give him some aceount 0 what had

happened.
t seemed that she was chatting with Chun-
doo, when they heard a noise at the door and
went to open it, when they had been confront-
ed by a man in the dress of an ofﬁcer, with a
logg military cloak over his uniform.

upposigg it to be the oﬂcer of the guard,
who wish to ask some question of the com-
mandant, and who had ﬁt!)
Suryia began to speak to , telling him where
to go, when he had suddenly caught her round the
neck and breathed a ﬂame of ﬁre in her face,
at which she was so much frightened that she
gave a scream and dropped on the ﬂoor.

Then Chundoo, rendered desperate at the a
rance of the stran r, and thinking him
the devil that ha frightened them all so

much, yet had the courage to catch up a sword
s as a razor which hung on the wall, with

to the wrong place,

further than to get rid of it.

At that very moment they had heard the bell
ring for tea, and Suryia had implored Chundoo
not to let Miss Rose know what had hap ned.

That was all the story they had to tel , and it
left George in a state of perplexity that render-
ed him uncertain what to do.

The ofﬁcer of the guard that night was an old
comrade of his in the regiment, named Stanle ,
and his ﬁrst thought was that Stanch oug t

search
ent that
the person who had )layed them so many tricks
must still be conce ed.

He did not dare to tell General Reid yet, for
fear that it might getto the ears of his daughter,

3 and drive her into a fresh ﬁt of terror.

 

Hastily telling the two fri htened Hindoos
not to say anythin about w at had happen-
ed, but to kee t e door locked, Howard
went5 down to t e guard-room which he found

me .

The men not on guard were sleeping on their
benches in the guardoroom, and Stanley had
gone to his own room to lie down, the duty in
the Tower not being arduous, at any time.

The sentry at the door told him where to ﬁnd
Stanley, and he went in and awakened the
officer who at ﬁrst was inclined to resent being
disturbed by one not on duty for the night.

As soon as he heard that “ Spring-Heel Jack ”
as the monster was generally called, had 0
his appearance again, in the very midst of the
Tovver, he was ready. enou h to make a search,
and the ﬁrst thing t e di was to call out the
guard and bring up 6 prisoners to be looked
at

These were found all right; and the G ,
Who had been locked up, was fast asleep. n
he was wakened and ordered to stand up, he
growled a good deal, but obeyed, and stood
swaying to and fro, in a way that showed he had
not et recovered from the spree, on which he
had n all day.

The prisoners ted, the two ofﬁcers—for
George accompani Stanle in the search—pro-
ceeded to make a tour roun all the places inthe
huge building, in which it was possible for a
miﬁn to be1 d h

specie y, t ey went own t e narrow pas-
sage, at the end of which, Chundoo insisted, the
thing he saw had disappeared.

The corridor was lon , and extended from one
end of the building to e other, and they knew
that at th; other enddaway fflonl: the Constabgs
apartmen , was a cor, w ic opened‘on e
moat, and was kept locked at all times.

Nevertheless this door was found unlocked,
and they came to the conclusion that the person
who had been playing ghost, that night, had
gone out of that door.

This made it prretty certain that he must bean
intimate of the ower itself; but how he had got
out still remained a mystery.

Howard had told the man to bring lanterns, and
he held one out over the glitterin waters of the
moat, which mad some tWenty eet below the
little postern r. ,

Themoatwas too oroadtobe leapedby any
human being; for it stretched twenty-ﬁve feet
from bank to bank, but it seemed thatthe per-
son who had left by the door must have crossed
it in some way, for there was no sign of him to

be seen.
On the other side of the moat was a flat, paved
space extending to the Tower stairs, and Stan-

ley whispered:

“ ove, Howard, the fellow must have
gone t way or none. If he hasn’t, he is still
in the building. ”

The words were hardly uttered, when they
heard a violent shriek behind them, and the
whole party started and turned round, to go
agitate the place whence the shriek pro-

Howard was full of fear, for he had recog.
nized the voice of Rose. '

He drew his sword and ran back as fast as he
could to the rooms of the old Constable, when he
was met, in the corridor, by the very ﬁgure that
had terriﬁed them all so much, when they en-
countered it in the Amory. ' '

It came lea ing and running swift] alon
the , si cut as ever, and How met
fair y, and made a  at it, which would
have killed any man in the world, had thethrust
taken effect.

He was so excited, however, that he missed
his aim the ﬁgure dodgi to one side with a
dexterity that was won Slim, and the next mo—
ment it was in the midst of the soldiers, leaping
in the air over the heads of some and running
at others, whom it knocked down in its pmge.

men were not so full of superstitious fear
as they had been before; but they were clumsy
and confused by the sudden apparition, and the
strange bein actually got through the midst of
them all, an started for the postern door,,pur—

i sued by the whole crowd.

It ran with remarkable swiftnea, and out-

whic he rushed at the stranger, who ﬂed at stripped them all on its way to the postern

 

 

 

«se'xw:.:wr:w. ». 

:i
’3
{4-

 

Spring-Heel Jack.

 

The door had been left wide open, and they
saw the strange thing take a ﬂying leap in the
air, turning a somerset in the operation, and
cleari the broad meat as if it had been a gut—
ter in t e street.

The next minute it was ﬂying away over the
broad-paved space toward the river, and they
had the pleasure of hearing a wild yell, as it

lun in the Thames, followed by a shower of
gulloés, which they fired when it was just too
late to hit anything.

CHAPTER XII.
it YOGA.”

THE excitement in the Tower after this, the
second visit of Spring-Heel Jack, was higher
than ever.

then the soldiers got back from their fruit-
less chase, after careful] barring the postern,
so that no person coul pessibly get in that
way, they found the doors of the Constable’s
apartments wide open, and everything in
confusion.

The general was tearing his hair, as he regard-
ed the insensible ﬁgure of_ his daughter, and as
Howard came in he said Wildly:

“It is infamous. this persecution: She will
die, and that “Tcth will be her murderer.
Howard, this cannot go on. She must be taken
away from here, or the shock will kill her.
“Mom is Tatham? He ought to be here.
Send for him at once. She shall not stay in
{his accursed buildmg' another night, if I can

c it.’
oward sent oﬂ’ a soldier after the doctor
and, while he was waiting, asked what had
ha ) ned.
e story was short and simple.

Rose had .gone into her own room and found
Suryia there, from whom she had ascertained,
on questioning her, a little of what had hap-
pentx .

The ayah had tried to keep her secret, but her
mistress had seen her pale face and air of terror
and had not rested till she had got it out of
her.

' The eﬂ’ect of the news on Rosehad beento
send her into a spasm of terror, and she had
rushed out into the passe. e, with a wild
impulse to call for Howard, w om she the ht,
inlherfrenzyof fear,tobeon guard t t
ni t.

osooner had she got into the passage tlmn
the monster had made his ammnee out of a
niche ri ht behind her, and clutched her in
away t had drawnfromhertheshriekthey
had all heard. .

The old general had been by his daughter and
had made a. pansat thething wrthhissword,
when the other had grabbed at the blade, in the
same way he had done in the Armory.

This time, however, the old soldier had been
too quicllt] for “the anonsterkantllﬂhad .th 8320

ofteo er, ealmgia owwr e e
Efﬁgre blade that struck it on the head and must
have inﬂicted a wound, for it turned and ﬂed
just as the soldiers came running to the sound
of the shriek.

The rest they all hour but the effect on the
Constable‘s daughter  been to throw her
into a state of insensibihty, and to f ten her
father,onheraccount, tothatsxten thathe
hardly knew what he was doing.

That he was determined to take her away
from the Tower that very ni ht, was the only
clear idea inhishcad, andthis e prepared to do
at once, while she had not et recovered her
senses. Dr. Tatham arriv while they were
still fag0 of thebexeitement, ancli1 girarttlermsug-
prised ward y agreeing wit ne i ,
that itwas best to take Bose away, before the
recovered her senses, so that she might wake up
in a place where she would not be reminded of
the past, in any way.

He had seen so much of her weak health and
impresaibLe nature, on the ﬁrst occasion when
she was frightened, that he feared that, if she
waked up in the Tower, the remembrance would
come over her 53 once, and perhaps meet her
mind manen y. _ _

Luckily there were Willing hands in pleng to
do anything the commandant ordered and
was taken up and put into a litter from the hos-

ital, in which she was carried off from the

ower into the open air, and thence to the house
of an old friend of the generals, named SirJohn
Savage, who lived not far from the Tower, in a
large house, where he and the Igeneral often
layed chess together, for Sir Jo was as en-
thusiastic in his way as Reid, in the noble game
of chess.

They had got her into the house, and she had
not yet 'ven any symptoms of recovering her
senses, t l the doctor set himself to work, and,
bylgre usual manna, managed to bring her back

0.
mTheyhadai-ranged thatcheshould belaid on
a sofa, in the large drawing-room of Sir J ohn’s
house, and Lady Savage was by her side, when
she opened her eyes.

The doctor warned them that it would never
do to admit, before her, that she had been again

b tbemonster:so,when ebestarted
awake, with alook of fear, Lady Savage at once

Why, my dear, what was the matter with

 

£011, to go and fall asleep in the way you have?
id you have a headache? Never mind now.
Your father agrees with me that the best rule
for you, till you get back your old resy cheeks,
is, early to bed and early to rise.”
Rose seemed bewildered.
“ I thought I was

“ Where am If” she asked.
in the Tower, and that th&-”

Here she stopped, and shuddered violently.

The memo of the hideous visitor, who had
now twice righted her, came back; and the
doctor, with a warning glance at Lady Savage,
broke 1n glibly:

“My dear child, you must be getting out of
your head. Don’t you remember that we were
all playing whist, when you dropped off in a
faint? I sup you haven’t recovered from
that fright you bad. But we will make it all
right, thanks to Lady Savage’s kindness. If
your ladyship will be kind enouh to call the
maids, we Will see the young y taken care
0 . ’

The quick-witted Lady Sava took the hint:
and Rose, who seemed to be ( azed at the way
Eheyl spoke, passed her hand across her fore-

ea

“ It is very strange,” she murmured. “ I
don’t remember— Was not Mr. Howard here,
or—’

Then she sto pod; and Dr. Tatham answered,
as glibly as begin:

‘ Mr. Howard? That shows on must have
been ill, my dear child. Mr. oward is' not
here. It is nearl ten o‘clock, and time for in-
valids to be in .”

“ And you are sure that I did not see the-
the—thing?” she asked, trembling.

The doctor laughed.

“ The thing? What thing can you have
I am sure there was nothing here to
frighten an one, unless it was Sir John’s snor-
ing after inner. You must have been aslee
and dreaming. Now, I insist that you don
talk an more.”

And 6 carried his point, and had Rose taken
off tobed, with Lady Savage and her maid to
attend on her; for the baronet‘s wife had been
informed of the whole affair, and was willin to
do anything for the Reids to save the poor c 'ld
from the terror of Spring-Heel Jack, of whom
she had heard in common with all London.

When the girl had been taken u stairs. and
the gentlemen Were left alone in t 9 drawing-
room. Sir John said gravely:

“ Reid the trouble abou all this is that the
scoundre who is do these pranks isa man
who knows the places strike every time he
comes.”

“ What makes you think so?” asked the gen-
eral, in a dreary tone of voice. “I think he
must be the devil himself who has a special

ite against me for comet ' 5 I have done.

by should be single out my aughter, of all
the people in London, to f ' hten? What has
the poor child done to h any one? I am
ready to have the scoundrel hanged or burned
alive, if we could only catch him; but he seems
to be unﬂndable.”

Sir John, whohadhadagreat deal of ri-
ence in India, where he had held many igh
commands, drew his friend aside to say, out of
the doctor’s hearing:

“ Reid, there is something in all this we don‘t
understand' but I think there is in it.”

General Reid started and a his friend.

He had been long enou h in India to know
the meaning of the word ‘ yoga,” which is used
by the Bin 00 devotees to describe a mysteri-
ous power by the fakirs, that has puz-
zled European scientiﬁc men, who cannot ac-
count for the phenomena they behold, but are
compelled to admit their enuineness.

The fakirs under the in uence of the “ yoga,”
have allowed themselves to be buried alive for
months, the grave beingiput under the ard of
English sentries, and w en they have n ex-
humed at the e iration of the time for which
thcyhad a to be buried th , have been
found alive, and retsored to full h th.

The perform all sorts of singular tricks,
quite yond the reach of the cleverest Euro-
pean conjurers and do their tricks in the open
air, almost entirely naked, with no robes to hide
their movements, and no false light to confuse
the spectators

The modern revelations of mesmerism and
Spiritualism have man of the same peculiarities,
but the have not yet 11 brought to the same
Erfect on that is shown by the rudest of the

indoo con'urers: and General Reid, as soon
as his frien he of “ yoga,” seemed to get a
Itlgw light on t 9 subject, for he said, in a low

he:

“I shouldn't wonder a bit, Savage. But is
there ﬁny one in London who is able to do the

Sir John nodded.

“ That is just what I don’t want Tatham to
hear. He doesn’t believe in such things, and
would only laugh at us about it. There is such
a man, and his name is Mandana. Did you
never hear of him?”

“ In India I did. Who has not? But how do
you know he is here!”

Sir John lowered his voice.

“I have seen him on the streets,andthat

 

9

within a week. If any one can get to the bot-
tom of the affair, he is the man, if he be not not
ually in the secret.”

Reid nodded his head, as if the idea pleased
him. and answered:

“ If you will go with me, we will go and see
him to-morrow. ’

CHAPTER XIII.
nan KANDANA.

IN a little back street of London, not far from
the river, in a low and squalid quarter of the
city, where sailors and watermen congregated,
and ﬁsh-women scolded from their doors at
each other, stmxi a small house, not distinguish-
cd from its neighbors by anything in the way of
external architecture, though it had an air of
silence about it, caused by the fact that the
shultlters of the windows were closed, day and
nig t.

That the house was uninhabited, would have
been the inference of a stranger; but the in-
habitants of the quarter knew better, for they
had seen a light burning at an up r window at
night, and the inmate come to in the early
mornin , before people were stirring.

They ew also that he was a “ furriner,” as
they called him: but of what nationality few
were competent to judge, save the sailors who
had been to the Indies, who told the rest that he
was a “ nigger.”

Yet he was as white as the people in the
quarter, most of them being simbin'ned sailors
of all nations.

When he was seen abroad in the daytime,
which was very seldom, he wore a longrobe,
like that of a Roman priest, the color bemg' ‘
dark brown, and on his cad a turban of white,
of the broad, flat shape which prevails in India.

He spoke little unless he was addressed, but he
always treated everybody with perfect polite-
ness, and he spoke excellent En lish.

How he lived no one knew, r he was never
seen at any of the shops in the quarter in which
he lived, and purchased no food, to any one’s
knowledge. No one knew his name and noone
was ever seen to enter his house, ough there
were those who said that he had visitors at night,
when everybody else was asleep. '

Therefore it was uite (an excitement to the
street, when two emeuwere seen to knock
at the door of little house the day after
Spring-Heel Jack’s third visit to London

The visitors were “ ntlemen,” as the word
wasthenunderstood— tis tom , some!
rank and position, indicated by their gins

They were both Old men, and though t
came on foot, the rude sailors and fish-wives of
the street did not oﬂer to treat them with rndos
ness, from spyiiﬁg) certain persons whom they

' knew to

be “ w meet runners,” 
about in sight of the two strangers, asif to
care of them, if there was any threatening de-
monstration of hostility against them.

This was by no means a matter of impossibil-
ity- for the street in which the two gentlemen
he come to visit was full of‘bad characters, as
well as sailors: and had the reputationof har-
boring more than one professional thief.

Butthe two strangers went to the door and
knocked, when, after a short interval, it was
0 nedto them bye. rsonthepeopleintbe

haugd never seen“ i foge, anddnrzhom they
a rea n r, quite a in cola-
m in white, romheadtofoot. '

There was a short talk between «him and the
strangers at the door. and the nearest of the
curious loungers said that 1 spoke in 1“ some
outlandish tongue, that no ristian ought to
know.” Then the door was shut, and the
strangers disappeared into the house, while the
gaping gazers ad to console themrelva for the
( isa pomtment of their curiosi by staring

at the outside of the dwell , as if the
bricks and mortar could tell thtm what was
going on inside its precincts.

Meantime the two gentlemen, who were Gen-
eral Reid and Sir John Savage, were ushered by
the dark man, who was only a common Hindoo
servant. through a narrow and dark pamge,
up a rickety ﬂight of stairs, to an 11 per cham-
ber which was provided with a sky 'ght in the
roo .

It was a large room for the size of the house,
but totally devoid of windows.

At one side was a door, covered with a cur-
tain; and the walls were hung with Eastern
tapestry, of the graceful but meaningless at-
term and general blending of harmonious co era
that has been a (haracteristic of Oriental
woven-work, for man centuries. '

Here their guide to them, in Hindoostanee,
to “wait and the master would come to see
them, in a little while.” Then he salaamed low,
and-disappeared, while Sir John said to hiacom-

pamon.

“The Ram doesn’t live very luxuriously,
Iyid. I should say that a little sea and watu'
would be a good investment «for 'm on the
bougy,in general. It doesn‘t smell any too
sw .

Theyhadnotieed, in com upthe stairs,a
sire odor that remindedmtiem of the land
they both lived in for so many years, where

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dressed by a voice right behi d their backs, as

features of the Hindoo.

“Ihave said thatIneed nomone ,andthat
,Ifear noevil. If thesahibs have no more
to ask of me, they in t as well return home.”

10

Spring-Heel J aek.

 

 

the home of cholera is found and where the
do . and vultures are the only scavengers.

ut the room in which they were, was clean,
as far as they could see.

A heavy rug covered the ﬂoor, all but about
two feet at the edge; and a low square t‘l'l-Ctloll,
in the center of the room, covered with tapestry
and cushions, was the only sign of 8(3('()llllll()(lll.-
tion for visitors in the way of seats—tho Persian
“ musnud.”

Sir John at once took his suit on this, and
beckoned to Reid to follow his example.

The general appeared to hesitate, and the old
baronet said sharply:

“ Take a seat, man. It never does to let these ,
Treat ’ern as I

lite to them.

niggers see you are
ndia, and we’ll have no

we used to do in
trouble.”

Reid took the seat to which he was beckoned,
and whispered to Savage:

“But we’re not in India now; and he may re-
fuse to help us at all.”

Sir John shook his head:

“ I’ve been in the civil service, and I know bet-
ter how to deal with niggers than you. You let
me do the ' .”

Then, without their hearing any footstep to
warn them who was coming, they were ad-

they sat on the musnud, and turnin , with a sim-
ultaneous start, beheld a tall, grave- ooking man,
in a robe of dark crimson brocade, a white tur-
bail:i on his head, looking gravely at them, as he
an :

“me be unto you. Why have you sought
me ‘

He spoke in excellent English, but with a cer-
tain foreign accent that trayed he was not
speakinﬁlhis native tongue, and old Savage an-
swered 'm, in Hindeostanee:

“ We are sahibs who have heard of the great
wisdom of Ram Mandarin, and we have come to
askhimtohel us. Wearewilling topay well
for the help it come in time."

The Hindoo bowed gravely. He was a re-
markable-looking man, with a pale, olive-tinted
face. of t heaut of outline, the peculiar,
keenI th air of e high-caste Hindoo, mark-
ing t as erent from the broader, bluffer,

lish faces of his visitors.

‘ am ready to help the needy at all times,”
he said softly; “ but not for money. Ram Man-
dana has no need of money, for he has conquered
the 6 and all that aﬁpertalas to it.”

Sir J allowed his to curl slightly.

“Yes, we knowall a t that. The fakirs
do the sam but we know that they will take
money, if it offered. If you do work for us,
we expect to pay for it.”

The Hindoo  his shoulders, but made
noreply asifbe notcaretodiscussthemat-
ta; an further. r

e have come to you ,to ask you for infor-°

mation on a suth that—

It was Reid who spoke, but his friend
interrupted him. -

“ Now, Reid, let me do the talking.”

Then, turningto Ram Mandana, heoontinued:

“Thereisaman whois going about London,
gigth all the timidwomen he can meet,

we want to ﬁndwho he is. You are, we
know powerful in the and the n
all this is wn to you. f m
youcan himforus. Ifyouwill,we
payyou a thousand rupees; and,if that isnot
«rough, say what will be. There, now, what
do on Hsaydto that fgrégnmgﬂzrgm

m 00 s o ers

“It is agood erforonethatneedhwmxb‘ne;
but,asl togtg'ouJ have con uered the ﬂesh,
andIeatn ' . All isshelterfrom
the cold of your testable climate, and that is
secured to me in this house. should I work
for what can avail me nothing?”

Reid looked much disappointed.

“ But the scoundrel has frightened m daugh-
ter,” he said impulsively. It is a e, if

on know the man that on should not tell us.

ll have on punished, — No, I don’t mean
that; but t is an infernal shame, and—”

He had got red in the face, while he was
speaking; and Ram Mandana smiled slightl .

“ But ow do you know that I know an
astothemanyouaskof? Iamnota tha
I should know all things.”

Sir John Sav frowned.

“ Look here,’ he said in English. “ You
know well enough what we came after, or you
are notmey n. W'hatisthe reasonyouwill
not us? n’t you want to?”

faint smile crpssed the impassive

who is do

Savage rose from seat, and faced the Hin-

doo  ”

“ Now, ook here, he said. ﬁercely, in the hec-
toring way that An o-Indians learn, to treat
all Indians alike. “ f you refuse to help us, it
will only be an hour from now when you will
be thrust, neck and heels, into a cell where all
your ‘yoga’ won’t at you out. You know
well h what we ve come here for.”

 

CHAPTER XIV.
AN ENGLISUMAN’S CASTLE.

“ Tun sahibs are not right to threaten a man
who has never seen them before,” said Ram
Mandana, in the same even, passionless tones,
that he had employed througﬁiaout the interview.
“ I am one who has never rmed any, under
your English laws, and I know enough of them

I . u u .
I to know that you cannot llnprlson me, Without I

a trial. If you have nothing more to say——”
1 He did not ﬁnish the sentence, but waved his
I hand toward the door; and General Reid, who
i had witnessed the failure of his friend’s method
of negotiation, broke out:

“I knew it would not do, Savage. Let me
speak to him.”

Ram Mundane. turned to him with a sweet

srnlle.

“If the sahib has anything to so. , I am ready
to hear it, but I am not rear y to threatened
by avny one, in this country.”

“ ell then, look here, Ram Mandana,” be-
gan Rel , “ I am in trouble and I came to you
to help me. There is a man who goes about the
country and does atrocious ' . You must
have heard of him. The le call him Spring-
Heel Jack. He has near y 'lled my daughter
twice, and I fear he will do it, if he comes the

third time. Cannot you give us a clew to him,
by which he may be ca ht?”
The Hindoo compr ~ his lips.

“ The sahib ap rs to make one mistake. I
am no wizard, w 0 makes his living b cheating
r credulous people, telling them t t I can
nd stolen goods, and proph ' the future. I
am but a humble follower of t e truth, and not
ca ble of miracles.”

‘But you know who the man is,” urged Reid.

Ram Mandana shook his head.

“ I know nothing about him. I have taken no
interest in the matter. If 1 wish, I can ﬁnd
out; but it will only be for in own satisfac-
tion, and not to oblige an Eng I owe
them not .”

“But if you are a follower of the ‘ yoga’ doc-
trine, you must hold that it isa meritorious deed
to save the helpless from harm,”qu Reid.
“ You will earn the gratitude of a father, and
the praigrs of one you will save."

Ram audana bowed gravel .

“ That is true; but you sho d have said that
in theﬁrst place. Your friend has threatened
me, and if you have nothin else to say, I shall
be leased to see your de ."

0 had grown perfec y inﬂexible new, and
they saw, from the expression of his face, that
it was useless to vere.

General Reid wed still! and turned to go
from the room while Sir Jo Savage, who had
been chaﬁng all the time, burst out:

Mandana.

“All ri ht, Ram You shall hear
from us fore logs—perhaps sooner than you
have an idea 011 now.” '

And old ofﬁcer out ofthe
room, follow Reid, Ram 's suave

but soornful e re
thede reached the

in .

ﬁemwthemgotothedoor; andthe servant,
who made his ap rance in the style of the
true Oriental, no less and read , at the mo-
ment he was needed opened it wi e, and bowed
totheﬁoorashed so.

But Sir John Savage did not intend to be ﬁt
ridofsoeasléy. Ashestoodatthedoor, e
beckoned to 6 Bow street runners—precur-
sors of the modern detective—who had followed
the pair to the strange house,and theHindoo

maining unaltered until
stairs, and were descend-

:egvatnt saw them coming, up the
09 .

RamMandanacalling'fromthetopofthestalrs,
as he heard the footsteps:

“ Castthemou nick!”

He spoke in oostanee, and the obse-
quious servant suddenly developed into an
athlete.

With a sudden shove Sir John Sav did not
expect, he sent that officer sliding own the

steps, and before Reid could defend himself, the
Hindoo had seized him by the shoulders, and
pushed him out, after the other, when the door
was slammed to, and the bolts shot, so swrftly
that, before the runners could get anywhere
near the house, the two disgusted gentlemen
were standing at the bottom of the steps, dl-
sheveled in dress and red in the face with anger,
but com‘ﬁletely discomﬁted.

Theo cerscamerunning up andacrowdwas
collected in a shorter ce oi time than could
have been deemed le, the rough pimple of
the quarter all interested in the fact of e sum-
mary ejection of the visitors, and rather inclined
to symth with the owner of the house, as
one of t ir own friends, while thestrangers were
of another sort altogether.

Sir John Savage was furious. '

“ Break down the doors,” he‘sard yfto
the menwho came up to him. “The ernal
scoundrel has dared to ut us out of his place.”

But the ofﬁcers with in did not seem tobein-
clined to obe the order; for one of them said,
half apologet rally:

“It can t be done, your honor, wehas
a warrant. Hevery man’s ’ouse is castle,

 

 

The ,0 smiled again, with a still more
settled air of mild contempt.

you know, and the cove ’ad the right to put
ye out if so be ’0 put ’is ’ands softly on ye.”

1 .

l “ But he didn’t,” snapped Sir John an i] .
[ “He had the impudence to push me—mgrsifr
.’ John Savage. I never heard of such a thing!
g What ls the country coming to, when these nig-
; Ecrs are treated the same as if they were born
_‘ nghshmen. Break open the door, and I’ll take
the responsibility.”

But the war oﬁicer was not to be induced to
risk a legal ﬁg t.

“No, no, your honor,” he said. “There’s
more ways of killin’ a dog than chokin’ ’im to
death with butter. Let’s try if we can’t get ’im
out peaceable, fu’st.”

He ascended the steps and knocked at the
door, making a considerable noise when an up—
r window was opened, and the am Mandana
mself looked out, and asked ul'etly:

“ What is the trouble with t e gentlemen?”

“ 's ’ere gent says as ’ow you’ve been a-
shovin‘ of ‘im, and ’e wants to ’ave you took 11 ,”
said one of the ofﬁcers, half apologetica] y.
“Now look-a ’ere my man. If you want us to
go for a warrant, it Won’t take long, and it’ll be
the worse for you in the head. You jest come
down peaceable and we’ll ’ave you afore the
beak, and the ’ole ' hover in no time! Best
thing you can do. rd bless me! It ain’t
nothmrﬁom’ afore the beak.”

The ndoo waved his hand to the people in
the street below. '

“I have lived here quietly,” he said, “for a
long time; and no man can say I have disturbed
the neighborhood. These men came and tried
to disturb me, so I told my servant to put them
out from the house. It is my right, and you
would all have exercised the same. I shall not
come forth, till you bring a warrant.”

He closed the window, and the ofﬁcer shrugged
his shoulders, and said to Sir John:

“Your honor sees ‘ow it is. We can’t do
nothin', till we its warrants for the Hinjuns.
If your honor 1i es to swear to the assault we

can ’ave the thing done nick.”
_ But Sir John had had ime to cool his '01),
while looking at the lowering faces of e peo-

ple round him, and he said sullenly:

“No, never mind, now. Let’s get out of this,
Reid. We were fools to come in ere. The fel-
low is only one of those swindllng conjurers,
afterall. Come .”

And th took t r d , followed by
theJeerso the crowd be (1 them,the peo 10
of the quarter being disposed to think that t e
Hindoo, whom they had never disliked, had
done rather a ﬁne thing in throwing the two
“ nobs ” out of doors.

The wo friends meanwhile pursued their way
out of the low neighborhood they had faced so
much to their sorrow, and it was not till t ey

ttothe districtsoftheWestEndof
ndon that ey breathed freely.
Then they dismissed their escort, with injunc-

tions to say 11 of what had happened, and
wended their way the baronet’s house, where

Rosewasstillsm' withhdySava .

“ One is ,” remarked ir John,
as he and friend smoked their hookahs in
the smoking-room. “ That ni knows more

than he chooses to let lo and he knows
the secret of Spring Jack. Till they have
ca ht the rascal, t might be as well for you to
son Rose away with Lady Sa to some
place where the scoundrel never ma es his ap-
nce. He has never been seen, exce near
ndon. What do you say to Hampton art?”
The old oral, who had been looking
edasthe yworeon orhehadanervousbor-
rorof the coming nig ,eversince the wayin
which it had been made hideous by the appari-
tion of Spring-Heel Jack) b htened up at once.
“ The very place,” he sai . “ The acoundrel
will never dare to come there. Besides, it is not
so gloomy as the Tower, and I rather think that
the place has a good deal to do with Rose's ter-
ror. But can on obtain entrance there!”
Sir John n ded. -
“ My sister, Lady Balcarras, has a suite in the
palace. Balearrss, ou know, is something in
he household, and, tween us two, the rooms
save him money, for he is as as a church-
mouse. Mary will take her in for a visit, and
we can arrange the thing in such a way that the
child will not suspect there is any plan about it.”
So it was arranged by the kind-hearted baro-
ﬂgtﬁ bgfiilr'e’thfe dilemma. had WES: into twi-
' , ir ons amrycamatgero intothe
recincts of Ham ton Court, ' en a ro al resi-
ence—the exte ve palace being also resort
of quite a number of families, who had from
time immemorial the privile of apartments in
the building, and constitu a colony of them-
solves not so large then as it is now, but much
more ppy and contented; for the were in the
immediate presence of royalty itse , and the old
id? was very clone.
ere Roeean her pmtectorarri , and were
received with welcome by Lady carras, who
had been forewarned by a special messenger, and
with whom Indy Savage left Rose.

CHAPTER XV.
annrros cocar.
HAMPTON Counr is a sleepy place to-day,

 

 

 

rigid it was a sleepy place when Rose Reid went
t cro.

- no-

 

4

——-.

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--_ .-..._..

The greatest excitement which the eminently
respectable inhabitants allowed themselves was
a walk in the gardens in the evening, when
there was a chance that the king might be there
with the good queen, when it was the custom of
his majesty to speak graciously to his loyal sub-
jects, and throw off t 6 state which he had to
maintain at most times.

In those days the king—George III.——-had not
developed the taint of insanity which after-
ward made him end his days in misery, and he
was yet com ratively a youn man, who
delighted in t e quiet side of lie, and hated
splendor and the ceremonies which surrounded
him when at court.

Accordingly, Lady Balearras thought that
the best thin she could do, to amuse her young
visitor, would be to take her into the great gar-
dens in the evening, and give her a taste of the
mild excitement in which the denizens of Hamp-
ton Court indulged, under the delusion that it
was quite ay.

Rose, being a yOung lad who had never been
presented at court, and a riton at that, was of
course curious to see a real live king, and was
deli hted at the prospect.

The sun was near se when they went out
into the gardens and stro ed to and fro, under
the shadow of the great vineyard, which was
even then a show of the place.

They encountered numbers of ancient gentle-
men and entlewomen who looked as i they
had passed all their lives in the place; but
there was no sign of the ' and queen, as
usual, tillthesunhadset and moon risen.

It was full moon, and the night unusually
warm for England, so that the air in the garden
was pleasanter than in the house and the walk
quite enjo able, in spite of the dimppomtment
about the Zia-i5, when the first went out.

But this ' not last on
youn lady from the Tower

“ 151cm they come!”

Then she noticed the ancient personages in
the garden draw aside respectfully to allow the
passage of a. couple who came strolling into the
garden, through the midst of the people, the

tlemanbowing right and left inresponseto
glow Obeimnces of the others; and Rose real-

for very soon the
’ a whisper:

ized thatshehad at last got in sightof a real
live king and queen.

1.05.33“? "’° . 12.1“ “W “120"”
s e u come: y w was
with her, whispered:

“ Don‘t be a goose, dear. The king won’t
myou, andtl’iequeen askindasyoucanpos—
imagine.
St! Rose

stood her ground and as the lady
and gentleman advanced she found herself bow-
in as deeplyas she could, and heard a soft
vo ce say:

“Lad Balcarras, we are very glad to see
you. Iho that my lord is well. ’

“Well, t nk your majesty," said the lady
who had heard the same salutation a. hundred
times before. Then she was dra back
when the queen noticed the shrinking of

“Is that a rslativs of yours!” she asked;
whiletheking,wholooked solemnandstupid,
Rossthonght,asfarasshs couldnsshisface,

added:
“A a m lad astrangsfaoebuts
pre y('iiie.y’VVhoiss'lwhoisshei” ’

He spoke rapidly, and with a slight stammer
in his utterance.

“A young friend of mine yogi- ma ,”
said the lady, bowing again. ‘ da ter of
General Re (1, the Constable of the Tower, who,

your ma ”

“ Hey, hey, what’s that? what’s that?” asked
the kin hastily. “ Reid’s da tori Hey?
hey! y. Why! isn‘t that the i that had a
hug from Sp -Heel Jack as the call him?
Hey! hey! bless my sould, , what
brought her hersr‘l

The‘salutatiou was confusing, and Rose felt
as if she should sink into the d, as she
heard the way the honest b urted out the
things that everybody else concealed from
her so carefully.

Indy Balcarms, to savc her from the agita-
tion which she felt from the trembli of
the arm that rested on her own, an. for

er:

“ Please your majesty, it is the same; and the
reasen that we have brought her here is that
the ,inonster will not dare to owe here after
her. .
“ Very good, vs ood," said the king, in his
disjointed way. “ gory good. He sha’n't come
here, if we can help—eh, madam? Well. well,
my dear; don‘t be frightened any more. If the
scamp comes here we will have him hung.”

[Then he passed on, and Lady Balcarras whisc
péred to Rose as she took her away:

“He always says such things. You mustn’t
5ui‘nd” it, my dear. His majesty will have his

0 e.

But Rose, at the carelem words of the old
king, had received a wound that she could not
hide so easily. She had almost forgotten the
terrible monster that had htsned her so
much andthekinghad recall it toher in a
way that set her to trembling, at the idea. that
Spring-Heel Jack might. by some possibility,

 

Spring:Heel Jack.

t into the place where she was and frighten

.r a .
' “O , Lady Balcarras,” she whispered. “Do
you think there is any pessibility that the thing
may get in here, after all? I should die, I am

sure, if it Were to come at me again.”

“There’s not the slightest danger,” the lady 

replied. “ The Guards are all round the palace-
and, to get through them, the monster would
have to make himself inVisible, or ﬂy over the
wall. It is impossible, I tell you.”

And Rose, much comforted by the assurance ‘

of the court lady, was content to take her plea-
sure in strolling in the moonlight, the more so
that she discovered that there were some young
gentlemen in the alace, officers of the Guards,
one of whom she ew.

~“ Why, Lady Balcarras,” she exclaimed, when '

she ied one of these persons approaching. “ Is
not t t Mr. Howard of the Coldstreams?’
: Lady Balcarras looked at the oung man,

who was coming up in the moo ight in the ‘

midst of a group of young ladies. Her face
hardened, as she said to Rose:

“Yes, it is. Do you know him then?”

“Why, of course. He is one of the officers
that do duty in the Tower,” said innocent-
ly. “ He and ' brother are there, most of the
time. I won or what brings him here to-
ni ht?”

“ It y Balcarra: 130d coldei'htaltan evler.

is a pity, said, sue young
men are not put out of the service. My lord has
told me things about that young man—but
never mind now, my dear. You are under in
charge, and I don’t want to see you too muc
with any young man of his reputation."

And so saying, she led Rose off, just as the
oﬁloer, who, ' in full uniform, was on duty
of some kind at palace, was coming forward
to salute her.

George Howard looked rather nogglused at
the cavalier we in which the n 10 lady
whisked Rose 0 with her, turning the cold

shoulder on him, literally as well as metaphori-

call .

H: had been talking to the yo ladies with
him, to most of whom he was we known, by
his presence at the court balls and festivities,
andhadmadeup hismindthathowasgoingto
have a happy time with , on account of
this lucky detail, Which had come to him, quite

‘ them together, when, in the

unsolicited,
ordinary course of he could not have ex—
pected to see her imtil returned.
Hshadevenspokenofhertooneoftheladies
with him, so that to be snubbed in the open way
he had been, mortiﬁed him 
“Iwonderwhat is thematter ’hesaid, half
to himself, as he at the departing figure of
the old lady,w swe t of! ins. mannerthat
showed she was offend
One of the young ladies by him answered the
question without knowing it, as she said, with a

smothered is to her next ne’ hbor:

“Old nusdoesn’t etoseeaman
within a e of one of her charges. I wonder
she ever married at all.”

“ 0 re‘s no wonder about that,” said the

other, ghtl . “The men were better in those
day she us.Andthsn,shshasamson
for inking Miss Reid away now. You know
Mr. Howard has the re tstionof aﬂirt: and
the old lady is respons is for the morals of
theyoungoneas long assho isundsrher

charge.”

Howard was astounded.

“ I—a bad re utation?” he echoed. “ Why,
how can that be' Some one has been spreading

false reports about me.”

Indy Mary Churchill, who had spoken, laugh-

“ Never mind ” she said. “ It makes no dif-
ference, after all, what she thinks. Some £00-
ﬁle here say it is you, and some your bro er;

ut it is all the sametoLadyBalcarras. She
thinks thatall the Howardsare the mine.”

Andastheladyhadtaken Rosewithherinto
her a cute in the palace, and Howard had
not t e acquaintance with her that would have
justiﬁed him in calling, he had to swallow the
rebuff for the ht as well as he could, and con-
sole himself by irting with Lady Mary Church-
ill, who, on her part, was ready to give as good
as he sent.

80 the parties in the rden strolled to and
fro in the moonlighttill e great clocks in the
city struck eleven, when they began to go into
the palace one by one, and at last Howard, who
had duty that ni ht in charge of the inner
guard, was left a one in the soft light of the

moon under the great vine which read its
bungliws for morethan a hundredgetinali
ons.

 

CHAPTER XVI.
SPRING-HEEL JACK corms AGAIN.
YOImg officer felt the cool air of the gar-
den and the silence of the, ht a. relief from
the hurry and excitement of city, to which
he hadbeen used,eversince he had been station-
ed at the Tower.

He was glad tobealoneandthinkof his fu-
ture, which, at that moment, began to look to
him much brighter than it had.

His aged kinsman, the duke, was seriously ill,

11

___.<

f and he knew that, at his dea1_li,he, plain Mr.
Howard of the Guards, who had Lillierto been a
. mere nobody, would become, by ( ne stroke, the
new Duke of Norfolk, able to Iliath any ptrson
, 1:11 the kingdom of Great Britain, short of roy-
‘ t '

(general Reid would not be a it to refuse him
the hand of his daughter, then, 6 thought; and
the idea gave him much comfort.

Then he thou 'ht to himself also:

: “ But Rose? ow will it be with her? She is
inclined to love me now, as I am, I think; but
she does not know anything ahout my change of
fortune; and, when it cc mes, she may make
some scruple about marrying me, without her
father’s consent. Well never mind that. Let
the future take care of itself. We will enjoy
the present as best we can. I am glad I “as
sent here, for it is certain that the scoundrel
who has been persecuting her, all this time, w ill
i not venture to enter these precincts.”

Then he remembered that he had to o and
inspect the sentries, and started off on his mis—
sion, making his rounds of the gardens and lit-
tle park, ﬁnding all quiet, the soldiers doing
their du as usual around the 

When e got back to the ea vine, the clocks
were striking twelve, and e was ing to the
roomd ap ropriatledpgsgidis l:isepaaﬁo toer of “1116
guar,wen,as e te ce apav'-
ion, that he knew to be occupied by lady Bal-
carras, he was surprised to see one of the win-
dows was open, near the ground, and the ﬁgure
of a lady in white thereat. .

For a moment he was startled and drew back,
fearing that he might be seen; but the next he
' the figure with a thrill of jo .

It was his own mistress, and he coul not re-
sist the temptation to go forward in full view,
under the window.

That he was seen, he knew; for the white fig-
ure instantly withdrew, but, as he continued his
course past the window, going as slow as he
could manage, he saw it reappear and beckon.

The young man was delighted and came under
the window at once, when he saw Rose in a
white wrapper. She looked as if she had been
crying, and whispered:

‘ George.”

“Dearest,” he answered.

Then he suddenly remembered that he had
promised the old general that he would 81x ak no
word of love to Rose without her father‘s per-
mimion, and he hastil added:

“Thatis, MissRei . I begyour pardtn; but
ychur” father forbids any nearer and dearer
ti e.

“Oh, Geo ” she faltered. “Lady Balear-
ras has beean me such awful things about
you.

Howard was astonished.

“ About me? Why I have only the honor of
the most distant acquaintance with her lady-
ship, and she surely cannot know anything about
me

“Butshesaysshedoes”insisted Rose,witha
sigh. “She says she has heard an sorts of
things about you, and that you are reported to
hommeworstyoung menintownﬂ hgagalwauy‘s

n your money among
s: hm... h M... “an

Hererosesto‘ﬁpedandcolomddeqﬂy,asifshe
could not say she knew. ,

Howard on his part, was embarrassed. He
saw that the worthy Lady Balcarras, who, hav-
ing a. Scotch husband, was a stricter Presby-
terian than my lord himmlf, had heard mories
about his scapegrace brother, Oliver and had
aplplied them to himself; but he could hardly
te Rose this, from family pride, if no other

11.

“ I can assure you,” he said, as uietly as he
could, “that the reports her lad 'phas been
good enough to retail to you, have no founda~
'on, and refer to another rson 
But I did not come here to efend myse , Miss
Reid. Isawthat you had need of me and I
came to see what the necessity might  If
you have known me so little that you cannot
dismiss the reports, as to my character, for
what they are worth, I am sorry; but it can-
not be helped. If you have no commands for
me, I will—”

And he make a motion as if he was about to
leave her, when she said quickly:

“But I don’t believe them, George, and I
don’t want her to belieVe them either. Won’t
you come and call on her, and try and dis.
abuse her ladyship of the idea she has about

w?"

y Howard was ﬂattered at the request. He
saw that Rose loved him, and was too innocent
to hide it, while she earnestly desired that he
should clear himself with others.

“ I will do myself the honor to call on her
ladyship in themorn' , when I comeoff dutv,"
hesaid. “And then will trytodlsabuseher
mindof the thi she has listened to. In the
mean time, Miss id, let me ask that you will
not listen to anything against me, that does
not come from your father. He has had oppor-
tunities toknow me better than Lady carras,
and will not do me injustice.”

“Indeed, Geo— } mean, Mr. Howard,” the
gating lady replied hesitatingly. “I will not.

 

ut you do not know how ner‘. ens and fright-

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12

Spring-Heel Jack.

 

 

ened I am. The king said somethin tomato- l who had fondl tho ht he was saving his

night that revived in my mind what wished to ’

forget, about that terrible monster that has

frighted me so much. 0h, Mr. Howard, do

Iv;ou think there is any danger that he can come
ere'i‘

“ None in the world,” declared George posi
tivel . “ I have been rou 1d to visit the ds,
and t ey are all in their places; besides which, the
garden is surrounded by a high brick wall, and
no human being could get in, save by the river,
where there is a at the boat-house. You
mgy rest secure t t nothing can get in.”

e clasped her hands, With an expression of

eat relief.
gr But I am

 

“ Oh, I am so glad to hear that.
keepi you from your duties. And I am afraid ,
that i'fliady Balcarras should hear our voices—” ‘

The idea frightch her so much that she has- I
tily withdrew from the window; and George as l
quickly drew back, for he did not wish to em- I
barrass her in any way.

The window was closed, but he had the con- I
solation of  her kiss her band to him 5
through the glass, as she disappeared, when the l
young lover wont his way rejorcing. l

He made his rounds a rain, and ound everg- '
thing asquiet as ever, w xen be repaired to t 0
room provided for the officer of the guard, and i
set down for awhile, to think over his best way ’
to mroach Lady Balcarras in the morning.

t the old lady had confounded him with 7
his brother, and had a plied to him the stories 4
she had heard about 1ver was the most na- !
tural idea; but how should he disabuse her I
thereof 1

While he was thinking of this, he began to ,
nod in his seat; and must have fallen asleep; I
for he woke u with a start, nearly fallen off his ,
chair and, g ncing at the clock, saw that it i
was three in the mornin r, and that the moon, I
which still shone throug the window, was get-
ti low in the heavens.

e started up and went out into the garden,
to make another round among the sentries.

Why he did so, he could hardly have said, for
the duty he had to do was mostly formal; but
he had a v e sense that he was wanted in
some way, an that something was wron .

As he took his wa through the gar en, he

as challe ed by sen after sentry, and found
llllon Iﬁert,sothahebegantothinkhis
fear unfounded.

Hamade the rounds; and,as he returned to
his roo took the we by the window from
which be last seen look forth.

As he drew near it, he was surprised to see a
dark ﬁgure crouching under the window, in the
shade of some shrubbery, as if to conceal itself
from view. Thinking t a sneak thief or some-
thingof thesort beran forward to arrest the
scamp, and had almost got there, when the
ﬁgure rose u with a leap, and made a tremen-
dous ri n the air. As it did so, he -
aired he readed foe thathaddonesomu
harmtoBosealready. S -Hee1Jackhad
actually come to Hampton ‘ourt, and had dared
the resenoe of royalz.

was no mi ngtheﬁ round the
spring it made, as it was discover .

With a muttered curse and anger, the oung
ofﬁcer rushed at the ﬁgure, and it ﬂed as ast as

‘ifithadbee adeer.

George foﬂowod it, shouting to the sentrles to
“ a whatever they saw." ‘

In his eager excitement he had forgotten all
about disturbing the ' -e.

But, run as he mig t, he could not overtake
the figure, which scampered across the
and ran across the line of sentries at the'end, by
the high wall. .

Then came the loud report of a musket, and
hesaw the ﬂash of a piece of one of the sen-
tries. Whether the shot took effect or not he
could not tell; but it did not stop the progress
of the active ﬁgure.

It ran to the foot of the wall which stretched
across its path, forbidding further progress in
that direction.

“Ste the villain! It is Spring-Heel Jack 1”
he 6 , as he ran on.

Then came two more shots, from a more dis-
tant of the grounds, as the other sentries
ca t sight of the ﬁ 0, and tried their hands
$1 ; for he heard t e bullets whistle through

And then-he could hardly believe his e es
the it Was too plain to be doubted—Spring- eel
Jack ve a bound up in the air, turned a somer~
net 1mga wont over the high brick wall as if he
had been a bird.

CHAPTER XVII.
ran "an cnnw.

Ir th re had been excitement inLondon about
the exploits of Spring-Heel Jack, when the mon-
ster had anatdted the Duke of Norfolk, the news
that he had actually visited Hampton Court,
sent the whole city nearly crazy.

The audacity of the visit and the fact that
the villain, whoever he might be, had not
the “ sacred presence of

 

0

royalty itself,” sent a
thrill of horror through 1: e reast of every
lo lBritou.

ut Rgﬂmp the mont troubled man in Lon-
don, w n he heard of it, was old General Reid,

 

daughter from e or visits of the monster,
and yet had actually exposed her to its assaults,
without be able to be near her to protect her.

He did not ear about it, luckily for his peace
of mind, till late in the afternoon of the next
day; for there were no telegraphs in those days,

and no daily mm.

The ﬁrst n tion he had was in the arrival
at the Tower of youn George Howard, who
had left the place with his company and his
brother, the day before.

came to him in much agitation, to

tellhim that Spring-Hoe Jack had made his ap-

rauce at t e palace, the night before, and
ad been chased out.

“And Rose,” asked her father, anxiously.
“Did she see the villain?”

“Thank Heaven, no sir. But she heard the
shots the scutries ﬁred at the creature, and the
whole palace is in an uproar to-day. I fear
that she will need your presence, to keep her
from being ill from terror. As ion as we can
keep her from seeing the monster, ft is a point
grained; but, had I not been on guard last ni ht,

ore is no telling what mlil‘llt have happen .”

The young ofﬁcer looked g d, as If he had
sat u all night which was 6 fact, and Gen- =
cral eid said to m kindly:

“Mr. Howard, you have done well to come ;

and tell me; and you are not to blame at all for
the persecution this monster had come to inﬂict
on :my daughter.
strange
so many of his visits, in succession.”

“Not entirely so, sir ” said Gmrge. “You
remember that the Duke of Norfolk was as-
saulted, on the night after I had visited him.
There seems to be some spite against me in the
mind of the scoundrel who is playing a 1 these
grit-k3, and the fact may yet give us a claw to

III].

“But how are you going to work to ﬁnd out
anythqu about im?” asked the general, in a
tone of elpless despair. “ It seems as if the
man—for he must be a man-has the skill of the
evil one himself. ”

Geo shook his head.

“ No altogether sir. We have nearly laid
hands on him twice now, and theway he has
moped shows me that he must be aman, and
not a best. He mustknowtheinsandoutsof
the paﬁme and therefore we are the more like

lytobeable to ﬁnd him in the end. Suchau

manmustbein the household of the kin , or
gaging the very guards that I myself be ong

"‘ Have you any suspicion!" asked the general
cagerlyimi‘;y It seems from the way you speak, as

if

Edward hesitated a moment, and the general
watched him keenlyé The young man worried
asifhedidnot etosaywhatwasinhis

mind.

At last he said: .

“I would rather not say, eneral. I my be
right, and I may be wrong; ut the icim I
have is one that willrequire to be.just ed be-
foreIuttorittoanother . n. Iwill tell you
at some other time what mean.”

“ But at least,” the old man asked, “ you will
promise me that on will do your utmost to

eep the villain rom further molesting my

dau bier?”
“ mayrestassured,”the youn man re~
lied, “ that if any act of mine can s eld Him
from harm, It shall be performed.”

Then he rose to take his leave, adding:

“ If you go down to Hampton Court, general,
Iam sure that the young ladyshouldvnotbe
taken from thence. She is mfer there than
here, and I will venture. my life that the
villainnwill not tempt a second visit there to-
n t.

5‘ Why not, sir?”

“ Because the d will be doubled and a
patrol will be w ing in the ground all ni t,
general. I have askedthe privile of 'n
guard again, without rest, and he comes 1
all]: he’s. bad thing for him, or I am much mis-

en.
R;an why are you not there now?” aired

“Because the monster never comes in da -
light, and it isat ni ht that the guard 
be doubly careful. gI have had some experience
of this Spri -Heel Jack, and am the best per-
son to hunt im down. You can rely on one
thing, eneral, that if I once succeed in hunting

himto islair it will go hardwith him, if he
were m own rothcr.’
And . took his , leaving the

old Consta e of the Tower in a state of mind
in which he hardly knew what to behave, as to
the pranks of the evil-disposed monster that all
London feared and hated, under the name of
“ Spring-Heel Jack.”

As for Howard, his ﬁrst visit. after he left the

general waspaid to'the -room,whenehe
asked for John Spring, the Gym who and
been lyi there underaccusa onof“abaence

n8 .
without leave,” for two whole days.
The young oﬁloer, being in command of the
man ,lntbeahaence of thecaptain, was
to the we“. room, where he found
the Gypsy stretc on a hard bench.

 

 

At. the same time, it is very I
that Rose should be selected by him for I

 

'peoplezandlhalf

you‘re the in?

deer, and there is

suffered from the assault of 8p:-
wasableto go out in acarriage,

da .

{Vhen Howard came to the Tower to take
away the Gypsy recruit and make pre
to catch Spring-Heel Jack once more,
and go
its 6
we -known Howard ooat-of-arms on the panels,
wasdriveuu tothedoorof theTower of Lon-
don, and the
for the Constable of the T
card of the great duke.

 

“  Spring,” he said, as the who was.
now quite sober, having been depriv of liquor
for two days, rose hastily and saluted. “ Are
you tired of this sort of thing, or do on
want to be tried by court-martial and ﬂogg t”

The Gypsy looked down at the ﬂoor.

“ I suppose,” he said slowly, “that your
honor’s come to release me, if I’ll promise to
do better for the future; or your honor wouldn’t
ax the question.”

“ You are (fight. lI don’ltl like to see a man of
your size, an guts, ylng ere, when you ought
to be serving e kllllf. If you will promise to
behave yourself, I M let you out, and you can
come with me, and do regular duty at the pal-
ace at Hampton Court.”

Sp ' seemed to be touched b the kindness
shown him; for be said shamef y:

“ Your honor’s wery good. I’d rather go to
some place where the men don‘t know me; and
if your honor can )romise that I sha’n’t be tied
up at the triangles, ‘1] try to do better for the
future.”

Howard nodded.

“ I will see that you are not punished, if you
will do your duty. But I want you for a special
service, to-night; or I should not have come here
to let you out.”

He caught a 3] glance that the Gypsy cast at
him, from under '8 black brows, that reminded
him of the stare of an animal in a trap, as it;
sees the trapper Coming to kill it .

“ I’m ready to do what our honor says,” he
replied rather sullenly: “ ut I hope yom' honor
wi remember I’m only a recruit. I don’t know
what the old soldiers do.”

Howard curled his lip.

“ You are not so much of a recruit as you
make out, Spring. There are all the marks of
an old soldier about you; and it is because you
are so filiaJt Ikwtint you. WYou have heard
of Spring- ee a - , suppose

The question seemed uzale Spring; for he-
looked as stupid as an owl: as he answared:

“ I don’t know, your honor. I ain’t l’arned,
ye know.”

“ You don’t need to be learned to know that.
all Lode has heard of the creature, that goes
in the light, frightening foeble. women and chil-
dren. e made his appearanceﬁrstatHamp—
stead Heath, where there are a number of your
. t some of them
arem thesecret. InstnightbecametoHam
ton Court in the very neighborhood. of t e

lung, andl’amdeterminedtoﬁnd outallabout

him. I want you for my orderly to—night, to
hunt this creature down, if it comes again.
That will be our dut . You Gypsies are all
poachers, and a like. on do most of your

work in the dark, and know how to go round at
ivisght. I wantyou to help me toﬁnd thisperaon.

ill you do your dutyi”

The G had listened attentiv as the oili-
yPsy 6137ﬁnished, he

oer spoke, and,whenHoward had

d I I

“ I’ll do to ’elp your honor; for
person treated the r Romany
as if he was a brother. I’ll go wit your honori

and I’ll venture to say that this ’ere Spring-’Ee

Jack won’t come where we are, our honor.”

“ That is not what I want,” said Howard. “I
want to catch him and not to keep him away.
Hewillkeepouto sight, till thehueandcry is
over, and then be will make his 11mm

lady

somewhere else, and frighten some 0

out of her senses.
seemed to be cogitating. At last
he said '

“Your honor seems to think that I
somm’at about this Spring-’Eel J ack.”
r“Ido,and I am right. This man, whoever
he is, acts like a Gypsg. He can jump like a
_ no nglishman who can do
that against a Gy He ﬁrst came out near
the favorite place or your ple. You can
stop him if you want to, and want you to do

it.’

“ And sf I don’t want to do it?” said the

‘ ,wn akiilildgsnatgl. mm m ”
on you w: ve e e angl
said George, coldly. 8 e8,

The threat seemed to determine the other, for
he said, with a kindofgrin:

“Your honor has me in able, and I can't
get out. I’m game fur anythlnk your honor
wants.”

So it was settled, and the Gypsy released.

CHAPTER XVIII.
run DUKE ’3 Via”.

Tan newshad gone round the town that the old
Duke of Norfolk, in spite of the a 'tation he had
-Heel Jack _

very next ‘

rations
e heav
us coach of the great nobleman, wi
hammer-cloth on the box, and the

ﬁunky got out and asked
up the

General Reid was at that moment preparing

ower, sending

 

 

-‘

- bound to keep 11

Spring-Heel Jack.

13

 

 

also to Ham ton Court tosee his daughter, and
if she had been much tated by the occur-
rence of the ni ht before; ut the sight of the
card of the grea man in England, outside of
the royal family, caused the ol ofﬁcer to aban-
don his trip for awhile, to receive the duke; for
it will never do to make an enemy of a duke in
such a place as England.

There was, indeed, a short struggle in his
mind whether he should not go down to the
door to receive the old noble; but, when he re-
ﬂected on his own dignity as Constable of tho
TOWer, he concluded that the civilit would be
too much like fawning, and sent own word
that he would be “ happy to see his grace.”

There was a short pause, while his message
was beintr taken down; and the old general felt
not a little ﬂurried at the unusual Visit.

\Vhat it could be about, he did not know; but
he had a suspicion that it was connected, in
some way, with his daughter and young How-
ard; and he congratulated himself tint he had
set his foot down on the intimacy so that no one
would be able to say that he had hunted down
the heir to the duch . of Norfolk.

While he was wal mg, the old general put on
a scarlet uniform coat, Instead of the undress
frock in which he had been when the card came
in, and when he heard the slow step of the old
duke on the stair, he went out to the end of the
corridor, to do the utmost to honor hiln.

He saw an old man, bent with years; with a
face that resembled a nutmeg-grater, from the
number of wrinkles therein.

The old duke was plainly dressed, at a time
when silks and velvets ware the fashion for men
as well as women; but he wore his sword,
though the fashion was beginning to die out.

He seemed to be much exhausted by his 
ney up the stairs for he was breathing d
and could not in answer to the salutation
of the general be  been standing, waving
hishat andbowing inthecourtlystyloofan
older , for more than a minute.

Then 6 to get out:

“ m] Re' I have done myself the honor
of calling, but my health is so poor that I would
have craved the mdulgence'tha m should come
down to seems at the carnage, it not been
my‘ ﬁrst visit." lad he

Had our grace n e t uest ” re li
Reid, wit reserve, “ I should 1.2151. been 13.133
to come down; but, as your grace is aware,
in this place I re resent his‘majesty,and am
e dignity of the service.”

The duke, w 0 had now gotten his breath,
bowed again, and answered:

“ Very proper, indeed. I am desirous of hav-
ing some private conversation with you, if you
can grant it to me.”

General Reid bowed low and led the wa
into his rivate rooms, where the duke too
a seat an seemed to be much relieved at rest-

m .
ﬁedidnotap ar to be anxious to open the
conversation, ' the general asked him:

“May I inquire to what I owe thehonor of

our grace’s visit? In truth, I am anxious to go

Hampton Court, this afternoon, to see my
da hter. I resume your grace is aware that
ﬁlling-Heel ack went there last night?”

0 duke started.

“ The monster that so nearly killed me! Why,
this is amazing, sir! And you say that your
do“ hter was assaulted?” and this

0, your grace, not assa time
thanks to the resence of Mr. Howard, who had
the guard at place that night. But I fear
very much that she will be frightened half to
death, and I was about to go to see her before
the av was so far advanced that I should
are. .m...’ m is: n. a.

0 up ' . e t -
taion of the father did neganem to have m‘ugli
effect on him but onlyl what he had let drop in
the course of his speec .

“Hum! 80 Mr. Howard had the guard,” he

dd; slowly it Which Mr. Howard, my 1 uk,
air?

“ Lieutenant Howard, your ii

“Indeed! Itis a ,sir,unt1

should have come here on that very mt-
that is, to see and speak to you about this very
young gentleman" _

The duke spoke in his coldest and most
haughty manner, and the general opened his

e .

YSSI am not aware,” he said, “that there is an
connection between myself and Mr. How .,
your arm I‘m not the colonel of his regi-
ment. and he 1' not under my command, save

, when his detail calls him to the Tower. ”

“Nevertheless,” said the duke “there is a

rather close connection between you, if I am
to believe what the young gentleman tells me,
”
General Reid colored high.

“Iamatalosstounderstandymirgrace,”he
mm y. “I tthatthereisnoconnec-
between Mr. Howard and myself, mve that

of tungorary duff." .

“Bu there might be one, which would be
macaw“,uwo:lathe&sehssﬁduka were
“3.; wt in civil maml‘ image 3.0%:
sir, from the young man himself. I will

 

as

him the justice to sa , he behaved in a way that
shows the blood of e Howards has not fallen
on a man unworthy to have it in his veins; but,
all the same, there is a condition in the succes-
sion to the title and estates of the ﬁrst peer of
England, that you may not know perfect] , or
it might make you more cautious than you ve
hitherto been, to save your daughter from a fate
worse than that of bein frightened by a moun-
tebank, like S ring-Hoe Jack.”

The genera managed to control his temper
sufﬁciently to say:

“ I repeat that I do not understand your
grace, and beg you to explain yourself.”

The old duke smiled in a wa that showed he
enjo ed the suspense of the ot er.

“ y, ay, I’ll explain, in such a we ' that you
can hardly fail to understand,” he sai snecrlng-
1y. “The fact is, sir, that the present Duke of
Norfolk is not so old anddecrepitasinany people
think, and may outlast the young gentleman
who is the next heir to the title. In the mean
time, there is another thing, of which you are
probably not aware, that all the entails of

roperty, pertaining to the various estates, have
agsed in my person; and the only thing of
w ich I am not able to dispose by my will, is the
bare title itself.”

He said this with inﬁnite sly'neSs, and stared
at): thehold general all the while, as if to read his

0 ts.

Re d on the other band, who suspected to
what the old man was coming, on account of
what he knew already, was growing angrier,
and now he burst out:

“ What is this to me, duke? I have nothingto
do with your family secrets.”

The duke calmly took out his snuff-box before
he answe

“My dear sir,” he said, ,blandly, “there is no
need of gettiiag excited on the subject. I assure
you that I d not come here to uarrel with
you but merely to have a little fr talk.”

“ Then, if our grace will do me the favor to
be quick, I shall be much oblig ,” said Reid,
sharpl . “I have already tol you that I am
in hastye, and your grace is oonsum' valuable
time by not coming to the joint. t does
your wish to say to me?”

“ erely this,” the old nobleman sai in his
slowest and most deliberate tones. “ f Mr.
Howard marries without my consent, he will be
cut oﬂ without a shilling in his pocket. He may
be the next Duke of Norfolk, for I cannot con-
trol the title; but I can leave awn all the for-
tune that is necessary to keep up title, and,
bythe powers of Heaven, sir, shall do it, unless
he keeps away from your da liter till I am un-
der the sod. Is that plain, Sir? I have heard
all about it. I can understand how you have
thrown the young lady at his head to have the
glory of marrying your daughter above her star
tion. I do not care a rap for myl cousin, Howard
sir, and if he were to be ki ed to-morrow, I
should not shed a tear. But I have a t re-
spect for the name of my family an Hea—
vens, sir, I say the next Duchess of No 0 shall
not beagirlwhohasn’t a pennytobu awed-
ding-gown. There sir, I have said wha I came
to say and now, what is your answer?”

And’ the vicious old duke leaned back in his
diairand stared at.Reid,as if he wanted the
othertosoethathemeantwhathesaid.

But the old Constable, from thee insolence
shown him, hadbeensofar sh thathehad
had time to collect his thoughts. At ﬁrst he had
been almost on the point of burs ' out in a
tremendous rage; but, as the duke 'shed, he
looked so diabo 'cal in his maligm'ty the general
madeuphismind hewouldgive himnoexcuse
to triumph. _

He actually smiled as he replied:

“ ourgrace has only made one little mis-
take, whic I must be oned forspeaking of.”

2: Y WM h tut, l: impreuion

our grace seems
thatIamw thatmy mlmmwldbe
the wife of Mr. award. That is the mistake.
I have already told the young gentleman that I
could under no circumfanca allow him to pay
his addresses to her.”

The duke sneered openly.

 

CHAPTER XIX.
rm: DUKE sscannn.

“As if I did not know all that stuﬂl” said the
duke with a curl of his lip that spoke volumes.
“ Whig, man, I don’t blame you. There isn‘t a

the hi om that would not have done

e same, if he the same chance."

Reid kept his temper.

“ I was about to say,” he went on calmly,
“ when your gracedid me thefavor to interru t
me, in my own house that I had forbidden .
Howard to y a word to my daughter, as soon
as be my consent. am not one who
wishesbisdaﬁhtertoman'yintoafamil
where she is wanted. At the mine time,
am neither the man to yield toa threat; andaui:
this case. your has forgotten {what is
to both of us. henceforth, if Mr

ard‘chooses teﬁﬁy his court toiny abusing”;

than
tohow

a \
inthpworld;but,

CV

“welcome. . ourgraeo
haveboenadou inlay
matehwmild be looked on,

 

 

now that your grace has said explicitly that, in
the event of my daughter in ing Mr. How-
ard, he will be out o with mug, or with-
out one, as your ace pleases, I am we to say
that I have enough for both of them, and if the
next Duke of Norfolk comes into my family as a
beggar, the shame will fall on the present duke,
and on no one else. I have the honor to wish
your grace a very good morning. It is an open
day at the Tower, and your graceis free to look
in at the Crown-room and Armory, the same as
the rest of the people. Good-liiorning. duke.”

And the old general actually got u ), took his
sword and left the room, the old do '6 still in
the chair into which he had sunk, speechless with
astonishment and indignation, at the cavalier
wzlv in which he was bein treated.

\ hell he had recovers his senses enough to
leave the room, he went down-stairs very quietly
and got into his carrage with all the dignity of
a duke to whom nothing has happened; but, all
the way home, he was sweari to himself, with
a vicious emphasis that show he meant every
one of the impreoations.

As for General Reid, he ordered his horse, and
rode all the way to Hampton Court at a gallo .,
astonishing Lady Balcarras so much, when s 0
saw him coming, that the good lady thought
something serious must have happened.

Rose came out to see her father, looking pale
and frightened.

“Oh, sir,” she said “I am so gamou have
come. I am not ill, father; but I on had

what happened last  t, and
were frightened at the news. I did no see the
monster, thanks to Mr. Howard.”

The general got down from his horse, before
he answered her.

He felt very thankful to see her and to note
thatshe was in good health; forhehadfeared
that the shock of the third visit of the monster
might have aﬂected her fatally.

‘ Rose” he said, in a low voice, “God be
raised t young Howard was here. He isa
rave yomgl‘f’erlélow, and a good one. If he had

not been w he was, I might have had no
daughter, to-day.”

Rose colored deeply as she looked down, but
she was saved the necessity of speaking b the
appearance of Laﬁy Balcarras, who came own
as fast as she co (1, to see her old friend, and,
askif any hing had happened to bringhnnto

1‘? m d mfi‘thd Bal was,” be mild,

“ o ' , ear c ' ' '
“but thededre to see ' little maid of mine
and ﬁnd if she were yet alive, after the 
she t last night.”
“ ' ht!” echoed the old lady, “you may
well say fright general. I was never so '
enedinm 'e,aswhenlwokeupall ofa

enwi astart. Itseemedto me as if the

world was coming to an end, when the soldiers
began to ﬁre of! their and shout. Such a
thing was never hear here, before, since the
days when there used to be revolutions, and
all that sort of thing, in England, in the da
of our grandfathers. I do thmk“ , 135:1:
the soldiers ought to consider that ' are
easily alarmed, and keep their shooting for other
Pm

The old ladty’ was very MW

and ’ quarrel with any one who dw-
mrbed from her aged nigi‘t's rest, while she
had seen nothing of visi of the previous

night, and had therefore no idea of what made
the soldiers ﬁre.

The general, on the other hand, ha seen
the monster, and knowing what an eﬂect t Ind

of themuskets in the night, could have been but .
a trifle, to what on would have felt, if the
monster, Spring- eel Jack, had come before
you in his hideous and perhaps attacked
you with his great claws. He is not likelyto
take time or place when the convenience of
ladies can be consulted,“ to the means toho
takentodrivehimawa. Hetakeshiswb
Erasure in frightening is '88 to death, and if he

not shot soon, I am not sure but will

E

in ' some. Mr. Howard did well, . '
onguar,toorderthefir' . Ifhehad
the scoundrel might have one some 

miSChief, whereas now it is a chance but he 
hit by some one, and it may put a stop to his
malicious pranks.”
He did not understand the expression of cold.
grim-sure that swe t over the face of Lad ,
oarras as he spo e, but hewas enlightened
when she said to him, in her most haughtyman-

ner. .
“Really, eralifIhadtho htthatthis
Mr. 110er was a friend of yourzgl should not,
‘1‘" “idgt‘kﬂi‘ifemwgié‘ ’ﬁm‘i‘lmw‘
regre say . - v is A ,
the sort of person I should (‘11);le (laii'ghtei'mdl;r
minetousociatewith, ifIhadone.”
General , who was as touchy in
way as any one else, immediately drew
“PL
“ No of mine need be beholden to,
person w’l'ioni her visitsare unwelcome,

any
 mmﬂ» the old lady,

/

.-'..‘ «-_

., ~_. ..-.— --..«.‘
. . .4,

3'" "EW ‘rtt‘:

i~ggv~z-v A:

w. via-r. *3“? ~.--<-

:4 I”?

. w: .mg—u.

‘3' s were;

7 .y .1; “(new

a 

23:,»

_  esmwmw9wrswekwrvww.w 

 “‘37":-#‘“"§ftg watt" ere? 

» be seen at the pane, though he had been sure he

:14

Spring-Heel Jack.

 

eagerly interrupted. “My brother committed
the youngblady to my char e, and I have done
my duty y her; but sure y, general, you can-
not have any idea of the character of this Mr.
Howard, that you praise him openly before
Wur daughter. That is all I meant to say.

by, the young man is not received in any so-
ciety now, though they say he is, in some dis-
tant way, connected with the great Howards.”

“ The connection is so far from being distant,
my lady that the young gentleman is the next
heir, an will be duke himself as soon as the
present incumbent dies,” said the old general,
rather trium hantl . ‘ I hope you do not think
the premier uke o the realm an improper per-
son for m daughter to be seen with l” v

But Lac y Bah-arras was not to be moved by
even this appeal to her pride of rank.

“ I certainly think that she should not be
seen too much with one to wh0se rank she can
never hope to aspire,” she answered. “ The
court is the place of all others where a girl’s
reputation is easiest to destroy; and to have a
man of Howard’s bad name seen with her, is
of itself enough to make her an object of suspi-
c on.

The old general had been listenin to her
all this time with a puzzled face, an now he
burst out sudden] :

“ My dear Lady Balcarras there must be
some strange mistake here. Mr. Howard is one
of the quietest and most modest of men.”

Lady Balcarras smiled pityingly.

“ My dearFeneral, you have not lived as long
at court as have, and do not know the court
reports as well as I do.”

‘ I confess that, madam; but may I ask what
are the reports as to this oun gentleman l”

y Balcarras glanc at Igose

“ I would prefer to to yoxtilgrivately, in
doing that, general. ere are t gs that we
do not speak about, before young lad cs.”

“ Then, madam, the sooner on tell' me what
is the matter with the reputat on of this youn
gentleman, the better; for, as a fact, he has bu

tel asked my consent to his marri with
my ughter and I have more'than made
up my mind that it would be a good match.”

Rose heard what her father said, and she

blushed scarlet, while old Lady Balcarras look-
ed scandalized, as she said:
“In that case general, it might be as well
that on know what you on ht to know before
you y commit oursel . If
into the house I w' tell on wha I mean.”

The generai bowed codly, and followed the
old lady into the house; while Rose, fearing, she
knew not what, wont to the drawin -room, and
tried to occupy her thoughts by r g a book.

Her cha ron was in the ibrary with her
father, ta , for near an hour; and Rose was
waiting anxiously for the outcome of the inter-
view. As she sat at the window pretending to
read, her niece were on the gardens without, and
she saw t guard be‘ relieved, disdnginah-
ing the ﬁ of the o cer, who was liver
Howard. girl had a repu ee (lg-till)“
this young man, which she coul not e to
herself; but a net which she stru g ed; for
was he not the rother of George, an would he
not some day, perhaps be her brother-in-law?

She watched him at his duties, and could not
but admit that he was a handsome fellow' but
when the last of the guard was marching back
to its quarters, under the command of e ser-
ﬁant, she saw the ﬁgure of George, and noted

e contrast bettveen the two brothers, saying
to herself as she did so:

“ No wonder I cannot like him. How inferior
to my George l”

And Just as she was thinking this, her father
came into the room, and said gravely: '

“ Base, I wish to k to you about this Mr.
Howard. You will cc to give him up, child.”

CHAPTER XX.
m naoranns’ srnuoom.

Is the mean time Geo e Howard, blissfully
unconscious of the storm at was brewing over
his head from the secret revelations of the
scandal-loving old lady; had just returned to
Ham n Court with 0 Gypsy recruit as his
order y and watched the evening relief of the
Erhard before he went to his brother to tell him

t he would take his post for the night.

He could not help a glance at the windows of
the lodge where the Balcams famil resided
in the hope of catchi a glimpse of ﬁose; but
she had just been ca. away by her father for
his mysterious communication, and was not to

0|! W COIIIO

 

spied her as he entered the gardens.

He, therefore, with a disappointed air, went
to the guard—home with Sp ng, and found his
brother there, to whom he said:

“ I have come to relieve you, brother, and will
use your watch for the night.”

Oliver stared at him.

“ Take my watch for the night? What are

wdothinkiin about? I am as competent as you
n . ~ . .

“ng is not the question,” returned his bro-
ther. ' “lam in command of to company, in
the absence of Lord Dacres,andlwishtotako

,manofhishands.”

for the change, which I have already arranged
with him.”
Oliver shru his shoulders.
“Oh, well, i you put it in that way, of
course I am willin ; but vou don’t e t that
yourwill ever catc this Spring-Heel .ack, do
on
y “ I not only expect it but I am sure of it,”
returned the young ofﬁcer, ﬁrmly. “ If he
comes this way to-night, he will get what he
has never got before: a bullet into his dis-
'sel
“ Indeed!” said Oliver with a smile. “And
who is to put the bullet into him? I hear that
on all tried your hands last night and missed
iim every time. The fact is, Spring-Heel Jack
is one too many1 for aﬁy of the thick-wits that
have been after im. e laughs at danger, and
all the plans you can lay won t catch him.”
“ Do m1 think you could do any better, Oli-
ver?” as George coldly.
Oliver laughed aioud.
“Better? Of course I could. To catch him,
it takes a man that can do the things he does,
and there are few men in London who can turn
a back-somerset.”
“ How do you know that?” asked George.
“ How do I know it? Because I have been
among men who can and I know that it takes
time to learn the things this fellow does. The
fact is, George, this Spring—Heel Jack must be
an acrobat, and if you want to catch him you
must go among the men who make a t e of
that sort of th ng. I have been among them and
learned more of their tricks than you ever will,
because you are nothing but amilksop. You
can fence, and that is about all you can do.
W'h , I can throw you on your back myself, and
not If try.”
Geor e eyed his brother sharply.
“ Per ps you may be mistaken. I have
thrown men before now, thou h I do not make

a practice as you do of g among $1290-
ﬁg ters. Did you see the ypsy recruit t I
brought in?”

OliVer turned a queer glance on his brother.

“ Yes, I have seen him. Where did you pick
him up, George?”

“In the street, where he tried on the tricks
that you say I am so deﬁcient in. Well, ask
him who was laid on his back?”

Oliver cast a keen lance on his brother, and
then on the stalwart Euro of the Gypsy recruit,
who was lounging at t 0 door as he spoke, wait-
ing for orders from his ofﬁcer.

‘ Wh , he threw you, of course,” he said, “ or
if he di not, and let you do the trick to him, it
was because he wanted to let you think youware
a. better man than he. You don’t know that
man. I have seen him ﬁght in the ﬁves Court,
and there are not many in En land can hold up
hands before him without get g a licking.”
George beckoned to the recruit.
8 6 herein ﬁfth respectfully t the

pring came a s a
door With his cap in his hand.
“ ell Mr. Howard whether you can throw me
on my back or not " said George, quietly.
The Gypsy ﬂd uneasily.
“ It is not for e likes of me to talk of throw-
in’ your honor.”
“But suppose I should tell you that I wanted
exercise and you were to do your best, what
then? Could on do it or not?”
8 ring h tated, and glanced, ﬁrst at one
b er, then at the other.
“ I don’t know, your honor,” he said at last.
” I ain’t anxious to t? f0r your honor is a good
know to my cost.”

“ Kgyou don’t mean to an , burstin Oli-
ver, “t tyou think he can ge the best of you
in a fair tussle? If I thought it--”
“Well, what?” asked Geo .
“By Jove I'd tell you to vs a tussle with
me, for fun, ’ said Oliver, measuring his brother
carefully from head to foot. V '
It was a singlinr thin that the two brothers,
though they been rought 11 near _ /
other, had never had a quarrel in childhood
which had come to blows, and that their pur-
suits had taken them so far apart, in manhood,
that neither of them knew, from e rience,
what the other could do, in the way 0 athletic
exercise.
George Howard smiled.
“ You ,would not be the ﬁrst man I have
dege'i‘vlvleéd, (agar. if yloujtried 1%”, riod on

n, ove, et 3 i c 'ver-
and, as he spoke, he threw 0 his coat and stood
111p oggosite his brother, in an attitude that
s ow he had studied the art of wrestling in a
professional wa .
George turn to Sprinﬁ.
“ Shut the door," he as , “ and let nobody in,’
till 1' have settled this matter.” '
Then he beckoned to Oliver and the other
followed him into a court-yard at the back of
their uarters, where there was a lot,
onw ch theywould haveplentyo roomto

la .
:gpring followed the two. tlemen afterhe
lacked thedoor, withan nscrutabieexpwu-

siononhi'sdarkhce

 

ourdu to-ni ht. louder you toleave your
goat, an? will$e responsible to the adjutant

He sawtho elder'brother throwdf his, coat
and advance on theyoungerbrother whohad

‘ -—_- P...

 

 

witltiha stealhthy gtrcalﬁga;j tgmt reminded one of a
pan er, as e wa or an unguarded ot
to catch his hold. Sp

“ It’s catch as catch can, George,” he said, and
George nodded Without answerin .

Then the two brothers moved cIoscr together,
and Oliver suddenly clutched Gcor e with both
hands on the neck, trying to send im forward
on his face by a quick jerk.

George, to his astonishment, ducked his head
and rushed in, catchin a waist-hold before
Oliver, who had thong t him a greenhorn,
iould understand that he had amaster before

1m.

The hold secured, the rest was child’s play. In
a moment the oun er brother was snatched
off his feet on dus ed down on the ound,
With a thud that took away his breat , when
Geo e remarked uietly:

“ on see, brot er Oliver, that it is not
always the men who hang round Fives Court
that are the best at a hold. ’

Oliver looked up from the ground on which he
had been so rudely depOSited.

There was a dark scowl on his face as he said:

“ You couldn’t have done that, if I had known
that you were anythin but a yoke]. I gave
you the hold for fun. Egon can’t do it again.”

George smiled.

It was singular to see the way in which he
looked at his brother. One would never have
thought that any tie of blood existed between
the two men; but rather that the Were bitter
enemies. George curled his lip as e said:

“ I have no tIme to waste, trying on at the
same thing, twice over; but if you Iike to get
the gloves, at which you think you are an adept,
I’ll show you that I can ﬁght, as well as I can
wrestle ”

But the other rose from the gound, scowling-
still and said, with a glance at prin :

“ I10, no, not to-day. I may ve you a.

chance to try what ou know, some day; but
not with witnesses. n the mean time, sir look
to yourself, when you meet Spring-Heel deck;
for he may not let you ed as easily as I have.”
And, not waiting to ex lain the nature of his
meaning, he went out of is brother’s quarters,
and was seen going over to his own chambers.
ggring, as soon as he had ne, had a uiet
lit laugh, all to himself, in e midst of w 'ch
George caught him, and he become as grave as a
Ju .
“ tare you' laughing at you scoundrell’"
asked the 1yamng officer haughti’ly. “ If I choose
to have a ut with my own brother, it is notto
say that even? recruit must have his fun out of
the sight. I I catch you saying a word of this
tosone of tile ﬂan, you 3&3}: are badly.”

ring u respec y.

It“? ain’t the matrix) to say a word,’lyourﬂhono;.
was a row e ve m ‘
warn’t it? primou ht igwagsaall one’wayﬁugnd.
the fu’st ’e knowed s ’eels was in the hair, and
’e on ’is back! ’Ope yer honor ’ll ’scuse me fur
lau hin’; but it were ’nufr to makes cat laugh.”
was molliﬁed; for it is not in human
nature to repel praise of physical prowess, no
matter what the difference of rank between the
praiser and raised.
“You I attend on me, to-night B rin ,”
he said, “and will keep your piece I ed or
airing-Heel Jack, if he comes. I am determin-
that, before we have donebl will penetrate
the mystery of that scoundrel. '
8p n'g smiled softly to himself as he heard the
speech, and observed:
“ Yes, your honor—if we catch him.”

CHAPTER XXI.

H ' th Ghlhmn’srvﬁsﬁ

xsgrace e u e o o olk onthe even-~
ing after hehad paid 'his voluntary visit to the
Tower, had returned to his own orgeous man-
sion, where he ordered his fru meal of toast
and tea, in the librar , and to d Jarvis that he-
did not want to be isturbed b visitors. The
obedient fiunky said he wo d see that his
ace was not disturbed by anybody but those-
'3 ace would wish to see an asked:
‘; ape yer grace might like to see the keerds

“ Let the cards lie till I am in a mood to look
at them,” said the duke crossly. “ Bring me
111 tea and don’t talk.”

9 had wn very testy and cross, more-
so than usua , since his last attack of gout; for
the doctor had told him that his life depended
on simplicitgv of diet: and the duke had always
been a ea lover of ﬁne cookery and delicate.
meats, es the taste in wines, of which he had
alwa 3 been so proud.

Bu , since his last attack, and especially since,
the assault of Spring-Heel Jack, the doctor had
told him that the least inﬂammation might rove-
fatal at once, and that he least excess 0 diet"
would produce inﬂammation.

And since that date, the duke had been very
anxious to live a little longer. if on! for t -
gratiﬁcation of several little spites whic he had
contr ted within the last few days. ' ‘ " ”
So onto his tout—the doctor hnd not‘even '
allowed him a little butter on it, at night—Wand ’
drank ids cup of magnet nearly as strong a ho-

\

 

thobestatdtudeoftho two, and moved round

When iwiththeresi tionof
one ﬂmhhkmmtﬂltheenhalfoaitJlﬂtl‘;

 

 

 

 

Spring-Heel Jack.

15.

 

 

and the hesitating way in which that trained 
sorvitor hung round, as if not uite sure what i
to 'do in the premises, caused t 0 old duke to I
ask:
“Well, well, man, What is it? Don‘t stand ,
there like a post, but tell me who has come." .
Jarvis at once came forward and laid the .
silver salver before his master, with a mud on
it, which read:

" MR. OLIVER HO\VARD."

The duke’s face cleared up as if he was much
pleased to see the card, and he said at once:

“That was right, Jarvis. I am glad to see
that you have learned discretion, whlch is just 1!
what all the rest want in this house. M
cousin Oliver is an exception toall rules, and
shall be glad to see him. Tell him to_ come into
the library, and— Jarvis, tell Antome to get
up as nice and delicate a supper for one as if he
were doing it for myself, and I were well again.
But above all things, Jarv1s, tell him to be sure
and not put on more than enough for one; for,
if he does it may be the death of me, as I never
could resist temptation. and—a—Jarvis, by-
the-by have-the candlesallllghted. Confound it
man, I can’t be groaned to death before my
time and I may as well have some fun, while
the light holds out to burn. There, that is all.
Go on and do it.”

Jarvis, like a well-trained servant waited till
his master‘s orders were delivered,  to 1
every word, and then shot out of the room to

obﬁ them.

e old duke sat back in his large easy-chair,
and waited for the o ' of the door, with an
expression of leasure on his wrinkled old face.
It was eviden that he actually liked his young
kinsman, who was coming to see him.

Presently the door opened and Oliver Howard
in his velkygt coat gird satinhareechelg, with black
silkstoe ' gson ve s ly gs,camcin-
to the room,  , as as a

can Adonis, whic he resemb ed, in the air of
cult and vigor he carried in eve movement.

The duke smiled and held out hi: In, saying:

“ Well. young scapegraoe, an w t brings
ye here to-nightl. Have e been playing at has-
u-d again, or is it that t 0 wrong man won the
ﬂghf? and ye can’t pay your winnings?”

0 verlau hed ashecame'forwardand took
the extend hand. ,

“ I did not come for money at all, this time,
and your grace would hardly believe the real
reason. Icame to seeifyourgraoehadsuﬁen
ed 1:331! from the visit of the monster the other

duke frowned and hit his lip.

“ es,bytheb thatis true. But Idid
not this: you woukf’refer to that before me,
b0 .”

ZBut I did not hear, till to-day,” said the

g man ingenuously, “that you had been
mat all. I saw, from the news letter, that

there was a story that the monster had been near
on, but I did not credit it, in the least. To

 

y I learned that you had been ill, and I came
to see you at once.’

“ H‘ml” said the dukedryly. “ Who told you
that I had been hurt?”

Oliver hesitated a moment and then said:

“ My brother George, sir.”

The old duke scowled at the words.

“ e if your brother Geor knew I had
been hug, why the devil didn’t 6 come up to
'uk after my health!” he cried, testily.

Oliver shrugged his shoulders.

“Thatis not for me to en. If yogi-“grace
isanxioustoeeemybrother cango tell
him the and he will hably come here.”

The duke patiently 3 his head.

“ I don‘t want to see the jackanapes. How
comes :3 that ypu are not in uniform to-night,
Oliver

“Because! amnotonduty, duke. I hatothe
uniform, and get it 0! at every opportunity I

I,

have.

“Well, boy,I am. ladtoeeeye, and on shall
have some dinner W) h me, Noll, Not t I can
eat with ye, for the doctor Will not allow me
to know what is god for ma, in these days, but
to see thee eat, y, and reiOlce in thy youth.
H13 Oliver, boy? Can ye box, yet?”

liver laughed rather proudly.

“I had on the gloves only last mange with
White-Headed Bob, and he’s he next m
to the chem ion."
aid the duke, eagerly, “ and what
boy? You don‘t mean to tell me
ptizngyour hands with the second

“M. as
was the luc
that you .

 nthough ” said Oil 1

“ A u 0, ver, y .
“I goi’the best of the round, as all saidﬂvlio
were there, and Mr. Crib did me the honor to
say that he had never seen an amateur, who took
his milk so kindIY-” -

The dukeeeemed to be much impresed with

thepraise that camo from such a uartcr; for
the ‘Mr. Crib” mentionedwastheghampion of
land.

‘ Well. “P01! 111. my,“ um, “ boy. that
weepraiseind ,andifitwelenotfm-that
infeml doctor I would insist on‘drinkinghis
health, Oliver. But as it is,

i that we had Spring-Heel Jack at Hampton

‘ he said.

 

must
ha di ,foritdees megood seeye
damaged the dayswhenlcouldest

myself. Hey, hey? And how does go the duties
at the palace?”
“About the same as usual, cousin. You heard

Court, last night.”

“ I did, and was much astonished. YVho can
this man be, that sets all law at deﬁance, and
yet makes his escape?”

Oliver lau rhed.

“ They wil never ﬁnd out till I get at him,”
“This fellow is a. stout, active man,
who can throw a back somelset as well as the next
one, and he goes over hedges and ditches, when ;
they straightway think it is a ghost. Bah, I
duke, Geor e is too slow, ever to get his hands
on Sprin - eel J ack.”

The 01 duke smiled, as he said:

“ If you think on could do an
ter Oliver, I wou d that you ha
had.”

Oliver seemed to be much interested in the
matter for he at once said:

‘ ‘ Will you not please tell me what was the way
in which the monster appeared to you, duke?”

The duke shivered slightly at the reminis-

cence.
“ I declare, Oliver, ’tis not so pleasant to re-
call, that same visit; for he treated me rather
roughly: and, but for the coming up of Jarvis, I
believe the scoundrel meant to kill me.”

“Oh no. He couldn’t have meant that,” said :
Oliver hastily. “ What ill-will could he have
against you, duke?”

“ Nay, that I can not say, boy; but this is cer-
tain, that the fellow has the strength of a giant. ,
I used to be called a goodmanof my handswhen,
I was a yo , but this fellow caught me up i
as if were a c ' , and held me over the river, as 1
if he meant to drown me, when Jarvis came up
in time rescue me.”

Oliver seemed to be more interested in the
matter than before; for he continued to ask:

“ And had you no glimpse of the creative,
what it was like? Have you nothing that might ‘
be used as a clew i!”

The old duke considered a little.

“ Yes, Noll, now on speak of it, there was
that mig t be called a clew, if you

slightly and ﬁxed his eyes on his ,
old kinsman, wit a set, eager look that would 1
have attracted the other’s attention, had it not E
been growing dark at the time. Jarvis was just g
00 ' in With the candles, and another ilunky i
was to owingkhim closely, bearing a silver tray, 1
on which smo ed a most savory supper, accord-
lug~ to the orders of the duke.

be eight took the thoughts of the old noble-

better, Mas-
a trial, as I

 

man from what he was of, and he
pressed his kinsman to e, saying:
“ Never mind about e monster. Noll, till you

have eaten and drank. Jarvis, bring up a

num of the old rt, that I laid down, twig-lg
years ago. By that’s holy, the doctor can say
what he likes, but I am going to drink to-night,
and drown care.”

CHAPTER XXII.
ran: Don’s w LL.

Oman HOWARD said nothing more aboutthe
monster till he had donehonortotheviandsthat
were set before him, with all the appetite of
health and youth.

 

He had the ' t of throwing oﬂ dull thought,
and it was theggfift that had made him so valu-
able to his kinsman.

He talked gayly and kept the duke in good 1
humor, till nothin would do but the old man V
must take some 0 the wine, though the doctor l
had given his strictest orders against it.

It did not seem to do him an harm, but.
ratherto make his irits rise a his to e
flow faster, so tha, in a little time ater;
Oliver had come in, the old duke was toasting ;
to his cousin’s success at the boxing-match ;
and lettin his conversation ﬂow in the channel 1
which once earned him the name of the
“ Bad Howard.”

Oliver did not seem to be shocked at the topics

introduced b his cousin, but ve him as good I
ashe sent, t' at last the old uke clappedhimr
on the back and cried out:

“ 3 all the powers of Heaven. Noll, ’tis you ,
shoul be the next duke, and George remain ‘
plain Mr. Howard!”

Oliver shrugged his shoulders. :

“That is beyond the power of mortal man,”
he said. “The title of premier duke is the one
thing in England which not all the powers of the
owner can give away.”

“ But there isa good deal else that he can”.
interrupted the old duke, in a tone that wasl
grow thicker as he drank more and more.
‘ And me tell ye, boy, there is that now in
this room Would make George stare if he knew
it. It would frighten him famously.”

03:“- cast a quick, suspicious glance at his
con . ‘

“ I don’t know there is in the room
that could frighten any one, cousin. One
would think that we were talking of Spring-

 

Heel Jack."

Tgnocllddukemade a disdainful gedm'e with v youlthink
“He told
mourner at myfuml,

fool thateandonol

his .
“ Spring-Keel Jack is a
' He thought that he

more than frighten women.

could scare me; but he failed. Why, Oliver,
man, if it had been a. little lighter, I could have
shot the scoundl'el!” .

Oliver laughed somewhat sneeringly.

“ That is easy to say. but not so eas

“ Ay, ay, boy, but I told you that I
to who he is. ”

“ Ay,” said Oliver, with more
he had hitherto shown.
clew i”

The duke assumed an air of mysterious gravity
as he whis red:

“ Noll, at is not to be said aloud. But I’ll
tell it, and mayhap you may be able to help ﬁnd
the scoundrel and earn a name for skill in track—
in . I found one of the bullets I shot at him.”

IOliver did not exhibit any further curiosity,
for he said indifferently:

“ \Vell, what of that? The bullet is not the
man. Till he is found there is no use of makin
a fuss about bullets. The bullet that will ki
Spring-Heel Jack is et to be cast, cousin.”

to do.”
a clew

erness than
“And w t was the

“Not so, Oliver. said that I had found it.
You can never guess where it was.”
“ Where i”

“In the garden walk in a place that showed
it had dropped from something, and there was
no trunk o a tree, or rock, or anything else, in
the neighborhood that could have glanced it.
No, Oliver, the man were armor, and the ball
ﬂattened on him and drop .”

“And where is that a clew?” asked Oliver,
with some uneasiness.

“ In this, boy. The men who make armor in
our days are few and far between. The armor
that Will ﬂatten a pistol-bullet, sent from a bar—
rel such as I had with me, and with a charge
such as I had in it is not easy to make. I have
sent men out to ﬁnd the name of every one that has
had such made, and I ex t the l‘eport to-mor-
row. Then Mr. Sprin - eel J ack will have to
look out for himself. cor e catch him indeed!
He has no more chance t of gel to the
moon. No, boy, it takes an older head t n his,
and if I be growing old, I can yet do something
to show my rain as good as ever.” .

Oliver listened intently to what the old man
mend drew a long breath afterhe had ﬁn-
l .

“ Well, cousin," he said, “ you are quite as
likel to take Spring-Heel Jack as Geor , for
he 'nks more of making love to old ' ’s
da (lilter, than of anything else in the wide
“'0? .

The duke caught at the words.

“ Ay, av, I know that; but I have put a spoke
in that wheel, you may be sure.”

“ Indeed?”

Oliver’s tone was one of perfect indiﬂerence;
but a in who noticed him closely would have
seen t his eyes were not more than half-open,
and that he was lancing at the old duke mm
between the e e ' s, in a singular, stealthy way.

“ Yes,” con ued the duke, spitequ . “It is
true that I have no power to control succes-
sion to the title but I have to the estates, and I
have made awill which only to be sign-
ed, which will reth that Roi from ever an -
i that he is ather-in-law to the richest
in land. I have not signed it yet, Noll; but
Ican, ifatanytimethepairofthemisdisposed
to disobey my commands”

“ Indeed, cousin,” said Oliver, sottly. “ I
cannot think that any brother of mine would be
so lost to all senseof decency, that he would
disregard thewishes of the head of his house;
but, indeed, the girl is after him all the time,
and I much fear that George willend in being
her husband, no matter what any one may say
to revent him.” .

duke listened sharply,andcast a mispl-
ciouis glance $0133. t in
‘ t seems t is no your good
then, Oliver?” m

“ In mine, cousin? Nay, but if there is a per-
son in the world I dislike, it is that same pale-
faced, 101 ' invalid they call Rose Bold. She
is a fool, has no sort of air about her. No,
she is not in my good books, as you sag” -

“Then why in the deuce don’t you 11 her so
and trait: shame her into leaving‘gemn' brother?”
asked old duke suddenly. “ father seems
to beamanof some ride, and Itold him, this
morning, that he co (1 never hope to have his
daughter married to George, and have both the
title and mone . But what do you think he told
me when I sai that?”

“ I‘m sure I don’t know, cousin.”

“ Told me that he was rich enough to give his
daughter a fortune, that would enable her to be
asgoodaduchessasan oneelse. Oliver,
between you and me, to Sta that

' yet I am tempted to do it.” .

ashamed I” asked Oliver, slowly.
“Youhave arighttodo asyouwillwith your
own.” .

rascal

“Yes, that is true, very true, and the
has tested mewith great -
know what he told me, Noll-
brother

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16

Spring-Heel Jack. a

 

low tone. as if he did not like to refer to the sub-
ject which always made him shudder.

Oliver raised his hands in the air in pious hor-
ror, exclaiming:

“Great heavens, what insolence and in ti-
tudel When he owes all he is in the wor d to
being ,9. Howard; and you are the head of the

“A. , ay, Noll,” said the old nobleman, con-
l sidera 1y molliﬂed by the ﬂattery. “It was a

hard thing for me to hear, at my time of life, ‘

and that is not the worst of it; the old man her

father was still more insolent, and actually as
ood as turned me out of his rooms at the
ower, when I called on him, this morning.”

“And all this you are going to suffer in'

silence,” exclaimed Oliver, clasping his hands.
“Great heavens, what magnanimity! I fear I
could not be equal to such myself.”

His words struck the old duke at once.

“ Say you so, Oliver? Then, by heavens, I
will sign it, and then let George look to himself.
Call in Jarvis, and tell him to bring Hodge with
him. Ring the bell.” '

Oliver obeyed at once, and the faithful Jarvis
made his a pearance, to whom the duke said:

“ n t at desk in the corner of the room
and ring me the paper that is in the top
drawer.”

The man obIered,
him off to call 0d

and then his master sent
, who was a brother of the
honest sergeant of e guard in the Tower.

The duke o ned the paper, and said:

“ I have ca ed you in to witness my last will
and testament, being yet in good health, but
mindful of the uncertainty of life. You see I
si my name here.”

took a pen, handed him by the obsequious
Oliver, and aﬂlxed his signature to the paper
after which he told the men where to sign, and
they obeyed in silence.

I‘ Now you can go,” he said. “This is in
next heir. That is all you need know. He ' 1
take care of you, after I am gone.”

The men, ooking much astonished, went out
of the room, and the old duke cried:

“It is done, Nell, and I am glad of it, boy.
Now let us have another bottle, and let the doc-
tor say what he pleases.”

He set into drinking at once, and when Oliver
was to depart, the duke was fast asleep in his
chair, snoﬁn in a way that would have fright-
ened any doo in the world.

CHAPTER XXIII.
m EDWARDS or sunny.

Tim next morning after Oliver Howard’s visit
to his kinsman, he went back to Hampton Court,
and‘the ﬁrst rson he saw was his brother, of
 afk , with ill-cogcealed :S

, suppose you ave ca pri -
Heel Jack of course. You made such prepanrg-
tions, that he could not have disappointed on.”

Geo e favored hisbrother withacurious ook,
as he grieved:

“ No this time you have been absentallnight,
and the scoundrel has not made his upgr-
ance. It is singular, but every time you ve
been away, he has come.”

Oliver cast 'a look of anger at his brother, as
he said, with a bitter sneer:

“ Possibly you think I am the man.”

“ Ohmo,’ ndedGeor ; “ Ithinkuothing
of these“. If you were, I ould have had you
in irons long ago. Spring-Heel Jack may be a
frtendofyours, but you are not the manhun-
Iolf or you would have been found out.”

Oliver seemed nettled by the remark.

“ And how do you know? I might be he, and
on none the wiser. For that matter, if I said
wore them himself, how could you prove it?”

George smiled provokiugly.

_ “ If ever I found out that you were the scams
who has played all these cowardly tricks I woul
ﬁve on spcﬁﬁdiplg tl‘ilatt 31108:,1 wopld not dare

o p t e as n.
Oliver is hed aloudﬁn scorn.
“So you ink because I let you throw me
that on can do whatnﬁou like with
me. You woul ﬁnd out your take if you
13:13:21: lness h l'ed
s coo , as e rep l :

“ is not the time, nor this the place for
thatsortof talkbetween us two, as lougaswe
are reputed to be brat ”

Oliver turned pale as the other spoke.

“ What do you mean!” he asked furiously.
“ Do you mean to say you doubt my birth?”

George looked at him steadily.

“You seem to be much moved at the idea.
But what would you say if I did?”

“Iwouldmakeyouruetheword, fortherest
of your, life,” mid Oliver, in a low tone, comin
close to George as he spoke. “It isalie, an

on know it. I know who has been gutting

ideas into your head, but you’ll ﬂn I am

as 0. Howard as on ungoday, if my face be
as hr ours is ht. th your W? air.”
And awa m 0 young oer.
7“- excitgggyoutl: went at! innnediataly in
m of S , the , whom he found by
his brother I in I capacity of orderly.
“ﬁt to went Oliver, and asked him

marl :
:‘ In," you been tattling or not?’

he had that morning he had but voiced the sus-

 

He had a lowering look on his face as he spoke
and showed little respect to the questioner,
thou b there were soldiers in si ht.

“ id ou hear me s k?” ed Oliver ﬁerce-
_ 1a,, “ or 0 you thinkt at I am of one your pals?
l hy don’t you salute me, when I spea to you?”
i The G . instantly sti'ai htened up and salut—
, ed as sti as any man cou d.
, “ Your ouor axed me a question I didn’t un—

derstand, and I axed vour honor what it meant.”
‘ That was all he said, but there was a great deal
of meaning in his eye, as he said it. His manner,
‘ to a person at a little distance, was as respectful
, as an ' other soldier of the guard; but the ofﬁcer
‘v who need him saw a mocking smile on his face,
that belied the manncr.

IVith an effort that was more like the self-
restraint of his brother than his own natural
reckless way, Oliver asked slowly:

“Have you been speaking to my brother about
the stories that have been told as to my birth, or
not? Answer the question plainly.”

Siging saluted again.

“ 0, your honor I ’aven’t been talkin’ to no
brother of yourn, about nobody nor nothink.”

The words seemed to be plain, but Oliver did
not seem to be quite clear about it yet, for he
went on:

“ I mean, have you been speaking to Mr. How-
ard on the subject?”

“ No, your honor, I ain’t.”

Again the answer was plain, but Oliver did
not seem quite satisfied.

“ Then what did he mean when he told me, this
moment, that he suspected that I was not his
brother?” asked Oliver sharply.

Spring shru his shou ders indifferently.

“ Sure I don know, your honor.”

The young man turned away impatiently, and

then came back.

“ Look here, Sp ,” he said, in a different
tone alto ther. ‘ Th 3 is not the way to treat
me; is it You know something, and you won’t
tell me what it is. Is that the way to treat me?”

Spring allowed the muscles of his face to re-
lax into a smile.

“ I thought your honor were comin’ the oﬁl-
cer over me, and that waru‘t the way to make a
Romany speak, as ye know.”

Then Oliver sudden] ch his language
to one composed of so t vows in and linguals, in
which he and the Gypsy convened eager] for a
minute or more, ti the approach of rge
Howard closed the conversation, and Oliver
went away as if he did not want his brother to
see him speaking to the Gypsy.

When George Howard came up, the Gypsy
was hard at work on a belt of his mum’s,
which he was industrioust pipe-claying, and he
did not lift his head till George asked:

“What was my brother saying to you, just
now’

Spring looked up, as innocently as a baby.

“ Anau, your honori” he said.

“ I said, what wasmy brother speakingto you
about just now?”

Spring laughed below his breath.

“ Deed, your honor, but it’s comical. His
honor is est longin’ to know whether we ketchcd
Spring- eel J ack, last night, or not? He jest
wants to git the honor hisself, and he ain’t goin’
to git it not bias; Eff-full ”

 

“ An was t he said!” asked George, in
his keenest way.
The G looked more innocent than ever.

“ We , if your honor want: me to remember

his v words,” he mid, slowly “ I’ll try, as
nigh as can, to give ’em. Says to me, says
he—asmightbe mewasme, andﬂiattherebelt

was his honor—says he to me, so a he, Spring,
says he, if I could once lay my ads on that
there Spring-Heel Jack, says he, I’d be content
to loge a year’s pay, says he. I’d be willin’, says

“Oh, stop that ‘ says he,’ ” cried George, im-

patientl . “ I want to know if that was all he

said, an not a rigmarole abouttheexact words.

Did he have nothing to say to you about what
between us?"

“ ’Twixt you and him, sir, or meand you, air?”

the G asked, imperturbably.

“Be ween him and me, of course. Nothing
ever passed between on and me, except that
licking I ave you, be are on enlisted.”

“Then e didn’t say not in’ else, yer honor,"
said Sprin , as civilly as ever.”

George oward turned away from the Gypsy,
and went into his quarters, with a some that
there was something between Oliver and Spring
that he did not understand.

When he had spoken to his brother in the way

picions that had been gradually gathering in his
mind, thanks to the whispers of others, for
years pat.

Thefatherof thetwo shad beenahand-
some, but dissipated and ex vagant Indian of-
ficer, who had spent a large fortune deliberate

in the knowledge that he wasthe next heir of
great title of Duke of Norfolk.

The old duke, who had earned the nickname

of the “bad duke,” had had no children, and

hiswifehaddiedearly, itwassaid,aftoravery

unha ylifewi .
Hogadsasniedcarelessastohowthetlﬂewu

laugh, when the sub' -t was mentioned before
him while he was st' young:

“There is no need to worry about it. The
title will not go begging you ma be sure, and
there are enough Howards in Eng and to make
an army of themselves.”

Captain Howard had thus been left to think
all his life that he would ultimately succeed to
the title and had reared his family in that im-
pression.

George, who had been born ﬁrst had always
been told that he would be the next Duke of N or-
folk, and the idea had taken great hold of his
mind as a child, leading him to a sense of dig-
nity and reserve, which did not obtain in the
case of his more iinpetuous and volatile brother,
who was ﬁve years younger.

George had been away from his father’s house,
a child, on a visit to an uncle in Scotland, when
Oliver was born, and there were not wanting
gossips at that early day, who had told before
the c ild m sterious things about “everythin
not being a right ” as to the birth of the dar
boy, who came, the ﬁrst in many generations,
into the family of the Howards of Selby—the
branch to which Captain Howard belonged.

The boy had heard these rumors as a child
and they had made the impression on him that
is made on a child by something that it does not
quite understand.

When he saw his brother, which was not for
some months after the child was born, little
Georgeeyed the black hairand darko es, so dif-
ferent from his own, with marked vor, and

rised everybody by saying to his mother:

‘ That’s not my brother at all, and I don’t
want him for a brother."

CHAPTER XXIV.
nan nannana’s VISIT.

THE speech of the child had created both an-
gr and amusement in the family; but was at-

'buted to spite and jealousy, by the familiar
phrase of his “nose being out of joint,” on ac-
count of the new baby in the house.”

But as years went on, it was remarked, b all
in the house, that there seemed to be a rep on
between the two brothers, which did not de-
crease with age, but rather grew stron r, as
the boys grew to manhood; and the t was
that they were sent to as schools, to avoid
the public scandal which would have inevitably
been provoked by the spectacle of their constant
quarrels and ﬁghts, in any place where they
Were found together.

When Captain Howard died, soon after his
wife, both be s were of age, George being
twenty-six, and Oliver twenty-one.

The spendthrift captain gavo the lastof his
fortune in  commisn' 'ons for his two
sons in the guards, t e most ex naive corps in
the army, and left them a ﬂoods
apiece,andhisblemin , whenhedied. ~ elast
part of the bequest in ght have been more valu-
able, had his conduct been better.
This had hap ned a year before, and, by the
time that our ryopens, both young men were
beginning to be in straits for money, with the
probabih staring them in the face, that they
would bet have to sell their commissions before
long, and go forth into the world, to make
mm’ms’sﬂ a... a,”
rge, o a very can
mount, had not t all his money yet, bu Ol -
verhad not 0 ydone this,th over head
andearsin debt,bosides,and had borrowed of
the Jews in the city so often, that his notes
msdvm “9°” Wm“ “3&2?” h"
I prec our the
racecourse, and the fascinating y
“hazard,” at which all London was a pro-
ﬁcient, as far as its mono went.

Oliver had been “ ” and “setter,” so
often, that he had become a veteran in the
game, and his only limitation in the way of
mak' money therefrom was in the fact that
none 0 his brother ofﬁcers would In with him;
and it was not always easy-t: new men,
who would stand unlimited rd, when Oliver
wanted to lay it.

Neverthe ess, the 15:3] {11:1 remained. ed ti: lib:
expenswe co to w ' y , o

it was only {Simeon of a few 11103513, as high
knew, when they would be compelled to sell out
to avoid disgrace and 

Geo was themostsens iveonthls 'nt,
for Oliver did not seem to care where he -
edhismoneyandggods,» lo ashegotthem;
andtherewem ot rsamoug eyo oﬂcers
oftheregimemtthatwemalmostas oﬂas
he, with nothlnﬁlbut their expectations give
them credit wi the Jews, who then, as now
and always, had the monoply of the supply of
young man of fadiion at exorbitant rates.

Georﬁdhad not fallen into their-bands yet;
but he but a few pounds left besides his pa
and thatwas not enough to keep his mewb
dup, if he hadwantedtobeooouomicaland
ive an the money he received from the Govorn-
men
This statement of the position of the two
ﬁnﬁm is , to enable the reader to

y understand the {ﬁlings which animated
them, and which caused the brothem to dislike

 

 

 

 

“ About what?" asked the Gypsy.

tobe perpetutod,andhadoftenuaid,witha

eachothertothepointofhatred.
When Georgewent to his quarteuthtday

.
“I a

«r.

4

l

Spring-Heel Jack.

1'7

 

 

.—

he felt low in spirits, and began to think seri—
ously over what he should do.

His money was nearly gone, and he had the
additional anxiety that General Reid must soon
ﬁnd out how r be was, and be inclined to
turn him out o the pleas be occupied in the old
ofﬁcer’s intimacy.

' It was while he was thinking what to do, that
he heard a tap at the door, and Spring put in his
head to say:

“ There’s a gent wants to see your honor."

“ Let him come in,” said George, indifferently.

The door 0 nod and a tall, dark gentleman
came in, and ' mod to him, with a stately polite-
ness that showed he came from 00d societ '.

The tall gentleman was very ark indec , and
had a keen, eagle-like face, that made George
sure he must be a foreigner.

He was dressed in black velvet, as if in mourn-
ing, in the fashion of those dayS, and wore a
sword, to show that he was a gentleman entitled

bear arms. ,

He had a cocked hat in his hand, and this he
waved with a flourish, as he said, in a soft and
ve melodious voice:

“ did myself the honor to call to-day. My
name is Rain Mandana."

George stared. _

The name was a 5111 r one, such as he had
never  before. he visitor remarked his
air of astonishment, and added:

“Ioome from India. My name is not a fa-
miliar one to you, I perceive; but it is not more
singularto you than your name would be in my
ooun

Then Geo . resmmbered his politeness, and
rose to hand visitor a chair, as he said:

“Pardon ins for appearing rude, but I had no
such intention. I I am glad to see you. sir, and
hope that youWill tell me to what I am indebted
for the honor of this visit.”

Ram Mandana took the proffered seat, and
smiled as he answered:

“Ihavecome to see you becauseIaminter—
ested in you. You have a. strange history, al-
"Inﬁll on do not know it yet. ”

“ y ry is, I fear, not so strange as it is
common and unhappy,” said George, gloomily.
“ I am young and—’

“Poor,” interrupted his visitor. “ That is

it. You were thinkin , when I came in,
ow you should be able to p thowolf from
door.”

George stared at his visitor.

“ How did you know my thoughts?” he asked.

Rain dana smiled again.

“ I know many things that would astonish
you,” he said, slowly; ‘For instance, I know
that you have been outing for a long time for
a person who has been frightening all the good
people in London, and you are no nearer than
a): were ,when you began to any discovery of

truth

George looked earnestly at his visitor.

“ Do you know anything about him, then?”

“Thatisnot for me to say. But I can tell
you that it is a matter of little importance to

on to know. There are of vastly more
anportanco than that. One thaniswkat you
are to-day.”
was puzzled at his tone.

“ W t I am, to-day?” he repeated. “ What

has that to do with Sp '

-HeelJack1 That is
themyste I am set on so ving.” .
“And w en you solve it, you will be sorry
that you ever tried to do it,” returned Ram
Mandam, y. “Youngman, do you know
who on are now, or not?”
“ o I am? Why, of course I do. I am
Gouge Howard, lieutenant in the Coldstream
G W

Rain Mandana leaned forward tosa :

“ You are wrong. You are the Duke of Nor-
folk. The oil duke died this morning, not half
an hour ago, and the title is yours."

George started Violently.

“ How do on know this?” he cried.

Ram M answered:

“ Because I saw his dead face. He lies in his
chair, in the library, and there is no one in the
room y t. His servants think him asleep, md
do not dare to disturb him.”

“ Then how did you get in to seehim?”

He asked the question, not knowmg what else
to say, and strongly believmg that his visitor
was a maniac. .

Ram Mandana smiled, and said, as if he
Were answering the thoughts in the mind of
the oung mu, unuttered as they were:

“ on are mistaken. I am not mad. If you
willgo there, you will see what I have said. I
cameto tell youthsme towarn you
that it will do you no good.

“ What do you mean?” again asked George.

“ I mean the duke, last night, signed a
will by which he left his t.iropert to your
brother, so that you cannot e up title, un-

aro oontenttobeknownasthe ‘pauper
an heinss, who will wed you
being called a bass," said

 

“It is impossible,” he said, “ that a person
who is an entire stranger to me and my fam-
ily can know so much as you pretend, sir.”

i Mandana waved his hand gravely.

“ I came here on an errand of friendship to
you, young man,” he said. “Do not turn my
feeling into dislike, and compel me to leave you.

George was struck by the tone he used, and
his heart smote him for having been rude.

“ I had no intention of being uncivil, sir.” he
said, “ but you must confess that your news is
so strange, and that the fact of your being an
entire stranger to me makes the communication
so extraordinary, not to say suspicious—m

“That, in short, you are inclined to believe
that I am telling a falschuxl,” said Rani Man-
dana, eying him mildly, and with no visible
sign of ill-temper.

George hesitated.

“ Nay, hardly that, but I ﬁnd it hard to be—
lieve but what you ma ' be mistaken,” he said.

"Young,r man ” said he Hindoo rravcly, “I
am never mistaken, when I tell you have seen
a thing. Listen. You have never been in In
dia, or on would know that there axe adepts
there, w 0 can leave the body, after a long pro-
bation, and penetrate the secrets of the uni-
verse. I am of that privileged order. Listen
again. A few days ago, men came to me, in
the style of the overfed Briton who lords it over
India, to find out for them who it was that was
terrifying the people of this city. I knew nothin
of the man, and told them so, but they ' '
that I must, and I had to turn them out of my
house at last. When they were gone their

uestion remained with me, and I resova to

d out for mfyself who was this rson, that
has so long do ed the police and he soldiers,
and every one who has come after him. I went
to my chamber.

In the course of my studies, I found that you
Were closely intertwined with this man, and
that the Duke of Norfolk was also implicated
with him. Then I thought I would go and see
the Duke himself, and ask him what was the
reason of this. I went at once, and came into
his chamber, without askin his sen'ants.”

“But how did you get t ere?” asked Geo
in a stupor of amazement. “ The men w d
gover let you in, without all sorts of formali-

es.

Rain Mandana waved his hand.

“I went there without their seeing me. No
matter how. Enough that I did it. I found
the duke dead in his chair, as I tell you, and if
you wish to secure the will of whic I spoke,
and be the duke in fact, as well as name, you
will ﬁnd it in the drawer of the desk, that
stands by the side of the dead body.”

George Howard stared at Rani Mandana, in-
credulously.

“ I cannot believe but I must be dreaming.
Are on sure of what you say?”

“ have told you, and if you do not choose to
take advantage of what I intrust to on, so as
to defeat the lot that has been made deprive
you of your 'tanco, it will prove that you
are not worthy to be the duke," said the Hindoo
quietly. “Look out of that window, and tell
me if that isnot your brother that is coming
hither?”

George turned to the window to look out.

“ No, ’ he said turning round.

And then to his unutterable amazement Ram
Mundane. was gone!

CHAPTER XXV.
THE REGGAE DUKE.

Tan Hindoo had vanished into thin air, orhad
stolen from the room, with such marvelous si-
lence and celeri , that he had not heard him, in
thotwoseconds tithadtakenhimtoturnto
the window, and back again.

Determined to ascertain whether he had been
cheated b some cunning mountebank trick, the
W est rushed out of the room, and called

ut‘ivyhto Spring:

ich way did that ignentleman go?”

The Gypsy stared at h

“ Gentleman, your honor? There ain’t no
entlen'ian come out, saving and excepting your
onor.

“ No, no, I mean the dark man that you sent
in just now,” said George im tiently.

8 ring assumed an expressmn of absolute fear.

“ Vhy ain’t he in there still?" he asked.

“ No, 0 has disa red. You must have
seen him pass on. ch wa did he come?”

Spring ifte. up his hand to eaven solemnly.

“There ain’t been nobody by my post, I can
take my oath, our honor. If the gent went out
of our sight, must be in there still.”

hen George went back and searched the little
lodge in which he had his quarters, with the re-
sult that. there was no trace of the visitor to be
found. and he reluctantly came to the conclusion
that Ram Mandana was actually gone.

The occurrence startled him more than any-
thing eke could have done. For the ﬁrst time,
he remembered what the visitor had. 
aboutthodeathoftheolddukemnd he

Shores; rodetoLondon stones,
anddrew reinat the housahehad visited once

on.
Everything looked the same as over, and It-

 

 

 

vis opened the door recogmzmg' ' him with more
-t than he had shown him at his last visit.

“ Is the duke at home?” asked Geo .

“ ‘Is grace his at ’onie, sir—leastwise ’is grace
ain’t 11 yet.”

" Di he sleep in the library?” asked the visitor
hastily.

Jarvis stared at him, as if surprised.

“ Yes, sir—that is—‘ow did you know it?”

“ Never mind how I know it,” replied George.
“I inn his next of kin, and am going to the li.
Mary at once. I know the way. ’

And before the startch ﬂunk ' could stop him,
he had passed along the broad ll, and laid his
hand on the door of the library.

Jarvis followed him, crying, in a whisper of
great agitation:

“ For God‘s sake, sir, don’t go bin. ’18 ‘ace
’11 send hevei'y man in the ’onse a-1.a.ckin’ 1f ’e‘s
disturbed, aforo ’e rings.”

But George put him aside, and entered the
room. The moment he got there, he saw the
old duke, in his chair, as upright as if he was
alive; but the whiteness of his face and the drop
of the jaw showed that Ram Mundane. had told
the truth.

The remier duke of England was dead. The
debauc of the revious night had been too
much for him. e had deﬁed the doctor’s or-
ders and a stroke of apoplexy had taken him
from the midst of all his wealth.

Jarvis saw thedeadfaoe too,andatoncetook
in the whole situation.

Inoommonwithallthesarvants, hehadknown
that George was the next heir to the dukedom,
and, with all the servile instinct of the true
British ﬂunky, he said:

“ Oh, your grace, ’00 would ’a' thought it!
It’s a your grace come when you did: for
the poor 0 d genﬂemnmade ’is will, last night.”

George, more startled at the news, which con-
ﬁrmed what his mysterious visitor had told
him, looked round the room, and saw the very
desk at which he had been warned, standing by
the dead man.

“G0 at once and summon the coroner," he
said, in a low tone; and as Jarvis left the room,
anxious to curry favor with the new duke, the
youm‘g man cast a swift glance round, and went
strai ttothe drawer he had been told of, by
the indoo.

It was the work of a moment to open it, and
he saw a parchment, lying on the top of a num-
ber of ot er papers, indorsed:

“ My last Will and Testament. Nonrenx."

He trembled all over with excitement. The
temptation was terrible. If Ram Mandana had
told him the truth in one thing, he must have
done it in all, and the Hindoo had told him that
thewillleftallthe ropertyinthehandsof the
miflﬁednh“ 1"“ in h am, he Woe

y owmg w e 0
paper, and the ﬁrst words stared him in the
face:

“To my beloved klnsman, Oliver Howard, com-
monly said to be the son of George Augustus
Howard, of Selby.“

Then came a clause, which told how the old
 “s “Weieran

in ‘ ' misspent e ' or
many years whether he shouid do what he ﬁnally

d.

Hehadintondedtoleavethe boyaportion of
his wealth the rest to gotothetitle, but the will
closed with these words:

‘- But inasmuch as my next heir. seem-ding to law,
has insulted me. by saying that he would not be a
them”. 5;: ﬂdmc‘t‘a‘é ‘ohﬁbiwnmm €355.”
Howard is not admitted to my funeral." '

The will was signed and witnemed, and the
daioattachodshowedthat ithadbeen executed
“if ‘h" mm“ Path; m...

e y the (p20 _ of the 
when he heard steps at the r and the
moment Oliver Howard rushed into the room,
his dark face ﬁndied with anger.

“ Aha!”he cried, ashe saw George. “ So
arethere, are you,trang to stonlthewill
makes all thingseven tween us? But you can-
not do it now, sir. Give me the will.”

And,ashespoke,helaidhishandonhis
sword, and half drew it.

George Howard stood there, facing the man
he had always felt could not be his hmﬂser, but

ce trembled as he said:

i Olive. I veitup
cheerfully to on. on vs the inc of it at
last; but had known this before, you mightnot
have had so much reason to hate me.”

Oliver made no answer till he had the will .

safein hiahands,whenhofoldeditonrefnny

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ThmGeorgoHowa' DukoofNorfdkanda
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18

Spring-Heel Jack.

 

be the undisputed master, while the other,

with a low, evil laugh, clapped his hand on

the paper in his breast, and said to himself:
“ At last we are even, proud gorgio.”
And he spoke in the Gypsy tongue.

CHAPTER XXVI.
'rnE KIN u’s OFFER.

THE excitement and scandal in London,
when the news spread of the death of the old
Duke of Norfolk, and the fact that the new
duke was an actual beggar, were immense.

Ilad there been any way of upsettin the
will, the sympathy of the entire no ility
would have one with George in his efforts
to break it; ut the new duke, when he was
approached on the subject, by one eminent
lawyer, who wanted tie chance of a great
suit on a fat estate, absolutely refused to
have anything to do with a contest.

“ No, ’ he said, when he was advised to do
his utmost, as a ‘duty to his order,’ “the
duke had a ri ht to do what he would with
his owu, and am not the man to try and
rob my brother.”

Then the lawyer remarked that “it was by
no means certain that ()liver was his brother
at all," and called attention to the crculiar
way in which the will spoke 0 him as
“ commonl called the son of George Augus-
tus Howard: of Selby,"

“ It is quite likely,” said the lawyer, “that
the late duke knew more of the family than
you think. It has been a matter of common
notoriet that you are very unlike Oliver
Howar , and there are not wanting those
who insinuate that there was something
wrong about the time when he was born.”

But George refused to have anythin to do
with casting a public doubt on his Emily,
and told the lawyer:

“I never felt that he was my brother; and
had things been different from what they
are, Imight have kept on thinking so; but
this changes all. The duke must have known
who he was, or he would not have left him
all his fortune. If I were to dispute it now,
people would say that I did it out of re-
venge. The Howards of Selb are not the
men to creep in at a hole,i they cannot
walk in at the o n door of the house.”

So the old Du e of Norfork was buried in
the parish church of Amndel Castle, and the
new duke went about his business, an ano-
maly among all the nobles of England, as
the “beggar duke."

The king himself was pleased to say pub-
licly that; if his grace chose to enter a pro-
test in the courts against the extraordinary
will, by which the bad duke had disgraced
his own order so publicly, his majesty would
order a special rule in the courts, which
would put the property where it had always
been, in possession of the title.”

The king had been heard to say this, on
the ver next day after the funeral, when
the wil of the late duke had been made
public. and his maissty had said it at Hamp-
ton Court, when 3 was taking his usual
evening walk.

He said it in the hearing of Rose Reid,
amon others, for she was in the garden with
LadygBalcarras, with whom she had been
sta mg ever since the day when her father
tol her that she must “ give up George for-
ever.”

 

this young man she turned very pale, but
only said:

“As you please, father.”

There was a great flutterintr at her heart,
but she suppressed all outward sign thereof,
and the old eneral went away to the Tower
with the sat face of his daughter haunting
him, but with no fear that she would disobey
him.

Rose was very silent, but, when Lady
Balcarras asked her to go out in the garden,
she said listlessly:

“As well there as anywhere."

The garden was full of people, that even-
ing after the funeral, for the day had been
hot, and the change was agreeable. The
king was unusually gracious, and the people
were full of the new scandal, which was
discussed by every one in Rose‘s hearing,
with no knowledge that she had any connec-
tion with the new duke, who had been left in
so singular a position.

When Rose heard the king say what he
did she ﬂushed deeply, and Lady Balcarras
felt the arm which rested on her own
tremble.

The old lad cast a glance of warning at
her charge an whis )ered:

“Take care, chil . Nobody knows now;
but they are quick to notice things at court."

Rose was very pale, but she managed to
whisper back to her chaperon:

“ Have no fears. No one shall know from
me.”

Then some one said aloud:

“ They say that the new duke is actually
an ofﬁcer of the guards in this place.”

The person who had spoken was near the
king, and his majesty turned in his usual
wa '.

‘i Eh, what's that? what's that? Who said
that? Who is he? Where is he?"

The speaker was Lord Balcarras, who had
an ofﬁce near the king, and he said at once:

“Please, your majesty, it is only what. I
have heard, that the new duke was on guard
in this palace only yesterday morning, and
that it was he who met Spring-Heel Jack
in the gardens here, and nearly caught the
rufﬂan.’

“Eh, eh, that’s very strange,” said the
king in his jerky wa . “Where is he now,
and where is the brot er that has had such
good luck ‘1”

“Mr. Oliver Howard was on guard here,”
said Lord Balcarras, “but I hear that, the
moment the will was read, he resigned his
commission in the re 'ment. and has taken
up his abode in No olk House. But the
new duke has retained his place, and, so
I am informed by the commandant, he is
actually to be on guard here again to-night."
And, just as the speaker ﬁnished, the
people near the king heard the regular tramp
of the relief, and saw the gleam of be onets
in the sunset, as the men ﬁled on their way
to their diﬂerent posts.

The king seemed to be much moved at the
words of his old servant.

“ Wh , why, this is very sin lar,” he
said. “it won t do at all to havet e premier
duke of En land standing guard like a mere
private gent eman, who has nothing but his
sword to maintain him. Lord Balcarras, go
and tell him that I wish to see him at once."
Lady Balcarras felt the arm of Rose Reid,

 

Since that day she had not seen George,
the visit of Ram Mandana and the scandal of z
the duke‘s will having taken place on thei
same morning.

What the accusatiOn against George had!
been, which had induced the sudden change 3
of her father’s determination, the poor irl 1
did not know, nor did the general'otfer icr |
any more information on the subject than.
that “he had heard reports from Lady}
Balcarras that rendered it impossible thatl
she should ever have any further intercourse
with her lover.”

In those days parents and children in
England stood on a very different footing,
from what they have done since and else-
where. Passive obedience was reached in
ever church and at every fireside, and the .
chi] ren were taught that they should be

ided by their parents in every matter,

owever their own inclinations were con-

cerned.

Rose Reid had been brou ht up in the
strictest of this school. and be ieved implicit-
ly in the wisdom of her father.

When he told her that she must give up

 

| king, by keeping on, talking warmly of the

1 full uniform, and this person

, never

as it lay on her own, tremble more than ever,
and gave it a warning inch; but the old
lord had gone at once on is errand, and the

“shameful way in which the new duke had
been treated.” saved Rese from being noticed
by any of the sharp-eyed courtiers.

In a little while after, the old lord was seen
coming back, with a tall young otiicer, in

e formally

took to the king. saying:

“ The Duke of Norfolk. your majesty."

The king looked on the young man with
much interest as he stood there, and the eyes
of the courtiers followed those of the non-
arch with equal interest.

It was not every day thatugemople could
see such a sight as that—a d e and a beg-

gar.

“ Well, well, duke, this is a strange affair,”
the king be n, kindly. “ I have heard all
about it. an on my soul, sir, it is an outrage
and on ht to be remedied. Buchathin was

heard of before. The estate 5 ould
have been entailed so‘that no such scandal

)

will can be u set. I am sure of that, per-
fectly sure. hat are you going todo to
remedy the wrong?”

“Nothing, your majesty,” was the quiet
reply. “ It is not for me to rob my brother,
when he has had better luck than my own.
The only thing that can be done, is for me
to drop the title I have not the means to
maintain, and let the Duchy of Norfolk per-
ish, as other duchies have gone down in
English history before.”

“But it shall not be," the king said oh-
stinately. “ It is unheard of. I must make
up for it in some way, if the courts will not
give you justice. 'lhe OﬁiCe .of a duke has
its duties as well as its privileges; and the
old duke had no right to put the next heir in
such a position as he has. You must take
office, if there is no way else to make things
right. There are many places where the
salary is good, though not enough to make
the show the ﬁrst duke in England should
do. In the mean time, you must not go on
guard any more. It is a scandal to the
realm, and must not be allowed. I insist
on it that you do not perform any more
guard duty. ’

The beggar duke bowed low.

“Your majesty must be obeyed; but I
may venture to represent that it is no dis-
grace to any noble in the land to guard the-
sacred person of your majesty against foes,
without or within. ’

The king could not help smiling at the-
ﬂattery, so well was it worded.

George pursued, seeing that the king made
no answer:

“ Besides, there is a man, or monster, no
one yet knows which, that has frightened
your majesty‘s sub'ects ni h to death, es-
pecially ladies. This scoun rel, whoever he
is, has been daring enough to penetrate into
the very recesses of this palace, and Iwish
to have the honor of hunting him down.
Your majest can do me no more disfavor
than to forbi me to pursue this search.”

“ Oh, well, well, if that is all you want,
there is no harm in that,” said the king hast-
ily. “But you must not be known as the
mere lieutenant that you seem to be now. I

guard, with a special office, and a salary out
of the privy purse, if you are too proud to
take anyth ng else. In the mean time, duke,
what suspicion have on, as to whether this
audacious ruthan wil come here again to-
night?"

“I have. no such idea," replied the beggar
duke quietly. “ But, if your majesty should
hear, in the morning, that he had come, and
that no one was ready for him, it would be a
reﬂection on me ,° so that the least I can do is
to take what precautions I can to prevent
such a thing.”

“ Very well said; very well said," observed
the king, in his jerk way. “ Well. well, do
what you will, s r, 0 what you will, and in
the morning come straight to me, and report
what has been done. Goodcvening.”

So saying, the eccentric monarch turned
on his heel, and went off, while the courtiers,
who had witnessed the peculiar favor in
which the new duke was held, and who saw
that, if he wished, anything, legal or the re-
verse, would be done to make him as rich as
he was noble, crowded round George, and
be an to ﬂatter him in every way.

at, to their surprise, the new duke scem~
ed to set but little value on their ﬁne
speeches, and turned from them all to Lad
Balcarras, who was nearly the lowest in ran
there, to make the lady a compliment, and
ask after her health.

And, still more to the surprise of the cour-
tiers, Lady Balcarras actually spoke with the
most freezin coldness to the new duke, and
the oung la yby her side seemed tobe over-
whe med with confusion when he spoke to
her, answered him in monos Babies, and
took her departure with the old lady, with
hardly the ceremony of a farewell.

" CHAPTER XXVII.

'rns. annrr‘s anvrcn.
Gnoaon ilowsnn, as we must continue
to call him, till he occupies a less equivocal
position, was too much astonished at the re»
ception he had experienced from the Scotch
poems, to be able to ask her anything, be-
ore she went away to her pavilion, with

 

 

could have happened. As it is, the infamous

oso. . .
He took no notice of the aﬂront in public.

shall appoint you the commandant of all my .

7 0-1-.-.“ a..-” -...—_. . 

 

 

 , ﬁbwncw-” -_.;_._.._.. 

J

...Z...,..§’  ’:

 

Spring-Heel Jack. w

 

 

though all the courticrs had seen it, and had
be u to whisper together about it.

ic excused himself from the group, on
the ground that he had to see to his guard,
and went the round of the sentries, seeing
that they were on the alert, and had their
guns loaded, for the possible visit of the
monster that had alarmed the palace once
before.

Then he went to the simple quarters he
occupied when he ﬁrst came to the palace,
and sat down to reﬂect on his singular fate.

it seemed as if the very mockery of mis-
fortune had come on him. Had he been
simple George Howard and a beg ar, it
would have been no more than he ha been
expecting; but to have the ﬁrst title in Eng-
land thrust on him, with the knowledge that
he could never assume it in ublic, without
humiliation, was a bitter thing ior him to
bear.

He could think of no way in which the
humiliation could be avoided. The law had
made him what he was, and that could not
be undone. Then the thought of the way in
which Lady Balcarras and Rose had just
treated him came to him, and he groaned to
himself, as he leaned his head on his hand:

“I might have known it. They all turn
against me. The unfortunate have no
friends, and surely I am unfortunate
enough.”

“ There is no misfortune that a brave man
can not turn to g ,” said a voice close be-
hind him, and the youn ofﬁcer, with a vio-
lent start, turned roun , and saw the Min-
doo adept, who had come to visit him in
such a mysterious way once before, seated
on a chair close b him.

Ram Mandana ooked at him as calmly as
if his coming had been the most common-
place thing in the world.

George had been quite alone in his
quarters. The room in which he was sitting
was in a, remote part of the palace, and only
to be approached by coming1 through several
others; but there was Ram andana, looking
at him, with his mild eyes and grave, solemn
face.

How had he got there?

The thou ht was in his mind, but unutter-
ed, when I m Mandana said, just as if he
had asked the question audibly:

“ It is no use to ask. 1 am icre. Let that
sufﬁce. If I had not felt friendly toward
you, I should not have come.”

George gazed at him with wonder.

“Strange, mysterious man that you are!"
he exclaimed; “what gives you an interest
in me, and what power is it that enables you
to appear to me, when and where you
please?"

Ram Mandana smiled.

“ I have told you once, that it is useless to
ask that of me. I came to aid you once be-
fore, but on would not be aided. I told
you that t e will which did you an injustice
was in a lace where you could have laid
hands on it; and yet you allowed another to
take it from you. and rob you of your rights.
Why did you do such a thing?"

George colored slightly.

“Since you are able to read my thoughts,
you on ht to be able to tell that yourself,” he
said rat er stiﬁiy.

He remarked that Ram Mandana no longer
wore the dress of a gentleman of the time, in
which he had made his appearance before.

The Hindoo was attired in a long Oriental
robe, of some dark, rich stuff, that looked
like a Cashmere shawl. and was (girt round
the waist with a heavy cord of gol .,

l-le remarked, further, that there was some-
thing hazy and undeﬁned about the whole

- ﬁgure, in the dim light of the room, that re?
minded him of the stories he had heard of ,

ghosts. He almost thought that his visitor
must be a ghost, from the way he had come.

Ram Mandana bowed his head slowly at
the remark he made. and answered:

“It is true that I am able to read the
thoughts of men, when I can see them. face
to face, and inspect their inward parts; but
I was not there when you did that foolish
thi . Therefore I ask you. wherefore you
letltge prize that was in your hands escape?”

George drew himself up.

"The reason I gave up the will my

brother was that I knew the old duk
right to do what he would with his own;
and it was not for me to commit a dishonor-
able action, to enrich myself. ”

e da,

I “ The reason was a good one, according to
1 our English notions of honor—l think that
i is what you call it,” began the Ilindoo grave-
ly, when George interrupted:

“ And what should you call it?"

The Hindoo smiled.

“I should call it—but never mind what.
1 Let me tell you the story first.”

i Then he went on in the same quiet, unim-
‘ passioned way as before:
, "There was once a king reigned in my
. country who was a great warrior in his day;
‘ but, as he grew old he lost his senses and bc-
3 came as a beast of the ﬁeld. His lawful heir
s was a young prince, who had the love of all
I the people, and he was a great warrior. But
v he had an enemy in the palace, who took the
old king, when he saw that he had lost his
senses, and breathed lies into his cars, till
, the king, being in his dotage, gave awa to
,i the bad man who had his ear, all his klng-
l dom. And when the old king died, and the
; people thought that they would have for
3 ing one who could lead them to battle, they
l found that they were given in his place a
thief, who had stolen what did not belon
lto him. And the people rose up and sai
!that the thief should not rei n over them,
,and they killed him, and too the young
- prince, who was the rightful heir, to be in
5 his place. That is the way they do things in
I my country; but, in yours, it seems the peo-
; ple are such fools they do not know What to
do, while the youn prince has not courage
enough to do it for t em.”

George had been growing red while the
other spoke; but he regained sharply:

“ Your stor is at ault. This is no mat-
ter of a king om, but an estate; and, had I
destro ed the will. as you insinuate I should
have one, I should have been liable to have
been scouted as a dishonorable man for the
rest of my days.”

“Whereas, now you will be called a fool,”
was the concise reply of the Hindoo, at
which the young oﬁicer colored more deeply
than before, as he retorted:

“I, would rather be called a fool than a
lltnsye, any day; and this country is not

n a I!

Ram Mandana shrugged his shoulders.

“You are incorrigible,” he said quietly;
“ but you will come to your senses some day.
You have for a long time suspected that the
man, called your brother, is no relation to
you, and yet you have let him rob you of
your inheritance.”

“It is true that I thought so once,” said
the beggar duke, ﬂushing again; “ but I am
convinced that I must have done him a
wrong. After all, I have no evidence save
the fact that we are not like each other in
face or feature; but the old duke, m kins-
man, must have known, and he won] never
have given away the estates to one not of our
blood. In the end the must go with the
title to the same man. am but one, and it
is better that I should give way.”

Ram Mandana eyed him with an air as if
he had been some strange animal.

“I have heard, Mr. Howard,” he said,
“ that there are lunatics among you English-
men, on account of the fogs that envelop
your island for so many months in the year;

roborated. The old duke, as you ought to
know, was a bad man, who would stick at
nothing to have his reven e, and you had in-
sulted him once. The eenest reven e he
could take was what he has taken. He ew
well enough that nothing could sting you,
like being a pan *r and a duke, at the same
time. But he a so had his revenge to get on
others, and especially on the nobles of the
court that he disliked most. What revenge
could there be, like that of, one day, having
a. nameless man, come out of a wayside
ditch, put over them all 1”

George stared at him.

" I fail to understand you,” he said.

“I do not hope that you will understand
all I say. But remember this. WW1: three

: Norfolk and! come into the cam man; and it
| depends on you who the man shall be. Who
is that coming in at the door?”

George turned to see, and, beholding noth-

 

ing, turned a in to his guestb when Ram
Handana h vanished, as if e had never

existed! ,
l Full of wonder and awe at the mysteries
that seemed to surround him, the young duke

but I never expected to ﬁnd the story cor-'

days momma titlaandmamofthsDubagf

 

hastily caught up a lamp and searched the
premises, to discover the way his visitor had
escaped.

There was not a trace that any one had
been there at all, and George came to the re-
luctant conclusion that he must have been
dreaming.

To clear his brain of the whirling ideas
that ﬁlled it, he went out into the garden, to
visit the posts of the sentries.

lie found that all had been quiet, and that
the clocks had just struck eleven. The new
guard went on at midnight, and he retired to
his room to wait for the hour. There was a
strange sense of uneasiness about him as he
came forth again, and found the new relief
going on. The night was darker than usual,
and a heavy thunder-cloud hung over the
palace.

As the clocks run out the stroke of twelve,
he heard a shot, at t e other extremity of the
palace garden.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
ALARMS. _

THE shot came from a lonely post, not far
from the river, where the grounds of the
palace join the expanse of Bushey Park.‘

The report startled, the soldiers who were
parading for the guard, and there was a
sli ht movement in the ranks, which their
0 cer checked with the stern order:

“Steady therel Right face! Forward, at
the double-quick, march!"

Then the whole uard started out at a slow
run toward the p ace where they had heard
the shot, George running ahead of them, and
peering eager y throu‘ h the darkness, in
ho s of seeing something.

ut when a second shot came to enliven
the monotony, the trot became a run. and
the whole of the soldiers dashed on, muskets
clutched tightly, their eyes searching the
darkness, ready to ﬁre at anything they
might see.

he men were excited and an y, for they
had been teased most unmercifu ly about the
ghost that had scared them all, and they
were anxious to make up for the dis e.

They traversed the rounds hastily, and,
as they came to the p ace whence the shot.
had proceeded, they saw a third ﬂash, and
distinguished, by the light, the ﬁgure of one
of the sentries, who had his musket at his
shoulder, and was ﬁring right out toward
Bushey Park.

What he was ﬁrin at, remained a mystery
till they got near him, when Howa ,who
saw nothing, called out angrily:

“ What are you ﬁring at, sentry?"

The answer came in an unexpected form,
for the man shouted out:

“ Halt or I ﬁre! Who goes there?"

It was evident that he had not recognized
the voice of his ofﬁcer, or was determined to
take all the privilege of a sentry at night, by
pretending not to know it. .1 ‘

“ Who goes there?" he called out again, as
illici- sergeant of the guard gave the order to

t.

The rep] was iven:

“ Relief 3" g

“ Halt, relief i Advance one, with tho-
countersignl" cried the sentry; and the ser-

eant went forward, and, after a short col-
oqu with the man, called out angrily:

“ dvance, relief ! Only a confounded re-
cruit, scared at nothing."

Howard, who had remained behind with
the lard, went forward here and asked: ‘

“ ho is this man that is alarming the
place by ﬁring at nothing?”

And then, when the sergeant ﬂashed the
light of his dark-lantern-on the delinquent
sentry. he was surprised to see the dark face,
and black, gleaming eyes of the Gypsy
Spring. whom he thought safe in his rooms,
as his orderlv. ,

" What do you mean by being ’here,
Sprin ?" he demanded angrily.

Spr ng saluted.

" One of the men was sick, your honor,
and the sergeant took me out of my bed to
take his place. I ain‘t never stood and in
no sich lace as this afore; an there's
things gom’ on ’cre, that ain't what they
on ht to beﬁ’ '

‘ What did you fire at?" asked George.

He felt very angry with the man, and st

 

he had'sem an

 

“ Idon't knoﬂ$€t I ﬁred at; but I know:

did not want to treat him with injustiooﬂf‘

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Spring-Heel Jack.

 

 

it couldn‘t ha‘ been nothin’ nateral," said the

Gypsy sullenly. “First thing I knowed, I

’eard ’im, a-comin’ this way, and I ’ollered to

'im to ’alt, and ’e didn't ’alt, so i ups and lets

’im 'ave it. And then ’0 goes hup in a ﬂame

of ﬁre, for all the world like a ﬂash of

lio'litnin’, yer honor; and that’s all I knows

o it.”
0 The description was that of the mysterious

being that had puzzled them so long; and

George asked eagerly:

“ V hich wav did it go?"

Spring was in the act of pointing over to-
ward Bushey Park, when a blinding ﬂash of
real lightnin r made everything round them
as clear as day, and it was almost instantly
followed by a clap of thunder that seemed
to shake the earth.

Then down came the rain in torrents, and
the darkness became intense, in the
midst of which the heard a shout for
hel , not far off, in the tones of one of the
sol iers.

The next moment, out of the darkness in
the direction they had heard the shout. came
the well-remembered ﬁgure of Springdieel
Jack, in a ﬂame of ﬁre, running and leaping
in the way the ﬁgure had always been seen
before, and from which it had acquired the
name it here.

It was running swiftl
into the recesses of
Geor e hastily cried out:

“ ire at him! Ten pounds to the man that
brings him down!” '

Then came an irregular volley from the
men, in the midst of which the ﬁ re van—
ished into the darkness The rain, ightning
and thunder, became‘so fierce that ursuit
was out of the question, and they con (1 only
let the disturber go, satisﬁed that he had
.done no damage this time, so far as they
knew.

Howard went back to his humble quarters,
wet to the skin, and was about to enter them
when it occurred to him to take a look round
the pavilion, where the Balcarras family and
Rose resided.

He went that way in the darkness and
tempest, and had arrived ust under the win~
dow from which he ha last seen Rose,
when, to his intense astonishment and in-
credulous amazement, up from the ground.
beneath the window, started the ill-omened
ﬁgure of the monster and ﬂashed a ﬂame of
ﬁre in his face. '

But this time the young officer was pre-
pared for the intruder.

He ducked his head to avoid the ﬂame the
other cast at him and dashed forward, clutch-
ing at the ﬁgure, without time to draw his
sword.

The next moment Sprin ~Hecl Jack and
he were close grappled toget er.

It was a man that he had hold of. and he
was both strong and active, beyond the com-

’mon.

Howard was strong and a good wrestler;
but he found that he had met his match at
last: for the other twined like an eel in his
arms, and wrestled with the fury of de-
spair. ,

After the ﬁrst ﬂame that he had sent into
his assailant’s face, he seemed to be incap-
able of further mischief in that way; but he
made such a tremendous st gle, that
GeOrge could not t on him the gr p that he
was trying for, w ile the other had gradual-

got his hands up, and grasped George

round the throat.

In the silence and darkness—for the guard
was nowhere near, and the Ivl'oung ofﬁcer dis-
dained to call for help—t e two struggled
to ether like madmen.

hen George felt something like a knife,

cutting at the side of his throat, and in the
instinct of pain he let go his hold for an in-
stant.

He tried to guard himself from further
harm by drawing back and delivering a
blow with all his orce, at the face of the foe
he had met.

But, in the instant that he let go, the other
did the same, and ﬂed like a deer in the dark-
mess and rain.

George pursued for a few steps, and
then saw the futility of what he was
doi . He stopped and heard the retreat-
,ir.‘ ,ootsteps” rapidly growing fainter and

across their path
ushey Park, and

‘Tnenhebe

CHAPTER XXIX.
MORE ursrnnrss.

his senses; but is head swam and he felt so
weak that he could not stand on his feet.
As he sunk at the side of the house, he
heard nothing but the retreating footsteps of
the mysterious visitor, and the patter of the
rain on the gravel walk.
The soldiers had gone to their posts, and
the struggle in which he had been engaged
had been conducted so silently that no one
had noticed it, as far as he could know.
There he was, by the side of the brick
wall, under the window from which he had
seen Rose last, and he felt the blood dripping
from a wound in his neck, how severe he
knew not.
If Spring-Heel Jack should come back, he
reﬂected, he would not be able to defend
himself; for he began to think he was severe-
ly hurt. perhaps fatally.
Iie disdained to call for help, and lay there
at the side of the house, in the drenching
rain, till he began to feel his weakness pass-
ingaway.
hen he rose slowly, supportin‘r himself
by the side of the house and trie to walk
away.
The ﬁrst step made him stagger, and be
nearly fell again.
A second rest and a second attempt en-
abled him to get up and slowly walk away
to his quarters, where he arrived and stag-
gered in, ﬁnding the lamp he had left on the
table still burning, while the shower that had
come down. so opportuncly for Spring-Heel
Jack, was passing away to the south, and
the stars were shining through the rifts in
the dark clouds.
It was all the oung ofﬁcer could do to get
to a chair and throw himself down, without
fainting outri ht; but, after a little rest, he
felt better an was able to examine himself
by the light of the lamp, and ﬁnd just how
much he had been hurt.
A long gash had been made at the side of
his neck, close to the jugular vein, and the
blood had run down, soaking his uniform;
but on the cut itself it was already drying,
and he thought that the worst was over.
It occurred to him that it was stran e that
his orderly Spring had been taken by t 10 ser-
geant of the guard for duty, and he went to
the room where he had left Spring asleep,
before he went out.
There, to his great astonishment, he saw
the Gypsy himself, stretched out on his rude
pallet. ast asleep.
Geor e stirred him, and Spring woke up
instant y, without rubbing his eyes.
f lIIIe sat up on his pallet, and asked respect-
u y:
“Does your honor want anything of me?"
And he saluted as he spoke.
“Yes,” was the reply; “ how did you come
out of here, and go on post?"
Spring looked bewildered. and got out of
bed, to stand before his ofﬁcer and salute

n.

“ Your honor is pleased to ’ave a little fun,”
he said slowly. “I ain’t been out of bed
since your honor sent me there. Leastwise,
not to my knowledge, that is "

George looked at the Gypsy, who returned
the aze with perfect calmness.

“ 0 you mean to say that you were not
on post b the edge of Bushey Park, and
that you did not ﬁre at something, and, after
that, tell me that the sergeant had taken you
from your bed, and made you stand guard?"
The tone in which George asked the
question showed that. he was angry: but he
was too weak to indulge it, as he would have
otherwise

But Spring answered steadily:

“Not to my knowledge, your honor, I
ain’t done nothin' of the sort."

George bit his lips.

“Very well, then. 0 and ﬁnd the doctor
at once, and tell him that I have had a cut,
and need his help."

Spring at once began to throw on his
clot es with great haste. and George went
back to the table by which he had been sit-
ting. and thought over what motive the Gyp-
sy could have to tell the audacious lie to
which he had just iven utterance.

Before he cou d settle it in his mind,

 

18 star.
I to feel dizzy, and fell down
by the wall 0 the house.

said faintly:

THE injury that Howard had received was
not severe enou h to deprive him entirely of

“Go quick. I am hurt.”

Then he was left alone, and the sight of a
bottle of wine on the table, where it had
been left since his dinner, reminded him
that he was still very weak, and that a little
might revive him for awhile.

With a trembling hand he poured out a
glassful and swallowed it, feeling almost in-
stantly revived and invigorated.

By the time he had become more com-
posed, the step of the doctor was heard on
the walk outside, and Tatham entered the
room, saying, in his jolly way, as he came
in:

“Well, well, and what has happened now
to my most noble duke?”

His face grew graver as he saw the pale-
ness of the young oilicer, and he examined
the wound in silence.

When he had ﬁnished the examination he
said:

“ You won't die this time; but a little
more and the jugular vein would have been
cut, and it would have been all up with you.
As it is, (you have had a narrow escape, but
the woun is a triﬂe, except for the loss of
blood.”

“It makes me feel weak enough.” said
Howard, rather ruefully.

“That is because you did not take it in
time. If I had been here when it was ﬁrst
made, the bleeding could have been sto ped.
By the by, how did you manage to et it?”

Howard motioned to Spring to eave the
room, and then whispered to t e doctor:

“ Spring-Heel Jack was here again, and I
had a grapple with him. He is a man, and
a strong and skillful one, too. He nearly
throttled me, and he must have had a knife
with him, too."

Tatham listened attentively.
“That sconndrel will be caught some
day," he said; “and when he is it ought to
go hard with him. What in the world can
set him to the antics he has played all round
London? It has the air of an insane persOn,
for there seems to be no motive for the actions
save malice.”
“There is some motive, malice or what
not; but I don’t think he can be insane. He
acts with too much method for that. No,
doctor, he seems to have some special spite
against me and some one else. Remember
that he has never made his a pearance lately
unless I am in the lace, an that he follows
and persecutes the ady that—"
Here George stopped, for he remembered
that the physician was not ac usinted with
his feelings toward Rose Rei , and he did
not wish to bring her name into the affair
without necessity.
But Tatham had not been at the Tower for
nothing, and he had used his eyes and earsto
good purpose while there.
“Look here, Howard.” he said. “You
will excuse me for calling you that, but
really I can’t et bring myself to call you by
a title which hear that you are not going to
assume."
“You are right there, doctor. It would
be an absurd thing in me to take the title of
the premier duke of England, and have
nothing in the world to maintain it but my
sword as a simple gentleman."
“That's right, and shows that you are
worthy to be a duke indeed. But what I
was going to say is this: I know more than
yen think about your aﬁairs, and the we
in which this man, whoever he is. has fo -
lowed you lately. Wh don’t you marry
Rene Reid and become e duke in name, as
well as fact. She has a fortune that will put
you in a good position, and her father would
not say you nay now. It was one thing for
the simple lieutenant to offer himselﬂ and
another for you to ask his dau hter to be-
come. the ﬁrst duchess in Englan ."
“M dear doctor, the thing is impossible,
now. Tf I were mean enough to ask a woman
who loves me, to support me for the rest of
mylife, there are obstacles in the way that
you do not know of. General Reid has been
rejudiced against me by some one, and his
daughter has publicly given me the cut di-
rect.“
The doctor pureed his lips.
“That is strange. Why, I spoke to Reid
about this matter,» not aweek 380: and he
expressed himself as in favor of the match.
Then you were only the next hair, and now

 

Spring came out, and, as he passed, George

you are a duke.”
“ But then I had some expectations, and

 

 

 

 

Spring-Heel Jack.

21

 

now I am a beggar, with nothing between
me and ruin."
“ That is where you are wron .

a great deal between you an ruin.

There is hand was swearing away
The l Romany, and the swarm of little black-

Old Mother Spring was growling over the
pot she was stirring; her gray-headed hus-
in his native

first title in England is worth a good deal. iheaded children that were always running
Why, there are scores of women in the land, ll round under the wheels of the cart, was, to-
who would jump at the chance of becoming ! day, unusually full of Weeping and wailing,

a duchess if the
Rom Reid is. he fact is, Howard. if on
are a wise man, you will go to General I eid
and make him a formal offer. I will guar-
antee that he does not say ‘ no.’ "

Howard had sunk into a brown study,
while the doctor was speaking; but when the
other had ﬁnished, he raised his head and
told him what had occurred that very even-
mg.

Tatham did not seem to be at all surprised,
but made light of the snub that Lady Bal-
carras had administered, and the result of his
visit was that he put George in a frame of
mind much more comfortable than when he
had come in, and went away, leaving the
young officer with an injunction to goto
sleep and forget all about Spring—Heel Jack
and the rest of his troubles, as soon as he
could.

Sleep has wonderful inﬂuence on the

young; and George woke the next morning I he stared at the ﬁre moodily.

were able to pay for it. as : in consequence of the temper of the elders.

A ver handsome black-eyed Witch of
' twenty, ohn Spring’s wife, was rocking to
and fro, with a baby in her arms, and an-
other girl, of the same regular features and
dark olive skin, with the same splendid, but
wicked-looking eyes, was rocking beside her,
as if in sympathy, while the old woman,
from her ﬁre, dealt them occasional ﬂings,
with a possible intention of comforting them,
but with the result of making them weep
louder than ever.

The cause of the trouble seemed to be that
old Mathias was the only man left in the
camp, the two able-bodied-members of the
male sex, who had formerly been the sup-
port and consolation of the female portion,
havin both taken their departure together.

“ arn‘t it enough that one boy should go
and he a lobster. but my ne hew must do

 

the same?" groaned the elder r. Spring, as
“ J asper’s a

with a confused recollection of the aﬂair of ‘ fool. and, if the ofﬁcers don’t make ’im see

the night before, till it was recalled to his
memor by the si ht of his orderly, Spring,
at the cot of his .

Then he remembered and sent for the
sergeant of the guard, to ﬁnd what had hap-
pened, and whether he had been mistaken
in believing that it was Spring on guard the
night before, when the orderly had denied
being out.

The sergeant of the guard made his ap-
pearance, and surprised thigoung ofﬁcer by
saying that the man that h ﬁred at Spring-
Heel Jack, the night before, was a new re-
cruit, and not Spring, at all. He was ready
to swear to that.

Howard grew angry.

" Then bring the man here at once, that I
may see him," he said. “If that was not
Spring, last night, then it must behis twin
brother.”

The sergeant went away, and soon re-
turned with a man who was, indeed, like
Spring: but as clearly a diﬁerent man.

He was a Gypsy, as one could see from his
face, and the sergeant said:

“ Here’s the man, your honor, that ﬁred at
Sprin -Heel Jack, last night.”

“ hat is your name?" asked George curi-
ouslg.
“ asper Winterbotham, your honor," said
the Gypsy, saluting awkwardly. “ I seen
the th ng a-comin‘ and I thought it were my
doot to ﬁre at it. ’Ope your honor didnt
thin I did wrong. I warn’t the only one
ﬁred.”

George shook his head.

“No, you did right, I suppose. That is
all. You can go.”

And then he lay back in his bed and won-
dered how it came that he had not recognized
the man, the night before. '

The sergeant, whom he had sent for, still
stood att 6 foot of the bed, ﬁdgeting, and
presently asked respectfully:

“ Does your honor want anything more of
me?"

“ N o—yes, sergeant, how long has that
man been in the service?"

“ Only a few days, your honor. ’E were
sent to the company yesterday, and I
wouldn’t ’a’ put ’im on guard if one of the
men ’adn‘t been took bad, andI ’ad to put
some one in ’is place. I ’ope your honor
ain‘t angry with me. The pore bloke didn’t
know it waru’t the thing to ﬁre, without
alarmin’ the gyard fu’st.”

“ No, sergeant, that is all right. You can

0.
E And then the sergeant was gone, and
George had nothing to think of but how
Spring-Heel Jack had foiled him again and

ven him a hurt that was likely to stop him
£0!!! doing duty for some days.

“ But he shall not escape me much
longer," he said aloud.

CHAPTER XXX.
usursrssn nun.

0171‘ on Ham stead Heath, the G
camp, to which pring had come, them;
after he enlisted, was in a state of excite-
ment, amounting to mutiny.

 

it, afore ’e’s a week older, I ain’t no true
Romany. To think that, arter all the advice
I gi‘n them be , they should go and do the
likes of this. t—it’s disgusting, that’s what
it is.”

And the elder Mr. Spring spat in the ﬁre,
to signify the extent of his disgust.

old mother Spring sneered.

“Thou wert the same, when thou wert a
lad,” she said. “ Doan’t I mind the time
when ye took the bounty in three regiments,
when wars were a-goin on, and thou never
ﬁred a shot fur the king? What’s bred i’ th’
bone, woan’t but coom out i’ th’ ﬂesh. I’ll
back John to get out of the ’obble they got
un in; and as fur Jasper, ’e’s my brother’s
son, and the Winterbothams won’t go back
on the Springs, no day i’ th’ week.”

Here t e handsome girl that was rocking
the baby turned her head quickly, with a
sudden cessation of her weeping that was, to
say the least, curious, as showing the lack of
depth to her feelings, and snapped out:

“ Oosh thy ’eads, boath on ’ee. Don’t ’ee
'ear a gorgw a-comin'? Listen to the ’orse-
'oofs.” -

There was an instant stoppage of all signs
of grief in the vasy camp, and the children
were bundled off out of sight, while the keen
sense of bargaining, inherent in the singular
race, was made apparent by the way in
which every one began to put the camp into
the picturesque order in which it was cus-
tomary to receive visitors.

For the hoofs of a horse were indeed audi-
ble on the heath, and a horse meant a man
rich enough to ride a good animal; for there
were few or no farmers left in that part of
En land.

retty soon they saw the horseman over
the tops of the fume-bushes, and he had the
dress and appearance of a rich man.

He wore a laced hat and a riding-suit of
green velvet. while his animal was a hunter,
of blood and bone that made old Mathias say
to himself as he saw it: _

“ Moast ha’ cost a couple of ’unner, at t‘

vegy least.”

he cavalier was riding carelessly along,
as if on a ride for health and amusement;
but, as he waspassing the camp of the Gyp-
sies, he caught sight of the smoke, and turn-
ed his horse s head that way, riding up to the
fire as if he wanted to see who they were
that had made the blaze.

Before he could get near the place, the

'rl who was Winterbotham‘s wife ran out
fore the horse’s head and began to cry:

“ Ah, now, handsome gentleman, come
and cross the poor Gipsy’s palm with silver,
and ’ave yer fortin to true. We don’t never
make no mistakes, and I can see that ye’r’

om’ to ‘ave the beautifulest lady in all the
fand.”fur your wife, God bless your ’andsome
see. i

It was indeed a very handsome face that
looked down on her from the horse’s back.

.Not unlike her own in its dark beauty,
With the same oval contour, and dark, lus-
trous e es. ‘

A back mustache shaded the lip with a

 

downy bloom that increased the good looks

 

of the young cavalier, and he smiled with a
singular sweetness, as he said:

“ You are the true Romany; but I need no

fortunes told 10-day. 1 can tell them myself,
if I would."

The Gypsy girl stared at him with an ex-
pression of bewilderment as she asked him:

” Bain‘t ye Romany. 'erself?“

He had the outline an colorin of the race,
as she could see; and the old pay by the
ﬁre was eying him with a singu ar stare, as
if he was trying to recognize the features of
the strange horseman.

The stranger smiled at the question of Mrs.
Winterbotham.

“ There are no Romany but those who
live in tents and rove the and in wind and
weather. I can be no Romany, according to
that.”

“But fur all that ye ’ave the face and the
voice and— can ye talk Romany?" she asked
him suddenly.

The horseman nodded and answered in her
own tongue.

“ lf 1 could not talk the tongue of my
mother and father,“ he said, “1 should be
no Romany. 1 am seeking for Mathias
Spring.”

The accents of his tongue were those of
the rest of the band, and old Mathias instant-
ly came forward to the side of the horse.

“Who asks for me?" he said.

The horseman looked at the old vasy
with as much interest as the other had been
looking‘at him, as he said:

“ Are you Mathias Spring?”

The Gypsy nodded. V

“Then you ought to know me,” said the
horseman with a smile. “I am the Romany
heir. ”

The words seemed to let in a ﬂood of light
on the old Gyps ‘s mind, for he burst out
into a ﬂood of we coming words at once, and
cried:

“Then ye must get oi! the beast and eat
with the people of your tribe at once, that
the heart of the W may not take the
heart of the Romany away forever. We
have heard about you, and the Romany are
glad that one of their race is to go amon
the proud gory-ice at last, as the proudest 0
all.”

The young stranger laughed as he got 03
his horse.

“The work is not over yet," he said;
“and that is why I come to see you all.
The gorgio heir is still alive, and, till he dies,
1 am nothin . Where are the brother and
cousin that ould be here? They must do
the rest, before the Romany duke can take
his seat.”

The old woman called Mother Spring came
forward to look at him carefully.

He seemed to be a little uneasy under her
game, and asked Mathias:

“ Who is this, then?"

Old Mathias favored him with a peculiar
smile.

“ That is the woman to whom ye owe
all ye are, and it behooves ye to do her
reverence. ”

The young man stared uneasily at the old

3g- ..____

CHAPTER XXXI.
'rnE INTERVIEW.

GENERAL REID was pacing his room in the
Tower, like an uneasy bear in a cage.
George Howard was seated in a chair near
him, his face pale; but the butt of the pre-
ceding night being concealed b the thick
neﬁk-cloth of the day, with its ace-fringed
en s.

George had been saying something to the
old general that had agitated him consider-
ably; for, as he paced the ﬂoor, he kept on
muttering to himself all sorts of disjointed
sentences.

“It is infamous, that he cannot be found!
It is unheard of! He must be, he must be!"

“ He shall be found, before I have done with
him," said George Howard slowly; “ but, in
the mean time, general, the best advice I can
give is that you remove the young lady from
where she is now. She would be better, in
a private house, where there is no chance for

the scoundrel to hide among a lot of men,’

as there is here and 'in, the palaces of his
majesty. If you would be warned, I would
say that Sir John Ba can better take care
of her than any one] ow."

“ And why, sir?" asked Reid.

. _. war-fraw‘a-vmrsw ILW.W . wr- a,. w

gn—

 

9". “Mon . '
v

"“

 

. wv**'w v

‘1.

 

r.- .4  i; . ,

.. an,“ nail

VI?

1tage which he ha

g, _

22

 

Sprinngee1 Jack.

 

“Because he lives in a crowded thorough-
fare. and no man can approach his house
without being in the open street,” said How-
ard. “ If the young lady is left with Lady
Balcarras, it is only a question of time when
the monster will at last penetrate the pavilion;
and if he does, the shock will surely kill
her."

“ Does she know of the visit of last night?"
asked the general.

“ I make no doubt she does, though I have
not seen her, general.

ly against my inclination.”

“Then you did right, sir.
with you, have heard that, from Lad Bal—
earras, that is in need of explanation, fore
you can he suffered to visit daughter of
mine."

George Howard felt a thrill of pleasure.
For the ﬁrst time it seemed as if he was
nearing the reason of the rough treatment he
had received.

“ Ma I ask you what is the nature of the
accusat on that has been made against me?”
he said.

‘u, The old general hesitated.

y know whether it is an accusa-
tion or not; but Lady Balcarras says that you
have no right to the title that you have in«
herited."

George started up.

“ And why not?" he asked, in amaze-
ment.

The general went to the door and locked
it before he answered.

When he came back he seemed to be at a
loss for words, and hesitated long before he
spoke to the other, a faint ﬂush marking his
agitation.

“ You are now the Duke of Norfolk, by
right of the law, and a beggar at the same
time. You may think that t 9 reason I have
said my daughter must give you up. But
that is nothing. Were the only barrierbe-
tween you and Rose that of your poverty,
thank Heaven, I have money and to spare,
that should be spent freely, to gym her hap-

iness. But that is not all. on have a

rother, who is now the richest man in Eng-
land; but he no more resembles you than if
he were a stranger. Lady Balcarras once
lived near your father and mother, when
they were in Scotland, and remembers when
your brother was born. There is a scandal
about it that I cannot tell you. but, till it is
cleared away, there is no use in your parse.
verin in your suit.”

“ n the scandal does not concern me,
but m brother. Is that the case, general?”

“ ot entirely. But I really cannot tell

on more. Go to Lady Balcarras and ask

er. If she tells you the same asshe told
me, and you do not think that you ought to
'glve up your hopes, you ma come back.

ut I warn you that she wil prove a more
unkind person than I, and that you will ﬁnd
it hard to move her. ”

George Howard rose quietly.

“ I will go to her, general, and if she tells
me that my brother is not my brother, that is
the worst she can say.”

Then the youn man bowed low, a courtesy
that was uncti iousl returned by the old
general, w en Howar left the Tower and
mounted the horse he had brought with him
from Hampton Court, to ride back.

His heart was full of bitterness at the fate
which seemed to pursue him everywhere,
and had separated him from Rose so long,
for what he was convinced was nothing but
the malicious gossip of an old woman.

But all the same, as he rode, he kept say-
ing to himself:

" This must be the last of it, and whatever
she says cannot alter the fact that Rose loves
me, and that I can make her a duchess.”

He was beginnin at last to feel the advan-
gained, in spite of his
kinsman’s malicious will.

Arrived at the palace, hewent at once to
call on Lady Balcarras.

He was told that my lady was at home,
and when he sent up his name, as plain Mr.
Howard, the servant took it without any re-
mark.

He was ushered into the little drawing-
room, and had to wait there for a length of
time that had its inﬂuence in making him
feel angry and impatient with the old lady.

He sat by the window, and looking out,
saw Rose Reid in the gardens of the palace,

V You forbid me to do 3
it, and I have obeyed the order, though sore- i

To be frank :

 

with a party of ladies, accompanied by sev-

eral oflicers of the guards and some civilians,

that he recognized as courtiers. I
It made him long to go out and speak to

l

the young lady, but he refrained from doing ;

so, and rose from his seat, so that he might
not be tormented by the sight any more
while he waited for the old lady.

At last she came in, and bowed to him
with the most freezing politeness, as she

‘ asked:

“ To what am I indebted for the honor of
this visit, duke !"

He noticed that she gave him his title, but
in a way that showed that she did not re-
spect it much. Rather, there was an accent
of quiet scorn in the title, which galled him,

“I have not aesumed the title of duke.
Lad Balcarras,” he said quietly; “and
unti I do, I hope my friends will not greet
me by any name but that I have always
worn.”

The old lady pureed up her lips.

“ That is ver roper, I suppose; but if
you are not the u e of Norfolk, may I ask
who on are, then?"

“ eorge Howard, the same as I was yes-
terda and the day before, madam.”

“ ery well, then. Mr. Howard," (with a
strong em basis on the name) “may I ask to
what am indebted for this visit?"

“ Certainly, madam. I have just come
from General Reid, who informs me that
you have done me the honor to throw doubt
on me, in some way. The general told me
that you could afford me some information
on the subject of why he has forbidden his
dau hter to speak to me an more."

T a old la y colored slightly, and her eyes
had an angry gleam, as she retorted:

"General Reid could have told you all I
told him, with perfect pro riety, sir.”

“ He did not, madam; ut referred me to
you. I hope that you are not afraid or
ashamed to tell me the stories that you have
told about me.”

Lady Balcarras colored deeply through
thie wrinkles on her checks, as she retort-
e :

“I never said anything yet that I was
ashamed to repeat, sir. told the general
that you were not a ﬁt person for his daugh-
ter to associate with, and I tell you the
same."

“And why not, madam?”

“ If you cannot tell that yourself, sir, I am
able to furnish the information, but not till
you have avowed yourself ignorant of the
stain on your name.”

“ I am ignOrant of any stain on my name,
madam, save that which you have been
pleased to put there by speaking about me to
others.”

“Then listen, sir.”

The old lady was in earnest now, and
{ter face was very severe as she looked at
nm. ‘

“ I told General Reid, sir, that you were a
young man of vicious habits, who makes his
companions with the lowest people to be
found in London, frequently going to rize
ﬁghts and such like entertainments, an that
you had been seen to enggge in contests with
the very persons who in e their living by
such things. I have been told that on were
seen, not a week ago, at one of how low
places."

“What places, madam?"

“ I believe the called it the Fives Court—-
I am not fami iar with the names of the
places.”

“I have never been there, madam, save
once, and that was a year ago. The person
who gave you the information must have
mistaken my brother for me. ”

The old lady curled her lip.

“That is possible, of course; but that is .

not the worst of it. You have spoken of
your brother. What brother do you mean?"

“ I mean Oliver Howard, madam.”

“And are you sure that he is your
brother?"

The question came to him with sudden
directness, and sta gored him.

“What reason gave you for asking that
question, madam?" he asked. “The eneral
told me that you were ac uaint with
some scandal in regard to his irth. Is that
true?" i
, “There is no scandal about the matter. I‘

i a spiteful

 

the name of Handsome Jack in formertimes,
you are mt.”

Lady Balearras spoke the last words with
emphasis that there was no
mistake about. The old lady was in grim
earnest

Howard kept his temper.

“You have a great deal of information

- for one who does not belong to our family,"

he said sarcastically. “Perhaps you will
not object to saying why you think this?"

“I certainly shall not," was the un-
compromising reply. “The information is
entirely at your service."

 

CHAPTER XXXII.
LADY BALCMinAs‘s navanarroxs.

GEORGE HOWARD remained silently wait-
ing for the words the old lady might choose
to vouchsafe to him; and she, on her part,
did not seem to be in a hurry to relieve his
suspense.

At last he said:

“I am waiting, madam, for what you are
pleased to say. I presume you intend to say
it ”

Lady Balcarras gave a slight sigh.

She had been looking at the young man,
and could not but see that he was handsome
and had a look on his face that showed his
unhappiness.

“ I hardl know, sir,”she began, “whether
I on rht to inﬂict pain upon you—”

“ he pleased to s ak,’then, madam. There
is no pain, to me, ike the sin of suspense."

“Then I will speak. r. Howard, when
your father was a young man, he was quar-
tered at the Scotch town of Aberfeldie. where
I was brought up; and we met frequently at
the balls and parties, attended by the officers
of his regiment. He even distinguished me
by some attentions beyond other ladies, and
there were not wanting those who said that
Handsome Jack Howard would—well, there
is no need of going into that. I, for my

art, did not feel toward our father, that
ove and affection which 8 ould subsist be-
tween a woman and the man into whose
charge she is to commit her whole life."

And Lady Balcarras sighed again, with the
air of a martyr.

“ Your ladyship will please remember that
I am in a great state of anxiety," said George
coldly: “and spare me the recital of your
little passages with my father."

The sneer was palpable, and the old lady’s
yel(llow cheeks reddened spitefully as she

i :

“ I will not trouble on, sir. The story is
a brief one, and I wil make it as brief as I
can. Among the other ladies of Aberfeldie
was the one who subsequently became Cap-
tain Howard’s wife. She was richer than I
—-an heiress. in fact, and her father a trades-
man—did not like the attentions of this
handsome, but-— on will excuse me for say-
ing it, sir-—-grace ess youn soldier. In those
days, sir, we did not 100 on tradesmen as
entitled to be in the society of ladies and
gentlemen, and had the idea that the match
would be a good'thing for Janet Macks , as
putting her into a society that her fat er‘s
position, in spite of his wealth, did not an-
title her to enter.

Howard interrupted her recital regain. 88
she stopped and seemed to be musing.

“ Considering that you are speakin of my
mother. Lady Balcarras,” he as d. wit mark-
ed emphasis, “and that these things must
have happened long ago, 1 would suggest
thbalt you spare me as many camments as pass
at e.”

The old lady smiled as she saw his irrita-
tion.

“Thank you for the advice, sir. In my
youth, it was not thought polite for a gen-
tleman to interrupt a lady, or to criticise
what she said. At all events, I must tell my
story in my own way. and you are free to
de art, if it be not to your taste.”

eorge threw himself back in his chair,
With an air of resignation, and the old lady
went on:

“ At all events there wasarunaway match,
and Janet became the honorable Mrs. How-
ard. In Scotland, you know. such matches
are common; but they are not_ thought re-
spectable, and when the man Is a poor for-
tune-hunter, and the girl a rich, hm vulgar

have knowledge cf the fact that, if he be ! person—no, you need not get up from our
the son of Captain Howard, who went by chair, for I am not going to say anyt ing

 

 

against your mother. but the truth—when
the facts are what I have said, the verdict of
the surrounding country is generally that
as the two have made their bed, so they
must lie. It Was so in this case. The cap-
tain thought that old Mackay, who sold
snuff and tobacco, would be so much honor-

, ed by the fact of his daughter having mar-

ried an ofﬁcer of his majesty’s Guards, that
he would forgive her at once, and spend his
money like water, to do the match proper
honor. But Sandy Mackay was not like
En lish tradesmen. who adore a lord. He
11 a notion that his daughter had done
wrong to disobey him. and he refused to
have anything to do with the pair. And
then creditors were ressing the handsome
captain, and the re ment was shifted to
other quarters. An so the old man saw
his daughter no more, and the captain had to
do what he could to raise money. He had
to sell out and exchanre into a marching
regiment which went to ndia, and there he
was, when old Sandy died, and left no will
behind him. The money came to Janet by
the operation of law, and her husband set
to work to spend it as fast as could be
done."

Here, as the malicious old lady paused
again, George who had been listening atten-
tive] , put in quietly:

“ his is all very interesting, Lady Balear-
ras, and shows that you hated my father
cordially. but I do not see that you are per-
forming your promise yet."

The old lad waved her hand airily:

“'I never orget my promises. It was
necessary to tell ‘you what I have, that you
might understan what follows. A large

rti0n of Janet Mackay’s fortune lay in

d, in the town of Aberfeldie, and the
young couple went to live there. I had mar-
ried my lord, just before, and well remem-
ber what a ﬁne ﬁgure they cut. when they
came there, with their curricles and car-
ﬁages, when the rest of us were content to
live soberly and within our income, as be-
comes Christian people.
predicted, it was not lon‘ before the ex-
travagance of the captain rought its usual
consequences. Money ran short. and they
began to sell the land. And about that time
came the scandals that I told you of.”

George leaned forward as she said this,
eager to hear the worst, and the old lady
went on in her high-pitched voice, eying him
keenly as she spo e, to note the eﬁfect of her
words.

“ You know that there are many Gypsies
in this country, and a few in Scotland. We
do not let them get the upper hand there, as

ou do here; and in cn uence there are

at few there, and what there are are more
noticed. But there are times when even
Gypsies are found rich, and the Scotch Gyp-
sies are different from any that I have seen
here. They engage in all sorts of trades, and
accumulate considerable money. One of
them was named Mathias Spring—"

George started.

" What name did you say?”

“ Spring." said the old lady calmly. “ Do
you know the name?"

George leaned back, rather pale.

“ No, never mind. I have heard it before;

that is all. Pray proceed.”

“Mathias was a horse-dealer, and well
known throughout the country, as a man
that could cheat the best jockeys in a bar-
gain. But he had a great deal of money, and
the captain was very fond of horses. And
so the story came that Mathias had got the
best of the captain, and that Howard was
deeply in debt to him. 1 do not know the
truth of the matter, or how the Gypsy got
the captain in his power; but it was a mat-
ter of notoriety that the ﬁne En lish ofﬁcer
was seen ever here with the yps . and
that he compel ed his wife to receive iim at
her table. And as Mathias was a handsome
man—one of the handsomest I ever saw,
though he was a Gypsy—it was said that the
lady. who was frequently left by her hus-
band, for weeks at a time, alone. was more
intimate with the handsome Gypsy than a
properly conducted lady should be. And
the say—"

Jere Geo e rose from his chair, pale, and
trembling w th anger.

“And this was what you allowed me to
come here to listen to? ion dare to throw
doubt on the memory of my mother!

And, as we all had‘

 

Spring-Heel Jack.

23

Woman, it is lucky for you that you are a ' brother." said George. still more bitterly.

woman. But you have a husband, and he
shall be answerable for the false reports that
you have spread.”

Lady Balcarras stared at him.

“ That is like your notion of justice."
“I mean no such thing. if you are the

‘ man that is worthy to be the ﬁrst duke in

England, I have told you something that

“ You don’t understand what I am talking  may be of service to you. Your mother told

about. I am on] beginning my story.

It ‘ me that your brother was not her son. and

is better you she: d hear it from me, than to that Mathias Spring was its father, and had
have it thrust on you. by being spread ! compelled your father to take it into his

abroad, in the news of the day.”

himself and sat down again.

“ Go on," he said.

Lady Balcarras spoke more rapidly than
before, as if she had, for the ﬁrst time, begun
to respect the young man.

, house as his own.
With a strong effort George controlled . best can."

I
l

I
l

Work on that, as you

 

CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE RESULT on THE REVELATIONS.
As the old lady spoke, she rose from her
seat with a severe air, and intimated, by her

“ I do not insinuate that your mother did L manner, that the interview was over.

anything wrong, sir. This is all that there
is of it. At the time you Were born your
father was away, and when he came ack
the servants at the house—for servants will
gossip, you know—told in the town that he
said strange thin a about you. and refused
to look at on. fter that the Gypsy was
with him al the time, and you were left in
Scotland, while the ca tain went off to the
race‘courses in En lan , leaving your mother
alone at Aberfel re. The separation was a
matter of public notoriety in the town, and
when at last your mother was sent for to
England, she left you behind in the care of
servants, and you were ﬁnally sent to an
uncle of your mother’s, where you were
grhen the news arrived that your brother was
orn."

George, who had been listenin more
attentive] as the story progre . here
shifted his position. He remembered well
the ﬁrst great event in his life, when he was
a child, just beginning to be sensible. He
remembered the news coming to him, and
how he had said, as soon as he saw ‘the
dark-eyed child, that it was “not his
brother.” -

iIaady Balcarras noted his interest and
as :

“ I thought I should find something that
would show you that I am telling the truth.
You were sent for when the news came of
the birth of your brother, and as my lord
had, inst about that time. received the posi-
tion a the household that he now holds, I
went to England. I went to visit our
mother. for we had been acquaint in
'Aberfeldie, and in a strange country an one,
from one’s own home, of course, is tter
than a stranger. I went to her house and
found her all alone with her servants and the
new infant, deserted in the very time when
it would seem as if her husband should have
been by her."

" Well?" said Howard impatiently, seeing
that she paused again in her story. “ What
was the purport of your visit, and what did
you discover? Can you not see that you are
putting me in torture, all the time, or do you
wish to do it on purpose?"

Lad Balcarras shook her head.

“ I ave no desire to torture an one, air.
It is a sad story, that I have to tel; and, if
you had not come to me as you have, 1
would not tell it at all. I paid your mother
a formal visit, but, as soon as she saw me,

. she burst into tears, and the sight melted my

woman’s heart, We had a conﬁdential con-
versation, and she conﬁded to me the fact
that the child in her is was not her own,
but that the captain h made her take it,
and own it, by the threat of an exposure of
the doubt that had been cast on your birth.
There, sir, now you know all. The man
that has taken the fortune of the Duke of
Norfolk is not your brother; but neither.
pIeShaps, are you the son of Captain How-
a H

“ And is that all you have to say?” asked
the oung man, very pale.

“ hat is all. After the revelation made
me by your mother. which she made me
pied e myself to keep secret—"

“ nd well you have kept the secret!” in-
telTupted George, bitterly. “Had such a
secret been intrusted to me, I should never
have revealed it while I lived. “To what
does it tend?" '

“Only to this," said the old Scotchwoman
coldly. “ that Rose Reid is the daughter of a
valued friend of mine, and. till the stain is
taken. from your birth. there is no place for
you in the world. The title of duke may
yet to another."

“ on mean the man who is called my

 

George was so stunned by the news that
he could hardly realize what he had heard,
and it was in a pleading way that he said:

“Lad Balcarras, let me ask one question
if you p ease. Did my mother say that Cap~
tain Howard was not my father?

The old lady pursed up her lips.

“ She did not. But on that uestion I did
not press her. She asseverat , in the most
solemn manner, that she was innocent of
any wrong to your father, and that he had
treated her in the most cruel manner, from
the time that he found her father would not
relent. She hinted that she could tell more,
if she dared, but she told me that the truth
would never be found out till Mathias
Spriaglwas compelled to tell it."

“ en I will ﬁnd him and wrin
him, if it costs me my life," said orge sol-
emnly. “ One question more, and I have
done, Lady Balcarras. Is this Mathias Spring
yet alive, think you, or not?"

Lady Balcarras shrugged her shoulders.

“I cannot tell. He wasa Gypsy, and at
that time rich; but who knows where he is
now? Good-morning. Mr. Howard."

And George went slowly out of the room,
as if he were dazzled with the light, and
could not see his way plainly.

When he got into the garden, he took his
way to his quarters, to think over it all. He
ha known very little of his mother, for she
had died soon after the birth of Oliver. and
he had but a faint memory of her, as a
gracious, kind creature, who ad petted him,
and that was all.

Now he had learned the truth, that she had
been cruelly treated b his father, and that,
flqr some reqsonéthat athtz;i gadi fallen into
to weroa ynarn pn.

Thin he rememybpesred the name 0 his own
orderly, and resolved to ask him if he knew
any such person.

he resolve was taken as he was going to
his quarters, and the ﬁrst person he saw, as
he neared them, was the identical Sprin , at
the door, scourin awa at a belt, as i he
had been an order y all is life.

He rose and saluted his master respectfully;
and George who knew the suspicious nature
of men of his stamp, said nothing of what
was nearest his heart till he had entered the
room and taken of! his boots, muddy from
his long ride.

“ Will your honor have dinner at the mess
or here?" asked the orderly.

“ Here," said Howard. “ And—by the
by, S rin , have you any family?"

“ ami , your honor?" the Gypsy asked.
in return, is eyes indicating surprise.

He did not answer the uestion, and
Geo repeated it, in another orm:

“ es. I thought that you might have
some father or mother that you mig t want
a leave of absence to visit, or a few hours.
occasionally. without running the risk you
did, the other day, when you were pun-
ished."

The Gypsy seemed to be struck with the
kind way in which the thing was put, so he
answered without any more hesitation:

“ Well, yes, your honor, I‘ve an old fa-
ther and mother, as camps on ‘ Amstead
’Eath, jest about now; but, Lor’ bless yer
honor. they don’t care fur me, no more‘n to
git all they can out of me.”

“ Let me see: what did ou say your fa-
ther’s name was? John, li e your own?"

“Not a bit of it, your honor. My father
come from ’Ungary, e know, where there's
a lot of people, and is name's the same as
most of ’em. out there. Some’s George, and
some‘s Mathias; but my father 'e took the
name of Mathias, e know. ”

“That‘s all. t the dinner, as soon as

it out of

.object he sought;

24

 

———-.

 

you can,” said Georggnquietly, having found l

ow; and then he sat !

out all he wanted to

back, when the orderly had gone, reﬂecting i
on what he should do, when he found the;
Gypsy father, that had come into his life so ‘
stranlgely.

“ here was some fate that threw Spring
into my way,” he reflected, “and made him
my faithful follower. He seems to positive-
ly like me, for no other reason than that I
beat him at his own game, and gave him a
broken nose. I must ﬁnd his father, and get
him to tell the truth, by some means or
other.”

But, the more he brooded, the more doubt.
ful it seemed, that anything could be done
with the old Gypsy, who had had a hold on
his father. If he could have inﬂuenced the
elder Howard, he must have had some terri-
bly strong hold on him; and what chance
had the son of the same man, who knew
nothing of the weaknesses of the Gypsy, to
terrify him in his turn. But when he re-
membered what John Spring had said about
his father and mother campin on Hampstead
Heath, he had more hopes, gor he reflected
that the Gypsy, in all probability, would be
poor, and so accessible to bribery, if nothing
more.

But what had he to offer in the way of a
bribe to the Gypsy, if he succeeded in ﬁnd-
ing him, and it proved the same man? '

All these thoughts were turning over in
his mind, as Spring came in with his dinner,
and he ate in silence, thinking over what he
could, do. while the orderly was watching
him, as if he had been trained all his life in
the duties which he had only assumed a
few days before.

Dinner over, Howard ordered his horse,
and told Spring that he was going for a ride,
and that he need not expect him back till
night.

“To-morrow,” he pursued, “I intend to
give you leave to go and see your family;

ut, in the mean time, I want you to stay
here, and watch at night, in case that scoun-
drel that plays Spring-Heel Jack should come
along again. ’

Sprin promised to do what he had been
told, and, as his master rode away, he mut-
tered to himself regretfull :

“ 'E’s a better man, by ar. than the other.
If we ’ad it to do hover again, ’twouldn’t be
as ’tis now.”

But he went about his business as usual,
and employed himself in cleaning his mas-
ter’s arms and accouterments, while George
Howard took his way from the palace, and
rode rapidly round the outskirts of London,
toward the north, in the direction of Hamp-
stcad Heath.

He had come back from the Tower at
noon, and his do rture was early, so that,
by the'middle o the afternoon, he had sur-
mounted Highgate Hill, and was entering
the heath, keeping a sharp lookout for Gyp-
sy ﬁres.

He was not very long in discovering the
for there was but one
camp on the oath, and the smoke rose in
the air, over the low fume-bushes, plain to
be seen. about a mile away from the place he
entered.

As he neared the place he was surprised
to see a handsome bay horse feedin loose
on the heath; and the shape and cauty
of the animal were such that he could not
imagine any mere Gypsy could possibly own
1

t.

Then he remembered what Lady Balear-
ras had told him about Mathias having been
a horse-trader and rich, and the idea oc-
curred to him that he might make the horse
an instrument to open negotiations with the
man.

He rode on till he neared the camp, and,
as he came in sight, out came running a
crowd .of barefooted children, half-naked,
dirty, and very picturesque, staring at him
with amazement.

CHAPTER XXXIV.
HATBIAS SPRING.

Guano: entered the G Bay camp. and be-
held a tire, with a tripod. uilt over it, from
which hung a pot, sme ling by no means illy.
An old hag, With the face of a witch, was
stirring the pot, moving her toothless jaws
as she stirred, while two younger women.

- beard.

 

both decidedly beautiful, in the dark style
of their tribe, were seated on the grass, not

Springlﬁeel Jack.

 

 

 

—. mid—-

far off, one nursing a baby, the other plaiting
a basket.

None of them looked up as he rode in,
and all seemed to ignore him studious] .

lie checked his horse at the spectac e; for
he had been used to have Gypsies crowd
round him when he visited their camps, ask-
ing him whether he wanted his fortune told,
and begging.

As none of them offered to come near him,
and there was no sign of a man in the camp,
he dismounted from his horse, and said to
the old woman over the fire:

“ I see a horse outside, and he looks like a
good one.. Is it yours? and do you want to
sell it or not?” '

The old woman turned her blear eyes on
him, and made no reply but a scowl.

“Did you hear?" he asked, in a louder
tone, thinking she might be deaf.

She nodded silently, but went on stirrin .

Then he turned to the woman witht 0
baby, and repeated the question to her:

“ I doan‘t own t’ horse. It be feyther‘s,”
was the sole reply he received.

The other young woman looked up from
the basket she was plaiting, and eyed his red
coat with a look as if she was interested in it.

He noted the look, and asked her:

" Well, and can’t you tell me something,
my pretty lass?”

She curled her lip sarcastically.

“I bain’t no pretty lass o‘ thine. We
(loan‘t want no moor gorgios now. We‘re
goin' to be ryes,* and live in palaces t’ rest of
cor lives."

The words surprised him, but he persisted
in trying to make these sullen Gypstcs talk a
little, to gain information.

“And do you live all alone here?" he
asked.

“Nos, we doan't," said the girl. in the
same seornful way. “Feyther’s ’ere, and
’e knaws ‘ow to take keer on us.”

“ Ah, your father—is his name Mathias
Spring, or what is it?” asked George.
is The moment he said it, he saw he had
made a mistake; for the old woman at the
ﬁre called out something in a strange lan-
guage, and the two younger ones favored
him with a suspicious glance, and remained
obstinater silent as they went on with their
occu ations.

“ hen where the deuce is this Mathiast’".
he cried impatiently. “I want to see him,
if he wants to get into something which will
make him rich for the rest of his life.”

The old woman turned toward him, and
her sunken eyes gleamed with avarice.

“ ’Ow much wilt give to see ’im?” she
asked.

George hesitated.

“ Is he here?" he asked in turn.

“ Noa, but I can call ’im,” she answered.

George drew a sovereign from his pocket.

“ Cal him. and this is yours,” he said.

She clutched at it at once, running to the
side of his horse with an a ility. that her
bowed frame and shrunken imhs did not
promise, and he held the piece awa , saying:

“Where is Mathias? You eanthave it,
unless you call him for me.”

She pointed to the little barrel-shaped tent,
at the door of which the children were play-
ing when he came, and whispered:

” ‘E‘s in there; but I dassn‘t ’sturb ’im.
Go thou, an thou dar‘st."

lIe tossed her the iece, and went to the
tent at once, when he ooked in and saw the
giant frame of the old Gypsy stretched on
the ound, fast asleep.

“ lailo, Mathias, Mathias!” he cried;
“wake up, man, for here is a stranger come
to see thee. Wake up, I say.”

The Gyspy rolled over on his side; ﬁxed
his eyes on the door, and George saw. from
the stare, that the man had been drinking
and was sava e in his cups.

With a v0 ley of oaths he burst out, do-
manding to know why he was disturbed.

George saw that his face was striking]
like that of his orderly, though it was muc
older, and half-hidden by an enormous ra
He remembered the way in w in
he had con uered the son, and thou ht he
would try t e same on the father. here-
fore it was in tones as rough as those of the
Gyps himself, that he roared.

“ ome out, you dog! Don't you know
how to talk to a gentleman, when you see

" Rye, from the Hindoo Rm‘. I rich man.

 

one? Come out here, or I'll take my whip
and thrash some politeness into you. Come
out. I say.”

As he spoke, he shook his whip menacing-
ly and the Gyps cast a glance at him that
reminded him 0 a wild beast under the eye
of its trainer, half-savage, half-afraid.

“ Come out," he repeated. “ I want to
speak to you, and how the deuce can I do it,
if ou stay in that hole of yours?"

ut the Gypsy, who seemed at ﬁrst to
have been dazzled by the light on his eyes,
just fresh from sleep, here exclaimed:

“I’ll eoom out, man, and thou‘lt wish I
’adn‘t, may be, afore thou'rt done wi‘ me.”

With that he came out of the tent, on all-
fours, and raised before George the frame of
one of the ﬁnest-made men he had ever seen
in all his life.

He squared his shoulders, and asked, in a
tone about which there was no hiding the
menace that it contained:

“ Well, young whipper—snappcr, and what
wants thee wi‘ me, now thou’rt here. I’ll
warm thy jacket for thee, in the shake of a
lainb’s tail."

“ Better men than you have tried that be-
fore, Mathias Spring," said George Howard,
quiet] ; “and your son, amen others. I
gave im a faCe he never got ore, and he
is now a soldier in my Company. If you try
any of your tricks on me, I’ll give you the
]worst tirashing you ever got in all your
ife.”

The words were hardly out of his mouth
when the old Gypsy squared off at him, in a
style that showod much acquaintance with
the art of self-defense, crying:

“An ye walloped John, ye can’t wallop
nine. Coom on, and I‘ll doost thy jacket fur
t we. ”

With that he advanced on the young 0&-
Cer, and began a furious assault, that showed
he had not boasted in vain. Old as he was,
he had yet the strength of a giant, and
George had all he could do to take care of
himself, assaulting the other being out of the
question altogether.

But George, though he had not made
prize-ﬁghters his daily companions, was by
no means an ignoramus at the art of self-de-
fense; and he knew well enough that, if he
could keep up long enough, the old man was
sure to tire ﬁrst.

He kept retreatin warily for a space, and
the Gypsy tried all e knew, but invain, in
consequence of the tactics of the youn r
one, who would not advance to meet him
and give him a chance.

At last Mathias rowled ﬁercely:

“ Thou’rt a li y-livered coward; that’s
what thou art, like the man thy face is like.
Stand 00p like a mon, an thou darst.”

But he was panting for breath as he spoke,
and George only laughed at him.

“ If you’re such a man as you say,” the
younger man retorted, as he ept backing
awa , “ make me come close to ou.”

Then, as the old Gypsy, wit alast des~
perate effort, rushed in to close, George
skipped back and let out a blow which took
effect on the nose of the other.

Had Sprin been as cautions as he had
been at the ginning, it could never have
reached him, but he had rown to despise
his adversary, and the repu ‘e was the more
severe that it was totally unexpected.

With a sort of roar of rage. he plied
George with blow on blow, to all of which
the younger man made no reply. but kept
backing away, seeing that the older man was
fast exhausting himself.

Presently the Gy 8)’ Stopped. panting. and
in that moment 00th Went. in on him.
with the more strength that he had saved
himself all through the ﬁght, on purpose for
this time.

He sent in his blows as straight as he
could, and the old man had hardly strength
to rry and return them.

irst one, then another, took eﬁect; and
the Gypsy) began to bleed, while his cﬂorts
grew as ler and feebler, as his strength
waned. .
At last George ot in ablow that ﬂoored
him, and as he feﬁ he rolled over and cried
out. just as his son had done before him:

“ ’Old thy ’and. Yer honor'sn better mu '

than I thought. I'll go wi’ yer honor any
where.” .

George looked down on him with lur—
prise.

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25

 

There was no more appearance of sullen-
ness about him. Contrary to the general
run of men, he seemed to have, not only
a hearty respect but also a kind of affec-
tion for the man who had been able to lay
him low.

“Get up,” said the young oﬁicer quietly.
“I told you that I wanted to speak to you,
and now is the best time.
Mathias Spring, is it not?
Captain Howard, once on a time, did you
not?"

‘The old Gypsy was slowly rrising as he
asked the question, and when it was ﬁnish-
ed, he stood before the young man, as if
lost in astonishment, gaping, rather than say-
ing:

“’00 be thou, then ?"

 

CHAPTER XXXV.
GETTING AT THE TRUTH.

HOWARD saw that he had astonished the
Gy sy, and as he did not want to silence him
an make him afraid, so that he might not
speak at all, he said, in a mysterious way:

“It matters not who I am; but I know
you, and I know that you had dealings with
Captain Howard, for which you could be
punished, if I were not a friend of yours.
Come aside with me, where none can hear
us; for l have that to say which mustbe said
to on alone.”

His m sterious air had its inﬂuence on the
other, w io, havin felt the prowess of his
arm, was disposed already to hold him in
reverence, partly from fear, but more from
the admiration of physical superiority that is
often found in men who are strong them-
selves.

“I’ll go with your honor, wherever your
honor wants," he said.

“Then follow me,” said George, and with
that he was taking him away into the quiet
recesses of the heath, when the old woman,
who had been watching him keenly, inter-
posed with some words in her own ton e,
which made old Spring stop and say hesitat-
ingl :

“He can talk all we want, ’ere: can‘t
we?"

“No,” said George decidedly. “ I don’t
want any one to hear what 1 say to you, and
what you as to me. I have come here to
see you, an I will have it my own way or
not at all.”

Again the old woman said something, to
which her husband replied in the same lan
guage, and then he followed his conductor
nto the open heath, Where George sat down
in a place where no one could get near them,
to overhear what was going on.

He kept his own face toward the camp, so
that the old woman could not creep up to
listen, without bein seen, and began:

“ Your name is athias Spring?"

“ Yes, it be, and I ain’t ashamed on it.”

The Gypsy had assumed an air of more
sullenness than he had shown at ﬁrst.

“Very good. In former times you met
Captain Howard, in Scotland.”

“ ’0w do ou know that?”

“I know it, and you dare not deny it.”

“ Well, I ain't denyin' on it: am I?”

“And when you had known the captain
for a time, he got into debt with you?"

“Well, su pose 'e did: what 0 that?"

" Simply t is: How much money did he
mm on? It might be paid, if you treated
me ghtly." '

He watched the Gypsy while he s kc and
saw a gleam in his eyes that showe him he
had touched the right chord.

“You might get all that you lent him and
a ood deal more besides.” pursued Howard,
“if you would do what I want you."

The Gypsy looked him in the eye.

“ Afore I tell 'ee anything I want to know
’00 thou beest?”

“That is not to the purpose. If I am
ready to ive you money, it is nothing to

on who am. Are you ready to tell me

ow much he owed you, and how much you
want?" ‘ , .

“ ’E owed me more‘n ’e iver paid, and ’tis
all he now. What does thee want to know
furg’?

“In order to pay you. How can I pay
the money, if you won't tell me what t
is?”

“ ’Ast got the money wi' thee t"

 
 

{
i,
i
l
i
i
i

 

“Of course not. I don‘t carry money
about like that. If you want it you must do
something for me in return.”

“ And what is’t?”

George looked keenly at him as be weighed
what he was going to say. He was coming
to the end of his negotiation, and if the
Gypsy now refused, he would be as badly

Your name is I 011? as before.
And you knew E

But he felt a sort of conviction that he
could manage this strange man that caused
him to say:

“You must tell me how it was that you
induccd the captain to acknowledge 'our
son as his own, and why you cast suspicion
on the birth of his true son. That is what
you must do.”

Mathias Spring burst out into a discordant
laugh at once.

“Thou beest only a fool, artci‘ all. I see
through all thou‘st said. Thou'rt the son of
the man ’iinsclf, and that‘s what thou‘rt
arter. I’m no gorgt'o, but a true Romany;
and thou canst whustlc for what thou want’st.
Dost ’ear me?"

George jumped up as he spoke and stood
over him, eying him sternly, but the Gypsy
never quailed at the glance.

“Then look here,” said the young ofﬁcer,
with an em hasis that showed he was in
earnest. “ here are two of your people in
my power now, and you will be the third, if
you don’t speak out. You will do what I
tell you, or, within one. hour from now, I'll
have ou in prison, and there you shall
stay ti 1 I cliOOse to let you out.”

he Gypsy curled his lip.

“Talk don’t cost much,” was all the an-
swer he vouchsafed.

“Very well, then, get up and let us go on
with the ﬁght that we were at when you gave
in. Get up and ﬁght, or be called a coward,
and I’ll take my whip to you instead of the
bare knuckles."

The Gypsy chan ed color slightl .

“ I‘ve fought all want,” he saitIVsullenly.
“I ain’t bound to ﬁght no more.”

George had kept the whip hanging at the
wrist by a strap all the time, and now he
raised it and dealt the Gypsy a cut across
the face that brought the blood, when Mathias
leaped up and began to ﬁght again the best
he knew how.

The sting and humiliation had goaded him
into ﬁghting, but he knew he was no match
for the strong and active young man. and he
fought in a style very different from what he
had taken before.

George, on the other hand, was determined
to make him give in, and he knew, from
experience, that there was no way so sure as
that of physical chastisement.

He soon began to get in his blows on the
old Gypsy, who did his best, but was tired
out, be ore he began, from the exertions he
had used in his former contest.

In a very few minutes he was beaten
back, his face showing the marks of the
punishment, his eyes swelled and nearly
closed, while blood was streaming down his
face.

He began to look frightened, for the first
time in the contest, as he noted the ﬁerce
we in which George pressed on him, itiless
an rim, not sparing a blow, and at t he
call out:

“I’m licked. What more d‘ye want,
man?"

George only answered him with another
blow, and then took the whip in his hand
and began to ply the Gypsy with the lash, as
if chastising a 0g.

The effect of the whip was greater than
that of the ﬁst.

Mathias could not parry the lashes. and he
was too weak to ﬁght back, so that he ﬁed as
fast as he could. till George, young and
active, ran after him, tripped him up, and
then began to do him mercilessly, as he lay
on the ground, ti 1 Mathias yelled out:

“ Stop it, and I‘ll do anything ye want me.
Tie”? the devil himself, and that's the truth
0 l ."

“Then answer my question. and tell me
how you got the captain into your toils, or
I'll cut the hide of! ye inch by inch."

And the usually mild young man, now
that he was completely roused, looked like a
ﬁend, With his ﬁerce blue eyes blazin with
anger. as he held the whip suspend aloft,
readyI for more chastisement.

" ow did you get him in your power?

 

Tell it quick, and take care you don’t lie
about it, or it will be the last of you."

“‘E were a' fool, and I didn’t never get
’im in my power at all. ’E put ‘imself there.
’13 would go to races and bet on the wrong
’orse, and that‘s the way 'e come to owe me a
thousand pound and more. There, that
ought to be enough.”

The eye of the Gypsy was lowering, and
his bruised face looked sullen.

George, for answer, dealt him another cut
of the whip.

“ You‘re lying to me, sir. Tell the truth.
Now go on, and as soon as you tell the
truth, I'll stop thrashing you.”

With that he began to ply the lash with
all the force of which he was capable, the
Gypsy writhing to and fro, unable to escape
it. till at last he shouted wildly:

“ ‘Uld thy ‘and, and I‘ll tell thee all.”

George desisted, and the other began:

“ ’E owed me money fur bets and fur
’orses, and I let it go on, fur I ’ad a plan to
git even. ’E'd often told me ’ow ’e were
a-goin' to be jook, when some one died,
and that ’is sons ’ud ’ave the property arter
’im, so I ’ad my plan. F u'st I thought to
put a boy of my OWn in the place, but then
come the fu’st be of ‘is’n, and that sp’iled
the plan. ’E woul n’t ’ear to ’ave that boy
put arter a Romany, so 1 ’ad to let it go, fur
what I c’u‘d git. Twas many a car afore
I ’ad a boy of in own; but, byt at time ’e
were wuss in debt than afore, and all my
people was in the plan wi' me. They lent
me the money to keep ’im a— oin', and ’e ’ad
a good time of ’un, while it asted. At last
come the bov I ’spected, and we made it 00p
that ’is wife should pretend it was ’er’n.
T’ ould woman. over there by the ﬁre, was
the mother. and the boy was born when the
fu‘st boy was four years old. The lady
didn't like it; but we ‘ad a way to make ’er
coom to ‘er milk, we did—"

“And what was that ‘2" asked George
sternly.

Mathias grinned.

“ We jest drabbed ‘er.”

“ What's that?" _

“What you gorgz'os call p’mn,” was the
startling rele. " bhe didn‘t know but what
’twere all rig t, ye know.”

And then he began to speak out in earnest.

CHAPTER XXXVI.
ms MAJESTY, THE 'ch.

THAT afternoon George Howard rode
slowly on his return to Hampton Court; his
rein hanging on the horse‘s neck; his face
thou htful and sober; his thoughts in a
whirf.

He had heard things he could hardly be-
lieve. and which left is brain confused; but
in all his confusion he retainedaburning
sense that he had been treated with vile in-
justice, and that there was no way out of the
trouble that he could see.

Oliver was not his brother, but a Gypsy
outcast, thrust into his family, lay a plot, the
full villainy of which he can] hardly yet
fathom.

But Gypsy or not, the man was now ﬁrm-
ly intrenched in the fortune of the old duke,
unless the power of the king himself were
invoked, and in that case the whole scandal,
that his father had inﬂicted on his family,
could not but come out, in the full blaze of
publicity.

Revolving all these things in his mind,
and not yet deCided on what he should do,
he came to Hampton Court. As he rode in,
the sun was setting, and the gardens were
full of the courtiers, strolling to and fro in
tie alleyways, waiting for the coming of the

 

kin r.

His way did not lie through the gardens,
but he was spied by more than one, and all
heads were turned his way, as if in curiosit ,
for the “beggar duke," as he was al y
called, was an object of great interest at
court.

He went to his quarters; took of! his rid-
ing-dress, and put on his uniform to go out,
for he had an idea that the king migjl‘i:
summon him to his side again, as he had
fore.

In this he was not mistaken. for, before he
had completed his dressin , he was disturbed
by a tap at the door, and pring put his head
into the room to say;

" Please, your honor, there's a page from
'is majesty, as says you're wanted. ’

h «a..- _

a- .-- ..

...~._..~._ .m‘- M‘.

26

Then he vanished, and George, soon after,
found himself bowing before the eccentric
old king, who seemed iii an unusually
gracious humor, for he made a sign to the
courtiers, near by, to draw further back,
which they did with great unwillingness,
because they dared do no otherwise, while
his majesty began a long catechism of the
young duke, as to what he intended to do
and what he had done yet, in the way of dis-
puting the will which had made him a beg-
gar; to all of which George only answered
that he had “ not yet fully determined on his
course.”

“When you do, let me know, and the
courts shall do you justice, duke,” said the
king, emphaticall . “The welfare of the
kingdom is at sta e, and the public welfare
is more important than the indulgence of
whims of this bad old duke, who had never
been an honor to his order, and, at the last,
did what he could to disgrace it. In the
mean time, I have resolved to appoint on
first gentleman of the bed-chamber, an let
you have the buck-hounds, to give you the
wherewithal to maintain some of the state
that belongs to your rank. And, by the by,
have you found out that fellow they call
Spriﬁg-Heel Jack yet?"

“ 0, your majesty. But with your ma-
jesty’s permission, I intend to stay on guard
to-night, and every night after, till I do.
There is no way so sure to catch him as keep-
ing the same men on the watch all the time;
for they will get to know his ways. If your
majesty has no objection, I will take charge
of the ard, to-mght. again."

The ing shrugged his shoulders.

“Queer taste you have, very queer, very
near; but as ou please. By the by, duke,
0 you know eneral Reid ?"

“ I have served under him, your majesty,

and that very lately, in the Tower.”

“ Yes, yes, in the Tower. He is the Con-
stable; is he not, duke?"

“ He is, your majesty.”

“Yes, yes, he is getting old, b the by,
and we need a younger man in t at place.
Is it not true that this Sprin -Heel Jack
made an appearance in the ower, some
time ago?”

“ It was the ﬁrst place to which he came,
and the monster has persecuted the daughter
of General Reid ever since.”

“ Hey, hey, what’s that? what’s that?"

“ I say, your majesty, that, every time he
has been seen latel , he has come where that

ougg lady is, an striven to hurt or alarm

er.

“Hey! hey! that’s very strange, duke!
Bless my soul, very stran e! But he has
come here? The young 1 y is not here, is
she?"

“She was, this morning, your majesty,
with Lady‘Balcarras.”

“ Hey, hey, what’s that, what’s that? Lady
Balcarras? Why, she was here, not long

’ ago, and asked for a leave of absence from

her majest , to go to London. That’s very
strange in eed."

Then he turned to the queen, who was in
the habit of being very silent when the king
was busy, but a ways ready when wanted;
for his majesty’s memory was already get-
ting treacherous. 

“What was that Lady Balcarras said
about her visit to London? ' he asked.

"She asked for leave to go to London, to
take back a young lady to her father,” the
soft tones of the queen replied.

George heard her, and was tempted to for-
get the etiquette of the court, by asking a
question himself; but he saved himself from
the solecism in time, and the king saved him
the trouble by saying at once:

“ Then it must be the same lady. Per-
haps she had heard of the monster, and got
frightened out of her life again.”

“ I fear that must be so, your majesty, and
if it be not improper—I—”

The kin smiled knowingly:

“Hey? ey? want to go after her? hey,
duke? Well, it will go very well with what
I was going to say. was telling you Reid
is owing old, and it is time he was retired
an ut on the pension list. How would

on l’ke to be Constable of the Tower, your-

, {our .

The question surprised Howard so much
that he stamrnered out:

I“ If our majesty is in earnest."

“0 course, I am in earnest. I never

 

Spring-Heel Jack.

joke, duke. I have, in fact, ordered your
appointment made out, and the best thing
you can do is to go to the Tower this very
night, and take command. If you get a
chance at S ring-Heel Jack, it may end in
unravelin t is whole mystery.”

George owed low.

“ I do not know that I have anything that
is positive evidence on which to go, your
ma'esty,” he said; “but it seems as if the
visits of the monster follow these of Miss
Reid, wherever she goes, and it is barely pos~
sible that he may 0 there, this time. He
has had a bad experlence of trying his tricks
at Hampton Court.”

“Then, the quicker you go, the better,”
said the king, in his nervous, jerky way.
“ Be oﬂ with you. duke. Go to the chamber-
lain, and he will give you your appointment.
Then go and take your command, at onco.
You are Colonel of the Horse—Guards, from
this date.”

And George, hardly knowing whether he
was awake or asleep, made his way out of
the gardens, and, an hour later, was driving
to London. in one of the to al coaches; his
new commission as Colone of the Horse-
Guards in the breast of his uniform."

He (lid not arrive at the Tower till after
the gates were shut for the night, and the
rules of the place forbid the admittance of
strangers: but at the sight of the credentials
he brought everything ﬂew open, and be en-
tered the Tower, in which he had once stood
guard as a subaltern, as the acknowledged
master, come to supersede General Reid,
completely stunned by the news that he was
to be superseded in the command of the
place where he had hoped to end his days.

The old soldier was so much taken aback
by the news that he had almost forgotten his
courtesy in receiving the new Constable, but
he made as polite—if rather stiﬂ‘—-—a salute as
he could, and said to the young man who
had superseded him: '

“I am sorry that I had not intimation of
this change a little sooner, duke, for then I
could have vacated my quarters, so as to
give you room at once.’

George, who saw that the feelings of the
old general were hurt by the slight that he
thought was being put on him, replied, in a
low tone:

“We can discuss that matter when the
servants are gone, general. In the mean
time, let me say that you are at perfect lib—
erty to occupy the rooms on have always
occupied, til you can ma e other arrange-
ments. I did not come to turn you out, I
can assure you.”

The words molliﬁed the old soldier, and
he said in a more placable way:

“ I never criticise the orders of his majesty,
and he has reasons, I suppose, or he won d
not have done what he has. I am ready to
accompany your grace to visit the posts, and
hand over the command at once.”

“I will not trouble you tonight, general.
I am only anxious to c act the change with
the least trouble to you.”

Then he came closer to Reid, to whisper:

“ The command shall remain where it al-
ways has, but I came here to-night to catch
Sprin -Heel Jack. Your daughter has come
back, believe.”

Reid favored him with a suspicious glance.

" I don‘t see what that has to do with it,"
he said, in the same guarded way.

“ Only this,” said Geor e, “that if he
comes to the Tower to-nig t, he will be
taken, and I have an idea that he mid come."

The general seemed to be impressed by the
way he spoke, and replied:

“ I hope you will have success, sir. ”

“ In the mean time,” said George—for
the were now alone in the Constable's room,
an able to talk without listeners, “I wish
to say to you, general, that I have seen Lady
Balcarras, and that her information is wrong.
That is why I came here to-night.”

 

CHAPTER XXXVII.
'rru: Nien'r warcn. .

As he said these words, the beggar duke
took a seat uninvited, as a remin er to the
old general that he had a ri ht there, and
looked inquirineg up into Re d's face.

The old otiicer colored slightly; for he saw
shat Howard had taken a new line of con-

net.

“I presume,” he said, “that you have

 

.2

taken a view of her ladyship's information
which suits your own side of the question;
but it does not satisfy me, sir. I have known
Lady Balcarras for a long time, and have
never known her to make a false accusation
against an one.”

“ For al that, the lady may be mistaken,
general, and in this case she is. Have you
any objection to talk it over with me?"

“ I have, sir. I have given you my deter-
mination, and it is not to be broken without
cause.”

“ Then you refuse to listen to my propOsaI
to make your daughter the ﬁrst duchcss in the
country: is that it, general?”

“ You have no power to make her such,
sir. There is serious doubt thrown on our
own birth; and the fortune, that shoul go
with the title, is not yours to bestow.”

"That is true. But suppose I had proof
that the man who has supplanted me in 'the
matter of the fortune is an inipOStnr—what
then? And suppose, further, that I had the
confession of his father, yet living, that he
is not the son of my father and mother at
all; would that not alter your decision?”

“ It would not, sir.”

“What would. then?"

“When you are acknowledged Duke of
Norfolk. and in full possession of the for-
tune as well as the rank, that would alter my
decision and nothing short of that, sir."

George rose from his seat.

“ General Reid, you shall see me Duke of
Norfolk, in possession of the fortune you
have mentioned, and that within three days.
When you do, I shall expect an apology
from you, for the way you have treated me
in m misfortune."

“ f such a thing should happen, sir, you
would be entitled to demand the apology;
but you will excuse me for saying that it is
rather problematical at present. ”

“ Perhaps not so much as you think. In
the mean time, general, may I ask if Miss
Reid is in the Tower, or not ‘2”

“She is, sir. Lady Balcarras brought her"
here, for fear that she might be frightened
by the monster that seems to follow you,
into all places, whererer you. go."

The general spoke the last words in such a
way that George asked him wonderingly:

“General, it is not possible that you have
a suspicion that I am connected, in any way,
with the actions of this man?"

The general shrugged his shoulders.

“Wherever you go, he is sure to come.
Had you stayed at Hampton Court, he would
have gone to that place; but now you have
come here, you think he will follow you. Lady
Balcarras—” George interrupted him with an
air of irritation, askin :

“What? Is that lady here also? Can she
not let me alone for a moment? I sup
it is to her that I am indebted for this new
accusation. So I am to be made res onsible
for this man, when I have done all can to
find him out.”

“Lady Balcarras says it is singular that,
wherever you go, he comes. She thinks there
is some collusion between you.”

“ Indeed? And perha 3 you believe this?”

" I have a suspicion t at you know more
of the apparition than you have intimated to
me, sir.

George compressed his lips to avoid speak-
ing out the irritation he felt. After a pause,
to control himself, he said:

“ It is true that I have a suspicion who he
is; but no more kmnolodgo than you have.
But that is not the point. I came here, be-
cause I have noticed that the monster follows.
your daughter; and I would not have him
come, when I was_ not here to protect her.
You know my feelings toward her, general,
and that ought to protect me from such sus-
picions as ou have just uttered. I will bid
you a go evening or the present,“

And he went out of the room and made a

round of the posts in the Tower, the men-
having heard of the change that .had taken ~

place, and giving him the more ready obedi.
ence, that they were proud of having a man
of his rank placed over them.

Then he Went to a room where he had been
quartered in former times, when he was but
a subaltern, and sat down to think over what
he should do in the future. '

The prospect was 1) no means bri ht, al—
though he had made t e most of his c anoes,
in speaking to General Reid.

There was no way in which he could get

4.9)“

 

 

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27

 

 

over the will which had made him a be gar,
that he could see, and, aftera long stu y of
the situation, he exclaimed aloud:

“No, no, there is no hope. I was better
off as plain Mr. Howard.” '

“Are you sure of that?” asked a v01cc,
close to his ear; and. when he looked round,
there was the ﬁgure of the Hindoo adept,
Ram Mandana, seated on a chair at the other
side of the table, in the faint light of the
lamp, his dark eyes gleaming with the
solemn, almost unearthly light, that always
appeared there, when they two were alone.

At another time George would have been
startled; but he had become accustomed to
the strange appearances of the mysterious
Hindoo, and he asked him calmly:

“ Why have you come, Ram Mandana?”

“ As I came before—as your friend. Be-
think you, that I have never come before,
but to warn you of danger to you and
yours.”

“ Is there danger to-night?" asked George.

“There is, and great danger. If you es-
cape to-night, all may be well; but if you
show foolish mercy, to those who are not en-
titled to any such thing, it will be the last
time that you will get a chance to exercise it.
That is w at I came to say.”

“ But will you not explain yourself more
clearly, and tell me what is the danger?"
asked Geor e.

The Ilin oo shook his head.

“ It is the part of one who is warned, to
guard himself against all dangers. In my
country, when we hunt the tiger, we kill the
beast, wherever we ﬁnd it. The man that
spares one, when he has a chance to sla it,
is but a fool, and when he ﬁnds the teet of
the tiger in his ﬂesh, and the claws tearing
him to pieces, he cannot stop death by think-
ing of what he might have done, when it was
in his power. You‘ have been warned once,
and the warning was of no avail. If this
warning fails likewise. a stranger shall sit in
the throne of the rince. Who is that at the
door now, a frien or an enem '?”

George started to look roun , saw no one;
and, when he turned again, Ram Mandana
was gone.

He felt his hair risin , he hardly knew
why, at the mystery whic encompassed this
singular Hindoo, but the emergency was too
close for him to waste time in hunting for
the mode of exit of the adept.

Ram Mandana was gone, but he had come
to warn Howard. He had done so once be-
fore, and the warning had come true, as
George had found to his cost.

What did it mean now?

“Danger to my=life?” he said to himself.
“ That can only mean from weapons, and I
must arm myself as well as I can. He said
it was" coming to-night. That gives me time;
but how much. no one can tell."

He rose and belted on his sword; took a
pair of pistols, on which he knew he could
depend to shoot strai ht, and ﬁnally sallied
forth to visit the guar s again.

When he went out, the clocks of the Tow-
er were striking eleven, and he remembered
Spring-Heel Jack‘s visit.

He found the soldiers at their posts, the
guard—room quiet as usual; most of the men,
not on duty. sleeping on their hard benches,
ready for instant action, while the sergeant
of the guard was nodding in his seat.

George went to him and told him that he
expected a visit from the monster that had
frightened so many people, and asked him
whether the arms of the men were loaded.

“ Why, no, your grace," said the sergeant
in a way that showed the demand surprised
him. “It ain‘t usually thought necessary
here, your grace knows; but it can be done,

' it your grace wishes it.”

“ I do. See that all load their pieces at
once, on. post. If the monster comes, I want
every man that sees him to waste no time,
but to fire straight at him."

The sergeant hesitated.

“But there’s a lad in the Constable’s
rooms, your grace; an the men are afraid
of scaring the wits out of her."

"We must take the risk of that, for to-
It is more impOrtant to catch and
hi this sooundrcl, that is making his pranks
gil oy’er London, than to avoid frightening a

g) the sergeant set out on his tour of the

s, and Gear e heard him give the orders
had received, while the men on post at

 

. . , ,
a..- a...h.,..,-.-.-.-_-- , .. ...._. n.4,.-. . " wa. ,

 

once put the butts of their pieces on the
pavement, and began to load up.

Then the Tower sunk into its usual ghost-
ly quietude, and George Howard went into
the old Horse Armory, lighted only by the
swingin lamp, with a sort of idea that there
he would ﬁnd the kc to the mystery, that
had bafﬂed him and allthe rest of the guards,
so long.

He paced to and fro. examining the armor
and all the nooks and corners in which it
was possible for a man to be hid, for some
time; but found nothing, and was going
away to the head of the stairs, when he was
startled by the sound of a terrible shriek, in
the voice of Rose Reid, from the ﬂoor below.

 

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
SPRING-HEEL JACK‘s LAST Visrr.

THE sound of the shriek came from the
rooms of the Constable, the only place
where he had not hitherto gone, for the
reason that the old gentleman had forbidden
him, by his cold behavior, to have anything
to do with the safety of his daughter.
~ But the delicacy which had prevented the
young ofﬁcer from going in that direction
vanished as soon as he heard the sound of
the scream from below.

He knew that his old foe, Spring-Heel
Jack, must have come again, and that Rose
must have seen him. Down-stairs he rush-
ed, as fast as he could go, a pistol in each
hand.

He found the corridor at the foot of the
stair the same as usual, the sentry standing
as, if dazed, his musket clutched in both
hands, while he stared wildly round him, as if
ex ecting to see something.

he man had not dared to leave his post,
and Geor e rushed to the Constablc’s rooms,
when, to is horror, he found the door to be
fast locked.

The silence within was more awful to him
than the shriek he had heard, and he threw
himself against the door with all his force,
trying to burst it in and t at the foe.

As he struggled with t e door. he shouted
to the guar to come to his help, and they
came running out of the guard-room, and
hurrying to his assistance.

The door was too heavy to be forced
easily, but when three or four big guardsmen
made a simultaneous rush at it, and battered
it with the butts of their muskets, it ﬂew
from its hinges, and they got in, to ﬁnd the
insensible body of old General Reid, stretch-
ed out in the arm-chair, where he had taken
his nightl nap for many a year.

, One gance at the pale. and rigid face '

showed that the general was senseless, if not
dead. George rushed into the next room,
where he knew that the family apartments
of the general had been, though of course he
had never entered them before.

The next room to that in which the general
was found turned out to be a bed-room, but
it was empty, and the door communicating
with the next apartment was locked, and he
to be forced also.

It was done in an instant by the now thor-
oughly excited men, and a terrible sight lay
be ore them.

The dead body of Chundoo, the kitmagar,
was stretched on the ﬂoor, the throat cut
from car to ear, the blood having formed a
gooll Itinder his head, and a bloody sword lay

um.

yIloward, his brain whirling with the dread
of what he was going to see, went on ahead
of the men, and entered the next room.

It was the kitchen of the little establish-
ment, and empty of people; but the door be-
yond it opened into the passage.

Where, then, was Rose and her ayah,
never separated from her mistress at night?

He had known that Suryia always slept at
the foot of her mistress’s couch, and now
both of them had disappeared.

He Went into the assagc and found the
light burning as usua . but no signs of the
absent one. The men began to look at each
other as the superstition, latent in all their
natures, broke out in the face of this mys~
terious disappearance, almost under their
e es.

y“ Follow me,” said Howard impatiently,
and he went on through the passage, sure
that the fugitives 'must run on the sentries
somewhere. I

At last, as they Were tracing their way

 

through thelong corridor, no longer running,
but stepping softly and looking nervously
round them, the corridor was lighted up
by a ﬂash, followed by the heavy, bellow-
ing report of a musket; and George rushed
on in the direction of the shot, which came
from the ver corridor where Spring-Heel
Jack had ma 0 his escape, the last time they
had seen him.

As they advanced they heard a confused
noise of shouting before them, and as they
turned a corner, came in sight of a confused
group of men. all tangled in a heap.

“ We have him at last!” shouted Howard.
and he dashed on.

But before he could get to the spot, out of
the tangle of stru gling men he had seen in
the gloom, leape the well-known ﬁgure of
Spring-Heel Jack, and ﬂed toward the very
postern at which he had before disappeared.

Howard saw that two men were lying on
the ground, and caught sight of the white
robe of a woman among them. His heart
sunk within him as he thought that Rose
Reid was dead at last.

But he ran on ahead of all his men, and
had the gratiﬁcation of coming up with the
monster, just as Spring-Heel Jack got to the
postern door.

It was wide open, just as it had been be-
fore, though he had seen to its barring him-
self ; and Spring-Heel Jack took the same
leap over the moat, as he had done before.

But, this time, George dfd not attempt to-
run after. the ﬂying ﬁgure.

As the monster took his leap, the young
ofﬁcer halted and sunk on one knee, leveling
his pistol. As Spring-Heel Jack alighted,
he staggered for a moment, as if he slipped,
and that moment gave George a good mark
to aim at.

The pistol ﬂashed, and as the shot sped, he
saw Spring-Heel Jack stagger and nearly
fall. Then he recovered himself and started
to run oﬂ’ again, with his usual marvelous
swiftness.

George had dropped his ﬁrst pistol, and
now rested the second on his knee, and ﬁred,
with the same careful aim.

A second time the report rung out, and
this time Spring-Heel Jack dropped on the-
ground.

With a loud shout of trium h, George
Howard ran back a few steps, an then took
a ﬂ in leap himself across the great moat,
which e had seen the monster leap.

But he could not quite reach the other
side, though he mana to catch at the
edge of the bank, and a ter a hard struggle,
to scramble up and gain the glacis.

He looked back. and saw that the soldiers-
had gathered at the postern-door, astounded
at the width of the leap, and he shouted out
to them:

“Get ladders, or come round the other
way! We have got him at last."

hen he ran on, and came u , within a.
few seconds, to the place where t e mysteri-
ous monster, that had bathed them all for so
brig, lay on the glacis.

e knew that his shots must have taken
effect, and expected to ﬁnd the fugitive dead
or badly wounded; but what was his sur-
prise, when he got to the place where he-
thought it had been, to ﬁnd that it had dis-
appeared!

he night was dark enough to account for
the disappearance, but how had the creature
escaped the shots, which had certainl hit it?

As he revolved these thoughts in his mind,
he was startled by the sound of a stealthy
footste behind him. and the next moment
he con routed the well-known ﬁgurethathad
once before nearly killed him.

But this time he was not going to be taken
unawares. In the ve moment of turning,
he had instinctively rawn his sWord, and
now he made a lun , in the dark, against
the ﬁgure, which too eﬁect.

At least the blade struck something: but it
seemed hard, and the point slipped off, as if
it had met the resistance of armor.

The next moment he was pplcd, but he
managed to wrench himsel free, and dealt
the ﬁgure another blow, this time with the
edge of the sword, on the head.

he night was so dark that he could only
see a dim outline of his antagonist, but the
second blow also took eﬁect. He felt the
blade strike; and this time it was not a hard
surface that met it. He had cut into some-
thing, and he heard a deep curse, the first.

d

28

Spring-Heel Jack.

 

 

time that SpringHeel Jack had uttered an I

audible sound, since he had met him.

Then the ﬁgure advanced on him again
with a leap, and he struck it a third blow.

IIe dealt the cut with all his strength, and
it met the mark fairly.

Spring-Heel Jack uttered a wild yell of
pain, and turned to ﬂee again.

George, excited by his success, followed
the fleeing ﬁgure, dealing blow after blow at
its back. but it was too fleet for him, and
took its way straight for the river, so that he.
did not succeed in sending home another

blow, till he reached the borders of the:1

water.
There was some light, owmg to the re.-

ﬂection, and he saw the dark outline of a J
' thing.”

boat, into which Spring-Heel Jack leaped,
with one of his ﬂying bounds.

George shouted for help, and heard the
steps of men, running from the side of the
Tower by the stairs.

But the boat was already moving awa in
the darkness, and he longed for a pisto to
ﬁre at it.

in the boat, and then it was swallowed up in
the fog, that hung over the river at all sea-
sons of the year. more or less, just as the
men at the water-stairs came running up.

To et out another boat and ursue was
the a air of a few minutes, an

stream. in search of the mysterious visitor.

But when the men had (pulled for an hour ,
nothing, they be- l
gan to realize that Sprin r-IIeel Jack had,

in all directions, and foun

escaped them again, and oward was com-
pelled to pull back to the Tower, disappoint-
ed once more.

Then he went to the rooms of the old Con-
stable, /and found that General Reid had re-
covered his senses.

CHAPTER XXXIX.
THE sscnn'r REVEALED.

THE news that General Reid was sensible
a ain excited but little interest in the mind
0% the young officer, compared to what had
become of the general's daughter, whom he
had not. yet seen; and Howard anxiously
inquired whether the young lady had been
found.

It was old Sergeant Hodge who told him,
with a grave face and a voice of great
sorrow, that the poor young lady had been
found in the lower passage, where the mon-
ster had dropped her, her throat torn as by
the claws of a wild beast. and that the doctor
feared that she would not outlive the fright
.and injury.

“She’s been took to her own room, and
she’s been axin’ for your grace ever since she
come to,” the honest sergeant said.

Geor e hurried to the rooms where he
knew s e had been taken, and met Tatham
at the door.

The doctor beckoned to him to come into
a side room, and said to him, in the hushed
way in which people are apt to talk in cases
of severe sickness or hurt: '

“This is a bad business. Did you catch
the villain at last?"

“ No, but I think we have marked him. I
hit him twice with a bullet, and twice with
my sword, but he got off, in the river, in a
boat. The man has contedcrates, and we
shall ﬁnd them out now."

Then be reverted to the subject nearest his

 

heart by asking:

“And Rose, how is she? Is she hurt
badly”

“ o, the injury, as far as that goes. is

only a scratch, though it was meant for
death, I am convince .
man on guard in the lower passage saw the
monster coming and challenged it, not seeing
in the dark who it was. He sa 8 that the

mement he called out his cha lenge there

was a ﬂame of ﬁre, and he saw the monster ‘
, face, at last.

drop the woman he was carrying. After
that there was a confused fight, and the next
thing he knew he was rappled by the mon-
ster, who wrenched hs musket from him
and knocked him down. This fellow must
be a strong man, Howard."

“He is, as I know from experience: but
there are others as strong as he. Is the
general hurt much, doctor "

" Worse than his child. He sags that he
was reading in his chair, when eheards
sound, and saw the monster close behind

He could distinguish, against the ;
learn of the water, that there were two men ;

 

the young ,
officer was soon moving rapidly over the‘

 

It seems that the.

him. He started up to et his pistols, when
he was seized and a b ow dealt him with
something—he knows not what—which
stunned him. I think it was a blunt and
hcav weapon of some kind, like a club."

“ s—can I see—Miss Reid?"

The doctor hesitated.

“I hardly know whether it is safe. She

‘ wants to see you, and has asked for you, ,
, but she is in such an excitable state that I

fear to permit the interview."

“ Does her father object?" \

“ No; that is the strange thin about it.
\Vlien she asked him if he wou (1 allow it,
he said he would interfere no more. He
seems to be broken down by the last visit of
this scoundrcl. But I must warn you of one

“ And what is that?"

“ That the young lady is a little light in
her head. and.that you must not believe
every fancy that she will tell you."

“ {as she told you anything?"

“No, but she seems very anxious to see
on, to tell you something or other.
eeps raving about its being important to
you, and all that sort of thing. In short, I
fear that she has taken a notion into her head
that she has discovered the identity of this
man, that has bafﬂed everybody else, and
I would not trust to her fancies too much,
olrl it may lead you into a law-suit. That is
a 
And the doctor waved his hand toward
the room whence he had just come, into
which Howard Went, thoughtfully and
rravely, not knowing what to expect exact-
y, from the doctor's account.

He found ROse lying back on a sofa, her
father near her, and her ayah weeping at her
eet.

It was the ﬁrst time he had seen Suryia,
and, had she been alone, he would have been
tempted to ask her what had become of her,
at the time when her mistress was in dan-

ger.
But the sight of Rose took awa ' all other ;
I live, I take no steps to get my rights."

thoughts from his mind; and his ieart heat
so that he fancied that it could be heard, as
she raised her eyes to his, and said:

“ Oh, I am so glad you have come!"

He saw that her neck was bound up, just
as his own had been, showing that she had
been hurt, as he himself had been; but her
voice was quite strong, as she spoke.

.Then she turned to her father, and asked

“Will you let me see him alone?"

The old general rose slowly from his seat,
and said to George, with a weary air:

“ You have conquered, sir. The child
loves you, and I can deny her nothing. I
recall my decision, and you are free to say
what you like.”

He seemed to be broken down with his
hurt, and the grief that consumed him at the
si ht of his daughter‘s injuries.

ut Howard, with a profound bow, said:

“ I shall take no advantage of your kind-
ness, sir.' As far as 1 am concerned, you
can remain.”

“No, no,” said Rose, eagerly. “What I
have to say to you, no one else must hear. It
concerns yourself alone."

The general added, with less sadness:

“You are quite welcome to speak to my
daughter, sir, and I will return when she has
spoken.”

So saying, he left the room. and, at a sign
from Rose, Suryia followed him.

HOWard, not knowing what to make of it
all, was doubtful what to do, when Rose said
to him, in a low, confidential tone:

“Iknow who the monster is, at last."

Then he started, and his face ﬂushed, as he
asked her:

“ Are you 'sure? Remember that it will
not do to make any mistakes."

“ 1 have made no mistakes," she answered.
“ He spoke to me, and I saw him. face to
It is our own brother."

George stared at er in surprise.

" How do you know?"

“ He came to me," she said, in a low voice,
her face pale with the recollection of what
she had undergone, “in his horrible dress.
I was not asleep. though the rest of the peo-

le were. My father Was in his room, read-

, ng, he tells me, and Suryia had asked me

for a leave to go and visit Sergeant Hod e's
wife. in another part of the Tower. Chun 00
was the only servant in the rooms when he

‘a strug le in the room where my

She .

 

came. The ﬁrst I heard of his coming was

ather
was rea ing. I ran in, and saw the monster
deal him a blow on the head with a heavy
candlestick. Then Chundoo, who had been
asleep, came into the room and attacked him
with a sword; but before he could deal the
monster a blow, it had grappled with him,
and dashed him on the floor likea child;
snatched the sword from Chundoo's hand,
and dealt him a stroke across his throat.
which nearly took his head oiI. Then he
threw the bloody sword down, and sprung
at me. I do not know what had kept me
quiet so long, but I seemed to be bound by a
spell. But when I felt his odious arms
round me, I was desperate, and I gave a

, shriek, and tore at his face, as I thought, not

knowingwhat I did. And then the mask he
wore came off in my hand. and I saw theface
oj'yuur brother. Then he spoke out.”

" And what did he. say?“ asked George,
seeing that she paused.

Rose shuddered violently, as she went on:

“I shall never forget his words. He. al-
most crushed me in his arms, and he hissed
in my cars: ‘So you’ve. found me out, my
lady! Then that seals your fate!‘ Then he
caught me by the throat, and I must have
fainted; for everything seemed to be rrow-
ing dark, andI knew no more till I ound

1 myself here, with the servants all round me,
| and my father told me what had happened.

But remember that there is no mistake. It
was your brother‘s face. and your brother‘s
voice, that I saw and heard. He. is the man,
and no other.”

Then she sunk back on her couch, as if
completely exhausted; and George, fearful
that she was going to faint again, called for
her father. He waited by the couch till she
spoke again:

“ I am so glad you came. Now I can die
happy, for you wi l have your own at last."

“It will be valueless, without it is shared
by her who gave it back to me," he said
solemnly. “ Rose Reid, if you will not

She smiled faintly

“ I will try to ive,” she said, in a low
voice. “ Life is Worth living now.”

Then he went out from the room, and sent

Q in the doctor to her, waiting anxiously for

his report. By the time Tatham returned,
the light of the dawn was streaming in at the
windows of the Tower, for it was midsum-
mer, and the sun rose at four o’clock in the
morning.

Tatham wore a face of much more cheer-
fulness than when he went in.

“ She will get well,” he said. “ After all,
there are times when we doctors do not know
as much as our patients. The talk with on
has relieved her mind, and she is tranqu at

last."
“Then good-by, doctor," said the be gar
duke. “I only waited for that. Now am

going away, to act on what she told me.”

He sent for his orderl , who had not made
his appearance all nig t, much to his sur-
prise, and found that Spring had disappear-
ed, and was not to be found in the Tower.

But he remembered that he had promised
the Gypsy a leave to visit his family, and
conclnd that Spring, in his usual sty e, had
taken the leave for ranted.

Therefore he too another orderly, armed
himself as if he was gping out against an
enemy, called a coac rom the royal
stables, and drove off in the ﬁrst blush of the

awn.

.._—

CHAPTER XL.
CONCLUSION.

“DRIVE to Norfolk House," was the or.
der that Howard gave to the coachman, and
the vehicle drew up at the door within a
very short time from that in which it left the
Tower.

Howard sprung out as soon as the man
stop ed tne orses, and said to his orderly:

“ allow me, and be ready, if there is any
trouble, to stop their nonsense."

I The man looked surprised but said quiet.

y:

“Very well, our grace."

Then George3i‘an up the steps and deliv-
ered a thundering knock at the door.

It was still so early that there was no one
in the streets, and the echo of the knock, as
it sounded through the great house, was that
of emptiness.

a .. ..,__¢ .-......_.nW-<

 

 

 

 

". '& V” waf. T

’ atoms.

“.11 ,L‘! v. w; M'M-m
‘ 73mm ‘

 

 

van-agar.» . ~,- .,-..

Spring-Heel Jack.

29

 

It had the indescribable sound that tells
that there is no one near to answer the
knock.

And indeed no one came, though George
knocked again and again, for nearly ﬁve
minutes.

Then at last a man put his head out of a
window, up near the roof, and shouted out:

“ ’00’s ’ere, at this time of morning? Get
bout of that, ye impident raxalsi”

“ You come down ’ere, if you don’t want
to get in trouble." shouted back the orderly,
for George made him a sign and kept out of
sight himself in the recesses of the great
doorway.

“ Don‘t ye know enough to come down,
or dy’e want to keep his majesty's oilicers
awartin’?"

The stern voice, and the sight of the scar-
let uniform below, had its effect on the head
at the window, for there was a frightened
“ Oh Lord!” and the head disappeared.

Not long after, the heard a step on the
stairs; and Jarvis imself, the orgeous
ﬂunky, made his ap arance, looking ﬂur-
ried, as he reco niz the duke.

“Where’s r. Howard?” asked Howard
sternly.

“Indeed, your grace,” said Jarvis, tremb-
lingas if frightened “master’s been hout all
night, and only jest got in, sir, and Went to
be , and it’s as much as my life’s worth to
disturb 'im. Please don't say you want to
see ’im.”

“Was any one with him when he came
home?” Howard asked, in the same stern,
quick way.

“Please your grace, there warn’t no one
but Mr. Spring, as brought ‘im ’ome and
took care of ’im."

George studied the face of the ﬂunky, and
saw that he was dreadfully frightened at
something or other, so he said sternly:

“ Show me the way to your master’s room
at once, and if you try to alarm the house,
or prevent my going there, I’ll kill you with
as little remorse as I would a mad dog.
Lead on."

As he spoke, he drew a pistol and cocked
it, with a sound that sent the cold tremors
down the back of the luckiess Jarvis, who
said at once:

“Certainly, your grace, with pleasure; I’ll
do it, at once, but, please, don’t p‘int that
thing this way, ’cause it might go hoﬂ,
srr.”

Geor e waved the pistol in a way that
terriﬁc him still more, saying:

“Go on, and don’t look back, or I‘ll
shoot."

Jarvis shook all over, but obeyed with
alacrity, and led the way through the broad
hall, and u the eat stone staircase, which
Geor last ascended at the funeral of
his kinsman, till he pointed to a door, and
said in a whisper of great terror:

“That's the place, your grace; but I
daresn’t do no more, not if you kill me. It’s
jest as good to die one way as another.”

George nodded absently. '

“Get oat of the way, then,“ he said, and
then to his orderly he added:

“Draw your sword and follow me.”

The man obeyed, with the stiff manner of
the old soldier, and George put his hand on
the door, turned the handle, and opened,

He saw before him a large room, magniﬁ-
cently furnished, with a great state-bed in
the middle, and by the bedside, fast asleep
in a chair, sat his own orderly, John
Spring.

But in the bed, with his head swathed in
bloody bandages, lay the man he had come
after, and, as George entered the room,
Oliver Howard opened his eyes and saw
Iiiiil.

George stepped in and ointed to the
unconscious Gyps , who, rom his heavy
breathing, was evt ently drunk and stupid.

"Jackson," he said to the soldier by his
side, “if that fellow gives any trouble,
remember that he is absent without leave,

and cut him down if he offers to make
I trouble.

You know who he is?"
Jackson, saluted, with a grim smile. '

"Ay, ay, our grace, 1 know the man.
That’s the any that ’ad to be hironed
t’other!day. hat a impident raxal to come
In  H

“Take care of him, then,” said Gear 9,
and then he turned to the man in bed, w o

‘ had made no movement all this time, but lay

 

there, staring at him, as if he had not quite
recovered his senses.

“Now, sir,” he said sternly, “it is a ques.
tion if 'ou or I own this house. Are you
ggepare to argue it with me, or are you

tter prepared to go before his majesty‘s
courts, to answer for your pranks as Spring-
{Ieel Jack? You have been found out at
ast.”

Still Oliver made no reply. He tried to

raise his hand to his head, and opened his ;

mouth, but the lips seemed dry, and at last
he mana d to whisper hoarsely:
“Drini, drink! I’m chokin’, man!”
George cast his eyes round the room, and
saw, on a little table, not far off, the array
of bottles and glasses, that smacked of a late
debauch. He went there, took a bottle, ﬁlled
a glass with wine and water, and brou ht it
back to the invalid, who drank it eager y.
Then Oliver said, in a louder vorce than
before, but still very weak:
“Send the men out of the room. It’s all
over. You have the luck, after all, George.”
He seemed so weak that George was puz-
zled, but he did as requested b roughly
shaking the sleeping Gypsy, and s routing in
his ear: .
Spring, get out of this; do you hear
8 H

Spring started awake in a fright, and as he
saw the face of the otlicer who had been his
chief but lately, and then turned his eyes
round the room, on all the magniﬁcence, he
seemed to be bewildered, but ﬁnally got up
and shambled out of the room, followed by
Jackson, who seemed as if he only wanted a
chance to get at him, out of sight of the
gentlemen in the room.

No sooner had the door closed than they
heard sounds of blows outside, and then
came a fall, as the irate Jackson, who had
suffered from the Gypsy’s ﬁghting abilities

when he had come home drunk, on a former I

occasion, anxious to get even with him, made
a sudden and furious attack on him with the
ﬂat of his sword, and knocked the Gy sy
senseless, so as to save further trouble, he ore
he could defend himself, in his almost help-
less condition.

But George had no time to attend to any-
thing that took place outside of the room, for
he was too busy inside.

Oliver. as soon as the door had closed, be-
gan in a low, faint voice:

“I know what you come for, and it’s all
right; you won’t have to wait long. I know
what you’ve found out. Mathias Spring was
here last night to tell me, and if it hadn’t been
for that pistol of yours, I‘d have been Duke
of Norfolk to-day. But you’ve had the best
of it all throu h. I give in at last.”

lie was evi ently weak and rostrate, and
George, ﬁlled with pity, when te saw his foe
helpless and remembered that he had
thought this man his brother, asked wist-
full :

“yOliver, why have you played all these
wicked tricks, and whychave you, especially,
played them on Rose 1 id?"

Oliver smiled faintly but sarcastically, as
if he delighted in thwarting the curiosity of
the man who had got the better of him.

“That’s nothing to you,” he said. “ You
are no brother 0 mine, as 'ou have often
said, and I have known it a l the time. If
you had died, I should have been the Duke
of Norfolk, in spite of all; but as you live,
and I am too weak to sign my name to a
will that gives away m property, you will
succeed to it, and peop e wi i say t tat your
brother did the best he could for you, after
all. You hit me hard last night, and I am
not one that believes in doctors; but brother
John there (my real brother) told me that the
shot was sure death, and since that, we two
only thought of how to live a short life and
a merry one. We got home and drank three
bottles, and now on will be the Duke of
Norfolk, with a the fortune, in a few
hours.” '

George saw that he was speakin the truth
as soon as he examined the woun .

The bi bullet of his dueling pistol had
cnctrate the breast of the onng man on
he left side, not far from the cart, and the

only wonder was how he had managed to
get off, when he made his leap into the boat.

“ Ay, ay,” said Oliver. with a faint, proud
smile, as he said this, “there ain’t many men ,
could have played~ Spring-Heel Jack; and
there will never be another, George. If I’d

the was growing very weak now.

 

only stuck to what I had, and not been rash,
I might have had fun enough for the next
three years to make me ready to die con-
tent.”

“ And do you mean to say that you have
done all these things for nothing in the
world but amusement?” asked George in
amazement. ,

“ Ay, ay,” the other almost whispered. for
“ That
was all, that was all, till I saw you and Rose
Iieid were getting thick together. Then I
was bound that you should never marry her,
and never have an heir. I wanted to be
duke; and after 1 ot the fortune, it was
worse than before. hat is the use of being
a rich man, if another man can go in to din-
ner before you and be called duke. Iwas
determined that I would be duke, before 1
died, and that was the reason I went after
Rose, this last time. If I had succeeded,
and those confourded soldiers had not come
when they did, I should have killed her, and
you would never have gotten over it. But
now it is all over, and have made no will,
and you will soon be the richest duke in
England. I say, George—”

I ere he paused, and the reckless look
faded out of his face.

“ Well?" asked George coldly, for he
could not feel much pity for one who had
wronged him so foul] . ~

“Let me be buriedV as a Howard, at least.
Remember that I mi ht have killed you, the
other ni ht, and I di n’t.”

“ An why didn’t you?"

“ Because—well, you won't believe it, but
it is a fact that, when I was just going to
strike on down, somethin told me that you.
were t e only brother I ha ever known, and
that I ought to be ashamed of myself for do~
ing it. Besides, remember that, if youdon’t
bury me as your brother, the roperty won’t
go to on. The Romany ave seen that
it‘s all ard and fast, that way.”

“ You may be sure of that,” said George,
in a bitter tone. “ The will of my old kins-
man has settled that. Yes, you shall have
your wish, if that will do you any good."

The face of the dying man—for he was dy~
ing fast- lit up at the promise, and he
whis red:

“ was not ﬁt to be taken into the family-
The Romany blood won’t make a rye, and.
the moral tried, the worse it was. But I
can die like the best rye of them all, and the
world won't never know but what I was a
gentleman.”

 

And it never did. A stately marble monu-
ment marks the resting-place of the Rom-
any heir, and lon years after, when Rose
was Duchess of orfoik, and George the
richest, as well as the premier peer of En—
glafnd, he was often known to say to his
w1 e:

“Poor Oliver was not so bad, after all,
and he mi ht have done a eat deal worse
than he id, when he ha everything his
own way.”

THE END.

DIME DIALOGUES AND r’smtttns

FOR SCHOOL EXHIBIT/0N8
AND HOME ENTERTAINJIENTS.

Dillozues, Nos. 1 to 81 inclusive, "5 to as -
iar dialogues and dramas in each book. Eac vol»
time 100 pages l2mo.

Speakers, Nos. 1 to 24 inclusive. Each speaker
1(1) pages i2mo. containing from 50 to 75 pieces.

 

YOUNG PEOPLE’S SERIES.

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H’ The above books are sold newedeateu
everywhere, or will be sent. poet- . to my ‘6'

dress. on receipt of price. ten cents each. Bums
m Alums, Publishers. as William at... N. Y.

M V‘.‘_ p-

.-~‘r

c‘

BEAD
LE’S
HALF-DIME LIBRAR
Y. ‘—

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

  
  
 

     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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i r

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_, {ELEM JRLL

 

 

 

1 A Hard Crowd; or, Gentleman Sam‘s Sister.
Philip S. Warne. V

2 he Dare-Devil; or, The Winged \\ itch of
the Sea. By COL P. lngraham.

3 Kit Carson, Jr., the Crack Shot of the
West. B Buckskin Sam. .

4 The K dnap or or, The Great Shanghai of
the Northwest. y P, iiip S. Warne.

5 The Fire-Fiends; or, Hercules, the Hunch-
back. By A. P. Morris. .

6 \Vildcat Bob, the Boss Bruiser. By Ed.
ward L. Wheeler.

7 Death-Notch, the Destroyer. By Oil Coomes.

8 The Headless Horseman. By Captain
Mayne Reid.

9 Handy Andy. 1sz! Samuel Lover. .

10 Viidoctq, the ren Police Spy. Written by

H msel .
11 Midshipman Easy. B Captain Marryat.

12ghe Death-Shag”;L or, ked To Death.
Ca tain Mayne
13 lzuthpaway; or. Nick Whiﬂi the old Trap-
r of the Nor west. B Dr. J. . Robinson.

14 hayendanegea, t e Scourge; or The War-
le olfuthe Mglliaw'ks. By Ned Paw.” th
15 T e er-. ayer or, Eage- 9
Rescue. 53 Gustave 3Aimard.
16 The Wh te \Vizard ' or, The GreatProphet
of the Seminoles. B N Buntline.
17 Nightshade. the bber Prince of Hounslow
Heath. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.
18 The Sea Bandit; or. The Queen of the Isle.
By Ned Buntline.
19 Alet‘irgedar, the Prairie Outlaw. By Gustave
m
20 The Bandit at Ba ;or The Pirates of the
airies. By Gustave A ard.
21 The Trap er’s Daughter; or, The Out-
law‘s Fate. y Gustave Aimard.
22' Whitelaw; or, Nattie of the Lake Shore.
By Dr. J. H. Robinson. ,
23 The Bed Warrior; or. Stella Delorme s
Comanche Lover. By 'Ned Burtline.
24 Prairie Flower. ByG. Aimard.
25 The Gold Guige; or, Steel Arm. the Regu-

lator. By ohnson.
26 The Death-Track} or. The Outlaws of the
Mountain. ncis ohnson

27 The Sliotter Detective; or. The Girls of
New Yor . By Albert W. Aiken.

28 Three-Fingered Jack the Road-Agent of
the Rockies: or. The Boy Miner of Hard Luck.

, BiyJose h E. Badger. Jr.

99 iger ick the Faro King; or,TheCashier’s
Crime. By Philip S. Warne.

'30 Gospel Georg or, Fiery Fred. the Outlaw.

By oseph E. ger. Jr.

.31 The New York Shar ; or. The Flashof
Lightning. B Albert W. en.

.32 B ho a of ale or. The ScrapesofaHard
Set of lie ians. y John D. Vose.

33 Overlan Kit; or. The Idyl of White Pine.
1:; Albert W. Aiken.

34 ocky Mountain Bob the California
Outlaw: or. The Vigilantes of Humbug Bar. By
Albert W. Aiken.

85 Kentuck. the Sporﬁ or. Dick Talbot at

lbert W. ken

the Mines. BKA .
36 Injnn Dic A or, The Death Shot of Shasta.
Albert W. ken.

37 irl, the Hunchback or. The Sword-
Vker of the Santos. B . . H. Robinson.

88 elvet Hand ;wor The Iron Grip of Injun
Dick. By Albert .Aiken.

39 The Russian chy; or The Brothers of the
8 Cross. By ptain Fred. Whittaker.

40 The Long Haired “ Pards ;” or, The
Tartars of the Plains. B Jos. E. Bad r, Jr.

II Gold Dan 3; or The White Savageo theGrest
. Lake. y Albert w. Aiken.

12 The California Detective' or. The Witches
of New York. By Albert W. en.

43 Dakota Dan the Reckless Ranger; or, The
Bee-Hunters‘ Excursion. B 011 Coomes.

44 Old Dan Rackback,t 0 Great Extarmina—

‘5 or mrrianglegLast {rail 08111l Coomes.

e e at o the

Plains. B Jos. i. m

. r.

46 Bowie-{Knife Ben the Little Hunter of the
Nor’-West' or. The es of the Valley of Shad-
ows. By Oil Coomes.

4'! Paciﬁc Pete, the Prince of the Revolver. By
Jose h E. Badger. Jr.

48 Ida Io Tom, the Youn Outlaw of Silverland:
or the Hunters of the Wil West. BvOll Coomes.

49 'l’he Wolf Demon or. The Queen of the
Kanawha. By’Albert . Aiken.

50 Jack Bab it, the Prairie Sport: or. The

olf Children of the Llano Estacado. By Jon.

er. Jr.
0.. oh, the Boy Road—Agent. By Oil

52 Death Trailer. the Chief of Scouts; or. Life
and Lave in a Frontier Fort. By Buifalo Bill.

53 Silver Sam or, The Mystery of Deadwood
Cit‘v. By Col. lie Sara.

54 A W! I On Hand or. The Sportive 313°"
of the oat-Hills. By Aim 8, Warne.

55 The Seal Hunters. Capt. MayneReid.

56 The 1nd an Maz$xa; or, The man

. iken.

of the Plains. B A.

.57 The Silent unter or. The Scowl Hall
Mystery. B Percy B. St. ohn.

58 S lver Knife; or. Wickliife, The Rocky
Mountain Ranger. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

59 The Man From Texas; or, The Outlaws
of Arkansas. By A . Aiken.

60 Wide Awake the Robber King; or, The
Idiot of the Black Hills. By Frank Burnout.

 

in

 

liéllfllp l IlillalﬁllfllglllBJE [A

I
I

By Ned'

61 Captain Seawaif, the Privateer.
Buntline.

62 Loyal Heart; or, The Trappers of Arkansas.

By Gustave Aimani.

63 The Winged Whale; or, Red Rupert of
the Gulf. B A. W. Aiken.

64 Double-S gilt, the Death Shot' or, The Out-
law of the Chaparral. By J 05. E. Badger. Jr.

65 The Bed BaJah' or, The Scourge of the
Indies. By Capt. F. ittaker.

66 The S iecter Barque. By Mayne Reid.

67 The Boy Jockey ; or, Honesty versus
Crookedness. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

68 The Fightinr Trapper' or. Kit Carson
to the Rescue. y Captain J.  C. Adams.

69 The Irish Captain. By Capt. F.Whittaker.

70 Hydrabad, the Stran ler- or, Alethe, the
Child of the Cord. By Dr. .  Robinson.

71 Ca tain Cool-Blade; or The Man-Shark
of t e Mississippi. By Jos. E. dger Jr.

72 The Phantom Hand' or, The Heiress of
Fifth Avenue. By A. W. Al en.
73 The Kni hts of the Red Cross; or, The
Magician of ranada. B Dr. J. H. Robinson.
74 The Ca tain of the ides; 0r, TheQueen
of the La es. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

75 Gentleman George or Parlor, Prison.
Stage and Street. By A. . Aiken.

76 The Queen’s Musketeers gagr, Thisbe, the
Princess Palmist. B George Al y.

77 The Fresh of risco' or. The Heiress of
iiuenaventura. By Albert  Aiken.

78 The Mysterious S y; or, Golden Feather.
the Buccaneer's Daugh r. By A. M. Grainger.

79 gige Phenix, the Police Spy. By Albert W.

en.

80 A Man of Nerve; or, Caliban, the Dwarf.
By Phil]? S. Warne.

81 The nman Tiger; or, A Heart of Fire.
By Albert W. Aiken.

82 Iron \Vrist, the Swordmastcr. By Colonel
Thomas H0 or Monstery.

83 Gold Bu et :30" or. The Knights of the
Overland. By B alo ill.

84 Hunted Down; or, The League of Three.
B Albert W. Aiken.

85 he Cretan Bower; or. Zuleikah, the
Beautiful. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

86 The Big Hunter; or. The ueen of the
Woods. y the author of “The Si ent Hunter."

87 The Scarlet Captain or, The Prisoner of
the Tower. By Col. Delle re.

88 Big Geor e, the Giant of the Gulch; or. The
Five Outlaw rothers. By Jose h E. er. Jr.

89 The Pirate Prince; or. tt Ne y, the

ueen of the Isle. in}? Col. Prentiss ngraham.
90 ild Will, the ad Ranchero; or, The Ter-
rible Texans. By Buckskin Sam

91 The Winnin Oar; or. The Inkeeper's
Daughter. B rtW. Aiken.
2 Buﬂhlo

ill the Buckskin King]: or. The

Amazon of the est. By Ma . Dange eld Burr.

93 Ca tain Dick Talbot, '11 of the Road;
or. he Black-Hoods of Shasta. y A. W. Aiken.

94 Freelance, the Buccaneer; or. The Waif of
the Wave. By Col. Prentiss I m.

95 Azhort, the Axman; or, The Secrets of the
Ducal Palace. B Anthony P. Morris.

96 Double-Dent ; or. ﬁlmy Queen of Wyo-
ming. By Capt. Fred. Whi er.

97 Bronze Jack, the California Thoroughbred;
or. The Lost City of the Basaltic Buttes. By
Albert W. Aiken.

98 The Rock Hider; or, The S irit of the
Sierra. By Ca t. Frederick Whit er.

99 The Giant itleman ; or, Wild Life in the
Lumber Regions. 0 Coomes.

100 The French Spy; or. The Bride of Paris.

By Anthony P. Morris.

101 he Man From New York; or. TheRo-

mance of a Rich Young Woman. 137 Aiken.

102 The Masked Band or. The an With-

outaName. B rge .Aiken.

103 Merle, the utineer; or, The Brand of

the Red Anchor. B Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

104 Montezuma, t e Merciless' ,

Eagle and the Serpent. By 001. P. agraham.

105 Dan Brown ol'Denver the Rocky Moun-

tain Detective. ByJoseph .Bad er. Jr.

106 Shamus O’Brien, the Bould oy of Glin-

a]: or. Irish Hearts and Homes. By

oi. Delle Sara.
107 Richard Talbot of Cinnabar; or. The

Brothers of the Red Hand. By A. W. Aiken.
1 08 The Duke orDiamonds; or. The Flower

of Calcutta. By Ca tain Frederick Whittaker.

109 Ca tain Kyd t e King of the Black Flag;
01;! Ehe Witch of, Death Castle. By COL Pren-

t ngraham.
110 The Silent Biﬂeman. By Henry W.

Her e .
111 The Smu ler Ca tain or The i
er’s Crime.g yNed untilne‘. ’ skp‘
112 oe Phenix Private Detective' or. The
113 The Sea

League of the S eleton Ke . B
Slipper her. he

hooters. By Pro . J. . Ingraham.
114 The Gentleman From Pike

Ghost of the Canyon. By Philip's. am.
115 The Severed Head or. he Secret of

Castle Ceiicv. By Capt. . Whittaker.
116 Black Plume, the Devil of the Sea: or.

The Sorceress of Hell Gate. By 001. Prentiss

Ingrahsm.

1 1 7 Dashing Dandy, the Hangar of the Hills;
or. The Pony Prince‘s Strange and. By Maj.
Dangerfield Burr. ’

1 1 8 The Bu iar Ca tain or The Fallen
Star. By 1550:. J. n. Iggrahain. ’ ~

or. The

 

 

 

, R IX-

 

 

1 19 Alabama Joe ° or. The Yazoo Man-Hun
ters. By Jos. E. B’adger. Jr.

120 The Texan Sp '; or, The Prairie Guide.
By Newton M. Cut is.

1 21 The Sea Cadet; or, The Rover of the Bigo-
letts. By 001. Prentiss In am.

122 Saul Sabberda ' theI iot Spy; or, Luliona,
the Seminole. By ed Buntline.

123 Alapaha, the S uaw ; or, The Renegades
of the Border. By rancis Johnson.

124 Assosvaum, the Avon er; The
Doom of the Destroyers. By rancis Johnson.

125 The Blacksmith Outlaw; or. Merry
England. By Harrison Ainsworth.

126 The Demon Duelist; or. The Icagueof
SteeL By Col. Thomas Hoyer Monstery.

127 S01 Scott, the Masked Miner; or.
Brown‘s Double. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

128 The Chevalier Corsair; or, The Heri-
tage of Hatred. By the author of “Merle the

or.

Dan

Mutineer."
129 Mississi i Mose‘ or, A Strong Man‘s
Sacrifice. y Edward Willett.

130 Captain Volcano' or. The ManoftheBed
Revolvers. By A. W. Aiken.

131 Buckskin Sam, the Texas Trailer; or. The
Bandits of the Bravo. By Col. P. Ingraham.

132 Nemo, King of the Tramps or,'l'he
Roman Girl‘s Vengeance. ByCapt.
Whit er.

133 Body the Hover the Ribbonmanof Ire-
land. By William Carleton.

1 34 Darkie Dan, the Colored Detective; or. The
Mississippi M story. i. .Inmham.

135 The Bush an er or, The Half-Breed
Brigade. By Fran Jo nson.

136 The Outlaw-Hunter or, Red John, the
Bush 11 er. By Francis Johnson

137 Long ard, the Giant S ; or. Hapgﬁ

Harry, the Wild Boy of the oods. By

or. The Horse-

Coomes.

138 The Border Bandits

ie ’3 Trail. By Francis Jo neon.

139 Fire-Eye.theSeaH ena or. The Bride of
a Buccaneer. By Col. n as Insraham.

140 The Three Spaniards. Bv . Walker.

141 Equinox Tom, the Bully of Red Rock; or.
Dan Brown‘s Masterstroke. By Joseph. E.
Badger. Jr.

142 Captain Crimson, the Man of the Iron
Face; or, The Nemesis of the Plains. By Mai.
Dangerﬁeld Burr.

143 The Czar’s S y; or, The Nihilist League.

By 001. T. H. onstcry.

144 The Hunchback of Notre-Daane.
1‘}: Victor Hugo.

145 istol Pards or. Soft Hand, the Silent
S'ort from Cinna r. Bv Wm. R. Eyster.

146 The Doctor Detective;or, The M
of the Golden Coma. By George Lemue

147 Gold S ur the Gentleman from Texas or
The Ch (1 of the Regiment. By Col. -
tiss Ingraham.

148 One-Armed Alf the Giant Hunter of the
Great Lakes. B oii Coo .

149 The Border iiies. By Gustave Almard.

1 50 El Buhio BraVo, King of the Swordsmen;
or, The Terrible Brothers of Tabasco. By
(bl. Thomas Hoyer 1101181013.

151 The Freebooters. By ustave Almard.

152 gapftain "fibroacinervqe‘,1 the (mater

e ; or. e ipay eens .
Marmaduke Dey.
153 The White Seal r. ByGnstaveAimard.
154 Joaquin, the Same King. Byth I.
1 r- .

155 The Corsair ueen; or. The Gipsies d
the Sea. By Col. ntiss In raham.

156 Velvet Face, the Border rave; or. Muriel.
the Danite‘s Bride. By Dangerﬁeld Burr.

157 Mourad, the Mameluke; or.'i'he Three
Swordmasters. By 001. Thomas H. Monstery.

158 The Doomed Dozen; or. Dolores. the
Danite‘s Dan hter. By Dr. Frank Powell.

159 Red Bud ger, the Archer‘ or The Lady
Bertha‘s Treachery. By Ca t. Whittaker.
160 Soft Hand, Sharp' or, e With the

Sand. ay Wm. R. Eys r.
161 The oivcs of New York or, Joe
Phenix’s Great Man Hunt. By A. . Aiken.
162 The Mad Marincr' or. Dishonored and
Disowned. By Col. Pren iss Ingraham.
163 Ben Brion, the TrapBer Calftain: or, Red-
r. J. . Robinson

th. the Avonger. By .

164 he King’s Fool ' or. The Knights of the
c d Hands and Red Branch. By c. D.Ciark.

165 Joaquin, the Terrible. By J. E. Bangs-5.1L

166 Owlet, the Robber Prince; or. The U wn
Highwa an. By Septimus R. Urban.

167 The an of“ Steel ;Bor, The Masked Knight
of the White Plume.  P. Morris.

168 Wild Bill, the Pistol ad Shot; or. Dagger
Don‘s Double. By Col. Prentiss In

1 69 Corporal Cannon, theMan of orty Duels.
By Col. Thomas Hoyer Monstery.

1 70 Sweet William the per Detective;
or. The Chief of the moon . By J“, m,

Badger, Jr.
171 Tiger Dick, the Man of the Iron Heart; or.
The Dumb Bandit. By Philip S. Warne.
172 The Black Pirate; or. The M stery of
the Golden Fetters. By 001. P.
178 California John, the Pacinci‘l‘horough-
bred. By Albert W. Aiken.
A new issue every Wednesday.
Beadle’s Dime Library is for sale all
Newsdealers. ten cents per copy or sent by on
each. smut:

noel of twelve cents LOUIS.
Bulimia-a, 98 WilliamStreet, New York.‘
i

 

' 187 The

 

 

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174 The Phantom Knights. By Capt. F.

Wh er.

175 Wild Bill’s Trump Card' or. The Indian

176 ileii'less.J By Majoghbaﬁigggﬂeld Burr. B

a y a liar e er ueen. Ca

tain Mark giiton’. Q y p

177 Don Diablo, the Planter-Corsair; or, The
Rivals of the Sea. B Col. Prentiss Ingraliam.

178 Dark Dashwoo , the Desperate; or, The
Child of the Sun. By Major Sam S. Hall.

1 79 t‘on rad. the Convict; or, Was He Guilty?
By Prof. Stewart Gildersleeve. LL. D.

180 Old 949; or. The Amazon of Arizona. By
Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

181 The Scarlet Schooner: or. The Nemesis
of the Sea. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham

1 82 Hands URp 1;; or. The Knights of the Canyon.

Bv Wm. . yster. o

183 Gilbert, the Guide; or. Lost in the Wif-
derness. By C. Dunning Clark.

184 The Ocean Vam ire; or, The Heiress of
Castle Curse. Sty Co Prentiss lngraham.

185 The Man S l e ' or. The Beautiful Sphinx.
By Anthony . Mo 8.

186 The Black Bravo; or. The Tonkaway‘s
Trium h. B Buckskin Sam.

cat ’s Head Cuirassicrs; or,
Brave of all Braves. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

188 The Phantom Mazeppa; or.Thei-I one.
o the Chaparrals. By Ma . Dangerﬁeld am

189 Wild Bi l9s Gold Tra l or. The Desper.
ado Down. By Col. Prentiss ngraham.

190 The Three Guardsmen. By Alexandre

Dumas.

191 The Terrible Tonkaway; or. Old Rocky
and His Pards. By Buckskin Sam.

192 The Lightning Sgt/“tier, The Bad Men
at Slaughter Bar. By in. Eyster.

193 The Man in Red; or The Ghost of the
Old Guard. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker.

194 Don Sombrero, the California Road Gent;
or. The Three Men of Mount Tabor. By Capt.
Mark Wilton.

195 The Lone Star Gambler; or. The Maid
of the Magnolias. Bv Buckskin Sam.

196 La Marmoset the Detective Queen; or,
The Lost Heir of i orel. By Albert W . Aiken.

197 Revolver Bob, the Red-Handed; or, The
B lie of Nugget Camp. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

198 The Skeleton: Schooner; or. The Skiin-
mcr of the Sea. By; Col Prentiss lngraham.

199 Diamond Dic , the Dandy from Denver.
By Buckskin Sam.

200 The Riﬂe Bangers; or. Adventures in
Southern Mexico. By Ca t. Mayne Reid.

201 The Pirate of the P acers; or. Joaquin‘s
Death Hunt. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

202 Cactus Jack, the Giant Guide' or. The
Masked Robbers of Black Bend. By Captain
Mark Wilton.

203 The Double Detective; or. The Midnight
Myste . By Albert W. Aiken.

204 Big oot Wallace, the King of the Lariat;
or, Wild Wolf. the Waco. By Buckskin Sam.

205 The Gambler Pirate or. Bessie. the
Lady of the Lagoon. By Co 1’. Ingraham.

206 One Eye, the Cannoneer; or Marshal Ney's
1118': Legacy. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

207 Old Hard Head; or. Whirlwind and His
Milklwhite Mare. By Philip S. Warns.

208 The White Chief. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

209 Buck Farley, the Bonanza Prince' or. The
Romance of Death Gulch. By Edward Wlliett.

210 Buccaneer Bess, the Lioness of the Sea;
or, The Red Sea Trail. By Col. P. lngraham.

211 Colonel Plunger or. The Unknown Sport.
By Capt Frederick ittaker.

212 The Brazos Ti era; or the Minute-Men
of Fort Belknap. y Bucksk n .

213 The War Trail ; or. The Hunt of the Wild
Horse. By Cgpt. Ma ne Reid.

214 The Two .001 . ports; or, Gertie of the
Gulch. By Wm. B. Eyster.

215 Parson Jim, King of the Cowboys: or,
The Gentle Shepherd s Big “ Clean Out." By
Ca tain Frederick Whittaker.

216 T 0 Corsair Planter; or, Driven to
Doom. By Col. Prentiss lngraham.

217 The Serpent of El Paso; or, Frontier
Frank, the Scout oi the Rio Grande. By Buck-

skin Sam.

218 The Wild Huntress; Or. The Big Squat-
ter's Vengeance. ByCa t.MnyneReid.

219 The Scorpion Brot hers: or, Mad Tom‘s
Mission. By Captain Mark Wilton.

220 The Sgecter Yacht; or. A Brother‘s
Crime. y Col. Prentiss lngrnham.

221 Desperate Duke, the Guadnlmgm “Ga-
loot- ‘ or. The Angel of the Alamo ity. By
Bue skin Sam. .

222 Bill, the Blizzard ' or, Red Jack‘s Double
Crime. By Edward Wiliett.

223 Canyon Dave, the Man of the Mogantain;
0r,'l‘he. Toughs of Silver Spur. By ptain
Mark Wilton.

224 Black Beard, the Buccaneer: Or. The
Curse of the Coast. By Col. P. lngraham.

225 Rock, Mountain Al; or, Nug et Nell, the
Wait 0 the Range. By Buckskin m.

226 The Mad Hussars; or, The 0‘s and the
Mac's. By Ca t. Whittaker.

227 Buckshot en the Man-Hunter of Idaho;
or, The Cactus reek Tragedy. By Capt.
Mark Wilton.

228 The Maroon. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

229 0.32.1“ Cutsieeve or. Touch-Me-Not, the
Lit eSport. By Wm. Eyster.

230 The Flying Dutchman or 1880; or,
$1:va Vsnderdocken. By Capt. muck
t 01'.

 

231 The Kid Glove Miner; or, The Magic
Doctor of Golden Gulch. By Ingraham.

232 Orson Oxx, the Man of Iron; or. The River
Mystery. By Isaac Hawks.

233 T Ic Old Boy of Tombstone: or,
Wagering a Life on a Card. B J.  Badger.

234 The Hunters’ Feast. By Mayne Reid.

235 Bed Lightnln r, the Man of Chance; or.
Flush times in G01 en Gulch. By Col. Prentiss
Ingraham.

236 Chamgion Sam ; or. The Monarchs of the
Show. Col. T. H. Monstery.

237 Long- aired Max or. The Black League
of the Coast. By Ca t. . Wilton.

238 Hank Hound, tie Crescent City Detec-
tive; or, The Owls of New Orleans. By An-
thony P. Morris.

239 The Terrible Trio; or, The Angel of the
Army. Buckskin Sam.

240 A Cool cad; or, Orson On in Peril. By
saae awks.

241 Spitﬁre Saul, King of the Rustlers; or.

can Dixie’s Grand “Round-Up.” By Jos.

ger. r.

242 The Fog Devil; or, The Skipper of the
Flash. By Ca t. Fred. “hittaker.

243 The P l r m Shani; or, The Soldier’s
,Sweethea . By Buffalo in.

244 Merciless Mart, the Man-Tiger of Mis-
souri- or, The Wall of the Flood. By Buck-

skin am.

245 Barranca Bill, The Revolver Champion;
or, The Witch of the Weeping Willows. 15y
Captain Mark Wilton.

246 Queen Helen, the Amazon of the Over-
land' or, The Ghouls oi the Gold Mines. By
Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

247 Alligator lkc ' or. The Secret of the Ever.
gliade. By '5): Ercd. Whittaker.

248 ontsna at. the Lion of Last Chance
Camp. By Edward Willett.

249 Ele hant Tom 01 Durango; or, Your
Gold ust or Your Life. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

250 The Rough Riders; or. Sharp-Eye, the
Seminole Scourge. By Buckskin Sam.

251 Tiger Dick vs. Iron Despard; or,
Every Man Has His Match. By P. S. Warne.

252 The “fall Street Blood; cr. Tick Tick.the
Teie ra h Girl. By Albert w. Aiken.

253 A an cc Cossac ' or, The Queen of the
Nihilists. By Capt. F erick Whittaker.

254 Giant Jake, the Patrol cf the Mountain.
B Newton M. Curtis.

255 he Pirate Priest; or. The Planter Gam-
bler‘s Dau hter. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

256 Double an, the Dastard: or, The Pirates
of the Pecos. B Buckskin Sam.

257 Death-Trap izgings or. A Hard Man
from ’Wa Back. By Josep E. Badger. Jr.

258 Bullet sad, the Colorado Bravo; or, The
Prisoners of the Death-Vault. By Captain
Mark Wilton.

259 Cutlass and Cross' or, The Ghouls of the

-a. 1;; Col. Prentiss ingraham.

260 Th9 asked Mysterﬁ; or. The Black
Crescent. By Authoriy P. orris.

261 Block Sam, the rairie Thunderbolt; or,
The Bandit-Hunters. By Col. J o Yards.

262 Fighting Tom, the Terror of the Toughs.
By Col. Thomas Hoyt-r Monsteiy.

263 Iron-Armed Abe, the I unchback De.
strover; or. The Black Riders' Terror. By
Ca )taiii Mark Wilton.

264 T m Crooked Three' or. The Black
Hearts of th- Gaudalupo. By Buckskin Sam.

265 Old Double-Sword' or Pilots and Pi-
rates. Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

266 Leopard Luke, the King of Horse-Thieves;
or, The Swamp Squattcr‘s Doom. By Captain
Mark Wilton.

267 The \Vhite Squaw. By Captain Mayne

Reid.

268 Magic Mike the Man of Frills; or. Bad
Ben s Bad Brigai e. By William. R. Eyster.

269 The Ba on Bravo; or, The Terrible Trail.
By Bucks 111 Sam.

270 A ndros, the Free “over; or, The Pirate‘s
Daughter. By Ned Buntline.

271 Stoneﬂst. of Big Nu Irget Bend; or Old
Ketchum’s Tug of War. y Capt. Mark Wilton.

272 Seth Slocum Rnilrond Survovor' or. The
Secret of Sitiin ’uuii. By Capt. F. Whittaker.

273 lllountnin osc the Gorge Outlaw; or.
Light Horse Leon’s iivo Fights for Life. By
Buckskin Sam.

274 Flush Fred the Mississlizppi Sport: or,
Tough Times in Tennessee... y Ed. \‘iliett.

275 The Smuggler Cutter; or. The Cavern in
the Cliff. liv J. D. Conroy.

276 Texas Chick, the Southwest Detective: or,
Tiger Lily. the Vulture Queen. By Captain
Mark Wilton.

277 The Sane June, Privateer or The
Hunting of id Ironsides. By Capt. erlck
Whittaker.

278 Hercules Golds nr the Man of the Velvet
Hand; or, The P0 or ueen‘s Drop Game.
By Captain Howard Holmes.

279 he Gold-Dragon}; or. the Californian
Bloodhound. By in. . Manning.

280 Black-ﬂoss Ben or, Tiger Dick's Lone
Hand. By Philip S. arm.

28 1 The Sea Owl ; or. The Lady Captain of the
Gulf. 11:; Col. Prentiss lngraham.

282 The erciless Marauders; or. Chap-
arral Carl‘s Revenge. By Buckskin Sam.

283 Sleek Sam, the Devil 0! the Mines; or, The
89m oi the Pie? Cross. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

284 's‘he Three rigvargsev or. Old Ironsides‘
Revenge. By Capt. . hit er.

 

285 Lightning Bolt tbe Can on Terror; or.
The Mountain Cat’s Crud e. .iiark Wilton.

286 Pistol Johnn '; or. (gne it an in a Thou-
sand. Big Josep E. Bad er, Jr.

287 Dandy ave and His orse. White Stock-
ing; or, Ducats or Death. By Buckskin Sam.

288 Electro Pete, the Man of Fire: or The
Wharf Rats of Lecust Point. B A. P. Morris.

289 F1! sh Fred’s Full Han ' or. Life and
Stri e in Louisiana. By Edward Willett.

290 The Lost (‘orvcttegy or Blakelvy’s Last
Cruise. By Ca t. Fred. \\ hit er,

291 Horseshoe ank, the Man of Big Luck;
orn'l‘he Gold Brick of Idaho. By Capt. Mark

' ton.

292 Moke Horncr, the Boss Roustahout' or,
The Fresh-Water Sharks of the Ove ow.
By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

293 Stampede Steve; or The Doom 0! the
Double Face. B ' Buckskin Sam.

294 Broadcloth Burt, the Denver Dandy; or,
The Thirt Pards oi Deadwood. By Captain
Howard olnies.

295 Old Cross-Eye, the Maverickaunter; or,
The Night-Riders of Satanta County. By
Capt. Frederick Whittaker.

296 Duncan, the Sea-Diver; or, The Coast
Vultures. By George St. George.

297 Colorado Bubs, the Strong Arm of Hot-
3 ur Cit? or The Giant Brothers of Buzzard‘s
Igmst. y Wm. H. Manning.

298 Logger Lem; or. Life and Peril in the
Pine Woods. B Edward Willett.

299 Three of a ind. Tiger Dick. Iron Des-
pard. and the Sportive Sport. B’lvh . S. arne.

300 A Sport in S£cctacles; or. 6 Bad Time
at Bunco. By‘ in. R. 'Rter.

301 Bowlder ill; or, 6 Man from Tm.
By Buckskin Sam. .

302 Faro Saul, the Handsome Hercules' or, The
Grip of Steel. By Joscgh E. Badger, r.

303 Top-Notch Tom, t e Cowboy Outlaw; or.
The Satanstown Election. By Cant. Whittaker.

304 Texas Jack the Prairie Rattler: or. The
Queen of the Wild Riders. By Buffalo Bill.

305 Silver-Plated Sol, the Montana liver or,
Giant Dave’s Fight With Himself. By Capt.
Mark Wilton.

306 The Roughs of Richmond¥on The
Myste of the Golden Beetle. By A. .Morris.

307 The hantom Pirate; or, The Water
Wolves of the Bahamas. By Col. in aham.

308 Hemlock Hank, To h and e; or,
The Shadow of Mount Kat din. By Edward
Wi lett.

309 Raybold, the Battling Ran er; or,
Old Becky‘s Tough Campaign. y Buck-
skin Sam.

310 'I he Marshal ofSatanstotvn ' or The
Lee as of the Cattle - Lifters. By Capt.

{#- t-rick Whittaker.

311 eav Hand, the Relentless; or. The

Mark Men of Paradise Gulch. By Capt.
Mark Wilton.

312 Kinkioot Karl The Mountain Scourge;
or, Wipin Out the ore. By Morris Redwing,

313 Mark agic, Detective. ByAJP. Morris.

314 Laﬁtte' or. The Pirate of he Gulf. By
Prof. J.  ingraham.

315 Flush Fred’s Double; or, The Squat,-
ter’s Le lie of Six. By Edward Willett.

316 Lniltte s Lieutenant; or, Theodore, the
Child of the Son. By Prof. J. H. in aham.

317 Frank Lightfoot the Miner etective;
or, Foilowinga Blind Lead. By J. E. Badger.

318 The Indian Btlecaneer' or Red Rovers

3 °" transmittal-mils? “km.

19 W1 r w o e e ; or,

The Bucknkir’r Bravos ot the Black Hills. By

Buifalo Bill.
320 The Gentecl Spotter; or The Night
Hawks or New York. By A bert'W. Aiken.
321 California Claude, the Lone Bandit. By
Ca tain Howard Holmes. '
By Buckskin

322  e Crimson Coyotes.
. am.
323 Hotspur Hugh; or,The Banded, Brothers
of the Giant's Arm. By Captain Mark Wilton.
324 Old Forked-Lightning, the Solitay;
or Every Inch 0. Man. By Jos. E. Badger r.
325 'I‘ re Gentleman Pirate; or. The er-
mit of Cnsco Pay. By Col. P. lngraham.
326 The Whitest Man in the Mines; or,
The Dog-Town Crowd. liy Ca t. l". Whittaker.
327 Terrapin D§ek the Wi Woods Detec.
tive. Br Edwa d Willt'tt.
328 King Kent; or, The Bandits of the Bason.
B Buckskin Sam.
329 c League of'l'hree; 01'. Buﬂ'alo Bill’s
Pledge. By Col. Prentiss Inmaham.
330 Cop Colt, the Quaker (‘ity Detective. By
n
,1

Chas. Mor s.

33 l Chi-pa C iarley,the Gold Nugget eggs-t; or,
The Rock Mountain Masks. By J. E. edger.

332 Spring-1162c] Jack. Bv Col. Monstery.

333 Derringer Deck, the Man with the Drop.
By Wm. B. Eyster.

334 The Cipher Detective; or, Mark Magic
on a New Trail. By A. P. Morris.

335 Flash Dan the Nabob; or. The Blades of
Bowie Bar. y Capt. H. Holmes.

336 The Magic Ship; or. The Freehooters of
Sandy Hook. By Col. Prentiss ingraham.

A new lame every deday.

assailed- :imet Library lg, ﬁgtsgymh‘yﬂ :11:
a ers. .n cen s r cop .

$23.21 for twelve cents gen. banana ADAMS.
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